Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Watching his brother dart into the woods in his wolf form, Ripper sensed CeCe sidling up to him.
‘Is he okay?’ she asked, her voice soft.
Ripper met her powder-blue gaze. ‘You should ask him.’
Her pretty face fell at his hard tone. ‘Don’t give me the cold shoulder, Rip – I can’t stand it.’
‘I’m not being cold, I’m just not interested in talking more about all this. If you really care that he’s hurting, if you really want to be with him, put him out of his misery.’
‘But to do that would make you miserable.’ She anxiously skimmed a hand over her brown curls. ‘I don’t want to come between you and Logan.’
She was already coming between them. She could have just accepted Ripper’s initial refusal and dropped the whole thing. By dragging it out, she was not only keeping Logan’s hopes alive, she was also ramping up his anger – an emotion he was directing at Ripper rather than her.
‘I don’t want to lose your friendship, Rip.’
‘Then respect my choice and drop this triad bullshit.’
The corners of her eyes tightened. ‘It isn’t bullshit, it’s a solution.’
‘For you, yeah. Not for me. Not even for Logan – he’d go along with it to have you, but he’d never really be happy. The mating would eventually fall apart.’
She notched up her chin. ‘I don’t believe that, or I’d never have suggested it.’
‘You should believe it because it’s a fact. And even if you were right, it wouldn’t make any difference – I’d still say no to a triad.’
She sighed. ‘Look, I know you’re possessive of me and you feel it would be hard to share me—’
‘It isn’t about possessiveness. I’m just not interested in what you’re proposing.’
Her brows drew together. ‘What do you have against triads?’
‘Nothing at all. I just don’t want to be in one. Either give a relationship with Logan a shot, or let’s all go back to the way things were.’
She studied him carefully. ‘Do you regret that night the three of us spent together?’
‘Yeah, I do.’
She flinched. ‘Ouch.’
He hadn’t admitted it to hurt her; he’d done it in the hope that she’d finally get the message. ‘Make a choice, CeCe – either take Logan for a mate, or we both go back to being simply friends with you. There’s no other option on the table.’ Ripper walked off before she could say more.
Keeping pace with him, Crew said, ‘She’s a good person. She is. She just never does well with being denied what she wants.’
Ripper rolled his shoulders. ‘She needs to learn to deal with it, fast, because I’m not changing my mind.’ Once he felt far enough away from her, he stripped and gave himself over to the shift – felt his bones reshape, his skin stretch, his jaw elongate, his claws slice out, his fur sprout, his vision change. It was over in milliseconds, and then he was on all fours.
Crew at his side, he ran.
Stood on the private dock of his lake house the following day, Ripper heard the rumbling of an engine. Tracking the sound, he saw a familiar truck approach and felt his mouth tighten. He’d expected a visit from Carver at some point. He’d thought the Alpha would turn up at one of the clan-run businesses, though, not boldly come to his home as if they were anything more than mere acquaintances.
Ripper had never liked the guy. Carver was all ease and charm and friendliness, but beneath it all he was a fucking snake. A person who did what it took to get his way. He’d push, nag, lie, conceal, steamroll, exaggerate his strength and skills – whatever.
It made him a good salesman at his car dealership. But it didn’t make him a decent Alpha.
Carver didn’t have a tight control over his clan. Worse, he didn’t care. For him, it appeared to be a point of pride that his wolves were the ‘bad boys’ of the town.
No one else actually considered them ‘bad boys’, though. That was only Carver’s assessment. In reality, they were just reckless and immature.
Reluctantly turning away from the view of the lake, Ripper stalked along the dock, the boards creaking beneath his boots. He weaved his way through the tall trees that framed his house, arriving at the small parking area just as Carver pulled up.
He wasn’t alone.
His two sons had come along – one was riding shotgun, the other was in the middle of the rear passenger row. Both watched Ripper carefully. Neither would meet his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, though.
Sunglasses concealing his eyes, Carver hopped out of his truck. ‘I’ll be two minutes,’ he told them. He flashed Ripper a charismatic grin that pulled at his wiry beard – like his thick mussed hair, it was brown with little streaks of gray. ‘I was hoping you’d be home.’