Chapter 22 Violet
Violet
My favorite way to waste time is horizontal, so that’s how I start the night– flat on my back, sprawled across the couch in the living room with the TV on for background noise.
I couldn’t tell you what’s been happening on this episode of Real Housewives if you paid me.
My brain’s only half here, the rest drifting on autopilot, anticipating the moment Kane walks through that door after work.
Honestly, it’s a little pathetic how much I’m looking forward to it.
This was never the plan. I told myself I’d resist the pull of the bond even if it killed me, but dammit, now that I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, there’s no getting back out.
I can’t un-fuck Kane. I also can’t stop fantasizing about fucking him again.
I may despise the man and everything he represents, but goddamn the dick is good.
There’s a comfort in knowing exactly where we stand now.
It’s like a reset button for my nerves– no more wondering where the hell this is going, no more overanalyzing every interaction.
Our new arrangement is simple. Clean. Carnal.
And there’s a dangerous thrill in knowing exactly what I want and having it delivered to my doorstep every night.
Which is why I bothered to actually get dressed for once.
I mean, not dressed up, just out of my usual ratty t-shirt and shorts and into a jersey knit dress that skims my body like a fucking dream.
It’s soft, black, and just short enough to make my mom clutch her pearls, which is always a selling point.
No bra, just a lacy little pair of black panties that I can’t wait for Kane to peel off.
I even did my hair and threw on a little bit of makeup. Not enough to look like I’m trying, but just enough to make my eyes look radioactive and my lips look bitten. I’m going for ‘effortless’, but there’s about thirty minutes of effort baked into this.
The city’s gone blue with dusk, the windows across the skyline lighting up like a thousand tiny stars.
I sink deeper into the couch, stretching my arms over my head with a long, lazy groan.
Kane should be here soon. He’s a sucker for routine, and as much as I love mocking his need for control, it’s actually weirdly comforting. Predictable in the best way.
I know the exact second he steps off the elevator.
My inner wolf perks up, practically panting with anticipation, and I have to physically stop myself from leaping off the couch and pacing like a caged animal.
Instead, I lounge a little deeper, making sure the neckline of my dress is doing its job to frame my boobs just right, and wait for the sound of his boots in the hall.
Except tonight, it’s not just boots. The key scrapes in the lock, the door opens, and two sets of footsteps enter the apartment. The second is a lighter, more frantic staccato, accompanied with a voice that makes my blood run cold.
“Oh my goodness, this place is beautiful! What a view!”
No.
No, no, NO!
I jerk upright so quickly I get a headrush, my pulse pounding in my ears. Because I know that voice, and I am in no way prepared to face who it belongs to.
Kane emerges from the long entry hall first, tall and broad and so devastatingly attractive I want to punch him in the face.
He’s still in uniform, his tight black t-shirt stretching taut over his muscular chest and his black slacks hugging his thighs in a way that should be illegal.
His gaze meets mine, then he steps aside so his guest can enter the living room.
My fucking mother.
She’s dressed to the nines in a navy sheath dress and matching pumps– the whole ‘polished suburban mom’ starter kit. Her hair is shellacked into a perfect bun, and her lipstick is blood red, stretching around her blindingly white teeth as she beams at me with the zeal of a cult recruiter.
“Mom?” I choke, my brain still struggling to catch up to this turn of events. “What are you doing here?”
She sweeps into the living room, eyes scanning every inch of the space like she’s on a white glove inspection. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” she gasps, seemingly offended by my very legitimate question. “Do I need a reason to visit my own daughter?”
Kane lingers near the hall, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Security called me from the lobby to let me know she was here,” he explains, his gaze roaming over me appreciatively.
I don’t get the chance to savor his reaction to my primping– not with my mom stepping forward like she’s center stage, launching into her usual dramatics.
“They wouldn’t let me up to see you, can you believe it?” she gasps, clapping a hand to her chest in indignation. “They made me wait there like a criminal until Commander Kane came down.”
I roll my eyes so hard I almost pull a muscle. “It’s called security, Mom. Alpha lives here, what did you expect? Maybe if you’d called first…”
“Oh, please, I’ve tried calling you dozens of times,” she huffs, flicking a pointed glance toward my phone.
Which is of course in reaching distance, face down on the coffee table in front of me.
“I shouldn’t have to jump through so many hoops to spend time with my child and get to know her new mate. ”
I glance at Kane– a knee-jerk reaction to that word– then back at my mother as she glides across the room toward me, taking a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.
“This is such a lovely space,” she gushes, making a big show of looking around.
“So modern. Clean, too.” She swings her attention back on me, eyes flicking over my appearance.
“Glad to see you’re at least taking care of your new home, since you refuse to take care of yourself.
Didn’t I warn you about all that processed junk food you eat?
Metabolism slows down with age, you know. ”
I want to set myself on fire.
I cross my arms over my chest defensively and glare at her. “Mom, what do you want?”
She gives me a withering look. “I already told you, I’m here to spend time with my daughter. Honestly, Violet, do you always have to be so hostile?”
Kane snorts a laugh, covering it with a cough a second too late. I whip my glare his way, hating that he’s bearing witness to this shitshow.
He pushes off from the wall, advancing a step toward us. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?” he asks smoothly, suddenly mister hospitality.
