Emmett hid his grin in his jasmine tea. His hearing was leopard-acute. He could hear everything Ria’s grandmother was saying—and damn if he wasn’t half in love with the lady already. No wonder Ria’s grandfather had married her.
Glancing up, he caught Alex’s expression as her husband folded her into his arms. All her bluster aside, Alex really was worried about Ria. “No one will hurt your daughter again,” he said quietly, rising to his feet.
They all looked at him for long minutes, until finally, Simon, Ria’s father, nodded. But when he spoke, it was to say, “She’s not for you. She’s taken.”
Emmett raised an eyebrow. “She’s not wearing a ring.” And if some moron had been stupid enough not to claim her when he’d had the chance, that
wasn’t Emmett’s problem.
“She will,” Simon said. “We’ve been friends with Tom’s family, the Clarks, for years. The marriage proposal is a formality.”
Emmett could hear Ria and her grandmother even now, giggling in the bathroom. Neither of them had mentioned this Tom in their discussion of utilizing
“woman parts.” The leopard gave a feline grin of satisfaction, though the man kept his face expressionless. “I have a feeling that nothing is a given with your daughter—she’ll make her own choices.” Of course, he had every intention of making sure she chose him, but no need to tell her parents that. Not yet.
Two hours later, after a quick meeting with the DarkRiver alpha and a number of other soldiers, Emmett rubbed at gritty eyes as he accepted the beer Nathan threw him. “I’ve got to head home, get some sleep.”
“Take a few minutes to relax,” the sentinel—one of the pack’s highest-ranking soldiers—told him. “You’ve been taut as a bow all night. Everything go
okay with the girl who was attacked?”
“Yeah.” Emmett had no intention of discussing Ria further with anyone. Not tonight. “What was that Luc was saying about the Psy?” Changeling
concerns rarely intersected with those of the unemotional psychic race, but from what he’d caught tonight, it might in this case.
Nate took a swig of his beer. “You know how they dominate politics. We’ve heard they might try to neutralize the Crew themselves.”
“Why? They don’t give a shit about human and changeling casualties.” The sole reason the other race stayed in power—aside from the fact that their competitors had a way of withdrawing from the race after the publication of one scandal or another—was their ability to make money, money that did
occasionally trickle down to the voters.
“We’re starting to step on their toes,” Nate said. “Psy like to be the top dogs in any given situation.”
“Guess we’ll have to move fast.”
“We’ve got a little time.” The other man put down his beer. “Apparently, not everyone in the Psy ranks is convinced we pose a credible threat.”
Emmett snorted. “They really can’t see beyond their ivory towers, can they?”
“Humans and changelings don’t figure much on their radar.” Nate’s smile was distinctly pleased. “And while they’re busy deciding whether or not to bother paying attention to us, we’ll take this city.”
Emmett raised his bottle in a toast. “To a successful campaign.” However, right then, he was thinking less about Dark-River’s takeover of the city, and more about a very private campaign of his own. Come on, mink, play with me.
Ria lay in bed that night and sighed. She’d been cosseted, petted, and smothered half to death by her family in the hours since her return home. Most days, it would’ve made her certifiable. Today, she’d needed that warm blanket of love.
Warmth. Heat.
Her body softened, remembering what it had felt like to lie curled up in Emmett’s lap. She’d never found herself in a man’s lap before. Most of the men who’d dared run the gauntlet of her family’s protectiveness to ask her out were nice boys from the neighborhood. She had nothing against them. But the thing was, she’d grown up with a father who was fierce in his care of his family, and an older brother who hadn’t deviated far from the paternal mold when it came to looking after those who were his own. They ate those nice boys for breakfast.
Ria dreamed of a man who’d occasionally chew them up instead!
Hugging her pillow, she smiled at her own thoughts. You’d think she didn’t like her family.
That was far from the truth. But well, they were overwhelming.
They kind of took over everything. How was she supposed to respect a man who let himself be taken over?
I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.
Emmett had said that right in front of her father.
Goose bumps broke out over her entire body. She wondered what those big, strong hands of his would feel like smoothing over her skin, all hot and—
Her phone beeped. She groaned when she saw the caller ID.
Tom.
