Page 66 of Pistols & Peonies

She sighs, shaking her head. “Always with the attitude. Of course I care.” She reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but I jerk away from the contact, recoiling like she’s brandishing a knife rather than a perfectly manicured nail.

“Don’t,” I snap.

Her expression twists like she’s pained by my reaction, but I know better than to believe it’s sincere. Everything Ella Slayter does is for show, like she’s starring in her very own drama.

She huffs out a sigh when she realizes I’m not taking the bait, smoothing her hair as she retreats back to her end of the couch. “I see your tattoos are still multiplying,” she mutters, eyes raking over my arms, chest, and the flash of thigh showing where my dress hiked up. “Such a shame. You had such lovely skin.”

“I like it better this way,” I reply with a defiant lift of my chin.

Kane reappears with a massive glass of Cabernet, and Mom’s whole face transforms, all maternal venom vanishing behind a dazzling smile. He hands her the wine, and she bats her lashes as she takes it, giving him a look that’s equal parts gratitude and admiration.

“Thank you, Derek. You’re such a gentleman.”

He jerks a nod, then turns his gaze on me, brow arched. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“I’m good,” I mutter, sinking further into the couch and wishing it’d swallow me whole right about now.

Kane takes a seat in the nearby armchair while Mom sips her wine, making an appreciative humming noise as she swallows it down.

“Delicious,” she remarks, licking her lips. “So, how are you adjusting to mated life?” she asks brightly, aiming the question at Kane rather than me.

“We’re settling in,” he replies diplomatically, darting a glance my way. The flicker of a smirk is just visible in the lines around his eyes, and I’d really, really like to smack it off his face. He’s deriving way too much enjoyment out of watching me on the brink of implosion.

“I know my daughter’s a handful,” Mom says with a laugh. “Hopefully she hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.”

“Just the right amount, I’d say,” I cut in, flashing Kane a sugar-sweet smile. “He likes me just the way I am, don’t you, honey?”

He holds my gaze, the corner of his mouth tipping up as he nods once.

My stomach flips.

“Even all the unsightly tattoos?” Mom scoffs, unable to pass up another chance to convey her disapproval of my choices.

Kane doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still locked on mine. “I think they suit her.”

My heart hammers in my chest, my inner wolf fucking preening.

Mom’s momentarily silenced, but recovers fast. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get her attitude under control soon enough,” she tuts. “Violet’s always been resistant to authority, but with the right man, anything is possible.”

“Mom, for the love of god, enough!” I snap, whipping my head in her direction.

She blinks back at me, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I grumble, folding my arms. “If you came here to embarrass me, then mission accomplished. You can see yourself out now.”

My mother gapes at me, then looks to Kane for backup, clearly expecting him to join her in shaming me into submission.

Instead, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, pinning her with a harsh stare– the kind I imagine he must use when doling out orders and disciplining pack soldiers. It’s… intense. In the best way, since it’s pointed at her.

“She’s right, Ella,” he murmurs. “You’re being rude. I don’t appreciate you insulting my mate, especially in her own home.”

I blink at Kane, certain I couldn’t have just heard him right, but the way the room falls silent provides instant confirmation.

Mom flinches back, expression equal parts wounded and horrified. Because of course, she’s the real victim here. She schools her reaction quickly, huffing out a breath and pushing up to stand. “Well, I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she bites out, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table and smoothing the front of her dress. “I just love my daughter and want what’s best for her.”

“Yeah right,” I snort derisively.

She slaps a hand to her chest, jaw going slack. “Violet Grace, how dare you speak to your mother that way?” she admonishes. “I didn’t raise you to be so insolent and ungrateful.”