I shake my head, but of course my mom takes him up on it. “Do you have wine?”
He dips his chin. “Think so. Red or white?”
“Surprise me,” she replies with a wink, grinning at him. “Thank you, Commander Kane. It’s nice that someone around here has manners.”
“No problem,” he says as he pivots to head for the kitchen. “And you can call me Derek.”
Her face lights up like the fourth of July. “Of course, Derek,” she purrs. “And you can call me Ella.”
He’s never asked me to call him by his first name.
Not that I care.
Except maybe I do, just a little.
As soon as he leaves the room, Mom leans in, wasting no time zeroing in for the kill. “Have things been going well between you two?” she asks, lowering her voice. “I’m sure a man of his stature has high standards for how his mate should behave.”
“What about my standards?” I ask with a scowl. “Don’t you care how I’m adjusting, whether I’m happy?”
She sighs, shaking her head. “Always with the attitude. Of course I care.” She reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but I jerk away from the contact, recoiling like she’s brandishing a knife rather than a perfectly manicured nail.
“Don’t,” I snap.
Her expression twists like she’s pained by my reaction, but I know better than to believe it’s sincere. Everything Ella Slayter does is for show, like she’s starring in her very own drama.
She huffs out a sigh when she realizes I’m not taking the bait, smoothing her hair as she retreats back to her end of the couch.
“I see your tattoos are still multiplying,” she mutters, eyes raking over my arms, chest, and the flash of thigh showing where my dress hiked up.
“Such a shame. You had such lovely skin.”
“I like it better this way,” I reply with a defiant lift of my chin.
Kane reappears with a massive glass of Cabernet, and Mom’s whole face transforms, all maternal venom vanishing behind a dazzling smile. He hands her the wine, and she bats her lashes as she takes it, giving him a look that’s equal parts gratitude and admiration.
“Thank you, Derek. You’re such a gentleman.”
He jerks a nod, then turns his gaze on me, brow arched. “You sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m good,” I mutter, sinking further into the couch and wishing it’d swallow me whole right about now.
Kane takes a seat in the nearby armchair while Mom sips her wine, making an appreciative humming noise as she swallows it down.
“Delicious,” she remarks, licking her lips. “So, how are you adjusting to mated life?” she asks brightly, aiming the question at Kane rather than me.
“We’re settling in,” he replies diplomatically, darting a glance my way. The flicker of a smirk is just visible in the lines around his eyes, and I’d really, really like to smack it off his face. He’s deriving way too much enjoyment out of watching me on the brink of implosion.
“I know my daughter’s a handful,” Mom says with a laugh. “Hopefully she hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.”
“Just the right amount, I’d say,” I cut in, flashing Kane a sugar-sweet smile. “He likes me just the way I am, don’t you, honey?”
He holds my gaze, the corner of his mouth tipping up as he nods once.
My stomach flips.
“Even all the unsightly tattoos?” Mom scoffs, unable to pass up another chance to convey her disapproval of my choices.
Kane doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still locked on mine. “I think they suit her.”
My heart hammers in my chest, my inner wolf fucking preening.
Mom’s momentarily silenced, but recovers fast. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get her attitude under control soon enough,” she tuts. “Violet’s always been resistant to authority, but with the right man, anything is possible.”
“Mom, for the love of god, enough!” I snap, whipping my head in her direction.
She blinks back at me, stunned. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I grumble, folding my arms. “If you came here to embarrass me, then mission accomplished. You can see yourself out now.”
My mother gapes at me, then looks to Kane for backup, clearly expecting him to join her in shaming me into submission.
Instead, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, pinning her with a harsh stare– the kind I imagine he must use when doling out orders and disciplining pack soldiers. It’s… intense. In the best way, since it’s pointed at her.
“She’s right, Ella,” he murmurs. “You’re being rude. I don’t appreciate you insulting my mate, especially in her own home.”
I blink at Kane, certain I couldn’t have just heard him right, but the way the room falls silent provides instant confirmation.
Mom flinches back, expression equal parts wounded and horrified.
Because of course, she’s the real victim here.
She schools her reaction quickly, huffing out a breath and pushing up to stand.
“Well, I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she bites out, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table and smoothing the front of her dress.
“I just love my daughter and want what’s best for her. ”
“Yeah right,” I snort derisively.
She slaps a hand to her chest, jaw going slack. “Violet Grace, how dare you speak to your mother that way?” she admonishes. “I didn’t raise you to be so insolent and ungrateful.”
Kane rises to his feet, eyes rimmed gold, dominant energy rolling off him in waves. “I think it’s probably best that you leave,” he says flatly, gesturing for the door.
Mom whips her gaze on him in shock, then looks back to me, eyes rounding. For a second, it almost looks like she’s sorry. Like she’s actually going to acknowledge how nasty and judgmental she’s been and apologize for it.
Instead, she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and pivots on a heel, marching toward the door without another word.
Kane follows her down the hall to see her out, leaving me on the couch in a state of stunned disbelief. Because what in the actual fuck just happened?
Between my mom showing up and Kane standing up for me like he gives a damn, the mental whiplash is brutal. My mind’s spinning, my pulse is racing, and my stomach’s in fucking knots.
The door closes.
Kane’s boots clomp against the floor as he strides back down the hall.
And I… have no idea what to even say to him right now.