Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
It hit Isaiah, then. Hit him hard. Right in the chest. And it was the best kind of punch. Because it was apparent that she felt no need to warn Zaire away since, as far as she was concerned, he presented no threat to her and Isaiah’s bond.
His raging cat ceased pacing, soothed by just how much she evidently trusted that the connection they were building couldn’t be sabotaged. It settled something in Isaiah as well, making some of the tension leach from his shoulders.
He reached up to stroke her head, his eyes on Zaire; watching the emotions that drifted across the Alpha’s face. Pain. Jealousy. Anger. Conflict. Resentment.
The thing was … those feelings weren’t really about Quinley as a person. They were visceral reactions; came from the elemental heart of Zaire and his inner cat, not from their emotional heart.
Her little feline continued to pay the guy zero interest. She was all about scent-marking Isaiah, rubbing the side of her neck against his head.
Zaire’s gaze flicked back to his. “My cat was like that with Nazra in the beginning. Not so much now. That’s how it goes with imprinting.” It was a taunt.
“Only when the bond becomes brittle. That won’t happen with me and Quinley. And if you had put all your focus on Nazra instead of selfishly keeping tabs on Quinley, it might never have happened to your bond. Maybe you could fix it—I don’t know. Don’t care. I’m done here.”
“But—”
“Admit it or don’t, but we both know you came in the hope of provoking me into starting a fight. I’m not going to give you that. I’m not going to give you any damn thing.” Not even his cat, despite how much he’d enjoy mauling this son of a bitch, would grant him any such satisfaction. “You can either challenge me, or you can get the fuck out of here.”
Zaire wanted to challenge him. It was evident in his expression and body language. He wanted to give his inner animal the release it desperately sought; wanted to punish Isaiah for claiming Quinley.
The male’s gaze again bounced to her cat, who’d tucked herself into the crook of Isaiah’s neck—something she occasionally did at home to nap. She was purring, content. And something about it made the anger in Zaire’s gaze fade, only to be rapidly replaced by pure turmoil.
“Do you see how settled she is right there?” Havana asked the Crimson Alpha, sidling up to Tate. “There you are, fronting off against her mate. But she’s not pacing and hissing or tense as a bow. She’s perfectly relaxed, trusting that he’ll protect them both if necessary.”
Zaire slowly swerved his head to look at the devil shifter.
“To her, he’s her mate and you are quite literally irrelevant,” Havana bluntly stated. “Fighting with Isaiah won’t make you relevant to her. Nothing you do would mean anything to that cat. You rejected her, you turned your back on her, you did nothing to protect her when she needed protection, and you went and claimed another female.”
“I know what I did,” Zaire gritted out.
“It’s like Isaiah said before,” Tate cut in. “You hate him for having her, but you hate more that the choices you made years ago didn’t bring you the contentment you were sure they would. Do you really want to make Quinley pay for that?”
Zaire glared at him. “I’m not making her pay for anything.”
Havana cast him a Come on look. “Dude, you’re stood here trying to goad her mate into a public brawl. How can you think that won’t impact her? You can sense that they’re imprinting on each other, so you know she cares for him. If you were to hurt him, it would hurt her. Haven’t you done enough of that?”
Zaire averted his gaze again, swallowing hard.
“Go,” said Isaiah, pulling the black-foot’s attention back to him. “There’s nothing for you here. You won’t get a duel, you won’t get contact with Quinley, and you won’t have a shot at fixing your bond with Nazra unless you move on.”
Zaire drew in a long breath, his attention zipping to Quinley’s cat.
Isaiah peered up to see that she was now staring at Zaire, a warning in those eyes.
The Alpha’s own eyes turned cat again, his animal looking right at her. She went back to scent-marking Isaiah—making it clear where her affections and loyalties lay.
A low growl oozed out of the male cat. Zaire’s eyes abruptly became human once more, and he squeezed them shut as he shook his head hard.
Tate folded his arms. “What’s it gonna be? A fight with Isaiah, or a lifetime without Nazra—because let’s face it, you won’t manage to repair things with her if you go ahead with a duel.”
Zaire’s eyes snapped open, pinning Tate with a glare.
“And bear in mind that if you lose Nazra, you’ll lose your position of Alpha as well,” Havana tacked on. “Then giving up Quinley will have been for nothing.”