“I guess it must be nice being Ron Weasley’s sister, though.”
Sigh. “Seriously, Paisley, you don’t need to keep this up. I honestly couldn’t like you any less than I already do.” Shaya walked to the trash can and emptied the clump of hair into it before returning the brush and dustpan to the cupboard.
Paisley trailed behind her. “As if being a carrottop isn’t bad enough, you’re—”
Shaya sighed again. “Can’t you see I’m trying to pretend you’re not here? When you speak, you kill the illusion.”
Paisley curled her upper lip and made a move toward Shaya, but Kent was suddenly there. “That’s enough,” he told the blonde.
“She’s only been here, like, two minutes and everyone’s fussing over her!”
Shaya shrugged. “If what you want is the same treatment, maybe you could try working. Just sayin’.”
Snarling, Paisley sharply twirled and returned to the reception desk, but the comments didn’t stop. By the end of her shift, Shaya had come close to stabbing the blonde with her own scissors. Instead, she grabbed her things, gave Kent a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and left. As her car had died recently and she couldn’t afford to fix or replace it, she made the fifteen-minute walk to her home. For a change, her closest neighbor—who was a hundred yards away yet still managed to be a pain in her ass—wasn’t holding a house party that could wake the dead.
She let herself inside her home, secured the door shut behind her, hung her jacket on the coatrack, and kicked off her shoes with a groan of relief. The fluffy, magnolia-colored carpet felt amazing under her throbbing feet. Although coming back to an empty house never gave her any pleasure, it was certainly nice to let her feet breathe.
She had only walked two steps into the living area when she realized she wasn’t alone. At the same time as it registered just who the familiar scent belonged to, a deep, rumbly voice spoke.
“Do you always leave your windows open when you go out?”
Abruptly, she turned to the corner of the room and gaped at what she saw. A contradictory mixture of shock, pain, anger, and—though she hated it—a slither of happiness hit her, almost stealing her breath. Sprawled on one of her cream leather armchairs, with his arms crossed behind his head as if he owned the space around him, was the last person in the world Shaya wanted to see. Holy f**king shit.
So beautiful. She was so damn beautiful that it almost hurt Nick to look at her. Despite not being small, she was petite and almost pixie-like with her heart-shaped face, small nose, clear skin, and clusters of adorable freckles that he wanted to trace with his tongue. His wolf was pacing—content yet also restless, and more alive around Shaya than in any other situation. Nick was feeling much the same.
He’d found her. He’d finally found her.
A fierce longing—both emotional and physical—pounded through him, making his body roar to life. He raked his gaze over her, reacquainting himself with every line and curve. “Hello, Shay.”
Shaya almost jumped as that goddamn masterful voice snapped her out of her stupor. He had the most authoritative voice she had ever heard. It didn’t demand compliance, it expected it. And it called to the submissive side of her nature. “What are you doing here?” He looked as he always did—dangerous, alluring, and deceptively relaxed. Nick Axton was never totally at ease.
Nick shrugged. “You’re my mate. You’re here. Where else would I be?”
He’d said it like it was a mathematical equation. Shaya’s irritation was overshadowed, however, by the lust creeping over her. His appraisal of her was so thorough and intense that she felt as if he’d touched her. It reminded her of the night they had first met—he had barely taken his eyes from her, had watched her like a hawk. The difference was that there was now a determination in his gaze, a promise that she didn’t understand.
Shaya inwardly groaned. Why didn’t the universe like her? She didn’t think she was bad, as people went. She recycled, and she donated to charity, and she didn’t use products that had been tested on animals. Why, why, why couldn’t fate have kept her hidden from him?
As Nick stared into those shock-filled bluish-gray eyes that were usually twinkling with an impish benevolence, he raised his brows. “You look surprised. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find you? Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?”
At those words, a surge of anger shot through Shaya. He had no right to be here, no right to seek her out when he didn’t want her. She didn’t need to have him watching over her and meddling in her life. That wouldn’t be a life. He would never allow her to find someone else and be happy, regardless of the fact that he didn’t want her for himself. He’d proven that by trying to scare off Dominic when he’d mistakenly thought they were a couple.
She knew that even if he mated with another female—a shaft of agony speared through her at just the thought of it—he’d never let Shaya have her own life. He’d left her no choice but to leave, and now the bastard wanted to mess up the life that she’d managed to make for herself here. Unfortunately, her wolf wasn’t moved by those details. Now that the shock had worn off, her wolf’s primary instinct at that second was to go to her mate, to touch him and take him inside her; to allow him to claim her, and to claim him in return. Great.
What Shaya wanted to do was snatch the nearest heavy object and hurl it at Nick’s head. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose it. No. He’d made it clear through his past indifference that he didn’t want her. She’d give him that same indifference now. She spoke in a crisp, cool voice. “Well you’ve found me. You’ve seen me. You know that I’m fine. Now you can leave.” Before he could respond, she headed for the oak kitchen and quickly switched on the coffee machine. She sensed that he had followed her into the room, felt his power almost burning her back, but she paid him no attention as she fixed her drink.
“I didn’t come here to check on you,” he said. “I came here to take you back.”
She chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not going back to the Phoenix Pack just so you can always know where I am and be in my business, scaring guys away. If you think I’m going to live life as a spinster, you’re about as bright as Alaska in December.”
The very idea of her with someone else always made Nick see red. His wolf, who was still pacing predatorily and eager to get to his mate, growled at the idea. Nick’s voice was quiet but dangerous. “Is there a guy, Shaya? You better hope there isn’t, or he’s dead. And don’t think I don’t mean that.”