Marie Harte - By the Tail

Quince scowled. “It’s the truth, damn it. Nothing I can do to prove it now that Michael is dead.” His old pride leader had been wounded and in hiding when Quince had found him. The man Quince had looked up to as a father had died in his arms after making him swear to protect the pride by any means necessary. “Any means” had meant pretending to help Lex while Quince schemed to set the pride free from his oppression.

“You know, I believe you.” Dean rose and walked to Quince.

Quince waited for it. When Dean slapped him across the face but kept his claws sheathed, Quince knew he’d gotten off easy.

“That’s for blackmailing my mate into helping you. Be glad you didn’t hurt her, or I’d have strung you up by your intestines.”

Quince shook off the blow, then returned one of his own that knocked Dean on his ass. “Well that’s from me for screwing around with Joy. Yeah, I knew all about you two pretending to be mates. Not funny, Chastell.”

“Ow.” Dean winced, then twitched his whiskers and wiggled his jaw as he rose to his feet. “That was months ago. And we weren’t doing anything together. Christ, she’s like my sister. We were messing with my brother and—”

“I really don’t care. Just don’t do it again.”

“Oh, come off it. I’m mated.” Dean blinked at him, his golden eyes wide. “You really think Joy is yours?”

“I know she’s mine. But the stubborn female won’t come home.”

“You know Miles hates you.”

Another casualty of Lex’s coup. Miles, Quince’s one-time best friend, actually believed Quince had turned against Michael. That distrust and animosity still hurt.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to mate Miles. He’s not my problem.” At least, not until the cat was firmly settled back in Miami. The guy had been traveling nonstop the past month, moving between Cougar Falls, Miami and New York, working and wheeling deals. But when he returned to Miami for good, as Quince knew he would, Miles would make life difficult, no question.

Dean paused. “Joy’s sisters are here. She likes it here.”

“She loves her family. She hates the cold. She’s just being difficult.”

“That she is.” Dean laughed. “Come on. I’ll help you track her down. Just knowing how pissed off Miles will be seeing you two together is its own reward.” They started back down the mountain, and Dean chuckled some more. “Good luck, Quince. With that female, you’re going to need it.”

Was he ever.

Quince spent the next day about twenty miles west of Cougar Falls, in Whitefish, avoiding the pregnant females of the pride, dodging the aggravating gray wolf mooning after some woman with the sense not to give him the time of day, and conspiring with Dean. Late last night, he’d quietly spoken with Dean’s older brother. Protocol demanded he deal with the local pride leader while in town. Burke Chastell fit the role easily. Strong, confident, smart.

The way Michael used to be.

Quince experienced another pang of homesickness, wishing for a past that could never be. Better to focus on the now, he thought as he hid in the feminine day spa catering to Ac-taw and humans alike. Thanks to the Hunter’s mist he’d sprayed over himself to mask his scent, he was all but invisible. And if Dean hadn’t totally fucked him over, he might just have a shot at getting Joy under his hot, hungry hands. A glance at his cell phone told him he had another five to ten minutes before she was due to show.

His cell phone buzzed. Noting the familiar number, he swallowed a groan and answered in a low voice, “What now?”

“Easy, big guy.” He clearly heard his lieutenant’s amusement. Quince could imagine Jace Alexander kicked back in his chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles, his feet on the ancient scarred desk in Quince’s office. The big blond was deceptively lazy, but he could move like lightning when prodded. “Just checking in, as ordered.”

“Any problems with Ayers or Watson?”

“Nope. Greg, Darren and their weak-ass posse are keeping quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me, but Ellis and I have it covered. When are you getting a third lieutenant to help out, anyway? This domestic crap is über annoying.”

Tell me about it. Just another reason Quince didn’t want to be pride leader. Petty problems annoyed the shit out of him. He grunted. “I’m working on it. But how hard can mediating the mating habits of cougars be? That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”

“Excuse me? Have you raised my salary when I wasn’t looking? ‘Cause I’m thinking that telling Genevieve she can’t buy a new car with pride money to make Karen jealous and handling Alicia’s pissy attitude about Susan mating her brother should net me some fucking hazard pay.”

Not having the patience to deal with any females other than Joy at the moment, Quince muttered a hasty, “I’m busy.”

“I’ll bet you are. Busy with that fine Joy Bermin.” Jace whistled, and Quince wanted to jack him up by his throat.

“Talk to you later,” he snarled, hung up on Jace’s laughter, then pocketed his phone.

His friends at home thought his plight with Joy was the funniest thing going. Quince knew the bastards had been betting on how long it would take him to nab the sly female. That’s if he could. Odds were in his favor, but that wasn’t factoring Miles into the equation. What a freaking headache.

Joy needed to be wooed. He knew that. Problem was, the woman wouldn’t sit still long enough to let him court her. Date her. Fuck her. Hell, he’d do anything to get her attention. But it seemed nice didn’t work with her. Her older sisters, now they’d be pleasant. Twins Amy and Melissa had never had a bad thing to say to him. Stacey…well, she and Dean deserved each other. Too pretty and arrogant by half, she was a female version of Miles.

And good old Miles. The prick was a stand-up guy most of the time. Had a terrific sense of humor, great luck with the ladies and money coming out his ass. Too bad his head was stuck so far up that particular orifice that he couldn’t see the truth for what it was. Quince had a bad feeling he and Miles would come to blows before the idiot would see how mistaken he’d been about Quince’s part in Michael’s death and the pride takeover.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing a tension headache growing.

The doorknob against the far wall turned, and he froze behind the slatted closet door. The older woman who preceded Joy gave the closet a subtle nod. For a hundred bucks and Dean’s voucher, she’d been more than happy to play secret matchmaker.

“Okay, Ms. Bermin. You can take your robe off and hang it there.” She pointed to a hook on the wall. “Mannie will be with you shortly. Just lie down on the table, close your eyes and let yourself relax.” Crappy New Age music piped through overhead speakers in the ceiling.

He was in hell. Until Joy grinned.

She looked adorable in a white terrycloth robe two sizes too big for her. Though by no means short, she still came to a few inches below his chin. But she had curves in all the right places. So damn sexy. The only dark-headed Bermin amidst so many blondes, she had short, spiky hair, mischievous jade-green eyes and a mouth made for sin.

Just thinking about their one and only kiss aroused him.

“Terrific,” Joy said. “I was stressed out. But I tell you, that mineral bath was amazing.”

The spa attendant smiled and lit a few candles, giving the room an herbal smell. Lavender? Maybe rosemary? He didn’t much care, except that the candles would help cover his scent even more.