Chapter Nine
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The persistent vibration against wood yanked Jared from deep sleep. His eyelids felt glued together as he forced them open, momentarily blinded. Sunlight streamed through half-drawn curtains, painting golden stripes across the unfamiliar bed.
Where in the hell am I? Disorientation gripped him for three rapid heartbeats before memories flooded back—hyenas, fighting, Miguel’s hands, the mating bite still tender on his shoulder.
Oh yeah. His mind drew out those two words like a lightbulb had just lit up over his head.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
His buzzing phone was a determined little sucker. The device vibrated right toward him, the screen lighting up with his mom’s face. Next to him, Miguel slept on, dark hair falling across his forehead. One arm was flung across his eyes, mouth slightly open, soft snores escaping with each breath.
Dark lashes rested against his cheeks, his features relaxed in sleep.
“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute,”
Jared muttered, wincing as he stretched to grab his phone. Every muscle protested the movement, reminding him of last night’s fight and naughty festivities.
He swiped to answer, stifling a yawn. “Hey, Mom.”
“Jared Anthony Fortelli!”
His mother’s voice sliced through the morning haze like a machete, making him jerk the phone away from his ear. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”
“Sorry, my phone died.”
He kept his voice low, trying not to wake Miguel. “Told you I had car trouble.”
“That was hours ago! You could’ve been dead in a ditch somewhere! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all night!”
Jared rubbed sleep from his eyes, checking the notifications. His stomach dropped. Twelve missed calls. Five text messages, each progressively more panicked than the last. The final message, The last one, sent at 3:47 AM, threatened to mobilize the entire coalition to track him down.
“Jesus, Mom,”
he whispered. “I’m fine. Just crashed at a friend’s place.”
She really needed to learn to cut the apron strings before he strangled himself with them.
“Car and phone died at the same time, that’s all.”
“I told your father that thing needs to be replaced, not patched together with... whatever that mechanic uses. Duct tape and prayers, probably.”
She was starting to calm down now that she knew her son wasn’t taking a dirt nap in a ditch. That only made him think of the hyenas. Jared ran his fingers over his throat. His bruises weren’t going to heal by the time he went home. His mom would see them and flip out all over again.
“Where are you now? Do you need us to come get you?”
Hell no! That was the last thing he needed, his parents showing up at a wolf tavern to find their son in bed with his new mate. A mate who happened to be a wolf. A wolf with scars and a motorcycle and a history Jared was just beginning to learn.
“I’ll get a ride,”
he said, glancing at Miguel’s sleeping form. “Car’s at a garage getting fixed.”
“Which garage? Your father can—”
“Mom, seriously, I’ve got it handled.”
Miguel stirred beside him, the sheets rustling as he rolled over. Without warning, a muscular arm snaked around Jared’s waist, yanking him back down to the mattress with unexpected force.
“Mph,”
Miguel mumbled against his neck, his voice thick with sleep as he nuzzled closer. “Stay.”
“Ack!”
The sound escaped before Jared could stop it, phone nearly tumbling from his fingers as his back collided with Miguel’s chest. His arm locked around him like a vise, heavy and immovable.
“Jared? What happened?”
His mother’s voice sharpened with concern. “What was that?”
“Nothing! Just—”
Heat flooded his face as he struggled against Miguel’s iron grip, but the wolf only tightened his hold, apparently determined to keep Jared pinned against him. For someone half-asleep, his mate had remarkable strength. “My friend’s cat jumped on me. Psycho little thing.”
Prying at Miguel’s forearm proved useless. The man was built like reinforced concrete and apparently slept like the dead. Jared poked at the tattooed bicep wrapped around his middle. Miguel responded by draping one heavy leg over Jared’s, effectively trapping him in a cocoon of warm limbs and rumpled sheets.
“Since when are you afraid of cats?”
His mother’s suspicion radiated through the phone. “You’re a cheetah. The cat should be practically purring at your feet.”
He needed to introduce her to Psycho.
“Just caught me off guard.”
He frantically jabbed his elbow backward, connecting with solid muscle that didn’t budge. Jesus.
Miguel’s lips found the sensitive spot behind his ear, stubble scraping against Jared’s skin as he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “mine.”
“Is someone there with you?”
His mother’s voice rose an octave. “Jared Anthony, if you’re in trouble—”
“The only trouble I’m in is with this stupid cat!”
