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In response to my words, he let out a snort, then chuckled. “Right.”
“Okay, so I’m not usually big on talking it out, I realize that, but I think we need to discuss what’s going on here.”
“And what exactly is that?” he asked.
“That you keep pushing me when you know I’m not ready.”
He scooted backwards on the couch and looked up at the ceiling instead of directly at me. Always a great start for open communication. Why I thought supernatural men would be better at talking things out than normal human men was beyond me. If anything, they were more stubborn and pigheaded. And that was saying something.
“I’ve tried to explain what I need from you.”
“No, you don’t. You act and then explain why you’ve done whatever moronic thing you’ve done and expect me to be overjoyed about it. Do you think I like having this same conversation over and over?”
“Probably about as much as I like to hear it.”
I huffed. “I talked things out with Desmond. He won’t be coming over to punch you in the face again anytime soon.”
Lucas forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Neither do I. I’m just trying to figure out a way for us to stop butting heads over everything. There has to be a solution that will keep us from constantly being at each other’s throats.”
“I can think of one,” a terse female voice said from the entrance to the lounge.
Lucas looked past me and bit back a grimace, but I saw the line of worry cross his face before he was able to hide it. I knew the voice, so it made me wonder at his reaction. To confirm my suspicions, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see who had interrupted our discussion.
“Morgan,” I said.
“Secret.” She jerked her chin at me by way of greeting. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she didn’t look thrilled to see me. That made the feeling mutual.
Morgan Scott wasn’t a woman I would qualify as beautiful, not in the standard interpretation of it, anyway. Her features were too strong to be considered feminine, and she had a brusque demeanor that didn’t make her a cuddly personality. Her eyes were huge, and if she’d known how to properly use her looks to an advantage, she could play the role of innocent girl next door to a T. But combined with her broad nose and a too-small mouth that never smiled, she looked more like a pissed-off Victorian doll than anything else.
Right now that doll-like face was turned towards me, and she hadn’t picked tonight to start smiling.
“Did you need something, Morgan?” I asked when the silence stretched into the awkward zone.
“Did you?”
My body went tense, ready to launch across the room at her. It wasn’t just that she was being unbelievably rude, but given my position in the pack, she was well out of line. No wolf in their right mind would speak to someone of a higher rank the way she was speaking to me. And ranks didn’t get much higher than mine in Lucas’s pack. Just because she had taken over some of Desmond’s duties didn’t make her Lucas’s second, and it sure as hell didn’t give her the right to disrespect me.
“Morgan,” Lucas barked, rising to his feet. He could have said more, given her a verbal beat-down, but he didn’t need to. As king he was capable of projecting his discontent with nothing more than a tone of voice and a hard look.
Morgan looked properly cowed. She dipped her head in my direction and let her arms fall to her sides. It didn’t keep me from glaring at her, but it did stop me from punching her in the head.
“My apologies,” she said, her gaze directed at the floor. “It wasn’t my intention to overstep.”
Like hell it wasn’t.
“What did you need, Morgan?” Lucas asked, his tone still cool.
“I was just going to see if you needed me for anything else tonight before I left.”
“No, I think you’ve done enough for the night.”
She turned to leave, but I couldn’t help myself. “What was your suggestion?”
“Pardon?” She turned and met my gaze, caught herself and looked at the ottoman instead.
“When you came in, you said you could think of a solution for Lucas and I constantly fighting. I’m dying to know what it is.”
