Page 10 of Pleasure and Mane
He spun on his heel and stalked toward the library, his pulse hammering with each step. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before him, lined with family portraits that had witnessed generations of Haider leadership. His father's gaze seemed to bore into him from an oil painting near the library door—a reminder of tradition, duty, and the bloodline that had kept their pride strong for centuries.
What would you do, Dad?The question burned through his mind as his hand closed around the brass door handle.What would you do if fate dropped a human mate in your lapand threatened to destroy everything you believed about pride leadership?
But his father couldn't answer, and Caius was left to face whatever waited beyond that door alone—just as he'd been facing everything else since he was seventeen years old and the mantle of Alpha had settled across his shoulders.
The library door swung open on silent hinges, revealing floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that gleamed in the lamplight. The scent of aged leather and old parchment wrapped around Caius like a familiar embrace, but tonight even his sanctuary felt foreign with Quinn's presence saturating the air. She sat in his father's favorite reading chair, her cream sweater soft against the burgundy leather as she bent over a slim volume.
Not the ancient pride histories. Not the mating rituals or territorial agreements.Relief and something dangerously close to disappointment warred in his chest as he recognized the innocuous text on childbirth traditions—one of the few human-safe books in his collection.
"You were told to stay in your designated areas," he growled. "The library wasn't on that list."
Quinn's eyes lifted to meet his, unfazed by his Alpha dominance. Her fingers marked her place in the book as she straightened in the chair. "You're right. I overstepped."
The calm acknowledgement caught him off guard. He'd expected defensiveness, maybe fear—not this steady composure that made his lion pace more.
"I understand that you might be distrusting of new people, especially in your home." Her voice carried no trace of apology, only matter-of-fact assessment. "Particularly humans who don't belong in your world."
You belong.His lion's fierce certainty slammed against his rational mind like waves against stone. Caius forced hisexpression to remain neutral despite the way her scent made his blood sing.
"But my job is to ensure Lavinia has the healthiest pregnancy possible." Quinn closed the book and placed it carefully on the side table. "That includes researching anything that might have contributed to the recent rise in pregnancy loss in your community."
The words hit him hard. All his bravado, his territorial posturing, and his careful barriers—they crumbled in the face of her quiet dedication and concern. She wasn't here as some threat to his carefully ordered world. She was here to protect his sister and her unborn cub. To possibly figure out what was happening in his pride's female population. To protect his pride's future.
The lives we've lost.The grief he'd been carrying settled heavy in his chest. Sarah Miller, whose second pregnancy had ended at seven months. The Tanners, who'd buried two babies in the past year. His pride members were looking to him for answers he didn't have, and solutions that seemed impossibly out of reach.
"How did you know about the pregnancy losses?" His voice came out rough with emotion.
"Gerri briefed me." Quinn's fingers traced the book's spine absently. "She mentioned the pattern started recently. Higher than normal death rates, affecting all age groups and bloodlines."
Caius found himself moving closer, drawn by her clinical assessment of his people's pain. The firelight caught the auburn highlights in her hair, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out to touch those silky strands.
"You think you can solve it?"
"I think I can investigate it properly." Her green eyes held steady confidence that made something tight in his chest loosen. "Sometimes an outside perspective helps."
The rational part of his brain knew she was right. The prideful part bristled at the implication that his people needed human help. But the part of him that woke every morning carrying the weight of leadership, the part that grieved every loss as a personal failure—that part wanted to fall to his knees and beg her to fix what he couldn't.
She's already fixing things just by being here.The thought whispered through his consciousness.My mate. Here to save my people.
"The families that have lost children—" He stopped, his throat working around words that felt too raw. "They look to me for answers."
"And you blame yourself." Quinn's voice carried such gentle understanding that his lion nearly purred. "But pregnancy loss has complex causes. Environmental factors, genetics, stress, nutrition—it's rarely one simple thing."
She rose from the chair with fluid grace, the book forgotten as she moved to face him fully. The top of her head barely reached his chin, but she held herself with quiet confidence that commanded respect.
"I can help, Caius. But only if you let me."
The way she said his name—soft and sure—sent heat flooding through his bloodstream. This close, her scent wrapped around him like silk, and he could see the gold flecks in her green eyes that made them seem to glow in the firelight.
Six months of this. Six months of wanting her.
The space between them seemed to shrink, though neither had moved. The crackling fire and distant grandfather clock were the only sounds in the library that suddenly felt too small to contain the electricity arcing between them.
Kiss her.His lion demanded with primitive certainty.Claim your mate. Make her understand what she means to you.
But before he could act on the dangerous impulse, Henry's voice drifted from the doorway.
"Dinner has been ready for over twenty minutes."