Jared hissed, wedging his fingers between Miguel’s arm and his ribs, trying to pry himself free. “Seriously, it needs intensive therapy.”
Miguel grunted, his breath warm against Jared’s neck as he shifted, pulling him impossibly closer.
“A cat doesn’t grunt, Jared.”
“This one does. Very vocal. Real chatterbox.”
He frantically tapped Miguel’s wrist, trying to wake him fully. “Mom, I gotta go. The cat needs... neutered.”
“Jared, if you spent the night with a special friend, that was all you had to say,”
she huffed. “I know a man’s grunt when I hear one.”
“Love you, bye!”
Jared ended the call and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, where it clattered against the wood.
“A cat?”
Miguel asked, voice rough with sleep, eyes still closed.
Jared narrowed his eyes. “You were awake the whole time you were acting like an octopus with abandonment issues?”
Miguel’s eyes opened then, the morning sunlight striking them at just the right angle to make them sparkle like diamonds. “Not until you elbowed me.”
“My mother thinks I’ve been kidnapped, harassed by a needy cat, or spending time with a special friend.”
Jared flopped back against the pillows.
“Sounds like a normal Tuesday.”
“It’s Saturday.”
Jared ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the tangles. “I’m an adult. You’d think I’d earned the right to stay out without filing a flight plan first.”
Miguel propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand tracing the bite mark on Jared’s shoulder. The touch sent electricity racing through him, momentarily distracting him from the impending family crisis.
* * * *
Diablo stood outside of Sin & Steel on the sidewalk, sipping his morning coffee. Steam rose from the cup, matching the humid air. Behind him, the tavern lay quiet.
Another fucked update night feeling his beasts’ fighting to break free.
Diablo leaned against the brick wall, coffee warming his palm through the paper cup. The liquid burned his tongue, but he welcomed the pain—anything to ground himself in the moment, to remind his body who was in charge.
It had been two months and Dr. Martinez was no closer to finding a cure. Each report contained the same clinical language masking the same conclusion: inconclusive results. More tests needed. Progress minimal.
Matias had taken the tranquilizer from the unfired gun to give to the doctor. The hope was that analyzing the chemical compound might lead to a breakthrough, some way to counteract whatever those hyenas had done to him.
Diablo wasn’t holding out hope.
Morning traffic crawled past the tavern, engines rumbling, exhaust mingling with the scent of his coffee. A delivery truck honked at a car that cut in front of it, the driver’s curse audible even from the sidewalk.
Tension coiled through his shoulders, muscles bunching beneath his jacket. Inside of him, his beasts prowled restlessly, circling each other like boxers sizing up opponents. Their presence pressed against the boundaries of his consciousness, testing for weakness, probing for a way out.
“Settle the fuck down,”
Diablo muttered, voice raspy from lack of sleep. His beasts ignored him, pushing even harder against their cage.
Diablo forced himself to take measured breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Focusing on the taste of coffee, the texture of brick against his back, the weight of his boots on the concrete.
When the pressure subsided slightly, he straightened, rolling his neck to release the building tension. His beasts retreated, but not far. Never far these days. They lingered at the edges of his consciousness, patient and calculating.
A vibration against his thigh pulled him from his thoughts. His phone rang in his pocket. Diablo shifted his coffee to his left hand and retrieved the device, Brett’s name illuminating the screen.
That made the side of Diablo’s mouth curl upward. He answered in Spanish. “ Buenos días, carino .”
Brett painstakingly pronounced each word as he repeated Diablo, stumbling slightly over the rolled “r”. Then he laughed, the sound bright even through the phone’s small speaker, and said it in English. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
A few pedestrians walked by. A woman eyed Diablo in interest, gaze lingering on his face, his shoulders, his hands wrapped around the coffee cup. He smiled politely but glanced away. No point encouraging what wouldn’t happen.
He was already talking to the person who captivated him.
“How’s your morning going?”
Diablo asked, feeling his day starting to look up.
* * * *
“Xavier’s agreed to let you enter cheetah territory to take your mate home,”
Matias said as they stood in the kitchen. “But only because Jared’s your mate. Don’t mistake it for hospitality.”
Miguel crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, his hunger reminding him of the mess he and Jared had made in there just twenty-four hours ago. “I wasn’t looking for a red carpet from the alpha.”
“Don’t trust him either. Since Suero can come and go from cheetah territory, I want you to take him with you.”
