All I can do is pray that on the other end of it I don’t have to drag Mal out of hiding from under our bed.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Jax
If it weren't for bad luck
This morning I seriously consider how shitty it would be for me to abdicate my role as pack Alpha as Shawn lay tightly snuggled against me, his head tucked in the crook of my arm.
Because I absolutely do not want to move out of our bed, much less let him out of my arms.
But he senses I’m awake, rolls over with a sleepy smile I’d kill or die for, and says those four magic words to me.
“I’ll make your coffee.”
I know even if I don’t get up, he won’t let me not get up since he knows I have a meeting. That helps me find the will to drag myself out of bed and into the shower while he makes my coffee.
I arrive at the office thirty minutes before our scheduled meeting, and they show up five minutes later.
Fuck. Me.
Fortunately, I have a jumbo travel mug holding more coffee.
Morning introduces Alizée Moultaire, who’s a younger cousin of Dahlia de la Floren from the Des Moines coven. Her brilliant red hair looks natural, and she’s curvy in a way I’d probably be all over if I were into women.
Which I’m not and never have been.
She’s short, maybe 5’-2”, if that, but I sense she can handle herself.
Morning wastes no time. “She’s here for a site assessment and to plan logistics. Also, to help confirm the, eh, delicate situation.”
I’m not awake. I’m really not. Yesterday took way more out of me than I realized. “No offense, but how’s a human supposed to do that?” I ask him.
“Well,” she says, looking all sweet but radiating a dark energy I belatedly didn’t notice, “perhaps if you address the question directly to the person in question who’s sitting right fucking in front of you, you’d get the answer.”
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s been a pretty…chaotic twenty-four hours and I’m neither awake nor at my best.”
She slowly arches an eyebrow over a sharp hazel eye. “My mother was a tiger shifter,” she says. “I do not shift, but I am not human. My father was a bloodline witch, brother to Dahlia’s mother.”
“You mean warlock?” I stupidly ask before I can stop myself.
“Gee, it’s like you think I don’t know anything about my family history.” She looks at Morning. “Are all the dogs like this?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely meaning it because I’m wishing I’d never crawled out of bed. “Let’s start over, please? Jax Crowe, Ocala Pack Alpha and chronic sufferer of self-inflicted paw-in-snout disease when I’m under-caffeinated and exhausted.”
That finally earns me a smile and she looks at Morning again. “You’re right—he’s a hoot and a half.”
He casually smiles but I sense the steel behind it. “Don’t worry, Jax. She’s like this with everyone she likes.”
“If she likes me, I’d hate to see what she does to people she doesn’t like.”
Her smile fades. It’s almost as if the room loses oxygen and wraps around her. “If I have my way, you will absolutely get to see what I look like doing that when I get my chance at these unholy fucks.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, again.
And meaning it.
Again.
