Page 22 of Secretary's Obsession

His anger matched that of his demon, but fighting was never the answer. He’d learned that growing up. Although this time his family had outdone themselves, they hadn’t gotten beyond his own bedroom—storeroom—that was a first even for his family before the insults started.

“I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Scott’s my claimed mate. One I’m proud to have—”

“I’m sure you are being a lowly bear,” his mother said haughtily, nose pointing in the air as if seeking cleaner air.

“Lowly bear, how dare you insult my blissful one!” Scott bellowed, and was met with two stunned expressions. In the whole of his life he had worked to please his parents—unsuccessfully, he might add—and now he could see that even the gift the gods had bestowed on him wasn’t proof enough that he was worthy of being a part of this family. It hurt, but not as much as George being treated with such disrespect.

When his demon pushed once more, he didn’t stand in his way. The gift when flying, then gone was the tuxedo, and his demon stood—naked—in all his pale blue glory. “Acknowledge our blissful one,” he bellowed, causing the room to shake and boxes to fall.

The sound of shoes clattering down the hall made not one iota of difference to his demon, Scott was a little more conflicted at his brothers seeing him like this. They’d been merciless about his pale skin when they’d been growing up.

George, it appeared, had enough, not that Scott could blame him. “I think it’s time we left.” He hooked an arm through theirs, not taking his gaze off the group of demons all vying to get into the room past the two statues he’d reduced his parents to by letting his demon out.

“Not before they acknowledge you,” his demon persisted, glancing at George. All he wanted was for them to see how wonderful their bear was. It was that simple.

His family was not that simple.

“The king is going to hear about this!” his father, having finally found his tongue, snapped in a strangled voice, spitting angry darts at George. “We will get this mix-up rectified.”

The roar was deafening as his demon lost his shit at the idea that their blissful one was a mix-up. “Mix-up! Mix-up.”

George turned his back on those vying for attention and reached up to once more cup their cheeks, holding his gaze. “Take me home, sweetie, I’ll take you out for a burger.” He flicked a glance over his shoulder, giving his family a pitiful look. “At least then we’ll be able to enjoy it without the atmosphere of condescending asshole choking us.”

Scott snorted, and his demon found the humor in the situation, laughing heartily at the pointed dart hitting home when silence descended from those in the doorway.

Only it didn’t last for long. Scott should have known they wouldn’t escape that easily.

“You are aware of who you are speaking to?” His father’s tone could freeze a demon’s balls right off. While his demon magic held Scott prisoner, unable to translocate.

George, as if sensing the immediate panic running through Scott at what his father might try to do to him, to George, growled, low and mean, swinging around to the sound of tearing clothes.

Chapter Twelve

George

George had one major peeve when it came to dealing with people—those who thought they were somehow special and entitled to insult and belittle those around them without consequence. Scott was being held, he could feel the magic in the air, andthe thought that a man would do that to his own son, while his mother and brothers looked on as if they were watching a carnival act, brought back memories George had of dealing with his own father.

His father and Scott’s could’ve been cut from the same cloth—snooty, privileged, and determined that their belief systems were the only way life could and should be lived. George hadn’t fought his father—he’d escaped. But back then, the only thing he was trying to save was the right to use his spunk as he saw fit. Now someone who was a damn clone of his own father was threatening his mating.

He didn’t even think about the implications of shifting in the demon realm. Put bluntly, George didn’t give a shit. Scott’s beautiful demon’s face became frozen, as if he was a pale blue statue, his mouth open, his eyes caught mid-blink.

The panic running through their bond was like a match to George’s anger, and his bear burst through.

He didn’t hesitate, even as the scraps of the tuxedo Scott had given him fell like ribbons to the floor. He lunged straight for Randal, clearly catching the demon unawares. His bear’s teeth sunk into the demon’s leg, the taste of the leathery skin and cologne searing his tongue.

Resisting the urge to spit and longing for a tall glass of water, the bear released his teeth, spinning around and knocking the demon to the floor with his back end. He felt the change, asthe man let go of his magical hold on Scott, but the bear wasn’t finished.

He wouldn’t bite a woman—he wasn’t sure his teeth would make it through the clearly fake crystal sheen on her skin in the first place—but he didn’t have an issue with knocking her off her six-inch heels, wincing at the sound of her scream.

“Randal. Help me.”

“Help yourself, woman. I’m wounded here,” Randal screeched like the whining asshole he was.

Meh. It’s just a nip.George focused on the brothers, curling his lip over his long teeth, and he stared them down.

“Hey, we were just laughing. We didn’t do nothing.” The tallest one backed up, his hands raised. “I never thought my little brother would ever be into bestiality, but whatever floats your boat, man.”

George lunged, his huge paws landing on the man’s chest and bringing him to the ground. The smell of urine wrinkled his nose, but George could feel magic in the air again and didn’t linger. The other two brothers were already running down a long and narrow hallway, and George gave chase. He wasn’t built for marathon running, but he could move fast over short distances.

---