Chapter 45 #2
Our food arrives, and Roderick digs in. Luckily, despite the massive amount he’s shoveling into his mouth, my companion isn’t a messy eater.
No, if anything, he’s a sexy eater. Sitting next to him gives me a clear view of his jaw as he chews.
The way the muscles tense and roll. Just a small hint of the strength that imbues every inch of his body.
“You’re staring,” he says as he cuts into his pancake.
“I’m enjoying the view,” I respond.
His gaze flicks to mine, eyes turning black again. And once more, I’m proud that I don’t even have the urge to flinch.
Although I do jump when a presence sits heavily in the bench seat across our table.
“I have business.” The man doesn’t even bother introducing himself.
Roderick gives no indication if this bothers him or not, but he doesn’t let it pass. “Juliet, this is Boris. Boris, this is Juliet.”
The man—who I suspect is another werewolf—grunts.
Apparently, Roderick and me sitting on the same side of the booth gives the impression the alpha is open to holding court. I didn’t mind Wayne and Nicky stopping by, but something about this wolf rubs me the wrong way.
Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t even glance in my direction. Like I’m as important as the salt and pepper shaker on the table.
Well, if he’s going to ignore me, then I’m not going to let his intrusion stop me from enjoying some of the fluffiest scrambled eggs I’ve ever beheld. Grabbing the bottle of hot sauce, I add a few shakes of the spicy topping before forking up a mouthful.
“What’s your business?” Roderick asks, leaning back in his seat and laying his arm behind my shoulders again.
Boris raps his knuckles on the table. “I mean to take a mate.”
Good thing I swallowed my food already or else I might have choked. That word, mate, it triggers something in me. And instinct to fight or flee.
Maybe eyes turning black don’t send me over the edge anymore, but I’m disappointed to realize I’m not anywhere near cured from the darkness in my past.
“Really?” Roderick’s voice is void of emotion. At best, he sounds mildly curious. “Who?”
Even as I keep my focus on my plate, full of food I find I’m no longer hungry for, I listen intently to this conversation. The way it plays out is vitally important to me.
“Marleen Swanson.” Boris sits straighter in his chair, as if trying to appear as large as possible. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his fifties, and I might even call him attractive if it wasn’t for the scowl on his face. “She’s a good cook. Would suit me just fine.”
“Marleen and you’ve discussed this?”
“I’ve told her my intentions.”
At the nonanswer, I suddenly feel anxious for this woman. The name sounds vaguely familiar, and I think she might be one of my patrons at the library who likes to check out a couple of memoirs each week.
Roderick chews his toast slowly, eyeing the man as he does. Only after swallowing does he answer. “Have Marleen come tell me she feels the same.”
If anything, the wolf’s scowl grows deeper. “Time was when the women of the pack knew their place. When a pack leader didn’t let no one question him.”
Roderick stares the man down. It only takes a moment for Boris to drop his eyes.
Werewolf power games.
“That’s my answer. Won’t change.” Roderick seems completely unaffected by this exchange.
I, on the other hand, feel like I’ve sat down on a mound of fire ants and the bugs are crawling all over me.
Why won’t Roderick put this guy in his place? Is he actually going to let the wolf bully a woman into being his mate? What if she speaks to Roderick under duress?
I, more than most, know exactly how that can go.
The conversation should be done, but Boris obviously doesn’t like how things turned out and feels the need for another jab.
“Time was when a pack leader didn’t settle for less than a quality woman.”
My mind is still processing the insult when I realize Roderick is out of his seat, fisting the collar of Boris’s shirt. He picks up the older man as easy as I would a discarded book.
“I ever hear you speaking about my woman with anything other than respect, you’ll be facing a Challenge.” Roderick’s voice is low, but the menace in it rings through the diner.
Everyone else has stopped eating, not even pretending they aren’t watching the spectacle.
Meanwhile, I feel hot, and cold, and anxious, and I wish there weren’t any eyes on me.
I wanted Roderick to set the man straight, but this display is so … possessive. It doesn’t give me the happy flutters his affection did earlier.
This makes me feel trapped.
Roderick releases Boris’s shirt, but then grips his shoulder hard and steers him straight out of the diner, the tinkling bell ringing in an odd soundtrack to the aggressive dismissal. He shows no indication of the fury I just heard in his voice when he settles back beside me.
“You okay?” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.
“Yes,” I say too fast, clearly lying. But I don’t want to talk about why I’m suddenly not okay in this crowded restaurant full of werewolves. So, I reach for my waffle, using my hands to tear the four sections apart.
Roderick lets my lie pass, but sits closer, and I feel his eyes on me more often as he returns to eating. The urge to flirt and touch has left me.
All that remains are my raw nerves.