Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
His lips twitched slightly. “Height doesn’t matter, as I’ve already said.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your cat is close,” he noted, a hint of a question there … as if concerned that her feline might be on the defensive.
Quinley gave him a reassuring look. “She’s always close.” If one good thing had come from Zaire’s rejection, it was that the bond between Quinley and her cat had strengthened. That shared awful experience had brought woman and animal closer; made them more protective of each other. Which also meant her cat was never far from the surface.
A line dented Isaiah’s brow. “She’s … agitated.”
Quinley shrugged. “She doesn’t like the music.” Her cat was fussy.
Hinges creaked as a door to their right opened. A pretty dark-skinned female stood in the doorway, smiling. “Quinley Bevan and Isaiah Hale?” she called out.
“That’s us,” Isaiah told the woman before turning back to Quinley. “After you.” His lips tipping up slightly again, he motioned for her to walk on ahead of him.
“Thank you.” She crossed the reception area, shook the woman’s hand—cheetah shifter, Quinley sensed—and entered a small room. A row of three chairs faced an identical row. To their left was an armchair and small mahogany table.
“Please sit,” the cheetah invited once everyone was inside.
Quinley and her pride mates sat on one row while Isaiah and his fellow pallas cats claimed the other row. Directly opposite her, he sat tall, his thighs spread, his arms casually braced on the armrests—the image of at ease. He sort of invaded the space around him.
Having closed the door, the cheetah took the lone armchair and retrieved a clipboard from the table. “Now, it seems you all got the introductions out of the way in the reception area. Good. I’m Thalia, my role here is to draft up an agreement based on what you all discuss and decide. Should you fail to reach one, Quinley and Isaiah are of course free to contact any of the other FindYourMatch members.”
Isaiah hoped there’d be no need for that. Because something about Quinley just pulled at him. Maybe it was that, being so petite compared to him, she called to his protective instincts.
Small she might be, but she didn’t have a small presence. Would never go unnoticed in a room. Too striking. Too steady and sure.
And fuck, what an ass. It was round and tight and as perfect as her ample breasts.
Her cat was no easier to overlook. He could almost see her prowling beneath the surface, the light of her feline eyes coming and going behind Quinley’s. It was fascinating to watch; even snagged his own cat’s interest.
It was only then that his animal really looked at Quinley, immediately noting the shadows in her gaze and the cobwebs of sadness and resignation that clung to her.
Isaiah didn’t speak. Neither did she. Nor did the others.
Often, a submissive would cut through silence as if to save everyone from any awkwardness. But as Isaiah stared at Quinley, she quite simply stared back; watched him with the patience of a hunter, reminding him that black-foots didn’t always follow the script you expected.
“Quinley tells me you’re an enforcer,” Harlan said to him.
Isaiah inclined his head. “I am.” He wondered if the Alpha knew that his son-in-law was Quinley’s true mate or if it was something she’d kept from him.
“How long have been in your position?”
“Twelve years.”
“And your bodyguard position?”
“That’s a more recent development.”
Harlan twisted his mouth. “I’d imagine, then, that you work a lot of the time.”
“I do.” Isaiah returned his attention to Quinley. “Would that be a problem for you?”
She shook her head. “I prefer being alone. People annoy me.”
Isaiah smiled at her frank response. His cat wasn’t sure how he felt by how intently she assessed them. Submissives did that. Read you. Studied you. Picked up on your unspoken wants. Heard the words you didn’t voice. Anticipated your needs before even you did.
“And you’re a healer, right?” Tate asked her.
She jiggled her head slightly, her nose wrinkling. “Of a sort.”
“Yes, Isaiah tells me you specialize more in aiding with pain relief. It’s a substantial gift.” Tate slid his gaze to Harlan. “And yet, you are not straight-off attempting to negotiate a way to have that gift still at your disposal if she joins my pride. Most Alphas would. Do you have other members with the same healing ability?”
“No,” replied the Alpha. “But any of my cats who need her aid will visit her at the salon I own and pay for her services like any other customer.”
“I’ve worked there since I was sixteen, right alongside my sisters.” She glanced from Tate to Isaiah and back again. “I don’t wish to give up my job, so I’d prefer to know now if that would be an issue.”
Tate pursed his lips. “The salon isn’t on Crimson Pride territory, is it?”