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“Thanks,” I tell him, trying to give a smile.
“It was nice meeting you,” he says. “I just wish it had happened under better circumstances.”
“You too,” I say, as I lead him back out of the lounge.
I can feel Everett’s stare on my back as I let the Alpha out of our home.
My mate is leaning in the lounge doorway when I close the door on our guest.
I lock the door and let out a sigh.
“At least we know tomorrow this will be over,” I tell him.
He doesn’t seem convinced.
And to be completely honest, I’m not, either.
I’m hopeful, but this doesn’t feel like it’s over. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Everett
Ihaven’twantedmyfully stocked bar back in place as much as I want it right fucking now. My wolf is livid that I let that Alpha go. I hated him on sight. We both did. He surprised my mate with his pleasant manner, but I know that’s how the worst of the worst work people into thinking whatever they want them to think. He’s a fucking sleaze. A manipulative bastard. Just like my father.
Well, he might think he’s got us wrapped around his fingers now, but he doesn’t know what I did to the last guy who tried to manipulate me. A torn-out throat is too quick a death for someone like him.
He deserves the slow and painful torture treatment. So, he can feel what it’s like to suffer before he leaves this earth. Like he’s made others suffer to get what he wants.
His victims weren’t show mercy. Why would I show him any?
He killed one of his own for a shot at one of our Omegas.
He doesn’t get to take Oscar away from us.
No one tries to steal from my pack.
I growl as my mate lets him out of our house. My claws come out when Cheryl turns around to face me. My vision starts to glow as she talks to me. I don’t hear her words. I hear her tone. She’s trying to reassure me, to reassure herself.
She took over and spoke to the bastard when I was too full of rage to deal with the situation. She worked things out with words when my instinct was to fight. She got rid of the Alpha. We aren’t safe yet, but she got him to leave. That’s what soothes my savage beast.
My rage melts as I stare at her standing where she stood the day I finally claimed her as my mate.
Another, more urgent primal urge replaces it, and Cheryl gasps out a breath as I pin her against the front door, my hands around her wrists, careful not to scratch her soft skin with my claws.
“Everett!” she exclaims, her dark eyes wide as she gazes up at me.
I growl at her, and her heat awakens instantly, dousing my senses with the scent of her arousal.
She moans when I lean in to kiss her lips, her heart racing as I work her mouth open. She runs her tongue over my sharp teeth, and I taste a drop of her blood in my mouth. It’s like a forbidden aphrodisiac. My cock swells, and she does it again, giving me more.
She sighs as I break the kiss. “I heal up fast,” she complains. “And it feels good.”
She’s not wrong, but it’s a reminder that I’m human. I’m not a monster. I don’t need to drink my mate’s blood to feel good. I don’t want to get into that kind of habit.
“What have I told you about control?” I ask her, my voice husky with need.
“That I need to have more of it?” she asks, biting down on her lower lip.
