Page 22 of Bred Mate
He growls the words at me, taking my burden with them. My breath hitches, because I don’t dare to hope that he means what he actually says.
“You’re mine, and this fucking forest is mine, and anything else you might ever want is mine,” he says. “So do as you’re damn well told and stop worrying about it.”
“But we need the title to the forest. We need to own the land.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of it.”
“But how? Rainer Katsoff owns all the land around here. And he’s not going to stop cutting. He’s been cutting for months now. The forest is already almost gone. What’s left is…”
He kisses me again, cutting my concerns off. “This sounds like worry,” he says. “And I can promise you, there’s no need to worry anymore, alright? I’m going to take care of it. I promise.”
He’s an asshole, a monster. He’s a brute. He’s so many things no good man could ever be, but I find myself trusting him in spite of all of it.
CHAPTER 6
Karl
This has all gotten complicated. When Ellie asked me to defend her land, I was planning on just killing people. One after the other until they stopped coming. But that was selfish. That was what I would have enjoyed. It’s not what’s going to handle the matter to my mate’s satisfaction. She wants a proper solution. A legal one.
There’s a decent-sized town called Baltair not that far from the forest. It’s pretty obvious that it used to be small. Used to be nothing more than a gas station and a church, but like so many of these rural towns, it’s been seeing a surge of popularity due to the rising cost of living everywhere else in the world. You could buy a house here for twenty grand not that long ago. Now they’re all pushing a hundred, and that’s still a steal compared to the bigger centers and their satellites.
Fuck, I hate that I just had all those thoughts in quick succession. I want to have short, brutal, easy thoughts. I don’t want to spend my days looking at historical property values andthinking about economics and politics. I’ve cultivated a life as a vicious idiot, and I used to be happy that way. Acting as enforcer to my father gave me the outlets I needed for my cruelty. But I can’t be an enforcer to someone who took retirement when he fucked up by messing with the wrong woman.
I try not to think about that either, how humiliating it all was for the man I once admired.
Worse still, when I check my phone, there are ten emails from various subsidiaries of the pack’s interests, all looking to me for input and direction. I flick through a few of them, realizing I don’t care about any of them really.
I’ve got to focus on the business at hand, and I’m guessing these people know how to deal with whatever they’re asking me about.
Rainer Katsoff’s office is in a brick building in the center of town, one of the older ones. He’s established himself at the center of the community. I know enough about territorial behavior to understand instantly that is no mistake. His building holds several placards. There’s one naming him as a justice of the peace. There’s another declaring him a property developer. And above that, there’s an even bigger plaque declaring him mayor.
He’s the sort of person who collects every possible position of authority in their radius. I bet he’s the head of the PTA, even without having kids as well. I’d put money on him being the pastor at the local church if they’d let him. Any chance to have power of any kind, and this guy will be gagging for it. I almost feel sorry for him, being this pathetic a specimen.
I walk into the building, up the stairs to the third floor because of course he put his office at the top. Like a cat in a fucking cat tree. The door I open into that office is glass. There’s a reception area,small waiting room, and one door that has to lead to his office. I’d put money on that office taking up the entirety of the floor. This man likes his space.
“You can’t go in there! You don’t have an appointment!”
I ignore the woman wearing a silk blouse with a big poufy bow on the front. If this man wants his office guarded, he needs a more dangerous beast. I’m not afraid of a woman.
The man I’m looking for is in his office, which is ridiculously large. It’s bigger than my father’s old office, and it’s more sparse. There’s something about a very big room that makes men who want to seem big just seem even smaller.
Rainer Katsoff is the sort of man my father would enjoy doing business with. He’s in his sixties with silver hair and deep lines from being a general asshole.
“Karl Dulac,” I say, offering my hand to him as if I have every right to be here.
He takes it and shakes it with a brief, almost rough shake, as if he’s trying to impress me. He can’t impress me. He’s made of flesh and nothing else. He’s human, and as much as he might play power games, he’ll always be human. He can only imagine what it is to actually have the sort of animal power I have.
“You look like you’ve had some rough times,” he says, gesturing to my eye. Most people avoid mentioning it. I can respect his directness.
“Yep,” I say.
“How’d you get a scar like that? Deep and old and in the face.” He draws back his head. “That looks personal.”
“It was personal,” I say. “Real personal.”
He looks me up and down again. “You look like the sort of man who fights,” he says. “A soldier, maybe. But not military? A mercenary?”
While he tries to work me out, and I let him, the door behind us opens.
