Page 44 of Pistols & Peonies

Except maybe last night. Kane’s iron grip, the way it felt to willingly cede control to such a strong, dominating force…

I groan out loud and scrub a hand down my face, shoving the thought away as fast as it surfaced. With a last glance in the mirror, I square my shoulders and lock my defiance firmly back into place before leaving my room and starting down the hall again.

I freeze the second the kitchen comes into view.

I was positive Kane had left for work, but here he is, looming beside the counter and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He’s dressed in his usual black enforcer attire, his broad shoulders filling the space like he owns it. His gaze snaps to me instantly, pinning me in place.

For a second, it feels like we’re doomed to remain locked in a silent standoff, neither of us blinking. But he’s always the first to break, if only because he’s allergic to wasted time.

“Going somewhere?” he asks gruffly, arching a brow as he lifts his coffee.

“Up to medical,” I mutter.

He freezes with his mug halfway to his mouth, eyes dropping to give me a sharp once-over. “Something wrong with your healing?”

“No, I’ve been summoned for some post-Pairing bullshit,” I grumble, waving a hand dismissively.

His shoulders tense. “With Aspen?”

“The one and only,” I reply dryly, doing my best not to shudder at the mention of the doc’s name. “Apparently it’s a routine follow-up.”

Kane sets his mug down on the counter with a solid thud. “I’ll go with you,” he says, voice flat, like it’s already decided.

I scoff a bitter laugh, folding my arms. “Thanks, but I don’t need adult supervision. Besides, don’t you have important pack things to do, Commander?”

He pushes off from the counter, striding in my direction. “Nothing more important than this, mate.”

A lesser woman might swoon. I just roll my eyes and strut past him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how that comment landed.

If he insists on tagging along, fine. I’ll just ignore his presence. Arguing with Kane only escalates things, and when emotions escalate, lines blur. Boundaries slip, and things like last night happen.

So, I choose neutral. Because if I’m going to hold my ground against Kane, it won’t be by stepping into the ring with him. It’ll be by keeping my head on straight and my armor locked firmly in place.

Kane and I ride the elevator up to the fortieth floor in silence. The bond hums contentedly in my chest with him so close beside me– close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the soap on his skin, and see the little flecks of grey threading through his dark hair at his temples.

I’ve always been hopelessly attracted to older men. It adds insult to injury that the mate I was unwillingly Paired with just so happens to tick every one of my boxes.

Dominant, check.

Responsible, check.

Tall, built, and devastatingly handsome– check, check, check.

I hate how much I’m drawn to Kane, while Char finds the irony of the whole thing hilarious. She says I gravitate toward distinguished, authoritative types because I have daddy issues– that because my own father bailed when I was a kid, I’m forever chasing validation from men who radiate big father figure energy. I say she’s the last person who should be psychoanalyzing me, but… yeah. She’s not totally wrong.

Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.

True to form, Kane keeps his eyes trained straight ahead, fixed on our warped reflection in the brushed metal doors. His expression is carefully neutral, carved from stone. I can’t tell if he’s still pissed about last night, or if this is simply his baseline– all brute force and quiet brooding. Meanwhile, I’m fighting the urge to crawl out of my skin at the thought of setting foot on the medical floor again.

The doors slide open into the sterile white lobby, and I’m instantly hit with a full body cringe. The last time I was here was for my serum extraction. A memory I’d rather forget.

The receptionist clocks us as we step off the elevator, her eyes widening in alarm when she spots Kane. Her posture immediately snaps straighter, lips parting on a little gasp. Though she tries to school her expression as we approach, the slight tremor in her voice betrays her nerves.

“Good morning, Commander Kane,” she greets, gaze locked firmly on him alone. “How can I help you?”

“My mate has an appointment with Dr. Aspen,” he replies curtly.

My mate. As if he fucking owns me. My stomach curls in on itself, even as my inner wolf revels in his claim.