Sighing, she went to answer, but the well-concealed devil in her made her turn off the cell instead. There was nothing wrong with Tom, except that he wanted to marry her. Her father liked Tom. Even Alex liked Tom. Ria had no problem with Tom. She just didn’t want to marry him. No, what she dreamed of was a love story like her grandmother’s—and Miaoling was the only one in the family who supported Ria’s resistance to the “Great Match.”
From Alex’s and Simon’s point of view, it truly was a great match. Like her, Tom was part Chinese. Like her, he’d grown up in the States, and had a very Western outlook on life, without having forgotten the other side of his heritage. Best of all, the Clarks and the Wembleys had been friends since before
either Ria or Tom had been born.
It was all perfect.
Except Tom would never laugh with her over a secret joke as her grandfather had done with her grandmother. He’d never hold her with the furious
tenderness with which Simon held Alex when he thought no one was looking. And he’d never pick a fight with her just so he’d get to make up, as Jet did with Amber.
Why couldn’t they see that she wanted the same thing? All her life she’d been content to let Jet and their younger brother, Ken, take the spotlight. Being the middle child was actually kind of nice—she got the best of both worlds, and her relationship with her siblings was airtight. But with her man, with her husband, she wanted to be number one.
“Go to sleep, Ria,” she muttered to herself, knowing she was obsessing because she was afraid of nightmares.
But when she did sleep, it wasn’t to fall into a nightmare . . . but into the powerful arms of a man who looked at her with eyes gone cat-green.
Emmett studied his face in the bathroom mirror the next morning and scowled. It was a wonder Ria hadn’t run screaming from him when he’d taken her into his arms. She was all soft and silky, a luscious armful. He, by comparison, looked like he’d had a few run-ins with both fists and walls. The fists were true, but like all changelings, he’d healed the damage fast. No, this was simply the face he’d been born with. It had never really bothered him before, but now he rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and decided he’d damn well better shave before he went to check up on Ria.
The shave and shower cleaned him up, but he was aware he still looked like a thug when he knocked on the door to her family home. He most definitely looked nothing like the pretty boy walking up the drive with a huge bouquet of roses.
Shit.
Why the hell hadn’t he thought to bring flowers?
“Hello,” the other man said in an Ivy League-educated voice. “I’m Tom.”
Emmett held out a hand. “Emmett.”
“Simon mentioned you on the phone,” Tom said with a friendly smile that failed to hide the calculation in his eyes. “You helped Ria last night.”
“You’re a friend of the family?” Emmett asked to see what Tom would say, just as the door opened.
“No, he’s my daughter’s fiancé,” Alex said, pulling Tom down for a kiss on the cheek.
Emmett glanced at Tom. “You don’t believe in rings?”
“It’s not official yet.” The other man was calm, confident, clearly sure of his suit.
Emmett didn’t smile, but the leopard snapped its teeth inside him. This human cub was about to learn that leopard males didn’t recognize any claim not acknowledged by the female. And Ria didn’t consider herself bound to this one. Even if he hadn’t overhead her conversation with her grandmother,
nothing about her had spoken of a commitment to another. She didn’t carry Tom’s scent . . .
and she hadn’t pushed Emmett away last night.
Saying nothing of that, he turned to face Alex. “Could I speak to Ria?”
“Why?” Alex’s eyes narrowed, even as she pulled Tom inside and put her hand on the opposite doorjamb as if to bar Emmett’s way.
“I need to see if she remembers anything else about her attacker.” Emmett’s leopard knew a worthy adversary when it saw one. Alex was one hell of a
protective mama-bear. But Emmett had tangled with plenty like her in the pack. “It’ll help us make the streets safer for all daughters.” No, he wasn’t above using emotional blackmail to talk his way in.
Alex dropped her arm. “Hmm. Come in—but if you upset Ria, I’ll beat you up myself.”
“I’m not fragile, Mom.” A familiar voice, a familiar scent—soft, fresh, but with a lingering spice to it.
He drew the contradiction of it deep into his lungs, his leopard keeping careful watch as Ria hugged her mother, then took the flowers from Tom. No
kiss. Good. His claws scratched inside his skin, wanting out, wanting to do damage. Pretty Tom with his slick hair and flawless skin irritated him.
“Emmett.” Ria looked to him, all big brown eyes and hair. “We can talk in the living room.”
As he nodded, Alex took the roses. “I’ll put these in water. Tom can sit with you for moral support.”
