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Nodding, Blake left to talk to Liam, coming back quickly. “He’s dishing up chicken strips and fries. Want your usual to drink?”
Nodding, he scrubbed his hands over his face, watching Blake pour him a Coke. The Enforcer leader was shooting him speculative glances the whole time, and it finally grated on his nerves enough that he snapped. “What the fuck is it?”
“You look pretty tired.”
“Georgie kept me up all night. Wouldn’t let me go back to my room until around noon today.” He caught the suspicious look Blake sent him and he scowled. “Fuck, not like that. I didn’t go near her bed. It was all fetch me this, can you get me that. Wore me the hell out.”
Blake left briefly, returning with his plate. “That’s good to hear.”
“Why?” he asked crossly, still irritable from lack of sleep. “Why would it matter to you if I did spend the night in her bed? You’ve never cared who we messed around with before.”
Blake propped his hip against the counter, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “A few reasons. One, you’ve never returned her feelings, and I’m pretty sure that hasn’t changed. I don’t want to see you lead her on. That’s never been your style, and you rarely take up offers from the women who come in here, throwing themselves at us. I wouldn’t want you to start now. Two, I’m pretty sure you’ve got some feelings of your own for a certain pretty War Cat, and I’d hate to see you sabotage that before it got started.
“And three, I’m also fairly sure that certain pretty War Cat is developing some feelings for you in return. And she’s pretty fucking pissed that Georgie’s staying here to begin with. As it stands, you could talk to her, allay her fears, make her understand that nothing she thinks is happening is really going on. But if you were being a colossal fuck up and actually screwed around with Georgie, you couldn’t fix it, and it would hurt Tarun. And that would piss me the fuck off, and I’d have to kick your ass. She doesn’t deserve that. I won’t stand for you hurting anyone under my roof, but especially not her.”
Luke shook his head, watching his hand as he drew designs in his barbeque sauce with a chicken strip. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that.” Pausing for a moment, he finally glanced up, meeting Blake’s eyes. “She’s really pissed, huh?”
Lips quirking, Blake nodded. “She is. But I don’t think it’s anything you can’t fix by actually talking to her. So eat up and go find her. Explain shit and make it right.”
“I can do that. Hopefully.” Taking a bite of his food, he glanced up at Blake as he chewed. “Just so you know, I’m officially off duty when it comes to Georgie. Find someone else to play babysitter. I’m out.”
“Will do. Now swallow your food before you speak. That’s fucking disgusting.”
Luke smirked around another bite. He actually hadn’t meant to that time, but talking with his mouth full was something he liked to do when Blake was around, just to piss him off. Their leader didn’t let much get to him, but that was a guaranteed way to get his back up, so Luke did it often when he was around.
Worked like a charm every time.
Once he’d finished his food, he felt much better, and actually awake. Taking a sip of his Coke, he turned around, scanning the bar for his target. He still didn’t see her, but he wasn’t going to give up until he found her.
It was probably best if he left her alone. If he let her think whatever she wanted to about the situation. Despite his dismal track record with his gift, he was always control personified with the rest of his life. Maybe because he had such a hard time with his gift, he didn’t know. He’d never felt the need to analyze the whys of how he was.
But he never did anything, never felt anything, that he didn’t give himself the go ahead for.
Except for the situation with Tarun. The need he felt to be near her, to make sure she knew the truth and wasn’t hurt by any misunderstandings, was overriding his control. Despite knowing it was probably best that she stayed away from him, despite knowing he might be able to convince her to leave if she did, he couldn’t let things stand as they were.
He puzzled over it as he searched the room one last time for her. He was sure she wasn’t in there—crazy as it was, he felt like he’d know if she were in the same room with him.
He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t leave things like they were. He should be able to. He was nothing if not dedicated to making sure women were safe and protected, and she’d be both of those if she went home.
Yet, for some reason, he was physically incapable of truly wanting her to leave, like was best for her.
The only reason he could think of was—
Freezing halfway off the stool, he shook his head. No. Surely not.
Yet everything in him was telling him his thought, as ludicrous as it was, was right on track.
Sitting back down with a thump, he stared out into the bar, not really seeing what was in front of him. Every fiber of his being was focused on the bombshell dangling tantalizingly in front of him.
Was Tarun his mate?
As crazy and farfetched as it was, it made sense. It explained why he felt the need to keep her safe and protected even more keenly than he normally did with women. Why the thought of her unhappy gutted him. Why he needed to be near her—more than needed, it was a compulsion he couldn’t shake or talk himself out of.
Why just the simple touch of her hand against his made his blood sizzle.
A shifter’s mate was everything to them. Not all shifters found theirs, making them a rarity, and all the more treasured. When they met their mate, their world, their priorities, their very being tilted on its axis. Suddenly, nothing mattered more than that person.
Their mate’s wants and needs mattered far more than their own. Their safety, their happiness, were all that was important. And they’d do anything to achieve that. Lie, cheat, steal, kill—lay down their life. Absolutely anything.
