Page 85 of Never Submit

I suppose you want points for that?

I catch a glimpse of his smile in my head.Maybe props, not points.

It’s a tiny sliver of normality in the middle of the chaos. Once they’re done eating, they’ll go back to wherever it is they’re keeping Andras’s man and interrogate him further. But for now, this is what we’ve got.

This stalemate. This pause button someone pressed that allows us to have this moment.

Flora gasps, a small yeeping sound, before she covers her mouth. “I forgot about my cheese souffle.”

I groan. “The woman makes souffles too? Be still my heart.”

“She can do anything and everything. She is an asset to my pack. Which is part of the reason why we’re trying so hard to stop the Blood Moons from taking any more of our women.” Mathis says it with a loaded look.

Like Torin’s females will be the next ones targeted.

Torin sniffs, pushing aside the bowl of venison stew and focusing on the roasted honey carrots and salad. “Say what you want, but our protections are much stronger here than whatever rope and stone booby traps you have set up around your territory lines. I know how to keep my people safe.”

Much to my surprise, Mathis barks out a laugh, with only a hint of disgust in the sound. Mathis’s dark eyes meet mine, and he smiles, his expression neutral but the appreciation in his gaze is just for me. “You’ll see exactly what Imean once Andras targets you as well, Torin. He’ll spare no one in his war. He’s like a plague of locusts.”

Dax cracks his knuckles. “Which is why we’ll break his man.” He pushes away from the table abruptly, jerking his head toward the door. “Anyone else care for a little torture rather than dessert?” He licks his lips.

The pressure on my knee increases, Noble clasping me harder.

Mathis slowly rises and takes the bowl with him. “I’ll be right down,” he replies. He towers over the table, his large frame looking slightly out of place with the minimalistic decor that Torin no doubt let someone else choose.

His haughty arrogance matches it, though.

Mathis is a man molded to give the orders rather than take them. The hair on the sides and the back of his head is growing out longer, not so closely buzzed, showing more of his oak-brown hair, making him appear almost too wild for four walls anymore.

Mathis takes off with a wink. Torin waits until they’re both out of the room before he slowly deflates. “Why,” he grinds out, “is it such a bad thing to want to enjoy the food my personal chefs prepare rather than this rustic…” He trails off.

Noble shakes his head. “Don’t even say it. Flora did us a favor by cooking tonight. And itisreally tasty.”

“I don't understand why Mathis allows his omega more liberties than most. The rest of the Grey Valleys are at least keeping to their assigned lower floors.” But Torin glances toward the door, his lips pursed.

“I’m going to let you boys have some time to decompress without me.” I pat Noble’s knee in return and stand. “I think I might see if Flora needs help in the kitchen.

“I should go see if the Grey Valleys need anything.”Noble smiles and moves to leave, but Torin is still imposing, still a sullen asshole.

“What’s the matter? The mention of violence has soured your stomach, Ms. Wexler?”

“Maybe I just prefer her company to yours. Watch out. Women are going to take over your place whether you want them to or not.”

And once I’ve got myself under control, I’ll be payingMr. Steela visit to discuss his plans for Carrigan. Rest assured.

I leave them behind to speak in low tones, with Torin probably thinking of a thousand different insults for me.

He’ll find out soon enough, once he gets married, how women react to being called names.

Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me a little queasy.

Why in the world would he want to get married? He’s not the kind who flourishes in a relationship.

The idea of Torin being with another woman, of trying to play the part of a doting husband…it doesn’t sit well with me. When I glance down, my nails are carving crescents into the palms of my hands and my skin is red. The flush travels all the way up my neck and the sides of my face.

I’ve got to calm down.

There’s no reason to get upset this way, and my reaction is borderline irrational.

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