Chapter 5
FIVE
R ook’s tiger paced closer to the surface, pushing him to demonstrate their dominance. But the beast also kept getting distracted by memories of emerald eyes and the lingering scent of lavender and lightning. How could one witch occupy so much of his mental space when he had a pride rebellion to handle?
“The time for challenges has passed,” he continued, infusing his voice with the full weight of his position. “I accepted the alpha role not out of obligation, but because it is my birthright. My choice. Those who question that right are welcome to step forward now.”
Power rolled off him in waves, his tiger’s energy filling the hall. Several of the younger tigers instinctively bared their throats while even the older ones shifted uneasily in their seats. Only Hudson maintained his challenging stare, though he made no move to rise.
Elder George spoke in the charged silence, his ancient voice carrying centuries of pride wisdom. “I remember when William Katz first took the alpha position. Many questioned whether a business-minded youth could lead our pride.” His pale eyes fixed on Hudson. “Those questions ended rather abruptly when he demonstrated exactly why the tiger goddess chose the Katz line for leadership. Perhaps some of us need a similar reminder about his son?”
The implied threat hung in the air like smoke. Rook kept his expression neutral, but his tiger purred in satisfaction. Trust George to remind everyone about the more violent aspects of pride history without actually spelling it out.
“Now,” Rook said into the heavy silence, “shall we discuss the pride’s actual business? Or would anyone else like to waste time questioning my commitment?”
No one spoke. Even Hudson seemed to realize he’d pushed far enough for one meeting. But Rook had no illusions that this was over. His uncle’s ambitions, like Justus’s lingering influence, would need to be dealt with permanently.
As the meeting progressed into territory negotiations and hunting rights, Rook found his thoughts straying back to Spellbound Lights. To the subtle curves beneath that practical apron, and the flash of fire in her eyes.
“Focus,” Banner muttered beside him. “You can moon over your witch later.”
Rook bit back a growl. Between pride politics, Hudson’s sabotage, and his tiger’s growing obsession with Clover Weaver, maintaining his carefully ordered life was becoming increasingly impossible.
But as the beast inside him stretched contentedly, finally home in the alpha position it had always known was theirs, Rook had to admit—maybe impossible wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
After the meeting, Rook retreated to his private study in the lodge with his inner circle. Banner, Sabine, and Weston, one of his generals. The room reflected generations of tiger pride leadership—ancient maps marking their territory lines hung beside modern strategic plans while enchanted crystals cast a warm glow over the leather furniture and polished wooden desk.
“Well,” Banner dropped into one of the chairs, “that could have gone worse. No one died.”
“Yet.” Weston sprawled across the leather couch, his casual pose belying the sharp assessment in his eyes. “Though I still say we should handle Hudson the old-fashioned way. One midnight run through tiger territory...”
Sabine perched on the desk edge, ignoring Rook’s pointed look about proper furniture use. “Please. Hudson’s too smart for direct confrontation. He’ll keep working from the shadows, trying to undermine Rook’s authority while maintaining plausible deniability.”
“Like the spa sabotage.” Rook pulled out the corrupted scent formulas, their acrid smell making his tiger wrinkle its metaphysical nose. “We need proof before we can move against him officially.”
“What about unofficially?” Weston’s grin held a predatory edge. “Speaking of which, Clover might be able to help. I hear she’s fantastic with tracking spells?—”
A warning growl escaped before Rook could stop it. His tiger surged forward, hackles raised at someone else’s interest in their mate.
“Down, man.” Weston held up his hands, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Just saying, if you’re not going to pursue her...”
“Weston.” Banner’s voice carried a note of caution. “Maybe don’t poke the alpha about his mate when he’s already dealing with pride rebellion?”
“She’s not my mate.”
Three skeptical looks answered that declaration.
“Really?” Sabine raised one elegant eyebrow. “Because your tiger practically purrs every time someone mentions her. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you perked up when Hudson mentioned the candle shop.”
“I did not?—”
“You did,” Banner and Weston said in unison.
Rook pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting both a headache and his tiger’s smug agreement with his friends. “Can we focus on the actual problems? Hudson’s sabotage is escalating. The spa project?—”
“Is important,” Sabine interrupted, “but not as important as you finding your mate. The pride needs a strong alpha pair, brother. Especially now.”
“We don’t know she’s my mate.” But even as he said it, his tiger flooded his mind with memories of that first meeting: The way Clover’s magic had harmonized perfectly with his. How right she’d looked in her shop, power flowing effortlessly as she contained the chaos he’d caused. The slight flush in her cheeks when their hands had brushed...
“Your face right now says otherwise.” Banner’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Look, I get it. You’ve got Hudson plotting against you, Justus’s old crowd stirring up trouble, and a major business project in crisis. But maybe having a powerful witch on your side isn’t such a bad thing.”
“Especially one who makes you look like a lovesick teenager,” Weston added.
Rook’s growl this time held more frustration than threat. “Even if—and that’s a big if—she is my mate, I can’t drag her into pride politics right now. It’s too dangerous.”
“You mean you’re scared.” Sabine’s direct hit made him wince. “The big bad alpha can face down pride challengers without blinking, but gods forbid he risk his heart on a woman who’s clearly perfect for him.”
“I’m not—” Rook broke off as his phone chimed with a text. From Clover.
Your grandmother just ordered another dozen calming candles. Either she’s planning something that requires a lot of serenity, or someone’s lying about needing more inventory.
His tiger practically purred at the hint of sass in her message. Before he could respond, another text arrived:
Also, your nephew is here trying to convince me to create a custom scent for him. Again. Does flirting run in the Katz family genes, or is it something in the water?
A growl rumbled through his chest. His tiger rose, suddenly very interested in paying another visit to Spellbound Lights.
“And that,” Sabine said with satisfaction, “is what a mate bond looks like. Now, are you going to let Lane steal your woman, or are you going to do something about it?”
Weston stretched lazily. “I mean, if you don’t care, I was planning to stop by her shop later anyway. Maybe bring some lunch, see if she wants to discuss custom scents...”
The chair protested as Rook stood abruptly. “I have a meeting.”
“At Spellbound Lights?” Banner’s innocent tone fooled no one.
“The spa project needs... consulting. On magical security.” Even Rook’s tiger rolled its eyes at that weak excuse.
“Of course, it does.” Sabine’s smile could have rivaled their grandmother’s for pure mischief. “Nothing to do with mate bonds or jealousy at all.”
“You all don’t have enough to do.” But Rook was already heading for the door, his tiger practically dragging him toward Clover’s shop.
“We do, but watching you fight being in love is better,” Weston called after him. “Tell Clover I said hi! Or don’t, if you’d rather growl at me some more.”
The last thing Rook heard as he left was Sabine’s satisfied voice: “Twenty bucks says they’re mated by the full moon.”
“Please,” Banner replied, “that’s a sucker bet. Did you see his face when he read her texts? I give it two weeks, tops.”