Chapter 3
"Where were you all day?"
Asher doesn't say anything. He accepts the offered can of Coke in silence, taking a sip and tracing his fingers along the side. I watch him intently examine the droplets that drip onto the floor.
It's evening and well past the hour of seven.
I have yet to sort out the patrol roster for tomorrow swamped with revision and completing assignments.
Junior year finals are around the corner – just four weeks away – and though summer school is inevitable, and there's no point in trying, I still wish to understand something walking into the exam room.
At least for that one subject.
I had texted Asher and requested an hour of his time. I saw the patrol roster for this evening, and he isn't assigned. We need to sort out our relationship now that there's another person involved.
It does not matter that we could hardly stomach the idea of each other.
I never want to feel the pain of my mate's betrayal and it's not something I'll wish upon anyone.
Each time I'm with someone else, Jace would feel the pain of my betrayal, and he wouldn't understand where it's coming from or why it's happening.
I'm not so cruel to willfully sabotage the bond that way. I don't do infidelity.
I sit next to Asher on the couch. There's time before my father returns home, and with take out, too, because I don't feel like cooking.
"We have to talk about this."
"Why? Can't we forget it happened and go back to the way things were?" he pleads.
His feelings shouldn't be this strong. We have a mutual understanding that works, a notion that we need each other to satisfy those curious primal urges, but it's supposed to be no strings attached.
We've been friends all our lives, but Asher deserves better. He deserves someone who will cherish him and give him all the things he desires. I can't give him that because I belong to someone else just as he belongs to another.
"That isn't right, Ash. You know this."
Asher sets the can down. "Why does our relationship have to change? What's so wrong about forgetting it? I promise I'll never mention my feelings again."
"Things can't go back to the way it used to be." It isn't fair to him.
Asher scoffs heatedly, muttering under his breath about Carter being an asshole for saying what he had.
"Carter has nothing to do with this even if it was uncalled for. And he's right anyway. We both have mates out there, and as of today, I've found mine."
Asher's silence settles like a heavy boulder in a deep river.
His eyes are wide and his jaw slightly ajar under the weight of disbelief.
He is as unbridled as they come. He doesn't throw up fa?ades which is why it's difficult to look at him directly.
The shock registers, but his eyes carry a plethora of emotion, and it's devastating to watch him fall apart.
I've been careless and now I've broken his heart.
His jaw clenches as he turns away but not in time to hide the tear that falls.
He stands with balled fists, battling for control over his emotions, remaining still for however many seconds tick away before he finally speaks. His voice is soft and shaky, carrying the weight of heartbreak.
"Congratulations, Sky. I wish you all the best."
Without another word, he leaves me in the quiet of my home, a heavy weight lingering in his wake.
Asher has a bigger heart than most and cares about people more than they deserve. It makes me feel like a monster to have hurt him, but it's the right thing to do.
Our fling couldn't continue for another second.
Left to my thoughts, my mind drifts back to Jace. That human has interrupted my thoughts more than I care to admit, sneaking past my defenses at every turn.
I've heeded my friends' advice to give the bond a chance but since this morning, he hasn't been far from my thoughts.
I wonder if he's at home with parents. Or is he in town with his friends despite it being a school night? Is he with his girlfriend? I wonder if I cross his mind as much as he's been on mine.
The sound of my ringtone brings me back to the present. Carter's caller ID flashes across the screen and I grab my headset from the couch as I answer the call.
"Did Ash swing by yet?"
"Good evening to you too," I reply. Carter scoffs, muttering a string of words he keeps mumbled avoiding me from picking it up.
"Yeah, yeah. So, did he?"
"Yeah," I drawl taking the Coke can into the kitchen and dumping the drink into the sink before tossing the can. Call it childish but I feel as though it would be an act of betrayal even if I wipe down the top.
Ash's battle for control when I told him about my bond manifesting returns to the forefront of my mind. "I broke his heart."
Thwack! Thwack!
What in the world is he doing?
"I told you!"
Thwack!
"This is why you don't have sex with friends! It never ends well."
Thwack! Thwack!
"What is that sound?" Truly, I'm scared of the answer.
With Carter Hayes, one can never be sure. He's got more sexual experience than all of us combined. He lost his virginity at thirteen.
Dale is still a virgin and doesn't believe in sleeping with anything with a hole in its body, swearing purity and abstinence until his fated one waltzes into his life. Now that Laken has, who knows how long that will last if the way Dale looks at him gives anything away.