Matias’s voice dropped to a deadly pitch. “First sign of trouble, you call me and get the hell out.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking something before sliding it away. “Don’t engage. Don’t rise to bait. Just leave.”
“Understood,”
Miguel replied. Driving into cheetah territory wasn’t thrilling for him, but his mate insisted on going home.
Since Jared’s car was still down, Miguel would have to ride his elegido on the back of his motorcycle.
Matias poured himself a coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. Miguel was apprehensive about the trip. Meeting parents wasn’t something he’d ever done before.
“Can I ask you something?”
He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl, turning it in his palm.
Matias nodded.
“Am I supposed to bring a gift? At least the mom?”
Miguel leaned against the edge of the counter, wondering if he could just mail his mate home.
When Jared said he needed to smooth things over with his mom and dad in person, Miguel had immediately started sweating.
Matias paused mid-sip, brow furrowing slightly. “Nobody explained the dowry to you?”
“Dowry?”
Miguel’s eyes widened, heart racing. “How much are we talking?”
His mind raced through every conversation he'd ever overheard between mated wolves. Not once had anyone mentioned payments or dowries. Was that really a thing? How much would it cost?
He had savings—not much, but enough to cover basic expenses and emergencies.
Kia, Jared’s cousin, was raised by their alpha. Had Suero paid Xavier?
What if Miguel couldn’t pay? His wolf snarled at the thought of Jared’s parents forbidding him from seeing his mate.
“Fuck,”
he muttered. “How much am I looking at? A few grand? More?”
Matias’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. The barest hint of amusement. Just a quirk of his lips, there and gone in an instant.
“You’re fucking with me.”
Miguel’s heart finally restarted.
“Keep your head on a swivel.”
Matias patted his shoulder, the rare physical contact startling in its casual warmth. “Xavier’s still on edge after Kia.”
“Our animals chose, not the person.”
Matias drained his coffee and set the mug in the sink. “Just bring your ass back in one piece. And try not to start a war.”
Thirty minutes later, Miguel and Jared were cruising down the country road, the roar of his and Suero’s motorcycles the only sound for miles.
Jared’s body was pressed against him like a comforting weight, his fingers tracing the abdomen under Miguel’s shirt.
As soon as they approached the boundary line, Suero shot in front of them, taking the lead. The male had free passage, so it only made sense he enter first.
Still, it didn’t set right with Miguel. Jared was his mate, which should give him certain freedoms on cheetah land.
Kia and Jared were free to come and go as they pleased. No wolf would mess with them. Not when the coalition knew fully well who they were and that they were mates to wolves.
That’s why Miguel hated politics so much. He never understood the whole “passage”
requirement. As long as no one stirred up trouble— He stopped his thoughts in their tracks. If cheetahs strode into Sin & Steel…
Nah, fuck free passage for everyone.
Up ahead, Suero eased off the gas as the four of them rolled into a neighborhood lined with manicured lawns and homes that looked like magazine covers. The kind of place where sprinklers whispered over grass that had never browned, and every porch had matching lanterns.
Blackthorn had houses like these too, but only on the ritzy side of town, where a guy like Miguel would get side-eyed for parking too long. And this neighborhood gave off that same snobbish vibe, loud and clear.
Please let us be passing through instead of going to.
Jared tapped Miguel’s shoulder and pointed at a two-story Victorian, navy blue with crisp white shutters and gingerbread trim so perfect it looked Photoshopped.
Neatly trimmed hedges hugged one side of the house, running flush against a wide wraparound porch. Colorful plants hung from the eaves in woven baskets, swaying lazily in the breeze like they had all the time in the world.
It was the kind of house you saw in glossy real estate brochures—too pretty, too perfect, too far out of reach.
Miguel’s fingers clenched around the throttle until his knuckles ached. He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine fast, not wanting to draw any attention from the neighborhood watch types peeking through curtains.
Sweat slid down his back as he stared at the place, chest tight, like he’d just parked outside a prison instead of someone’s home.
Jared’s fingers dug into Miguel’s tense shoulders when he climbed off. He brushed strands of hair from his face and smiled.
But the smile was strained, as if he was just as anxious as Miguel. “Come on in.”
Miguel kicked down the stand, but didn’t move. “I’ll just wait for you out here. I’m lacking vitamin D. Could use some more sun.”
