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He scraped a hand over his jaw. “I don’t like it. And not just because to go there could potentially place you in the sights of a sick ass motherfucker who has the insane idea that not only do you belong to him but that you’d consider a corpse a gift.”
“Why else don’t you like it?”
“It’s highly likely that Noelle will take the opportunity to come at us. I don’t care if she spouts shit at me, but I won’t have her do it to you.”
There was indeed a possibility that Noelle would give them grief, but it wouldn’t be anything that they hadn’t handled before. “Did she try to gatecrash last night’s party?”
“No. But according to the enforcer who texted me earlier, she parked her car fairly close to the Tavern and sat there a while. She never once exited it. It wouldn’t have spoiled our night if she had tried causing a scene outside, though, as we’d left by then. The party continued without us.” He chugged back the last of his coffee and placed the mug on the table. “I think the only reason she hasn’t sent you shitty texts is that she wants to offload all she’s feeling in person.”
He was probably right, but … “I have to face her sometime. I’m not afraid to. Much as it pains her, she doesn’t intimidate me.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
“Look, I know she’s not some mega villain. She’s your mom, she loves you, she wants you to be happy. But she hurts you, Blair. She doesn’t set out to do it. She just doesn’t mind her words or allow herself to see that she doesn’t put your wants before her own. In being the way she is, in saying the things she does about me, she hurts you.”
“Luke—”
“I couldn’t fully protect you from her bullshit all these years. It gutted me. I’m your mate, it’s my job—one I treasure—to act as a shield between you and anything that would cause you harm. But I couldn’t afford to get into full-blown arguments with her because that only made things worse for you.”
Melting inside at not only his words but the sheer torment echoing down their bond, Blair swallowed hard.
“I swore to myself that things would be different when I claimed you. I swore I wouldn’t let her hurt you again. I’m not saying I intend to stop you from seeing her. I want you to have her in your life. But right now, she is pissed. She’ll be looking to vent. So I’m not comfortable with you being near her at this time.”
Blair pushed out of her chair, rounded the table, and perched herself on his lap. She expected him to be stiff and aloof in silent protest, but he curled his arms around her with a deep sigh.
“I get it,” she said. “I do. And I adore you for it. But she doesn’t get to control my actions, Luke. That’s what I’ll be letting her do if I tip toe around her mood. I’d say you and I have done enough of that over the years to keep the peace.”
He muttered something beneath his breath.
She looped her arms around his neck. “I want to bring my stuff here. I want to fully move in. It will help my female settle—switching territories is a major adjustment even when you’re happy to make the transfer.”
“Blair …”
“You’ll be there to protect me. From our boy, from Noelle, from anything. We’ll take backup, and we’ll call for more if necessary. Also, there’ll be people in the pack who’ll come if we need them—Mitch, Kiesha, even Embry.” She paused. “Be honest with yourself, you don’t truly believe there’ll be an attack. Noelle might get vocal, but that’ll be the most drama we can expect.”
Seconds ticked by as he said nothing, his eyes unfocused. Finally, he exhaled long and loud and met her gaze. “All right. We’ll go pick up your stuff. But I won’t stay silent if your mother appears and starts mouthing off. I won’t leave you to deal with it alone even though I know you can.”
Blair lifted her shoulders. “Hey, you want to give her a piece of your mind, I’m not going to stop you. It won’t be anything she doesn’t need or deserve to hear. But with any luck, she’ll keep on sulking and leave us be.”
He snorted. “There is no such luck.”
Hell if she could argue that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Entering the cabin’s living area later on, Blair felt her brows lift. Kiesha and Mitch hadn’t done a half-assed job at packing. There were no open boxes lying around with things tossed haphazardly inside. All were taped shut, tidily stacked, and labelled with a red sharpie. The TV had been neatly swathed in bubble wrap, just like her large framed pictures and canvases.
