Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 135321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
She shrugged. “I guess all couples are that little bit different. You don’t need to be mad at them. They did love me and my brother, they just …”
Loved each other more, she didn’t say but Tate heard. And of course she’d sensed that he was unhappy with them—his mate was too observant.
As she rested her head on his chest and burrowed into him, he tightened his arms around her. “Never again, baby. You’ll never be alone like that again, I swear it you.” His cat squirmed to get closer to her, hating that she was hurting. The feline wanted to comfort and rub up against her, wanted to have time with her devil and give the animal that same comfort.
They stayed like that for a while, saying nothing.
Tate waited until she lifted her head again before he said, “My cat wants to officially meet your devil tonight. Would she be up for that?”
A slow smile curved Havana’s mouth. “Yes. She’d like that.”
He smiled right back. “Good. We eat takeout with our families first. Then we shift.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The evening went well. The meal was rowdy, but in a good way. There was a lot of talking, laughing, and even some playful shit talk. The latter was mostly between Elle and Damian, which never failed to exasperate their father.
Each of Tate’s relatives kissed Havana’s cheek and hugged her, welcoming her into their family, making it clear that they believed she’d make a good Alpha for their pride. Bailey was pretty well behaved, all things considered. But she did watch Luke closely. Not with sexual interest, which was fortunate, since he’d been off the market for years—and for very good reason. Bailey observed him like he was a ticking bomb. The Beta often regarded the mamba through narrowed eyes but said little to her.
Camden appeared eager to leave, but he wasn’t rude to anyone and didn’t once try to hurry Aspen out of the house. Which meant the bearcat had probably warned him not to in advance.
Later, after they’d all demolished their meal and cleaned up their mess, people began to trickle out of the house until only Tate and Havana remained.
Tate palmed her ass. “Ready to let our animals out now?”
She hummed. “Sure.”
He held out his hand, smiling when his mate took it without hesitation. He led her through the house and out into the backyard. A human would take one look at it and describe it as wild and neglected. Tall, weedy grass. Mossy, thick trees. Bulky, prickly shrubberies. Nonsensical-looking rockeries. It was an ideal playground for a pallas cat, though. Tate believed Havana’s animal would like it just the same.
He turned to fully face her. “You shift first.” He wanted to get a good look at her devil. Maybe even give her a few strokes, if she’d let him.
Havana’s face scrunched up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea yet. She’s too … edgy.”
“She doesn’t quite trust that I won’t hurt you again,” he understood. “That’s fair. I don’t like it, but I get it.” And he only had himself to blame.
“She just needs a little time.”
“Then I’ll give it to her.” Tate shed his clothes, his blood heating as he watched Havana do the same. He had all kinds of plans for that body later. “Quick warning: my cat’s probably going to rub himself all over you.”
She let out a soft “of course he will” snort. “I consider myself warned.”
Bones snapped and popped as Tate withdrew, giving his animal supremacy. Moments later, a pallas cat stood in Tate’s place.
Havana smiled down at the feline as he shook his fur. She’d heard it said that pallas cats looked a lot like stuffed plush toys, and she could agree with that statement.
She could also agree that they were a combination of odd and cute. Tate’s cat was no exception. He had small tufty ears, an abundance of rich long gray fur, black stripes across his cheeks, dark snow-leopard-like spots on his forehead, a bushy black-tipped tail that sported distinctive dark rings, and patches of white-cream fur on his throat, chin, and inner ears.
She knelt down. “Well, hey.” His amber eyes—their pupils strangely round rather than vertical—locked with hers as he padded over to her, wearing every pallas cat’s trademark cranky look.
He butted her knee, so she took the hint and stroked her fingers through his beautiful fur, admiring the white fluffy ends that made it look like his coat was topped with frost. Just as Tate had warned her that he would, the cat rubbed against her, leaving his scent all over her—purring the entire time. When he was done scent-marking her, he pulled back and blinked up at her.
“Ah, you want to see my devil now. Okay.” She gave control over to her inner animal, shifting forms in an instant.