“I wouldn’t object if your cat did,” Shaya muttered.
“So if you’re determined to dislike me, Fern, fine—I can’t say I care if you do or you don’t. But get the idea out of your head that Jesse has to justify his decisions to you. He’s a grown male who doesn’t need or require your approval. If you push him on this, you’ll push him away. He lost one mate because fate can be a cruel bitch. If you make him lose another, you’ll be the cruel bitch. I know you love your son, so I can’t imagine you want to hurt him more than he’s already been hurt. But maybe I’m misjudging you just as much as you’re misjudging me.”
Fern’s mouth flattened as she returned Harley’s glare. “My daughter—”
“You don’t get to play the Mia card, Fern. Your daughter was a junkie before I met her and she continued to be a junkie after I left her life. Like you, I tried to help her. Like you, I failed. But we didn’t fail her; she failed herself. Keep blaming me for that if you want, but you don’t get to use her to drive a wedge between me and Jesse. You don’t get to play on his feelings for Mia to make him feel bad. It’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to her. She’d hate you for it.”
Something Harley couldn’t quite identify flashed in Fern’s eyes. She tried to pass Harley and get to Jesse, but Harley blocked her path and hissed. “No. I don’t trust you around him.”
“I’m his mother!”
“Then damn well act like it!”
Scratching his head, Julian came forward. “I’m glad to see you’re so protective of my son, Harley. That’s how it should be.” Words seemed to fail him, and he sighed. Maybe someone else would have felt sorry for the guy and taken pity on him. Harley wasn’t the merciful type.
Fern’s eyes, blazing in outrage, sliced to Jesse. “Are you going to let her stand between you and your own parents?” she demanded.
Jesse didn’t even need to think about it. “Yeah. In her position, I’d do the same.”
Fern sneered. “Her parents are worthless—”
“They both accepted the mating,” he said. “Even Lily, despite her love of drama, didn’t cause this much of a scene.” His mother flinched, but he didn’t back down. “When you’re prepared to accept my choice and, more importantly, accept Harley, come back and we’ll talk. Until then, stay away.”
Fern moved toward him. “Jesse—”
Again Harley blocked her path. “Nu-uh. You heard what he said.”
Sighing, Julian put a hand on his mate’s shoulder. “Fern, this conversation has been unpleasant enough. Let’s go before something is said that can’t be taken back.”
For once in a long time, Fern listened to him. They left the main lodge without a word to anyone, though his father did give both Jesse and Harley a weak smile. Jesse let out a heavy sigh as he heard their car drive away. That was when his mate grabbed his arm.
“Come on.”
Jesse didn’t ask where they were going, sensing that she was not in a chatty mood right now. Neither was he; rage still simmered beneath his skin, making him edgy. He wordlessly followed her outside and to their lodge.
Inside, she guided him to the sofa. “Sit down.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
He frowned as she stomped upstairs, muttering to herself. Curious about where this was going—and hoping that just maybe it would involve the babydoll—he sank into the sofa and waited. Moments later, she was descending the stairs . . . fully dressed. That might have been disappointing if she weren’t carrying something that lifted his heart.
“You’re going to play for me, sweetheart?” he asked, surprised.
Violin in one hand and bow in the other, she said, “I don’t like giving private performances. It makes me self-conscious. But you’re rightfully upset and ready to snap. Maybe this will help you calm.”
Jesse watched as, like that time at the club, she stood with her feet shoulder width apart and her left foot slightly forward. Positioning the electric violin on her left collarbone, she propped the left side of her jaw on the chin rest. Bow in hand, she then began to play.
This tune was different from the one she played at the club, not rushed and hectic. In the beginning, the notes were soft. Mellow. Lilting. Almost ghostly. Soon, they became resonant, dark, and sensuous as they increased in power and intensity. One minute he was feeling calm, like he was floating; the next he was feeling invigorated, like the rhythm was recharging him.
The entire time, he was totally riveted and mesmerized by his mate, by her grace and confidence. Pride flooded every part of him. She was so damn talented. And she was his to dote on, care for, guard, and possess.
She moved fluidly from one note to the next, each one layered with emotion. There was so much soul and fire in her. Both drove her as she played, and the notes seemed to thunder toward the crescendo, becoming loud and vibrant. And then they began to wane and taper off, becoming once again soft and warm . . . until she stopped and looked up at him.
Throat thick, he swallowed. “Flawless.” His voice cracked with emotion. He patted his thighs. “Come here.” She carefully put down the violin and bow before coming to straddle him. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her. “That really was amazing, baby. Thank you. If I didn’t already love you, I would have fallen hard for you right then.”