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)
But Quinley … she was like a puzzle piece he’d been missing. She made him feel alive and chased away the numbness. She’d restored the balance he hadn’t realized he’d lost.
It had cut him deep that he’d never have his true mate. But each time Quinley had given herself over to him, had trusted him so implicitly, had let him in that little bit more, she’d increasingly closed over that wound. It now no longer bled. More, she was a balm to the jagged scar there.
Both he and his cat were elated that imprinting had begun. They were also less edgy, satisfied that their claim to her was taking metaphorical shape. But neither man nor animal would relax completely until the bond formed. Both were resolute that it would; both determined that said bond would never turn brittle or break.
There had been a slight change in her since yesterday. She was more relaxed. More sure of him, of them. As if the beginning of the imprinting process had given her the reassurance she’d needed that they were on the exact same page.
It was just as much as a relief for him. He was actually glad they’d come across Lucinda yesterday. Because it had been the subsequent conversation between him and Quinley that had fully opened up the possibility of imprinting.
He’d assured her in the very beginning that she wasn’t some kind of fallback mate; that she would never play second fiddle. She’d seemed to have believed him, but maybe a part of her had needed some extra reassurance. He hadn’t seen that. Should have.
Once the bond formed, she wouldn’t be able to—consciously or subconsciously—hide such doubts from him again. He’d feel them. The thought of that pleased him. He would then be able to better monitor her emotional welfare. He didn’t like the idea that she might hold shit in and torment herself with it.
They hadn’t yet told anyone that imprinting had started, because they knew that they would be thereafter swarmed by nosy well-wishers. They wanted this time alone; wanted to spend their first Christmas Eve as a mated couple alone.
On the table, her cell phone began to ring.
She leaned forward to peek at the screen. “It’s Tina again.”
Annoyance sizzled through him. He’d always liked Tina—she was a friend of his mother’s, and she’d been one of those who were adamant that Isaiah had not killed Jenson. But she could be a bit of a diva at times. Like now.
Quinley again tipped back her head to look at him, worrying her lower lip.
“The answer is no,” he told her.
She sighed. “I’m a healer, I’m supposed to help those in pain.”
“But as we’ve established, she’s being unreasonable. All she has to do is let Helena heal her wound, but she won’t. She’d rather suffer than accept the aid of someone she’s currently unhappy with.” It was all part of the diva thing.
“I know, but—”
“Worse, she’s been coming to you morning and night for pain relief. She doesn’t even need it that often. The slightest twinge and she calls.” Again, it was part of the diva thing.
“Not everyone has a strong pain threshold.”
Isaiah exhaled heavily. He didn’t like saying no to Quinley. Didn’t like seeing her face fall in disappointment. But he couldn’t support her ignoring her limits.
He wanted to be everything to her. He wanted to lift her up. Be her strength when she needed it. Make her feel safe and secure. Spoil her in what ways he could. But shove aside what was best for her? No. That he wouldn’t do.
He stroked a hand over her hair. “Baby, I get that you want to help people. That’s a good thing. But it’s important to have boundaries and ensure others don’t cross them. It’s important to take care of yourself. Tina isn’t being fair to you. She knows that coming to you so frequently for that level of relief will make you feel drained. She’s doing it anyway. It’s not right, and it’s stupid when she could rid herself of the pain easily by accepting Helena’s help.”
“It’s hard for me to ignore when someone’s hurting.”
“I know. But your wellbeing comes before healer instincts. It has to, if only because you’d otherwise be too worn out to be of help to the rest of the pride.”
The lines of distress in her face smoothed out. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
Even as her eyes shimmered with humor, she gave him a dirty look. “You’ve been very bossy today. I can’t take Tina’s calls. I’m not allowed to cook because you want to make dinner for us. And I’m not allowed to touch you until we’re in bed.” Huffing, she cut her gaze back to the TV. “Sounds like a crap deal to me.”
He licked at her brand. “Let’s not pretend you don’t like when I give you an order to follow. You like the challenge. You like the tension. You like to hand over control.” He grabbed his beer from the small shelving unit beside the sofa. “You also like when I make you wait for what you want.”