Page 48 of Fae Devoted
“Ages as in when you were pups?”
“Alittlemore recently,” she admitted, fiddling with the frayed edge of a hole in her distressed jeans. “College, actually.”
“A college friend?”
“We might have been a tiny bit more than friends…once.” She cleared her throat.
“Kincaid is an ex-boyfriend?” The timbre of his voice was all wolf.
“Boyfriend isn’t precisely the right term.” Johnnie’s face and ears felt like they were on fire. She didn’t want to have this conversation with anyone, least of all Jacob. “Dylan and I were…and then he decided that…well, after he…I thought, maybe…”
“He was a potential mate?” he growled, releasing her to grip the steering wheel with both hands, the dashboard’s dim lighting turning the whites of his knuckles an eerie blue-gray.
“But, um, as it turned out, I was…wrong.” So very wrong.
The truck jerked to a stop. Jacob had barely jammed the gearshift into park when he bailed, slamming the door shut so forcibly it rattled. He paced in front of the truck with his hands clasped behind his neck, headlights illuminating his furiously moving lips. Johnnie’s emotions ping-ponged between empathy and selfish-joy watching him struggle with the possibility of her with someone else.
His chest heaved as he came to a sudden halt, slapped his palms wide on the hood, and hung his head. A wisp of Jacob’s distress bled through their bond, and Johnnie’s chin quivered in shame. How could she feel anything close to happiness while he was hurting?
Jacob’s eyes lifted and landed possessively on Johnnie, his wolf’s bright yellow gaze communicating louder than words.
“Yes,” she said aloud, though he wouldn’t be able to hear the words—or read them on her lips in the cab’s dark interior. “I’m yours. I will always be yours.”
His lids slid closed as if he’d heard them anyway, and when they reopened a few seconds later, the golden glow was gone. Johnnie exhaled as he shoved upright, came around to the driver’s seat, and rejoined her inside.
She bit her cheek to keep silent, and although his shoulders were tense and his jaw tight, Jacob’s voice was all human when he said, “Let’s go see Kincaid.”
Chapter 14
Tucker breathed inthe crisp pre-dawn air; the cooler weather of Northern Michigan was in stark contrast to an autumn in Memphis. Kincaid’s isolated cabin with its proximity to the expansive state park was an ideal place for him and Jo to lie low. If he could hold his shit together around the male his she-wolf once thought was a potential truemate.
It wasn’t a guarantee.
Taking another deep breath, Tucker concentrated on the peaceful sounds of the wind rustling through the nearby tree line, an owl’s sonorous hoots, and the white noise of nearby rushing water, all in the attempt to calm his wolf the fuck down.
Jo shifted from one foot to the other at his side, clutching and unclenching the necklace he gave her at Chess. He knew Dylan Kincaid wasn’t the enemy, but her nervousness stirred his baser instincts. Angling his body, Tucker crossed his arms and braced his legs apart in a protective stance in front of her before knocking again.
A loud thump from inside the cabin and the subsequent masculine curse sharpened Jo’s already spicy scent to a pungent black pepper. The prospect his she-wolf might have lingering feelings for this male formed a tight band around his ribcage.
A few seconds later, the dark-haired male Tucker met in Samuel’s office over a year ago stood in the dim backlight of the open doorway.
“Beta Tuck—” The muscular Ferwyn’s gaze flew to the anxious female standing behind his right shoulder. “Johnnie? What are you doing here?”
A growl built in the depths of Tucker’s throat as Jo’s scent spiked yet again.
At his guttural rumble, Kincaid’s gaze snapped to Tucker, then swung back to Jo. Nostrils flaring, he zeroed in on her shoulder and the recent bite hidden beneath her blouse. Awareness widened his eyes, and his chin dropped to his chest, correcting the unintentional break in protocol.
The first two Mating Marks used to determine compatibility weren’t treated lightly due to the restrictions they placed on both Dancing parties. The societal constraints that always chafed their females and often inflamed a Ferwyn male to act unreasonably contributed to the lightning-speed courtships and short durations between one Mark and the next—if there was a next—for prudence’s sake.
“Jacob,” Jo hissed after enduring several seconds of uncomfortable silence, the smell of unease replaced with annoyance.
Tucker took his sweet time unfolding his arms, then pulled Jo into his side. Kincaid’s fingers twitched, but his eyes remained dutifully downcast.
Jo’s elbow jabbed into Tucker’s stomach.
“You know my she-wolf.” He emphasized themyin the customary introduction of a female in the midst of the Mating Dance to an unmated Ferwyn male. “Joan Long.”
Kincaid’s head rose before he finished stating her last name. “I can’t believe it’s you. I thought I’d never see—”