Asher was a virgin until he got involved with me. I've had a few flings of my own.
"A textbook! I'm frustrated with your dumb ass! I told you this would end badly, didn't I?"
"You did. But it's been taken care of. At least now, I can focus on Jace. But enough about me. What's your deal about this morning?" Silence follows, and I begin to think he's left the conversation hanging in hopes of changing the subject. "You weren't yourself. What happened?"
Carter expels a deep breath.
"Kelly and I had a fight. She's always busy. With school, beta training, her family, or her friends. Sometimes I feel like she doesn't have time for me."
Kelly Dalton is the daughter of Jordan Dalton.
She's Blake's sister, younger by one year.
When she turned sixteen, she was finally able to feel the pull of the mate bond to Carter but since he's older by one year, he knew about their bond first. He confessed the truth and they were in a relationship before her sixteenth birthday.
He's head over heels for her, but I struggle to understand their relationship dynamic.
Carter loves her to bits and finds balance within himself whenever he's with her. But too often lately, he seems downer than usual.
When he's asked about it, the reason is the same: 'We had a fight.'
"Anyway," he continues, pushing past the hurt I hear in his voice, hiding it behind clearing his throat. "She managed to clear her schedule, and I took her on a date last night. One thing led to another and I..."
"You what?" I push when he takes too long to finish the sentence.
"I almost marked her. I lost control, and she got so mad with me.
I'd never seen her so angry. She screamed at me and slapped me.
Told me she wanted to take a break. I might've really hurt her, Sky.
She was crying because of what I did. I tried apologizing.
Tried to talk to her at school. I even stopped by her house, but she doesn't want to see me.
" He laughs over the phone, but it's a heartbroken one.
I could picture him beating himself up over it.
Carter is like that. He's always been the considerate type who loves with all his heart. He's the type who falls hard when he falls in love and is no stranger to taking accountability for his mistakes.
There's one downside though. He's a glutton for approval from those he cherishes. I wouldn't call him a people-pleaser since he'll put his foot down when it matters. He does, though, have this notion that he's not been forgiven unless the person he offended says that they forgive him.
"I promised I'd never lose control and hurt her. She probably hates me."
"Stop that. Maybe she just got scared. Give her some time and she'll come around."
"I'm scared she'll leave me, Sky."
Carter needs his mate. His mood swings are more volatile than the rest of us.
When we were children, there were days he would miss school, and some weekends he would spend locked in his home.
We didn't understand it then but as we grew up, we started to understand a fundamental difference in our friend.
Carter's human side pales in comparison to the primal instincts he constantly fights to keep at bay.
Every day is a struggle.
Before he found Kelly, people walked on eggshells around him because it was so easy for him to lose to the primal instincts. No one knows why it's a thing, but it seems to be heredity on his father's side.
I believe it's reason he's always careful of offending people. Those animal instincts fucked him up in ways not many can understand.
But now that he has her and she gives him a feeling of normalcy, he doesn't want to lose that because he's afraid of himself.
Plus, he's grown to love her.
"She's not going to leave you. Just give her space, and if she truly loves you, she'll understand what you deal with every day. She'll help you."
"Yeah, you're right," he replies after a moment. "I'm probably overreacting. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to eat dinner before Mom drags me downstairs herself."
The call ends and I switch to a playlist. I go to Dad's study and take the logbook he keeps with the names of pack warriors, then make a trip to my room for writing materials before settling at the dining table near the island counter in the kitchen.
Dad returns home and meets me still working on the roster. It's past nine and though I'm starving, I decide to finish the roster while Dad showers.
Of all the things I enjoy, breakfast and dinner with Dad is something I look forward to daily. My day never feels right if we don't share at least one meal together. The day doesn't feel complete without idle conversation over a meal and rehashing the most significant thing that happened that day.
"You didn't eat?" Dad asks, coming back into the kitchen now dressed in pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He eyes the untouched pizza boxes sitting on our dining table for two.
I thump my finger on the thick notebook.
"Roster for tomorrow is done." I set aside my phone and move to the cabinets, grabbing two plates and two glasses.
"Good. I'll forward it Isaiah..." He trails off while scanning the roster, taking a pen to make a few changes.
"Is something wrong?" Setting the wares down, I dish myself two large slices of pizza, and dish him another two, trying to get a keep of what he's writing. It's not the first time I've organized patrol rosters. The only time he makes changes is if something is happening that I'm not aware off.
