Page 21 of Knot Quite Ready

Images of her lying battered and broken in a ditch somewhere, or worse, working at the Kentucky Derby, makes my adrenaline spike, and I need to find her ass. Why the fuck isn’t she answering her phone? She’s always answering it.

The air is cold this morning, but I’m too worried to turn back and grab a coat. Plus, I’ll warm up if I jog to hers, which isn’t far. My stomach rumbles as I make my way through town, but I don’t stop at the delicious cafes with the enticing smells wafting out, even though my wolf nips at my heels to grab something to eat.

“Storm first, then food,” I snap at her and ignore her as she huffs and curls into a ball right at the back of my mind.

Temperamental bitch.

I’m only slightly out of breath when I find myself outside her house. It’s cute as shit with the ivy growing up the front of it, trailing over the rough stone. It was in her family for years, and she always said it reminds her of a mini princess castle which I always agree with. She stays humble by working at the b&b where we met, but in reality, she’s rolling in old money.

My sharp knock goes unanswered, and I’m two seconds away from bashing the door in when it suddenly swings open, and I come face to chest with a— well, a muscular, tanned specimen.

Once my mouth is scraped off the floor, my eyes meet one very satisfied-looking Calian. His grin is amused as he stands there with his arm braced on the door in nothing but a towel.

Shit, what have I missed in these eight days of cum soaked sheets?

I brush past him to go inside, “Calian, we really have to stop meeting like this. I come to see someone, and there you are, like a creepy horse-shaped jack in the box."

He rolls his eyes and closes the door behind me.

I flop into the chair in her foyer, and air wooshes out my lungs. Okay, not dead. Just a whore. Although, I don't have a paw to stand on, considering my own week.

Calian stands in front of me; eyebrow raised as if waiting for an explanation of why I was inmyStorm's house. The nerve. She is mine, my best friend.

Eyes narrowed, I take a deep breath and smell, yup, sex and horse-shifter. Suddenly Cardi B's lyrics play through my head, and I giggle despite my growing irritation.

"So... Storm decided to give you a chance then?” I ask him, looking up at him. Jesus, just how tall was he? I'm over all these tall hot men coming in and laying claim to our lives. Just clouding our judgment with their peens and taking over our lives with their 'me, mate...you, mine' bullshit. I feel my eye twitch as my emotions whirl out of control. Want, hate, sadness, helplessness. Too much is changing at once, and I don't like it. I don't care if it seemed dramatic, fuck that.

His lips quirk slightly, “So. Smells like you gave the Alpha a chance, then.” His eyes twinkle.

“I have showered, you know,” I grumble.

He chuckles, "You can shower all you want; the scent of a freshly mated female doesn't fade."

His smile fades and is replaced with a dark look that sends a trickle of ice down my spine. I'm suddenly looking at Councilman Swiftwater instead of Calian, and I now understand why he has the reputation he did. If this were the last look I had to see before I was sentenced to death, I would repent immediately. There should be posters of this look in all schools; kids would never misbehave. I tuck that genius idea in my back pocket.

"What's concerning is that you don't seem particularly happy. Did something happen? Will I have to work harder this week to cover up a murder? I don't relish the idea of Storm committing murder, but I would be hard-pressed to stop her."

My lips quirk even as Agatha growls at the idea of her mate being harmed.

"No murder. He's...great..." I admit bitterly, struggling to swallow past the ache in my throat. My head starts to ache at all the ups and downs, and I drop my head into my hands.

"I just don't like change, and this is all too much at once," I sigh.

He hums, his face sympathetic, "There are some things in this world worth fighting against and some worth fighting for. Being a shifter, we understand, more than most, that often it's the same battle—fighting against our natures for the sake of ourselves. It would be much simpler if, like our animal counterparts, we saw things as black or white instead of seeing the shades of grey. But fate, in this regard, is not a battle you need to fight. A destined mate is a gift, Aneira. This battle you wish to wage will only serve to cloud your senses and bring you misery."

I look up at him, the toweled equine philosopher of the new age.

"I don't want sense or facts. I want to kidnap my best friend, ride off into the sunset, and live happily ever after as old ladies who hit on younger men and make them supremely uncomfortable as we shine our dentures," I groan.

Calian's eyes narrow, “As darling, as that image is, wolf If you attempt to take my mate from me, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and ensure you regret ever crossing my path."

I growl as I leap to my feet, relishing the anger instead of the emotional cocktail, "Storm was mine before she was yours. She is my pack, wolf or not. I call bestfriend dibs. Plotting before trotting, lupine before equine. That's how this will work here, you unbridled brute." I step into his space, and I poke his rock-hard abs to emphasize my point.

“Now fuck off; you had your time with Storm. She is mine now."

His gaze hardens as I speak, and our bonding moment is effectively over.

“I’m going to let this slide for now, Aneira because you’ve just found your mate and been introduced to the mating lust haze. But for the future record?” His voice deepens. “Don't put Storm in a position to choose because if she does choose you, you'll either become my new pet wolf or a new rug in my bedroom."

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