Page 77 of Just a Friend for the Lion
But there’s something else, something small, fragile, flickering.
Comfort. Relief.Like me showing up at her side matters.
And that? That gives me hope.
I plant myself in front of her, shoulders squared, every muscle in my body making one clear statement.
You don’t get to touch what’s mine.
“Carter,” MJ breathes, my name trembling on her lips.
The sound wrecks me.
But I cling to that tremor, because beneath it is the truth—I am her shield. Her comfort. Her man.
Whether she’s ready to admit it or not.
“Please don’t leave,” I say, raw and desperate, the words ripped straight from my chest. “Just give me a chance.”
“Carter!” My mother’s voice cuts sharp as a whip. “This is April. The female you have an appointment with to do your duty.”
And just like that—my blood boils.
Not this shit again.
Not in front of MJ.
“Mom. Stop!” I snap, my voice echoing through the glitter-strung garage like thunder. “I told you theother day, and I’m saying it again—for the last damn time. My answer is no.”
April crosses her arms, chin high, face pinched like she smells something rotten.
“Excuse me? I was told you accepted my application for the Autumn lottery?—”
“Whatever you were told is a fucking lie,” I snarl, glaring at both her and my mother. “I am not performing any so-called duty for you, or anyone. Not now. Not ever.”
“Carter, think about what you’re doing! The future of the Pride?—”
“I am thinking.” My voice drops, low and lethal. My Lion snarls beneath it, golden eyes burning as I cut her off. “And the only thing I’m thinking about is my mate.”
I glance back, just for a heartbeat.
MJ.
Her lips part. Her eyes shimmer. She’s here. She’s listening.
Gods, please let her believe me.
Because I’ll fight the entire damn Pride—hell, I’ll fight the world—if it means keeping her.
Gasps ripple through the garage, sharp and echoing off the concrete walls like ricochets.
But Idon’t care.
Let them gasp.
Every single person here is either a supe or mated to one. They know what the wordmatemeans. They know the weight of it.
I didn’t just out myself—I claimed what’s mine.