By the looks of it, something is.
He scratches off the pack's commander, Rick Stone, and promptly scribbles down the name of an elite warrior. He scratches Carter's name and scribbles down another pack warrior.
With those changes, there are no members of the four prominent families on the roster. It's a general rule that every roster should have at least one member of the four prominent bloodlines assigned.
"Isaiah is calling a meeting tomorrow evening. Lativa's new alpha wants to enter truce talks."
Scoffing at that information, I gulp down my drink to prevent choking. That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in such a long time and epic for a good laugh.
There is no talking peace with Lativa. Every Were in Jasper Falls knows it.
Lativa is more trouble than rogues which is why their pack suffered so much the last decade and continues to struggle.
Alliances have been cut. Proprietorships the pack owns suffered considerable losses. Those of Lativa in business with Aegean Industries made steep losses the last decade. A lot of them were forced to sell.
Some of their own cut ties with the pack to avoid those losses. Others went rogue joining Crescent Hill or Marcana on a probationary period to ensure they create no upheavals and that their intention truly is to survive.
If their former alpha had been the source of the pack's trouble, there is little doubt that his son would be different. Lativa's new alpha, Ezra Atkinson, is three years older than me. Young to take over but such things do happen.
Ezra graduated high school the same year I finished my first year at Jasper Falls High, so I don't know him well. I've seen him less and mainly heard stories.
He didn't have friends in school. Only allies within his pack he handpicked to be his in-commands. He never bothered to make friends and was given the nickname 'Lone Wolf'. Everyone steered clear and much of it had to do with two factors.
The first were the rumors that dictated Ezra's high school career ensuring he stayed alone throughout those four years. Rumors about an unstable household, daily abuse suffered at the hands of his father that made him isolated and unable to form bonds.
The second factor is that he was dangerous. People were afraid to approach him. There had been stories of people who ended up hospitalized because of that. I know the second reason is a stretch as it's been quiet since he graduated. It's like he vanished into thin air.
Ezra Atkinson had been practically forgotten.
"Let me guess, they're coming here to talk peace?"
"They are," Dad replies, setting the fixed roster aside. "Ezra's been in contact with Isaiah over the last month and from what I've seen myself, he seems genuine in his appeal for peace."
"Seen? Have you been to Lativa's territory much?" With all the trouble we faced in the past, all that Dad and I have personally lost to Lativa and its former psychotic alpha, I hope Dad hasn't been crazy enough to venture near that side of town.
"Only to the commercial areas the pack owns. Specializing in security allows me access to information. He's serious about rebuilding his pack. Genuine in his desire for alliance so we've decided to work with him."
I find it difficult to entertain the idea that Ezra has turned things around, from his lone wolf persona to a responsible leader. "And I'm guessing that since you scratched Commander Rick and Carter off the roster, all members of the prominent families need to be there?"
"Think you could clear your busy schedule?"
"Like I'd let you go there alone."
It rubs me the wrong way that Ezra's psychotic father will most likely be present too. It's all the reason I need to scratch that itch to walk into the meeting with a shotgun for assurance.
But I can't do that.
I have to be civilized.
My morning starts with a rigorous workout to burn off the pizza. My calf and thigh muscles are sore though it's nothing that prevents me from heading to school.
There's something within those walls more important than my grades.
I've made up my mind to broach the mate bond and hold a civilized conversation with Jace. The plan is a simple three-level strategy:
One, find Jace.
Two, approach Jace.
Three, demand to speak with him and hope that he doesn't piss me off first.
I barely make it to school before the first bell calls. Carter woke up late but for some reason, I'm at fault for not driving fast enough. I can't wait for him to get his own vehicle which, coincidentally, is the subject of our conversation as we hurry to class.
Carter already has his license. The delay lies in his inability to choose a car within the imposed budget.
"I'm serious, Sky! Help me!" he pleads as we march to first period, everyone instantly clearing a path.
It's been that way for a long time. The student body holds high amounts of respect for Carter with his reputation as the 'King' of Jasper Falls High. People stay away from me because according to Carter, I scare them away which is totally fine with me.
"It's between the Camaro and the Silverado. Dad's all like, 'No sports cars!'" he exclaims, trying to imitate his father. "The Camaro is my last hope. If I get a little support from my best friend, he might cave into the idea."
"Does it matter?"
