Page 76 of Just a Friend for the Lion
I don’t care.
I’ll sweep glitter till the end of time if it means MJ forgives me.
Because she’s here.
I scent her before I see her, warm brown sugar wrapped in fire and sunshine. The matebond pulses like a drumbeat, sending awareness racing across my skin, making my Lion snarl and stretch inside me.
And then—fuck.
There she is.
MJ.
My little Kitten.
Beautiful. Radiant. Wearing a dress that looks like it was stitched from autumn itself, all fiery ombre and soft movement, hugging her curves like it was tailored by the gods just to torment me.
She steals my breath. My sanity. Every ounce of composure I’ve been clinging to for the last miserable week.
She’s here.
She came.
Which means—maybe—she’s willing to listen.
Maybe willing to give me a chance.
Hell, maybe willing to be mine.
I barely get enough air in my lungs to whisper athank-you to Uzzi—who I now owe limo service for life—before trouble struts in through the side door.
My mother.
And, worse, she’s dragging someone with her. April-fucking-something. Skinny, sharp-eyed, the kind of Lioness who always smelled like disdain and desperation rolled into one.
My gut twists. Shit.
I move before I can think, instincts snapping into place like claws unsheathed.
MJ is my only thought.
My mate.
My everything.
And of course my mother scents me on her. Of course she makes a beeline, her lined face twisted into that hard, disapproving glare she’s perfected over the years.
She’s saying something to MJ—her mouth moving sharp and fast—but all I hear are the warning bells in my head screamingdanger.
MJ blinks, her eyes darting between us.
So close. Just a step away.
But still too far from me.
When I reach her, her wide gaze locks on mine.
Confusion. Hurt. That shimmer of betrayal that slices mein half.
