Page 32 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

I turn toward the door, ready to throw whoever it is back out of it.

A woman steps into my kitchen, her soft blond curls bouncing with each step. Her blouse is painted onto her skin, and her pants are just as tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. She’s holding a covered dish in one hand, smiling at me with bold red lips. I groan under my breath.

“Sloane,” I mutter under my breath.

Sloane’s gaze slides from me to Jessa and back. Her eyes pinch tight for half a second, irritation she can’t quite hide, and then she paints a bright smile over it.

“I’m sorry.” She steps inside without being asked. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes,” I say at the same instant that Jessa blurts out, “No.”

Sloane’s attention swings to Jessa and travels head to foot, taking in the worn jeans, the soft cardigan, the dark hair pinned up in a loose knot. By contrast, Sloane is poured into something that probably equals a month of most people’s wages, every line of it pressed and deliberate. The difference is the whole point, and she means me to see it.

“What are you doing here, Sloane?” I keep my voice level.

She sighs, long and put-upon, and crosses to me. “I heard Bella wasn’t well. I brought food for her. I wanted to help.”

She wraps a hand around my forearm, and I draw back because I don’t want Jessa reading one wrong thing into this. Sloane’s grip tightens, fingers digging in to keep me where I am. I’m stronger than she is by a wide margin, so I keep the pull easy at first, unwilling to make a scene of it.

She holds on, looks over at Jessa, and smiles. “Are you the new maid?”

The kitchen goes silent, and I feel my wolf snarl at the thinly veiled insult.

Jessa’s lips press into a thin line. “No. I’m Bella’s friend’s mother.”

The same moment, my patience snaps, and I yank my arm clear of Sloane’s hand. “Does she look like a maid to you? Did you miss what you walked in on?”

Color floods Sloane’s face. “I was only assuming. She’s not exactly your type.”

“And what’s my type, Sloane?” I let the words come out cold. “You? In your fashion-show clothes? I don’t think so.”

Her eyes fill, fast, the humiliation hitting exactly where I sent it. “Why are you treating me like this? I came because I thought you’d be home. I was trying to do something kind.”

Jessa frowns at me, her voice even. “I’m going to step into the other room.”

She moves to pass me, and I catch her by the wrist before she clears my reach. The contact sends a jolt up my arm, and the wolf surges toward it before I can stop myself. I turn her so her back meets my chest, her arm folded against her own front, my hand circling the slim bones of her wrist. She goes rigid against me, and I hold her there anyway.

The animal in me settles the instant she’s against my chest, the snarl I’d been swallowing for Sloane gone quiet, every sense bent toward the woman in my arms instead. I shouldn’t be doing this in front of Sloane, who reads everything and forgets nothing, but I keep my hand where it is anyway.

“How many times have I told you not to come here?” I demand over the top of Jessa’s head.

Sloane’s chin sets, stubborn. “Your uncle said we should go on a date. He thought it would be a good chance for us to get to know each other. I’m one of your marriage candidates, after all.”

Jessa stiffens in my arms, a small flinch I feel down my spine.

“This isn’t some ancient court with marriage candidates lined up at the door.” I bite each word off. “I want nothing to do with you. Get out.”

I mean to humiliate her, and I’m clear-eyed about why. I know how vicious Sloane runs under the gloss, and I caught how she sized Jessa up, head to foot, hunting for somewhere to draw blood. The maid remark was meant to cut. I won’t have it aimed at the woman in my arms.

“I came to see Bella,” Sloane tries. “I’m allowed to see her.”

“Bella isn’t seeing anyone.”

“This one’s here.” Sloane jerks her head at Jessa, her tone petulant. “Why does she get to stay?”

“Because you’ll make a scene, and I have no patience for your drama tonight. Bella’s with her friend, and we’re about to sit down to dinner. Out.”

Jessa tips her head back to look up at me, her eyebrows raised.