He shakes his head. "He thinks I'll be irresponsible, drive like an idiot and end up totaling the car and myself. He said if I ask for the Camaro, he'll buy me a Pontiac or VW Beetle as a practical joke." Carter cringes, mortified by the idea of driving around in either vehicle.
I burst out laughing at his misery because I could picture such a thing happening.
The image of Carter's hulking frame behind the wheel of a Pontiac or Volkswagen Beetle is comically laughable and Chad Hayes would make that joke a reality.
Beta Chad might go a step further to thoroughly embarrass his son by customizing the car's paint job to the obscenest color he could find.
"This isn't funny, Sky! I'm in a crisis over here!"
"I don't see how this is my problem."
"Dad likes you. If you talk him around to getting me the Camaro –"
"No. I'm not doing that. I'd take the deal because at least you're getting a Chevy," I retort. I make it clear that I will not be challenging the beta's authority over his son. Carter pouts like a child. "Why do you care if you get the Camaro so much?"
"Don't you know?" I shake my head to the question. "The car makes the man! The Camaro says, 'I'm rich and dangerous. Meet my gaze without my permission and you're dead!' That car's a total chick magnet!"
Right.
"Nobody's going to think less of you. Either way, you're getting the car brand you want."
"You're a poop," he mutters as we walk into first period.
Immediately, I spot Jace in his usual seat near the window in the second-to-last row. I shove Carter out of the way, and he bumps into a girl. He offers a quick apology, flipping me off.
A thrill shoots through my chest at the sight of my mate.
Jace's gaze follows, and I steal a moment to take stock of what the bond has given me. Jace is a conventional beauty – maybe a little bit more – and he knows it.
Dirty blond hair styled for a boyish appeal, and candy-apple green eyes that brighten his features in an absolutely breathtaking way when the light hits him just right.
His nose is not horribly straight but it's neat with a cute curve at the tip.
He takes great care in his appearance, too.
Today, he's wearing dark jeans, a white tee, and a stylish black jacket.
He sits slouched like a contented king near the windows, body angled, one airpod tucked into his ear.
His eyes never leave me.
I draw nearer, moving the first person out of my way who just happens to be Bigmouthed Piles.
"What the fuck? You want to die, Daniels?" Brent challenges, offended that I've moved him like an obstructing piece of furniture.
My grin is mischievous. "Unless you want your little girlfriend to find out that you've been screwing her friend, walk away, Piles."
Brent's nostrils flare and his fists clench but he decides it's better to safeguard his secret. He hasn't been as discreet as he'd hoped since I spotted them behind the bleachers out by the football field a day that I was to meet up with Carter.
Returning focus to the one person at center of my recent troubles, I take the chair next to Jace.
In this classroom – one of the maths classrooms, as with most others – the furniture are still in mint condition, so it hasn't been upgraded with single desks.
The tables seat two students and it's a design teachers make work to their advantage.
We're assigned seats in maths class based on academic performance.
A student with a lower grade is paired with a student with a higher grade.
It also separates the troublemakers, making the teacher's job less miserable.
Today, I feel like breaking that rule, but know I would not be chewed out for it. The teacher is a subordinate rank in Marcana. Plus, I'm failing his class. There would be no upset since I'm sitting with a straight A student, and he can't challenge my authority over him.
Jace isn't pleased with my intention. He presses himself into the wall at my proximity, not hiding the annoyance that riddles him.
The feeling's mutual, babe. But I'm here to work out a compromise at best since I'm not a completely heartless prick.
I up the ante and shoot him a smirk, his reaction comical. I could almost see the smoke billowing out his nose.
"What'd you want?" Jace interrogates then stiffens, moving his arm from the chair's backrest where I lazily drape mine onto his.
"A moment of your time. Or are you still mad about yesterday?"
"Look, if you're going to be an asshole, move!" he orders, standing up abruptly.
"Sit down, Conner. Don't make a scene." I gently tug his wrist to make a point, silently enjoying those little electrical sparks that strokes fiery instinct of the animal half.
He huffs but obliges, begrudgingly crossing his arms over his chest, choosing to glare holes into my existence.
Our conversation halts as the teacher walks in noticing that I'm not in my usual seat, nor is the student who usually sits with Jace. He makes no fuss since neither of us have violated the cardinal purpose of the seating layout swiftly brushing it aside and launching into his job.
The results from yesterday's quiz are back and by the time he finishes distributing the marked papers, every student knows who's done well and who failed.
