Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(63)

“So you come up here every week to chat with her? I really didn’t peg you as the kind of guy who would indulge his mom that way. She must really miss you.”

“Family is everything.”

It was simple but true. Even when we hated each other, we loved each other. My parents had fought too hard to be together not to instill the same core values in the rest of us.

Her eyes flashed with remembered pain. “Must be nice.”

I almost reached for her until Thorne made his way from the depths of the stacks, eyes laser-focused on us. Staking his claim, as usual. Bloodsucking prick.

“There you are, dove. Get lost?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her smile soft and her eyes warm and only for him. A dagger to the heart would have hurt less. It was then I realized just how fucked I was. Because I wanted that smile for myself, but she wasn’t meant for me. She’d already chosen someone else.

“Nope. I just stumbled upon a Viking in a reading nook and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a chat.”

“Thorne,” I said, offering him a curt nod.

“Alek.”

Sunday glanced between us and shivered dramatically. “Brrr, is it chilly in here, or is that just more alpha male posturing I’m picking up on?” Then she rolled her eyes. “It was really nice chatting with you, Alek. See you for our next lesson, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Lesson?” Thorne asked, one brow cocked.

“He’s teaching me how to control my . . . warriorness.”

I laughed. “That’s not a word.”

“I used it in a sentence, didn’t I? And you knew exactly what I meant. Therefore, it’s totally a word.”

“I stand corrected. I’ll see you next time. Though I don’t think we’ll need Kingston to be anyone but himself to get you to attack.”

Her lip pulled back in a snarl at the mention of his name. “No. Definitely not.”

My brow quirked. What’d the asshat do now?

Thorne leaned in and murmured against her ear, something so low I couldn’t hear it, but from the way her cheeks turned a deep pink, it wasn’t something I wanted to know. He ushered her away from me, one hand on the small of her back in that possessive way alpha assholes had of walking with their women. I hated him on instinct. But was it because of how he was behaving with her? Or because he was with her and I wasn’t?

Pocketing the mirror, I flopped back in the chair and released a heavy groan. Women had never been complicated. They’d always been fun, and we’d enjoyed a shared release together with no strings attached. The time I’d spent with other women was casual and entertaining, and while I’d felt affection for them, I’d never experienced . . . well, definitely not whatever this was twisting me up inside.

I threw my arm over my face, not ready to admit just what those feelings might mean. It wasn’t like I could act on them anyway. She wasn’t mine. Thorne had all but marked her as his mate. And then there was Kingston, her actual wolf mate. Stolen kiss or not, I wasn’t even on her radar.

A buzzing at my hip forced me to drop my arm and pull out my phone, tearing me from my wallow. Why the hell was Moira Belladonna texting me rather than just coming to find me?

I opened her message, my eyebrows raising further with each word I read.

Correction. Why the hell was Moira Belladonna summoning me?

This should be interesting.





I strode down the winding path through the witch garden in the southernmost part of the grounds. Of course the witch would ask to meet here. Herbs of all kinds grew in neatly planted rows, the scent of rosemary hitting my nose first, followed shortly by the distinct aroma of sage. My steps crunched on the gravel path, louder than I’d like when approaching someone I wasn’t sure meant to scold or praise me for something I’d done.

Low voices reached me first, ratcheting up my confusion. I thought Moira had intended for us to meet alone, but apparently I’d assumed incorrectly. Even more curious as to her intentions, I walked a little faster, finding her standing in the circular center of the garden, benches strategically placed at the points of the pentacle etched into the earth with stone. She was scowling at Kingston, impossible to miss with her hair a vibrant, cornea searing shade of highlighter yellow with neon-green roots.

“What is he doing here?” Kingston spat, his eyes hard and annoyed.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Shut up, both of you. You’re here because I asked you to be, and that’s all you need to know right now.” Moira’s amethyst gaze flashed with warning as she muttered, “What is it about the devil’s eggplant that makes you all act like a bunch of spoiled assholes?”

“The devil’s what now?” I asked, unable to stop my grin. “I’ve heard of the devil’s doorbell, but this is a new one.”

“Your dick, Nordson. I’m talking about your dicks. Everyone knows what the eggplant emoji is. Surely you have emojis in Novasgard.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I know. I just wanted to make you say dick.”

“Since you know I am severely allergic to dick, that means you owe me my next ten rounds at Iniquity, you ass.”

“That’s two now.”

She glared at me, hands on her hips.