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“Of course, I will, Luna Isabella.” A snort escapes me and the man laughs.
“Clever and stubborn?”
“Guilty.” But then the amusement vanishes, and I’m left with a man who’s unhappy with the reason he’s here. “Isabella, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m Gamma Cain of the Royal Evergreen Pack, and I’m here to—”
“Escort me.” Not a question and he nods. “To Xadiel.”
“Yes. Alpha wants to see you in his office.”
11
XADIEL
There’s a literal snap in me the second I enter my office. I’m restless.
Pacing from one end to the other within minutes of Cain’s message while Bartolo’s beaten form lies unconscious in the next room. That confrontation will have to wait a little longer. The wolf’s excitement can’t be contained—his claws raking the inside of my skin, wanting to be let out—and a growl slips from my lips.
From angry to visceral hunger, the switch has been flipped and I need her here.
To see her again. Nothing else matters.
He remembers the hunt in my dream, and so do I.
How it felt to have her close and taste her lips.
Out, I say through the mind link, my tone rough. Near volatile. A warning to those close to my office or working inside the house; I want them all gone before she arrives.
Not because of what she is, but who.
That woman is mine, even if claiming her is an impossibility. Jealousy and possessiveness overtake my senses. I’m angry at Cain for being near Isabella—escorting her here—and his mate is the only reason I haven’t shifted and challenged him for the right to walk beside her.
I hate it. I want her.
Can’t control this need bunning me from the inside, and it worries me. How much is this reaction the animal? Or am I weak? Controlled by lust and need and the sudden itch to bury my fangs in deep, tearing through muscle, so my mark can never be erased.
Not by me. Her. Or magic.
Footfalls exiting greet my ears a few seconds later, and I exhale once the last body leaves. My father isn’t here or he’d have questions, but then again, he’s never around anymore. Most of his days are now spent withering away in the library with old textbooks in a language I’m not versed in.
The strong and invincible man I grew up with is gone. A shell of himself.
Won’t deny I miss our relationship, but we’ve handled Mum’s death in different manners.
I want the heads of her killers. He wants to fade into the background until death arrives.
Both understand and hate it because right now duty and revenge take a back seat to a different kind of desire as a door near the back of the house opens. I pause, ears picking up their movements, one light and the other brusque, as they come closer.
Neither speaks, but the presence of one is strong, and it’s mine.
Each steps has my chest rising and falling faster.
Then the scent of jasmine hits me like a battering ram and I stagger for a second, my cock giving a hard jerk behind the teeth of my zipper. I’m throbbing; a bead of pre-come beads at the tip, and I feel it slide slowly down the thick shaft a second before there’s a knock.
Cain’s not with her, and I’m thankful for that.