His mate looked disbelievingly at him, his nose scrunched in the cutest way. “Seriously? I’m about to go in there and announce I’m mated, and you’re not even gonna come in with me? The guy I’m mated to?”
Miguel ran the pad of his thumb over the scar on his face while turning to look down the street. Not once in his life had he felt unworthy to be with someone.
Not that he’d dated a lot. But the thought of meeting Jared’s mom and dad made him break out in a cold sweat.
First strike was the fact he was a wolf.
Second, he wore a leather, was tattooed to the nines, and rode a motorcycle.
Third, he couldn’t provide his mate this kind of life. Ever. He received monthly settlement payments from his accident. Miguel had sued the manufacturer over a faulty brake caliper that sent his bike sliding across asphalt.
But the payments weren’t enough to afford a home in an upscale suburban area.
“I’m nervous too.”
Jared gripped Miguel’s hands, curling slim fingers around callused ones. “Please don’t make me go inside by myself.”
Shit. As much as Miguel would rather swim alongside sharks with a bloody limb, he couldn’t let Jared do this alone.
Motherfuck. He dismounted, wishing he didn’t have to meet the parents.
“Thank you,”
Jared said with a breath of relief.
“You don’t need to thank me for doing the right thing, solecito .”
And Miguel needed to stop sweating this. He’d never apologized for who he was or the life he lived.
He was proud to belong to the Salvador pack. No amount of money could buy the loyalty or brotherhood he shared with the men he called family.
They climbed the porch just as the front door swung open. Behind the screen stood a blonde-haired woman, same green eyes as her son. She was a slightly large female who looked as though she loved hard and lived life on her own terms.
“I could kick your butt for worrying me,”
she said to Jared, but undeniable love backed up her motherly threat.
Then her gaze slid to Miguel—a quick assessment of the eyes.
He braced himself, waiting for the snide comment he just knew was coming.
“You brought a friend.”
She glanced back at Jared, her lips twisting to the side. If she said anything condescending, Miguel was grabbing his mate and leaving.
“Is this the friend with the grunting cat?”
She gave Jared a pointed look that said he hadn’t fooled her one bit.
“Wolf,”
Miguel clarified, cutting to the chase. “I’m a wolf, ma’am.”
“I know,”
she said with a touch of humor in her tone. “My nose works perfectly fine, young man.”
She turned to fully face him. “I’m guessing you’re the reason my son has been lying to his own mother?”
“I just—”
She held up her hand, instantly shushing whatever Jared was about to say. Miguel’s hackles began to rise, a snarl seconds away from ripping free.
She might be his mate’s mom, but he didn’t like her cutting him off. Whatever Jared had to say was important to Miguel. Always.
“I’m Agnes.”
She held out her hand, catching him off guard with her politeness. “And you are…?”
“Miguel.”
Her skin was soft as he gently shook her flour-dusted hand.
“Well, Miguel. Come inside and enjoy a slice of lemon cake I baked just this morning.”
She pushed open the screen door before stepping aside. “I can tell my son has something to confess. We might as well indulge in a sweet dessert while we listen.”
“Really, Mom?”
Jared glanced at Miguel, but the “please help”
look was lost on him. Miguel was just as wary. He felt like he was walking straight into a trap. Agnes was just a little too pleasant, which worried him.
Was she just luring him inside so the neighbors wouldn’t hear what she really had to say?
Miguel followed her through the house, the scent of lemon and sugar growing stronger with each step. The kitchen opened up like a sunbeam—wide windows letting in the morning light, sheer curtains fluttering gently from the breeze slipping through a cracked window above the sink. Pale yellow walls made the space feel warm, like the inside of a teacup, and every surface told a story—mismatched mugs drying by the sink, a hand-painted cookie jar shaped like a sunflower, and recipe cards tucked under magnets shaped like vegetables on the fridge.
A glass sliding door took up the far wall, offering a view of a large wooden patio where potted plants crowded together like gossiping old friends. Wind chimes danced above a porch swing. Miguel could picture Agnes out there with a cup of coffee, slippers on her feet and a book in her lap, the kind of peace that felt earned, not bought.
Agnes moved with practiced ease, brushing a hand along the counter like she was greeting an old friend. She tapped the back of one of the kitchen chairs and smiled—welcoming, but watchful.
Her kitchen was cozy, yes. But it was still her territory. And Miguel could feel the weight of being the unknown in it.
