Chapter 10 #2
Her palm burned through cotton and leather straight to bone marrow.
“I need to see” wasn’t a request—it was a dare carved from twenty-five years of mistrust and several weeks of stolen glances across Pearl’s diner counter, through a greasy office window, and any number of other places.
I caught her wrist before she could pull back, pressing those slender fingers harder against my cut.
Let her feel the thunder behind cotton and bone. .
“Need space,” I growled, kicking chairs aside with more force than necessary. Kitchen light caught the tremble in her throat when I ripped my shirt off, then everything else. Not fear—anticipation. The kind that makes saints sin and soldiers desert.
My skeleton cracked first. Collarbones snapping outward like rifle reports.
Hips realigning sent white fire up my spine that’d make grown alphas weep.
Didn’t flinch. Couldn’t. Juliet stood frozen as cartilage reshaped my face, her reflection warping in my widening pupils—a funhouse mirror version of the woman who’d haunted my dreams since the first whiff of ginger and vulnerability.
What seemed to take minutes in reality only took seconds.
Fur erupted in black waves. Should’ve hurt. But the magic of transformation made it painless after the first shift. Her gasp hitched halfway between wonder and recognition, sweet as Sunday hymns, and suddenly I was the goddamn phoenix.
When the last claw unsheathed, she crept closer. Bare toes curling on cold hardwood. “You… I’ve seen you. In the canyon shadows when I couldn’t sleep. Under the mesquites during the hailstorm. I’ve drawn you. And in my dreams, I run with you.”
My wolf preened. Tail sweeping. She didn’t jump. Brave little omega. My wolf was head high to her.
Elegant fingertips grazed my muzzle. “Same scar.” She traced the notch above my left eye—shrapnel souvenir from Fallujah. “Same stupid blue eyes.”
A rumble built in my chest. Not a growl. Never at her. The sound she’d heard echoing through dream canyons, distorted by sleep and longing. Her nails dug into scruff when Menace’s F-250 roared into the drive.
“Boss?” My VP’s boots pounded upstairs. “Tyler’s home early. Breezed past the gate guards.”
Juliet jerked back. Pupils swallowing whiskey irises whole. “Your son?”
The shift ripped back faster than a bandage. Ribs stabbed lungs. Knees hit hardwood.
“Bronc!”
“Don’t.” I caught her reaching hands. Skin still fever-hot from the change. “He’s infantry. Sees threats in shadows.”
She yanked free. “I’m not—”
“You’re everything.” Jeans bit hot flesh as I stood. “Let me handle this.”
Tyler’s truck door slammed below. Combat boots took the stairs two at a time.
“Pop?” Tyler’s voice hadn’t cracked since sixteen, but the kid still said ‘sir’ like it owed him money. “Guard said you’re up here with some…”
The door flew open. My boy filled the frame like a younger clone—same stubborn jaw, same tactical stance. Until his gaze landed on Juliet.
Green cotton pooled at her feet where she’d grabbed my shirt. My scent was all over her. Tyler’s nostrils flared.
“Christ.” His rucksack hit the floor. “She’s half your age.”
“Twenty-five,” Juliet snapped.
“Exactly.” Tyler turned that sniper’s stare on me. “Mom was thirty when you split. This one's barely legal?”
I stepped between them. “Stand down.”
“She human?”
“Enough.”
“Enough what? Enough shifter to smell your rut? Or enough trouble when her family comes sniffing?” Tyler edged closer. Bronze Star gleaming. “You told me never to mix business and pussy.”
Juliet moved fast. Too fast. Beyond human-fast. She snatched the photo of Iris Ashbourne off the table and slapped it against Tyler’s chest. “Business? That’s my great-grandma on the back of her pack’s alpha. Is she shifter enough for you? I was pack before you swam in your daddy’s balls.”
Silence.
Tyler studied the picture. The grin spreading across his face chilled worse than any insurgent’s glare. “Oh, this is rich. Pop finally gets his dick wet, and it’s with the kin of a ghost.”
I had him against the fridge before the last syllable. Crushed apple magnets raining down. “Apologize.”
“Make me.”
His knee came up. I twisted. Sheet metal dented under his skull. Juliet’s protest died when Tyler laughed.
“Still quick for an old man.” He didn’t struggle. Smart kid. “She know you blacked out three states hunting my mom’s trail? That you nearly torched the club over some cheating woman’s choices?”
Juliet went rigid. Right on cue.
Tyler’s smile died. “How many years you gonna outlive her? She’ll wither while your supernatural body ages at a rate less than half the speed of hers. You gonna just set her aside when she’s old and gray?”
“Out.” I pointed downstairs. “We’ll talk after patrols.”
He saluted Juliet, mocking. “Welcome to the freak show, sweetheart. Try not to drown in the Kool-Aid.”
The door slammed. Water dripped. Juliet stared at the dented fridge.
“I should…” she gestured weakly. “The mess…”
“Leave it.”
“But—”
My hands framed her face. Still damp. Still human-warm. “You okay?”
Her laugh shook. “He’s right. I don’t know what I’m getting into.”
“Tyler doesn’t hate you. He hates anyone who makes me weak.”
“Do I?”
I kissed her forehead. Let lips linger. “He has no idea. You’re the one who makes me invincible.”