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)
“I’m special. We all know that.”
At the table, Adaline snorted. “Yeah. Special. We’ll go with that.”
Raya glared at Adaline, affronted. “You’re insinuating I’m not?”
“It wasn’t an insinuation.”
Her lips thinning, Raya shook her head. “And you wonder why I insist that Quinley is your favorite.”
“I don’t have a favorite—I’ve told you this, like, a gazillion times.”
“Because you’re a liar.”
“Or you’re wacked. Which I say with love,” Adaline added softly, her face serene. “Pure and unconditional love. That is what I feel for you.”
“But you feel more of it for Quinley.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s my favorite.”
“How is that not favoritism?”
Quinley bit back a chuckle and plopped the clean plate on the drainer. The two women constantly teased each other in a way that would seem plain harsh to those who didn’t know them. No real hurt was caused. They just each had a dark sense of humor.
Scrubbing yet another plate, she peered out of the window in front of her. Her nephews—Adaline’s twin boys, Corey and Ren—were outside kicking a ball around with their father Will while Raya’s mate stood aside cheering the little guys on.
After returning from the meet, Quinley had found all of them waiting on her porch with takeout food—a bribe for entrance so that they could grill her. She’d given them the rundown of what occurred in the FindYourMatch HQ, but she hadn’t admitted just how enthusiastically her body had responded to Isaiah—her sisters would only tease her like idiots.
“Now stop whining at Quinley,” Adaline reprimanded. “You said you’d support her in this.”
“I will support whatever gets her away from Nazra and Zaire. But I still have concerns.” Raya turned back to Quinley, folding her arms. “I should be allowed to talk to Isaiah; warn him to treat you right and stuff.”
Quinley rolled her eyes. “You can do that at the celebration if you feel you must. Instead of complaining, could you maybe focus on the positives here? I’ll be away from Twit and Twat. I’ll get a fresh start. I’ll have a mate. I’ll still be working at the salon. And I won’t be very far away.” She set the clean dish on the drainer. “Isaiah made it clear that you’re all free to visit whenever you want.”
“Neither of you will be coming here to see us?” asked Raya, her brows dipping. “You should. Let those assholes Nazra and Zaire see that you’ve moved on and that they have no hold over your emotions.”
“I’m not interested in doing that. I just want to be away from them. My cat will accept Isaiah, but that’s not to say that imprinting will be simple for her. Having even minor contact with her true mate or the female who claimed him might get in the way.”
“You don’t want your cat to keep getting dragged into the past and end up focusing on her hurt rather than on what future she might have,” Adaline understood.
“Exactly,” Quinley confirmed, drying her hands on a small towel. “I want Isaiah to be the only male on her radar.”
“Well, news of the arranged mating will be circling even now,” said Adaline. “Nazra’s friends will call and tell her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she calls you, her father’s warning to leave you alone be damned, because this is a huge deal.”
Quinley shook her head. “She won’t have my number.”
“It won’t be hard for her to get it,” Raya warned. “So be braced for a call.”
There was no call from Nazra that day, though. Or a text. Or an email. Or anything at all.
She also didn’t send any of her friends to pay Quinley a visit on her behalf. So Quinley figured that either Nazra simply didn’t care, or no one had actually told her.
It turned out she’d figured wrong. Something she realized the following evening, when Nazra turned up at her cabin.
For fuck’s sake. Her grip flexing on the door handle, Quinley didn’t say anything. She merely stared at the other female. Her inner feline slowly pushed to her feet, her hackles rising.
It was no mystery why Zaire had been—if the stories were true—attracted to Nazra right from the start. There was no denying she was beautiful. Slanted cat-green eyes, tight curls the color of caramel, prominent cheekbones, hourglass figure. That she was a born-alpha had only increased her appeal for him.
Nazra arched an imperious brow. “Are you not going to invite me in?”
“Nope, I’d rather have witnesses to whatever you do next.” There was a couple standing not far away, their attention fixed on Quinley and her visitor.
Nazra exhaled heavily, suddenly looking … tired. “I haven’t come here to argue. I just want to talk.”
Quinley felt her brows draw together. This whole looking worn out thing could be a trick, but why use one?
“Really,” Nazra persisted. “All I want to do is talk. If it makes you feel better, you can leave the door wide open.”