Page 23 of Stripe for the Picking
"Yes, tomorrow," he confirmed, watching as she walked away beside his mentor, her heels clicking against the polished floor.
You're an idiot.
The thought echoed in his mind as he stared at the empty workstation beside his. That was his mate walking away, and he was too much of a coward to claim her, too locked in his own rigid control to fully admit what she meant to him.
Rylan logged off his systems with more force than necessary, the holographic displays winking out one by one. The Defense Nexus corridors felt different without Wren's presence—colder, more sterile, like all the life had been drained from the building.
His apartment felt equally hollow when he reached it ten minutes later. He ordered takeout from his usual place, too distracted to cook and too restless to sit still. As he waited for the delivery, he found himself pacing the living room like a caged animal.
This is what two days with her has done to you.
The truth was undeniable. Wren's skills were saving them—the breaches had stopped escalating since her arrival, and she'd dismantled the syndicate's latest attacks with a precision that bordered on artistic. But more than that, she'd awakened something in him he'd spent years suppressing.
Pride in her victories flooded through him. Gratitude for her presence. And underneath it all, a growing terror at how quickly he'd begun to depend on her. Not just professionally, but in ways that went far deeper than tactical advantage.
An hour later, Rylan shoved the empty takeout container across his coffee table, the metallic scrape against glass echoing through his silent apartment. The spiced protein had tasted like cardboard, every bite a reminder that food held no appeal when his entire world had shifted off its axis.
His tiger prowled angrily, claws tearing at his insides with increasing urgency. The beast had been restless all evening, pacing and snarling at Rylan's stubborn resistance to what they both knew was inevitable.
Claim her. Mark her. Make her ours.
"Logic and reason must prevail," Rylan muttered through clenched teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest of his leather chair.
Even as the words left his mouth, they felt completely hollow. A pathetic excuse for a man too terrified to embrace what fate had handed him on a silver platter.
His tiger's response was immediate—a surge of primal fury that had him doubling over, his muscles coiling with the effort to contain the beast's rage. The animal wanted what it wanted, and what it wanted was Wren. All of her. Forever.
The Council wants you tamed,he reminded himself desperately.They want to see you lose your edge and your independence. They want to strip away everything that makes you formidable.
But the rationalization crumbled under the weight of truth. He wasn't resisting the mate bond to spite the Council. He was resisting it because he was terrified of how completely Wren had infiltrated his carefully constructed life in less than forty-eight hours.
A sharp knock interrupted his internal war. Rylan opened his apartment door to find General Kael's face creased with knowing amusement.
"You look like hell, son."
"Thanks for the confidence boost." Rylan stepped aside, gesturing toward the couch. "How was the tour?"
Kael settled into the cushions with a grunt, his keen eyes studying Rylan's rigid posture. "Your girl had a blast. Loved the floating markets, nearly fell off the observation deck at the crystal falls, and asked approximately fifty questions about tiger shifter culture."
Your girl.The possessive phrase sent heat through Rylan's chest.
"She's not my girl," Rylan said automatically.
"Right." Kael's tone dripped with skepticism. "And I'm a delicate flower who faints at the sight of blood."
Rylan began pacing, his tiger's restlessness making stillness impossible. "Did she say anything about... work?"
"She mentioned the Arvox situation. Smart woman, that one. Picked up on political undercurrents most people miss entirely." Kael leaned back, his expression growing serious. "But mostly she asked about you."
Rylan's steps faltered. "What kind of questions?"
"The kind a woman asks when she's trying to figure out why the man she's clearly falling for keeps pushing her away." Kael's voice carried the weight of decades of experience reading people. "You should've been the one showing her around, Rylan."
"I know that." The admission came out sharp. "I feel guilty enough without you rubbing salt in the wound."
"Good. Guilt means you still have a functioning conscience buried under all that stubborn pride."
Kael stood, moving to the window that overlooked the pink ocean. The moons cast silver and gold ripples across the water, their light creating patterns that seemed to shift and dance.
