Page 27 of Reformed Wolf
He pressed the barest kiss there before his hand coasted down my arm and entwined our fingers, but on the way out, he paused. “Excuse me, would you mind please making Dylan a sandwich?” he asked a young deer shifter who was seasoning a roast. Her pale skin blushed a bright crimson as she gawked up at him. My silly mate didn’t have a clue the effect he had on others. She nodded frantically and scurried off toward the fridge.
“I’m not hungry, really,” I said, tugging him toward the door, even as my stomach twisted, threatening to growl. “We’re going to be late.”
He quirked a brow at me. “What, are they going to start the fight without me? You need to eat, so please, let me take care of you for a moment.” I heard the unspoken words, that if things went south, he might not have another chance.
It was nice to be taken care of. I mean, my father had a slew of cooks and maids and guards, all of them with instructions to give me anything I asked for, but it never felt like this. Theirs was a job to be paid for. Tristan wanted to care for me as a partner would. As my alpha would.
As the deer shifter hurried back, she held the plate out to Tristan. “Thank you,” he told her, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with his open gratitude. My father rarely thanked someone for a job he expected to be done. She nodded, her gaze flicking over to mine.
Tristan passed me the plate and then stood watching. It took me a second to realize he was expecting me to eat right now, so I lifted the sandwich to my mouth and took a bite, making a big deal about chewing and swallowing. Tristan watched my mouth the whole time, dragging his tongue along his lower lip in some kind of erotic display of a whole different kind of hunger. Never before had a meal turned me on.
“Good boy,” he praised, and my pants grew dangerously tight. “Now let’s go take care of shit so we can move on to more… entertaining exploits.”
My father was waiting in the hall, looking impeccable in an all-black suit. The look on his face was half annoyed, half amused, and I blushed thinking about what he’d just overheard. He hated waiting, but there was also a glimmer of the man my father used to be. The kind and patient and reasonable man. He turned to lead the way but paused. He looked back over his shoulder at us. “I am truly sorry for this. I wish things had not already been set in motion.”
Tristan shook his head, though. “There’s no point in wishing for what could’ve been, rather than accepting what is. If things were different, I might not have met Dylan that night. Fate knows what she’s doing.” He peeked down at me and gave me a wink, and I squeezed his hand in mine.
I tried to finish my sandwich quickly on the way downstairs, but my stomach was churning with nerves. Maybe eating wasn’t such a good idea after all…
Tristan caught me staring down at the food, my mouth pinched tight. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll try to wrap this up quickly, and then I’ll take you out for dinner to celebrate.” He snuck in one last kiss, over too quickly, and I chased after his lips, whining, when he pulled away. He chuckled. “My mate is a greedy boy.”
My father cleared his throat loudly on his way down the stairs.
Clinging to Tristan’s arm, my heart started racing as the noise level increased. And when my dad finally pushed the door open, I tucked myself into my mate’s side.
The crowd was dialed up to fifteen. It was the full moon, and the scent of their beasts dominated the enclosed space. It was so much! But then… cutting through the onslaught, I caught the distinctive scent of wolf, and Tristan’s head snapped up. I followed his line of sight and found his friend, Jude. And he wasn’t alone.
Beside Jude was another wolf, one of the most powerful Alphas I’d ever felt. With salt-and-pepper hair and rich brown eyes, he wasn’t particularly tall or packed with muscle, but the air around him carried weight. He was not merely a figurehead of their pack, retaining his position through birthright. This man had earned his position. His presence rivaled even that of my father, and by the ring of empty space around him, I’d guess it was felt by everyone.
“Do you want to go say hi?” I asked Tristan when he didn’t immediately go over to his Alpha.
He thought about it, and I could see he wanted to, but he finally just shook his head. “No. There’ll be time when we’re done. Then I can officially introduce him to my mate.”
“By all means, don’t let me interrupt you,” Azar called from where he stood already in the cage, arms held out to his sides. “It’s only fair to allow you a proper goodbye since this will likely be your final farewell.”
Tristan pulled off a passable easygoing grin, though I could feel the tension in him under my fingers. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have anyone here wishing you luck. I wonder why that is.” I wasn’t sure goading Azar was a good idea, but perhaps Tristan thought he could throw the Alpha off his game.
Azar’s responding grin was all teeth. “It’s because I’m not fool enough to trust anyone to get that close. You will be a prime example today, for how your tender heart makes you weak. You will be so distracted by your precious omega that you’re likely to find yourself… off balance.” There was something cunning in his eyes I didn’t like.
I stepped in front of Tristan, cutting off his view of the ring. “Be careful. He’s up to something.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be right back.” He kicked off his clothes and set them aside, then risked giving me a quick kiss, but no one said a word about it. Win or lose, it would all resolve itself in the cage.
As Tristan made his way through the gate, I placed myself outside the cage, torturing myself with a front-row seat. To my surprise, my father moved to my side, shoulder to shoulder with me, offering his support. His guards formed a circle around us.
The padlock clicked shut, and my heart gave a jerky thump in my chest, my breath coming out in a wheeze. “No hard feelings,” I heard Azar say, offering a hand to Tristan. “May the best man win.”
My gaze zeroed in on that hand, his knuckles wrapped with tape. He’d never bothered to wrap his hands before…
Tristan hesitated, glancing at me, before stepping forward and reaching to take his hand. I felt like I’d been doused in ice-water, but I didn’t even have time to gasp. Tristan hissed and tried to pull his hand back, but Azar had him in a tight grip. The Alpha leaned closer, and I strained my ears to hear him, but it was nothing more than the barest whisper. When Azar let go, Tristan stared down at his palm, face slack with the first hint of fear I’d seen from him.
“What was that? Did you see—?” I asked my father, not sure how to finish the question, because there hadn’t been anything to see. Father just shook his head, frowning.
My father reluctantly gave the signal for the match to begin, and they both sprang into action. Azar didn’t hesitate to take a swipe of his glinting claws in an upward arc, and Tristan stumbled back, barely avoiding a lethal attack. He kept retreating until he came up against the cage wall, using a hand to brace himself.
I clutched at my chest, bunching my shirt in my fist. Something was wrong. Azar strolled around the ring, in no hurry, pacing leisurely. Every other match he fought, he’d ended it quickly without even needing to shift. What game was he playing?
“What’s the matter?” Azar jeered. “Puppy seems a little slow. Maybe he was too distracted to sleep last night.” He turned to me and gave a little tsk.