19. Carter
Carter
L ater That Day
“I said no, Mom.”
I’m already halfway to the damn door, box of childhood junk in one hand, my pulse jackhammering in my throat from the conversation I swore I’d never have again.
Not after last time.
“But sweetheart, the Pride’s Autumn Lottery is already in motion,” she calls after me, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood floor. “And you’re not mated?—”
“I am mated, Mom.”
The words rip out of me like a roar.
I turn, eyes blazing, every muscle tight with restraint .
“But she’s just a human?—”
“My mate’s name is MJ. No, she’s not a Lioness. But she is mine . So please, for the last time, don’t put my name in the lottery again. I mean it, Mom.”
She stops short, clutching her gold-leafed weekly planner like it’s the damn Pride codex.
Her lips purse.
Her forehead wrinkles.
She looks me over like I’ve just confessed to falling in love with an office chair.
“But, she’s not from a Pride,” she says quietly, like that’s the final nail in the coffin. “You need a strong mate, Carter. Someone who understands our ways. The responsibilities. The expectations?—”
“I do have a strong mate,” I snap, voice lowering into a growl that’s half-man, half-Lion.
“She’s brilliant. She’s bold. She’s fantastic.
She makes pizza so good, it’d make you cry.
The woman creates dishes with her own hands that are every bit as amazing as a Michelin rated restaurant.
She’s beautiful, Mom. Perfect. She yells at pigeons and gets flour in her hair, and she still leaves me breathless. Every. Single. Time.”
I take a step forward.
“She’s got a heart ten times the size of this house, and a mouth that could ruin a lesser man. And guess what, Ma? She runs circles around me without even trying. And I love her for it.”
She flinches. Not at the words, but at the weight of them.
Love.
The thing they always say a Shifter should wait for after a good, clean bond is formed with the right kind of female.
The kind who fits in at Pride functions and signs cub-rearing schedules in cursive.
My mother is a good woman.
She doesn’t mean to break my heart, but I know if we’re going to have a relationship, then she needs to accept this— my mating to MJ, and the fact she’s more important to me than anyone else ever will be.
Mom raised me with discipline and grace and more affection than most Lion mothers offer.
But she’s still too wrapped up in her vision of what my life should be—cub count included.
And frankly? I’m fucking done apologizing for not fitting the mold.
“Who sanctioned the Autumn Lottery?” I demand, voice clipped.
She doesn’t answer. Just smooths the cover of her planner like she can hide behind it.
So that’s a no on King Donovan then.
Probably some leftover nonsense from the Elders trying to keep traditions alive while the rest of us are out here evolving.
“Mother,” I say again, and this time the title is cold, distant. “I love you. I do. But I’ve made my choice.”
“Carter, you can’t be serious about a normal!”
And she better hear me when I say this next part.
“I am very serious, Mother. She’s not a political match. She’s not royalty. She doesn’t give a flying fuck about titles. But she’s mine, and that means something. At least it does to me.”
I don’t wait for her response.
I just turn and walk out the door, into the sharp fall air, clutching a box full of baseball cards, old comic books, and a clay paw print I made in second grade with my dad.
The whole ride back to Newark, I try to shake it off.
The guilt. The anger. The ache in my chest.
But it clings like MJ’s scent on my skin— earthy, spicy, real.
Mom doesn’t get it. But I do.
I’m MJ’s now.
And I have to make sure she knows it—before it’s too damn late .
Someone honks loudly and speeds around me.
Shit.
Try to focus.
But my Lion’s restless. Agitated. Pacing inside me like he knows something’s wrong.
By the time I pull into the garage, I’m edgy as hell—and the moment I step through the front office door, I know something’s off.
Tony’s voice bellows from the hallway like thunder.
“—that was a massive breach of trust! Do you even know what you’ve done?!”
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask, stepping inside to find Tony towering over Tricia like he’s about to go full primal.
She’s pale, stammering, completely caught off guard.
Tony wheels around to face me.
“Your new HR specialist just told a human woman— your mate, I assume —that you were servicing Pride females in heat.”
My blood goes cold.
“You what?” I bite out, pulse spiking like a missile.
Tricia lifts her hands, eyes wide. “I—I didn’t mean anything by it! She just—she smelled like you, and she said she knew about Shifters. I’ve been having a real bad day, Mr. Leone and I might have taken it out on her, but I assumed?—”
“Shit. You’re fired. Get out.”
I run a hand through my hair and face Tony.
“When was she here? MJ?”
“She left about half an hour ago,” Tony says grimly. “Fast.”
I don’t wait for the rest.
I don’t care about whatever Tony’s about to say, or Tricia’s crocodile tears.
Right now, I only care about one thing.
Finding my runaway mate.
Because she thinks I don’t want her.
She thinks I’d sleep with someone else.
And if I don’t fix this now?
I might lose her forever.