Page 6 of The Predator's Wolf Mate

“When did you get here?” I asked Pop-Tart, who might not be a shifter at all but instead a freaking ninja, the way he slid in and out.

I’d been sobbing from the big blowup, my eyes blurry and my voice cracking. This was the first I’d been able to ask anything. I hated the hold Aziz had on me. It sucked. And it wasn’t even his fault.

He didn’t answer, instead looking at my face with pity.

“Where did he go? Can you tell me that much?”

“He probably needed air.” It didn’t sound like a getting-air kind of departure, but what did I know.

“What was that all about?” It became abundantly clear he wasn’t going to tell me shit. “Let’s go check on Bryant.”

“Where is he?” And he seemed more than willing to pretend he didn’t walk in on what he had walked in on. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful or pissed.

“He’s with Nora, coloring, while she figures out the pantry order for the week. He loves coloring.”

I grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears from my eyes. Blasted tears. I hated how much I let Aziz get to me.

“What was that all about?” Apparently Pop-Tart wasn’t letting it go.

“What was it all about?” I asked, buying time to try and form an answer he’d accept without have to reopen the wound. Not that it had healed.

He nodded.

“I just... I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Actually, it sounds like maybe you should have said a lot more and earlier. There were a whole lot of big feelings coming out, and it sounds like they’ve been bottled up for quite a while.”

“Not that long.” Which was a big-ass lie. It shouldn’t have surprised me that Pop-Tart called me on it.

“How long have they been bottled up?”

It took me a full minute to be able to answer, but I wanted to be honest. He’d been spot-on about me bottling it up, and that wasn’t good for anyone.

“Since Bryant’s birth.”

“On his birthday?” Apparently I’d keep my secret from everyone better than I thought if Pop-Tart seriously didn’t know enough to misconstrue my words.

“No, at his birth.” I looked to the ground, not wanting to see the pity on his face.

“His birth, meaning, since we got you out of there?” His voice was so understanding, so calm, almost soothing. He really was the best of us.

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve been holding it in this whole time?”

“Yeah.” Boy, wasn’t I the one for details. Ugg.

“You’ve had a crush on him?” If only it had been that. Crushes fade. This? This was only going to grow and that sucked.

“It’s not a crush.” I couldn’t believe I was going to say this aloud, but out it came. “My beast thinks he’s my mate. But, he can’t be, right? Because he doesn’t feel anything for me. He called me his fucking friend.” And not in an I’m not that into you kind of way.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Pop-Tart didn’t pretend to have answers or assert that everything was going to be fine. He knew how horrific being rejected by a mate was supposed to be.

That was the epitome of badness. There was no coming back from it. And the hopelessness of it all made everything twice as bad.

“It’s fine. I just didn’t expect him to be here.” It was not fine. It was very not fine.

“About that.” Pop-Tart took a step back, and I looked up at him. “The thing is, he’s not here just for a day. He’s here permanently.”

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