Chapter 1 – Aline #2
He leans farther over my desk. “I saw her on my way into the building.”
“She’s with another client.” I give him a tight smile. My patience with this conversation is wearing thin.
“Then, I’ll book for another time.” He raises his eyebrows, like he thinks he’s won something.
“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Stretching back in my chair, I roll my eyes at his audacity.
“You didn’t honor her limits.” I shrug, glaring at the pain in my ass who won’t just leave.
“Verbal degradation is a hard no for her. Which you are aware of. She ended the session and explained she wouldn’t be seeing you again.
Let me make myself very clear—you’re lucky we’ve allowed you back at all.
” He really has Lysandra to thank for that.
She feels bad for the vile man.
I do not.
Limits are listed for a reason. The next time he even glances the wrong way at one of my girls’ hard-no list, I’ll ban him permanently. However, Lysandra was adamant that he got caught up in the moment. She claimed he was remorseful and apologetic, but that seems to have disappeared since then.
Atlas sticks his head in the door. “Is there a problem?” His broad shoulders flex under his T-shirt as he leans his top half farther inside. He quirks an eyebrow, causing his snake bite piercings to glint in the light, or maybe that’s the naughty little smirk he shoots my way.
Atlas is tall, even for an orc, but that’s because he’s also half giant. His skin tone is also a lighter shade of green than most orcs. He tends to pop in any time I have a problematic client to deal with. It never fails to send a smile to my face.
“This doesn’t concern you, grunt,” Marv says in a haughty-as-hell tone.
My magic instantly bristles at the insult. I do too. It’s very hard not to punch the awful man in his face.
“We’re done here.” I push back my chair as I stand to my full height. “You just earned yourself a ninety-day ban from The Den.” My bracelet beads jingle together as I point to the door. “Get the hell out of my office.”
Grunt is a hateful term used to describe the giants. For many years, they were considered all brawn and no brains. Which is extremely inaccurate, and luckily, the supernatural world has grown and evolved to leave the term behind.
The trolls have a similar history in the way some of the species viewed their kind, so Marv really should be more conscientious with his word choices.
“I’m a paying member.” Marv slams his hands down on my desk.
“Would you prefer a lifetime banishment?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Leave now, or we can discuss a more permanent timeline.”
Marv grumbles under his breath, but he heads out without a backward glance.
“Make sure you find some respect before you come back,” I call toward his back.
Atlas steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Do you have any idea how sexy that was?”
My heart races at the look he shoots my way.
He’s ridiculously handsome all the time, but there’s something about him when he’s smug that really does it for me.
It’s not appropriate, considering I’m technically his boss, but there’s a weird gray area between us lately that I can’t force myself to bring up.
If I do, then I might lose whatever this thing is we have brewing between us.
Atlas prowls closer with the grace of a hunter. He looks quite predatory as he backs me against the wall behind my desk. My eyes fly to his wound, but it’s already healed, and he’s even in a fresh shirt.
“He had no right to talk to you that way.” I run my fingers over his broad chest. “He was already pissed because?—”
The loud, echoing bang of someone knocking on my office door cuts me off. Atlas brushes his thumb over my cheek and steps around to the other side of my desk.
We always have shitty timing. Or maybe it’s a good thing we’re constantly being interrupted. There are certain lines I’m not sure we should cross, even if my body feels differently.
“C-come in,” I call out.
“Aline.” Dread slams my door open, stomping inside. He frowns at the door as it bounces against the wall. Glancing between me and Atlas, he tosses a thumb toward the door.
Atlas sighs, but he winks at me and heads out.
Dread is my boss and the main owner of The Monster’s Den. His long, black curly hair falls around his shoulders as his red eyes glow. He’s furious about something, and I get the feeling he’s about to tell me all about it.
Yay.
Dread proceeds to rant and rave for the next hour about the new classes I’ll be responsible for setting up for all employees. Apparently, someone royally fucked up, and now every new hire is going to take a comprehensive class about how each species initiates a courtship bond.
His boots stomp heavily across the floor as he continues to list off instructions.
As far as bosses go, I don’t think mine are bad. Perhaps a bit overbearing. Dread absolutely has unrealistic expectations from time to time.
I shrug, picking at my nail while he continues to growl and snarl. I occasionally nod to make it seem like I’m accepting what he’s saying, or at the very least, listening.
Hellhounds have notoriously bad tempers, but Dread has never fit the stereotype for his species. He’s growly and yells a lot, but he’s never violent, unless the situation calls for it, so I let him vent and get it off his chest. He’s too stubborn to realize one of our new employees is his mate.
Emerson is sweet, if a little naive of the supernatural world. I’m excited to see the aftermath once he accepts that she’s his.
“...my human is now life partners with a fucking sex demon!” He erupts in electric blue flames.
My jaw falls.
“Did you just say Emerson and Arsyn are bonded?” I ask as my brain finally catches up to everything he’s been saying during his tirade.
I personally walked Emerson to her date with Arsyn. She seemed a little ill at ease, which is weird, since Dread is also a demon. He’s just a demon shifter, rather than an incubus like Arsyn.
I’ve known Arsyn for years. It’s difficult to comprehend that he would willingly bond with anyone, let alone a human.
“She bit him,” Dread says, sounding totally indignant.