He did that thing, awkwardly bending the paper as if to conceal the atrocious mark when he did no such thing for students who scored well.
My mark is terrible. Though I hadn't expected a high grade, I at least expected a grade at the half mark.
15 out of 55. What does this do for me?
A smug hum comes from beside me and I turn, spying the mark Jace flaunts like a badge of honor. He aced it.
Despite my failing mark, a flutter of pride goes through me. He's pretty and bright.
"Looks like you need a lot of help before finals," he muses.
"It won't matter. I've failed all the coursework and barely passed the midterm. Finals can't save me and I'm not looking forward to summer."
"Did you even study?"
The condescending smugness of that question works well to make me feel small and insecure – an unusual experience.
Jace smiles and places the test paper down in clear view – a mocking attempt to double those feelings of insecurity – as he flips his notebook to a clean page, scribbling the header of the last topic for the semester across the top.
As Jace copies notes from the board, attentively listening, I consider our respective grades. I recall his mockery and the first thing he said upon glancing the test results. An idea comes to me.
A brilliant idea.
A fantastically maniacal, brilliant idea. I've found my way in.
"Tutor me."
Jace gasps and the pen slips from his hand. He's pressing against the wall, staggered at the proximity and that I've broken every boundary of appropriateness by leaning in so close, mere inches away, and whispered into his ear. His heart is pounding so loudly that I hear it with ease.
"What?" he rasps out.
"Tutor me," I repeat, calmer. Friendlier.
Jace shakes his head in defiance, whispering sharply, "No. Go trouble someone else...and...never do that again."
Of course, I won't relent.
In the hours that follow, Jace deliberately controls his surroundings making himself appear scarce, busy or surrounded by friends from the popular clique, avoiding all chances of being left alone with me.
He is, to his great misfortune, ambushed in the lunch line.
"Will you think about it?" I push, leaning in close and ensuring that there is little space between us.
I like those little buzzing electrical sparks that come alive when we're physically close.
It's not mutual. He's resistant to bond, unsure of what that feeling is all about.
I follow like a lost puppy when he snatches his full tray off the counter and stomps away.
"Go away!" he blurts over his shoulder.
I drop some money on the counter and go after him, gripping his elbow and steering him away from the table of popular jocks and cheerleaders to an empty one halfway across the lunchroom.
Jace makes a sound of exasperation but allows me to whisk him away, probably deciding to hear me out after all.
"Stop being difficult, Conner. Hear me out."
He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest in a way I find endearingly cute. It's a thought I keep to myself, tucking away the image for later use.
"What?"
"Tutor me."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I got that part. I thought you said finals wouldn't help you. What's the point of enlisting a tutor when you're repeating it for summer?" he challenges.
"He teaches like crap, yet you still ace every test. You're at the top of the class. Tutor me and I'll just come in to write the summer final."
His arms drop, staring at me in awe. "You can do that?"
"I have my ways. What do you say? You aren't objecting to tutoring me either so, I'm assuming you don't mind."
"What would I get out of it? So far, only you benefit from this arrangement."
"So, you'll do it?"
"What's in it for me?"
"You get to spend to time with a sexy hunk," I retort cheekily, laughing at the lack of amusement on his face.
He glances away and reaches for a fry as if to show he's done with the conversation unless I list the pros he'll receive.
"I'll pay you, of course," I offer. "Two hundred per session.
Three hours for three days a week. We can settle on the days that work for us. "
He stops, hooded candy-apple green eyes assessing me with the vaguest of intrigue. "You're very demanding."
"I know what I want, and I usually get it."
He looks like he's thinking about the proposal, lost and oblivious to the flirtatious undertone – the double entendre of those words. He swirls a fry around the small plastic container of ketchup.
"How soon do you want to start tutoring? It makes no sense since finals are around the corner and you're going to need a miracle."
"Don't be rude, Conner." Jace shrugs, unwrapping his hamburger, but listens on. "It wouldn't kill me to understand something on the final. We'll start next week. I'm busy this weekend."
"Whatever, Daniels. Just make sure and pay me," he mutters, ripping into his hamburger like a famished beast.
"Aren't you going to join your friends?" He hasn't moved a muscle when I expected him to scamper off the second we stopped speaking.
"Too hungry to move."
The unexpected dose of brutal honesty is refreshing. I have half a mind to walk away, and I would have any other day, but I quite like being around Jace. I enjoy that fiery attitude, and the way he is so annoyed with me. If I'm going to make our bond work, he has to get used to my presence.
