Page 72 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

“So, where’d you meet?” Emmet asks, voice low but steady.

He leans back against the barn post, arms crossed, eyes watchful in that quiet-Beta-who-could-still-kick-your-ass kind of way.

Once upon a time, Emmet was the kind of Wolf you didn’t approach unless you had a death wish and a silver dagger in hand.

Not that silver mattered, but that isn’t even the point.

The point is, ever since he found and claimed his mate, he’s been different.

Not soft.

Just less growly.

Still dangerous, but with his fangs tucked away most of the time.

I scratch at the back of my neck and shrug, pretending this conversation isn’t making my Bull twitch.

“I met her at the rodeo last month. Right before you came to get me.”

I don’t mean for it to come out like that—casual, like it didn’t shake my world to its foundation—but there it is.

Lightning struck hard and fast. It can make you gasp and leave a mark, and that’s exactly what meeting Arliss did to me.

She changes everything.

And I should be glad, but I’m too angsty for that.

Do I deserve her? Fuck no.

But I can’t even picture myself before her.

Before knowing her.

Touching her.

Before her smile carved itself into my bones.

Zeke snorts from where he’s perched, his back to one of the hay bales, eyes narrowed to slits. The Dragon lingers just beneath his skin, glowing in the edges of those strange, elongated purple eyes.

Gives my Bull the fucking shivers.

“You meet and fuck women all the time, bro. What makes this one different?”

The words are sharp, bitter, laced with venom and something older.

And for a split second, I see red.

I see his face under my fist.

My Bull snarls inside me, stomping the earth of my soul, begging me to defend her.

Because insult a Shifter’s mate, and you’re just begging for a bloody mouth and a broken ribcage.

But then I catch the flicker of something behind Zeke’s words.

Not mockery.

Not jealousy.

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