Good for her. I’ve never liked the thought that fate dictates our partners. If she wanted to bond Arsyn, and he was willing, then that’s great.
“Damn,” I whisper, because, still, I didn’t see that coming. “Your mate picked her own mate...” I roll my lips together to hold back the laugh.
“Apparently,” he snarls, tossing himself into the chair across from my desk. “And she is my mate. I can’t believe it took me this long to recognize it.”
I grin shamelessly.
Freaking finally. I’m tempted to say I told you so , but either way, he finally acknowledged what we’ve all known. Also, if I rile him up, this night will truly never end.
Before I left Faere, I’d never had a job. I had no idea how to survive in the human realm once I landed here. I barely survived making it into Haven.
Some humans are truly vile creatures.
If Dread hadn’t stopped that night and asked if I was all right, I honestly don’t know where I would’ve ended up.
I had no money, no idea of the customs of the human world, and I was completely alone.
I was terrified when the six-and-a-half-foot, nude hellhound popped out of the tree line, dick swaying, frowning down at my pathetic form. Although, honestly, it was less traumatic than my first interactions with humans. At least I had some understanding of shifter culture.
It’s been a lot of years since then.
Dread and his packmates, Ryktus and Laithe, were welcoming when no one else looked twice at me.
I like to think I’ve repaid their kindness by looking after the men and women who work in The Den and by helping their business run smoothly.
But as my oldest friend in the human realm buries his face in his hands, shuddering out a sharp breath, I know I’m going to have to dig deep for this conversation.
In general, I do try to keep things fairly unemotional.
Fae are not known for embracing our feelings, but I’ve known since I saw Dread with Emerson that she’s his mate.
I’m happy for them.
Dread goes out of his way to protect all the weaker residents of Haven, which cannot be said for all alphas. The poor mutt has just taken a bit too long to catch up to reality. Shifters are extremely territorial when it comes to their mates.
Dread may willingly share with Ryktus and Laithe, because the hound views them as pack, but Arsyn is an entirely different story. Although, they have been friends for several hundred years, so maybe it won’t be a problem?
“I’m going to have to kill him and send him back to Hell,” he mutters, completely destroying that illusion.
Or not. I was obviously far too optimistic for this shit show of a night.
“We’ve been friends for more than a few lifetimes. It will be inconvenient for a while. I believe Emerson might be upset, initially. She’s very soft, even for a human?—”
“Dread.” I take my seat, giving him a look that indicates he should listen closely to what I say next. “If they’ve truly bonded, then you know that’s not possible.”
“It will be if I tether her to me first,” he says very seriously. “I’ll bond her, then kill the sex deviant. Our connection will be enough to keep her alive.”
I try to hold back the laugh, but it bubbles out, anyway. He’s delusional. Perhaps he thinks he can murder Arsyn, but he’d never actually go through with it. The hound would never risk losing his mate’s affection.
“Think clearly for a minute here,” I suggest. “Are you sure you’re prepared to cause Emerson the level of suffering she would experience if Arsyn dies? It’s not just survival you need to consider. It’s her quality of life...”
I give him a look that says think that shit through, you giant blockhead .
Octavia, Dread’s mother, lost her mate when her pups were very young. She lived through it, but it was exceptionally painful, by her own account.
Dread’s father is likely still in Hell. He hasn’t reappeared to reclaim his mate or reconnect with his children. I’ve heard rumors that, when a demon is reborn, they lose all their memories.
It’s a devastating reality, now that I think it through.
Dread always refers to his father as being dead, but the reality is, he’s likely living in Hell with no idea of what he lost...
That thought is truly terrifying, and it makes me unnaturally sad to think about.
“You’d put Emerson through the same heartache that your mother experienced?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Hell no,” he snarls. His eyes glow bright red, and I lower my gaze to my desk.
I do it out of respect, not submission. He’s extremely riled, and my being difficult right now will only make his beast even more agitated.
“My suggestion is that the two of you hash it out among yourselves when Emerson isn’t around.” I stretch back in my chair.
Dread crosses his leg over the other. His foot jiggles so violently, I think the floor rattles. “He said he was open to sharing,” he scoffs. “Like he needed to give me the okay to be with my mate.”
The next forty-five minutes of my never-ending existence are spent listening to Dread get relatively calm, only for him to somehow talk himself into a rage again. At this point, I’m pretty much convinced he’s never going to stop rambling.
“Right,” I say, sighing heavily. “So, we’ve surmised nothing can be done, and you’ll feel better if you go check in on her yourself.
” I stand, politely indicating our meeting is adjourned.
“Bond her. You’ll feel better once you have a claim to solidify your relationship.
Although, I do recommend asking prior to biting. ”
“That’s a good idea.” My boss pushes himself out of his chair. “There are forms in my office for Emerson’s and Ember’s addition to my pack.”
I frown, because it’s just after three in the morning.
“I need you to grab Emerson’s signature from her hiring paperwork.
The forms need to be submitted to the council.
” Dread heads for the door without a backward glance.
“It’s a necessary protection, so I can legally slaughter any assholes who think they can claim Ember or touch a hair on Emerson’s head.
” He growls low and menacing. “Thank you.”
I sigh heavily, because I guess this day isn’t over quite yet.