Page 31 of Predator

“Fair warning. I’ve been playing against Ellie for decades. I’ve even beaten her a couple of times.”

“That’s better than I’ve done,” I toss back, rolling the balls a few times for luck before removing the holder. “She doesn’t even let me pretend to have a chance. Okay, Tristan. Let’s see what you got.”

Taking up point at the head of the table, he sights down his cue stick, hitting the cue ball with enough force that he sends all of the balls spinning about the table—including the yellow and blue-striped balls that find their ways to two different pockets.

“Lucky shot,” I grumble. “Okay. You got stripes.”

Tristan takes another shot, but misses. “How are you doing these days, Fallon?”

Is that what we’re doing here? Playing pool and making small talk? Sorry, Tristan. That’s not really my style.

I take my shot, smirking a little when I manage to actually get the solid maroon one to bank off of one of Tristan’s before knocking it right into the side pocket. Go, Fallon! I’m even more impressed when the solid red is in position and I get that one, too, though I’m probably shooting for the starts to get three in a row—and I totally don’t.

Lowering my stick, I shrug my shoulders. “I’m okay.” When his blue eyes dart my way before he focuses on the game again, I firm my voice. “Honest. Going feral like that…” Attacking Lucas… “...that was a fluke. I’m doing alright. What about you?” Don’t mention the leg, don’t mention the leg… “What have you been up to?”

He’s bent over the table, lining up his next shot. He takes it—banking two more of his seven balls—then gives me a small grin. “Thinking.”

“Thinking?”

Tristan nods. Easing around the table so that he can get the striped-green ball now, he admits, “Yup, thinking. About you. Me. The pack?—”

Oh, boy. “Tristan. I?—”

Clink. The white ball hits the striped-orange ball, and he’s down to one left. “No, Fallon, please. Let me finish. It took a lot for me to get the nerve to come talk to you today. So, if it’s alright, I just have to get this out.”

I lick my bottom lip, then nod. “Okay.”

He sighs. “I get it now. About how, sometimes, there isn’t a choice. I mean, I know I’ve told you that there is… and I really believed there could’ve been something between us… but that was just my loneliness talking. I knew from the beginning that Lucas has his claim on you because of Jolie. Then he met you, and I knew you were his fated mate. Betas don’t often go feral… not like what the curse did to Lucas—and to you. But I think… I think I went a little off the rails there for a minute.” Tristan laughs under his breath. “Sorry. Train pun.”

Right. Because the charming Blondie is a secret train buff. Who would’ve thunk it? I guess that explained why he had the patrol by the river the day the train rolled in.. and why is that what I’m focusing on now?

“It’s okay.”

“Good. Because I’ve got plenty more.”

I shake my head, my opal swaying with the motion. “No, you goof. Not the pun… I mean, everything else you said. I just want you to know that it’s okay. We’re good.”

His blue eyes seem to twinkle for a moment there. “You sure? You might change your mind when I do this.” In quick succession, he sinks his last striped ball, calls for the eight ball, and knocks that in. Maybe he’s not as a crack shot as Eleanor, but it’s pretty freaking close.

And that’s okay, too.

With his confession and apology and my simple, ‘it’s okay’, it seems like that least of the awkwardness between us has finally disappeared. He’s my friend. He’s pack. He’s the Beta, and if anything, I respect him for putting up with Luc’s grumpy ass these last seventy years without losing his grin or the twinkle in his eyes.

I try to mirror it back. “What do you think? Best two out of three?”

“Rack ‘em and you’re on.”

CHAPTER 10

SEARCH MISSION

I’m one hell of a competitive chick.

It’s just another part of who I am. I’m so good at compartmentalizing things, of putting things out of my head for the moment if I’m not ready to face it, but when it comes to something as simple as a race, a card game, a silly internet challenge, and, yes, a game of pool… I’m competitive, and a bit of a sore loser.

I don’t give Tristan shit for beating me the next game. In fact, I feel better about him schooling me in billiards. If he was still flirting with me, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to cozy up behind me to ‘teach’ me a better way to shoot, or even miss obvious shots just to make me feel better.

That he whips my ass, going three for three is almost like his way of saying that we’re cool. We’re buddies. We’re packmates.

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