Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Still suppressing his laughter, Tristan walked on. He’d been let free for the night. He had to pick up his mate, as promised.
Shivers worked through his body as he wound his way along the dark streets. Mate. Forever—a concept that had always terrified him.
Not anymore.
His homes had always been temporary. Always. It was safer that way. For him. His brand of nightmare didn’t usually have a happy ending. He’d evaded death ten times over and expected it to catch up with him eventually.
Except…that’s not how Jessie’s team worked. It wasn’t one person against many. It was one army against the world, and that army protected their own. Even Brochan/Sue had stopped caring where Tristan had come from. It was enough that Tristan wanted to do right by them, and that he was learning to trust them to have his back. Learning to trust at all, maybe.
The past didn’t matter, not for any of them. Not even for the new shifter who clung to Aurora like driftwood out at sea and looked at all of them like strangely colorful and possibly poisonous bugs. What mattered was trusting each other. Was supporting each other. Was believing in each other.
He might never have a mate. Natasha could get tired of their game at any moment. She could have anyone in the world she wanted, and she might rightly decide he wasn’t good enough. But he did have a forever, and it was with Jessie and Austin’s team.
Laughter announced the bar before he’d turned the corner. Light spilled onto the street. Clouds covered the night sky, and a chill arrested the air. A couple cars parked along the main drag, but as with most cairns Tristan had been in, most of these gargoyles would fly home or walk. The ladies would get flown or they’d take the free taxi provided by the city. The taxi never had much to do.
He hadn’t changed his clothes, wanting to get to Natasha as quickly as possible. He straightened his tie and his shoulders as he neared the glow of the open door. All the other businesses in the area were closed, shop faces as dark as the doorways.
The two people outside noticed him and paused in their conversation, sucking on the end of a cigarette to pass the moment. He met their eyes and catalogued the hostility there. Niamh had done a good day’s work. Today Jessie had unequivocally won over a cairn leader, and tomorrow she’d win over the whole cairn.
He peeled back his magic and ensured he postured like an alpha shifter, straight and broad and menacing. Shifters were great for their body mechanics. No words needed.
The gargoyles tensed and lowered their gazes. They didn’t want his brand of trouble.
Pity.
Music blared from inside the establishment. Light covered all the surfaces. Three bartenders hustled behind the bar, slinging drinks and chatting up patrons. Bodies writhed on the dance floor, moved and jostled around tables, and pushed against the bar.
A small bubble opened around Tristan as he entered the space. Men frowned and tried to stand their ground but ultimately shrunk to the sides. Women preened and smiled or simply got out of the way. He shoved through, wondering if any of them would be brave enough to challenge him.
Ah, but these weren’t shifters, and challenging wasn’t the gargoyle way. Shoving through was a tough guy act and a way for women and men to rub up against each other.
He ignored them all, including the sickly feeling of strangers trailing their fingers against his wings. That was an intimate feeling, not meant for a situation like this. He only wanted one woman with that sort of access.
His crew sat in the corner, Niamh and Phil at the bar, and the rest of them at the tables behind them. John stood at the mouth of the little alcove where everyone hung out, a hostile expression on his face and his hand out in front of him. As Tristan neared, he saw Natasha sway and hit John’s outstretched arm. His arm flexed, keeping her there until she swayed away. He didn’t lower his hand. Apparently, he was her bumper.
Tristan nodded at him. “How goes it?”
John lowered his hand and stepped back, nonverbally letting Tristan take over the post.
Tristan furrowed his brow.
“You’re doing the fake mating thing to ward away women, right?” John asked, as stoic as Austin would be in this setting. He did allow a little of his confusion to show in his expression, though. Or was it questioning? Either way, it wasn’t Sue’s or Aurora’s level of blank.
Tristan apparently answered without realizing it.
John nodded. “She’s had a lot of women interested in her. We’ve—well, Phil—has stopped the fights, and repeatedly disarmed Nessa, but the garhettes?” He read the affirmative again and nodded. “They’ve been a nuisance. You’ve made Nessa a target.”