"What're you doing?" he snaps, chewing slowly. He watches me with distrustful eyes as I begin digging into my own lunch.
"Eating lunch."
He doesn't make any further comments.
We eat in silence, neither one breaking the semi-awkwardness.
Neither of us knows what to say and we don't bother to fill it with words.
It's not lost on us that we're getting unusual glances from everyone – especially the popular clique.
Everyone knows we don't get along, let alone like each other enough to tolerate the other's presence.
Yet here we are, eating lunch at the same table.
He is first to leave after finishing his food, and only then does he return to his table of friends. As nosey as I am, I tune into my acute hearing, eavesdropping what excuses Jace might drum up. It's expected that his friends would query, and query, they do.
"Why were you sitting there?" Blake Dalton asks, shooting me a curious glance from the distance. I send him a lopsided grin. It's all the indication Blake needs that I'm listening.
"He wanted to ask me something," Jace replies. He's nonchalant about the whole thing while Blake and Piles are about to have cows.
"But you finished your lunch there," Piles broadcasts louder than he needs to. It draws significant attention that riles a reaction from Jace. It's subtle but enough to make me want to fling the lunch tray across the room in Harper's direction.
Jace recovers quickly and his response is a nonchalant, "I was hungry. And he could have left. I'm not going to stop him from sitting where he wants."
"What'd that asshole want?" Blake follows up.
"It really is none of your business, Blake. That's between me and Daniels." I sense some hostility there, more than what was directed at Harper.
"No need to get defensive. It might give people the wrong idea," Blake counters, and I could just about see Jace's irritation growing.
Now that is interesting. It appears that Jace does not like being interrogated by his friends over something that has nothing to do with them, least of all by Blake Dalton.
"And? Drop it, Blake. What's done is done."
They persist no more, and the conversation swings to a different topic. Jace's girlfriend, Sasha Vernon, picks up on his irritation and swoops in to save the day.
English is the period after lunch. The seating arrangement is similar to the one in maths, and between Carter and I, he's the better student. I hardly study which is why my English grade continues to suffer.
"What's wrong with you?"
He looks up, pouting like a scolded child. "Dad texted. He said I'm taking too long to make up my mind so he's getting me the Silverado." He plops his head down in defeat.
"At least you're getting a Chevy," I say, poking his side in an attempt to cheer him up.
Carter hums and changes the subject, focusing on my mate issue instead. "I saw you and Jace during lunch." A teasing, toothy grin crosses his mouth. "Apologized yet? Had a civilized conversation?".
"He agreed to tutor me for maths. By the way, how close are Jace and his girlfriend?"
The smirk he gives me almost earns him an elbow to the gut. "Ouch!" He rubs at the spot and breaks off into a laugh. "You sound jealous."
"You're one to talk."
Carter is the possessive type and doesn't like it if Kelly pays another male five seconds of attention too long or if another male speaks to her. He's not the controlling type, but he is easily jealous. The animal instincts rise up thinking it to be a challenge on the other male's part.
Meanwhile, I find it baffling that Jace is still able to resist the bond.
I wonder if half the thoughts that run through my mind, go through his.
I wonder if he still feels attraction to his girlfriend, if he still has feelings that are as strong.
It's only been a day since our bond manifested, but he's plagued my mind too often since.
I'm jealous, too. Definitely.
Sasha Vernon is quite the catch. She's the whole package: brains, beauty, and sweet personality to boot. At least, the latter is what I have heard. I have never cared about Sasha before, and I have never been bothered by her.
But it's a different game now that the mate bond is involved.
The primal side is rising to the challenge. The longer Jace stays with her, the more I see her as the enemy.
There is no winning, I realize.
I can't force Jace to end things with her. He might be head-over-heels in love with her, but I also could not reject him.
I want my mate and that mate bond magic, but Jace is straight and hangs around a crowd of people of questionable reputation. His friends do not like me or mine with the exception of Carter.
That is why it shocked me when he casually agreed to my proposition. To agree to spend time with someone he finds intolerable, whose lifestyle and attitude pisses him off as much he does to me.
Carter chuckles. "Touché. To answer your question, they are close. They've liked one another for a long time. So, what's your plan? Because you've got competition, buddy."
"Well, this isn't about liking someone. We're talking about my other half. I have to make him fall in love with me, and this whole tutoring thing is going to play right into my hands."
"Ooh, evil," Carter coos.