Miguel hadn’t even taken a step toward the chair when Jared blurted it out—voice quick, edged with nerves.
“We’re mates.”
The words dropped into the kitchen like a wrench into a blender.
Agnes stilled. Not dramatically—just… still. Her hands didn’t fidget. Her smile didn’t twitch. She just looked at her son for a long moment, then at Miguel, measuring something behind her calm.
Miguel moved. One step forward, quiet but solid, placing himself between Jared and whatever storm might follow. He wasn’t sure what would come next, but whatever it was, he’d face it.
Instead, Agnes smiled.
Slow. Warm. Twinkling at the edges like she’d just solved a mystery no one else knew existed. She turned back to the counter, lifted a slice of lemon cake onto a plate, and gently set it on the table. Then, without hesitation, she reached for Miguel’s hand and guided him toward the chair she’d tapped earlier.
He let her, curious to see where this was going.
She sat next to him, close but not crowding, chin resting on her hand as she leaned in with the ease of a woman who’d hosted a thousand kitchen table confessions.
“So,”
she asked, voice light, “how did you two meet?”
Miguel just stared at her. He could still hear Suero’s voice in his ear, telling Miguel he was pinned down by hyenas, Kia and Jared with him. Suero had used code, but Miguel had understood him. But, none of it belonged in this sunny kitchen.
Maybe she intimidated him a little, with her knowing eyes and gentle voice.
But he was still a wolf.
He straightened in his seat, gaze steady. “Why are you being so nice to someone like me?”
Agnes tilted her head, brows pulling in the softest frown. “What do you mean, someone like you?”
Miguel gestured vaguely at himself—his scuffed leather, the thick scar that cut through the stubble on his cheek, the rings on his fingers that were more function than fashion. “I don’t exactly fit in around here.”
But Agnes still looked confused. Not offended. Not wary. Just genuinely puzzled, like he’d just told her the sky wasn’t blue.
It was Jared who chimed in, brows knitting as he glanced between them. “You mean… because you’re a biker? Or…?”
The way he said it, like the thought had never actually occurred to him, only added to the strange twist in Miguel’s gut.
And that’s when it started to click. Slowly. Like the gears in his brain were turning against sand. These two really didn’t see it. Not the jacket. Not the scars. Not the baggage. Not even the broke-down life he’d clawed through to get here.
They honestly didn’t see his flaws.
Miguel’s jaw clenched as he let out a breath, frustration flickering behind his eyes.
“I’m a wolf. I wear my leather no matter the occasion. I’m covered in scars, and I live with an insane cat named Psycho that, according to my mate, needs therapy.”
Agnes blinked and looked right at Jared. “Wait, you weren’t kidding about the cat?”
“She definitely needs therapy,”
Jared insisted. “You would too if you were surrounded by wolves,”
he added under his breath.
“I’ve got to meet this adorable little furball.”
She sounded curious, which made Miguel think he might be the one needing therapy.
“Good luck with that,”
he muttered.
“How did you get those bruises?”
Agnes asked her son, getting up from her chair and walking over to him.
Miguel was out of his seat in seconds.
She turned her head, eyes glowing amber. “I would never lay a finger on my son. Calm down, wolf. I just want to examine him.”
Miguel didn’t move, watching her closely, not sure he could trust that she genuinely didn’t care about the flaws he’d pointed out about himself.
Her fingers hovered near Jared’s chin, then her gaze lowered to his neck. She gasped, gently moving aside the fabric, tears brimming in her green eyes.
Miguel watched her, wondering if she thought he’d left those marks on his mate.
Not everyone saw bonding as sacred. It was rare, but there were some who abused their mate or even cheated on them.
“Who did this?”
Her voice quivered.
“Hyenas,”
Jared whispered. “They broke into Miguel’s last night and tried to tranquillize us.”
Shock resonated through her features. She pulled Jared into her arms, hugging him tightly. “I heard rumors about those filthy scoundrels darting shifters, but I wasn’t sure if it was true.”
Agnes glanced over her shoulder, concern in her eyes. “Did either of you…”
“No.”
Miguel shook his head, touched she was worried about him too.
Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me they paid for their attempt.”
A smile tugged at Miguel’s lips. “They won’t be breaking into anyone else’s house. Your son was amazing, by the way.”
“Jared?”
She turned back around. “My Jared took on a hyena?”
For the first time since it’d happened, pride lit up Jared’s eyes. “And won.”