Page 23 of Primal Mirror

The other man’s eyes shone wet when they met Remi’s. “It’s not enough anymore.” A raw confession. “I keep thinking what’s wrong with me that I can’t make that bond? I’m a healer. We bond as easily as we breathe.”

This was one of the things no one could teach you about being alpha. Protection was one thing, care quite another. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Finn,” he said, holding those leaf green eyes to drill that home. “You just haven’t found your forever yet. She’s probably pissed off about it, too.”

A snort of laughter from Finn before he looked away for a second. Only healers could do that in a pack—just break an alpha’s gaze. But he turned back, and didn’t avoid the embrace Remi gave him.

Just because Finn was strong and intelligent and held it together no matter what the emergency didn’t mean he didn’t also need his alpha. “I know it’s not enough,” Remi murmured, “but take the gift of skin privileges your friends want to give you. It’ll help you maintain until you find the one who’s meant to be yours.”

Finn’s arms clenched around Remi for a moment before he pulled back and gave a small nod. “You’d tell me if I was falling down on the job, wouldn’t you?”

“Finn, that’s the one thing about which I never worry—you’d be dying but still trying to help people.” He tapped one palm against the other man’s cheek. “But if it makes you feel better, yes, I would kick your skinny ass if you weren’t living up to your promise to the pack. Message me once you’ve seen the juveniles.”

Finn’s lips curved before he turned and jogged the rest of the way to the infirmary. Right before he pulled open the door, he yelled, “My ass is prime, I’ll have you know! Had an entire hunting party of bridesmaids tell me so last time I visited San Francisco!”

Chuckling as the healer vanished inside the infirmary cube, Remi turned on his heel to check up on the current biggest pain in his neck. The juveniles’ antics, at least, he could predict. Auden Scott? Fucking nightmare of a problem that technically had nothing to do with him—and that would gnaw at him every second she was in his vicinity.

So of course he reached their border to discover her holding a deadly little gun all wrong while facing a homemade target—a piece of card stuck to a big stick that she’d poked into the ground. On the card was a wonky hand-drawn bull’s-eye.

Then she shot and it went so wide of the mark that it wasn’t even in the same galaxy.

His leopard hung its head in reflected shame.

Groaning, Remi deliberately made a lot of noise as he walked out so that she wouldn’t shoot him by accident—though her chances of hitting him were so low as to be miniscule. When she swung around with the gun pointed, he held up his own hands. “I mean, you have a point one percent chance of actually hitting me, but don’t shoot.”

A glare.

Yes, a definite glare, before she smoothed it over with the ice-coated exterior of Silent perfection she’d shown him yesterday. His heart kicked anyway, his leopard on the hunt.

There you are, the cat purred.

“I apologize.” She lowered the weapon and the movement disturbed the air currents, sending more of her luscious scent in his direction. “I didn’t intend to convey aggression…but you did sneak up on me.”

His body stirred in a way unexpected, as drawn to this Auden as he had been disturbed by the woman he’d first met. “I made enough noise for a herd of drunk bears.”

This time, she looked like she really wanted to shoot him.

Amused, he nodded at her target before she could give in to her rage. “Let me guess—your first time with a laser weapon?”

A pause and he knew her training was telling her to lie—according to what he’d picked up from hanging out with Arrows, powerful Psy were taught to cover any and all vulnerabilities. Or they had been under Silence. Who knew how long it would take for that to change, or if it ever would. A century of indoctrination wasn’t exactly easy to shrug off.

Auden finally seemed to realize there was no point in lying when he’d witnessed her stumbling attempted shot. “Yes,” she said at last. “It’s probably not safe for you to be close by.” A grudging warning.

His cat, contrary feline that it was, liked her better for being aggravated by his teasing. “I can’t leave you here with that.” He sighed to further nudge up her anger, to better see her. “I’ll lose my mind worrying that you’d lasered off your foot or blasted your cheekbone.”

Her eyes went black.

Remi stayed relaxed, his hands on his hips—he’d seen other Psy eyes do that when in the grip of great power—or great emotion. Auden Scott was becoming more fascinating with every second that passed.

“I,” she said in the most precise diction he’d ever heard, “know not to turn the weapon toward myself.”

Remi stopped playing. “You’re on the lowest setting. Highest setting, that thing kicks like a horse. You could accidentally trigger it in a direction you don’t want.”

The black didn’t retreat.

Well, hell, now he’d pissed her off. But no way was he leaving before assuring himself of her safety. “I can show you how to hit your target.”

Her fingers tightening on the weapon as her hand came to her belly, she took a small step back.

Shit.

---