By the Tail

his love earlier if he hadn’t thought he might completely freak her out. Mating was one thing. Animal spirits and humans in tune with the whole package. She hadn’t seemed to overly care about his cat wanting her, since it was a biological imperative she would have as well. But that freaky emotion—love—tended to alarm even the most stalwart of felines. It made them vulnerable. If he hadn’t had years to adjust to the idea, he might have been terrorized himself.

“What do you mean, ‘What now’?” she asked.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m done playing.”

Her soft mew of disappointment had him fighting a grin.

“Okay, fine,” she sighed. “I guess this—you know, our going at it like cats in heat—qualifies as serious dating.”

“Monogamous dating. Just you and me. No other males.”

“Or females,” she added with bite. “Especially not Alissa friggin’ Whoreberto.”

He laughed. “Catty much?”

“Shut up.”

“Whoreberto.” He chuckled. “She’s been a thorn in my side for years.” The woman refused to understand he wanted nothing to do with her. She was cold, wanting only to use him for whatever she could wring out of him before she’d no doubt cut him off when he’d served his purpose. He’d seen her do it time and time again to the men in the pride. Jace had been brave enough to dip his toe in the water once. According to him, the woman gave a mean blowjob. But Quince wasn’t desperate enough to put his dick anywhere near Alissa’s mouth.

“She’s done bothering you. I promise.”

“Now don’t go starting trouble.” What am I saying? The woman’s middle name is Trouble. That’s like asking her to stop breathing. “I mean, just think about the harm you could do with the females in the pride. They look up to you, even the ones counting Alissa as a friend.” He’d been impressed with the headway Joy had made in the little time she’d been appointed Liaison.

“Yeah, well. She brings it, I’ll finish it.”

He fought down a smirk at her possessive tone. His cat loved her jealousy. But he also knew showing his satisfaction would be a sure way to piss the woman off. The trick to handling Joy was to act unconcerned until he wanted something. Then he had to act the opposite to get what he wanted. He’d studied the contrary woman enough to know that she’d step into a trap just to spite an opponent.

They continued to tease each other the rest of the short trip back. Since she still wore her sexy pajamas, he needed to swing by her house to pick up a change of clothes for her. And maybe, if he were lucky, they’d spend some quality time together in his comfortable bed for once. He hadn’t mentioned their living arrangement yet, but he wanted her spending her nights with him. And he wanted everyone to know it.

Except when he pulled into her driveway and keyed the remote to open the garage, he saw a familiar car parked in front of her house. Quince stopped the SUV, not yet ready to have his perfect time with Joy ruined.

She glanced at the car as well, and they watched together as the driver side door of a sports car worth five of Quince’s SUV opened. Miles unfolded from the seat, dressed in trousers and a silk tee-shirt—his war wear. To say he looked less than pleased to see Quince’s SUV in the driveway was an understatement.

“Shit,” Quince and Joy swore at the same time. They glanced at each other and snickered.

“I’ll handle this one,” Joy said.

“You sure? I don’t want him giving you a hard time. You know how he feels about me,” he ended brusquely, still bothered that his best friend didn’t seem to know the real him. How the fuck could Miles believe Quince had ever tried to hurt Michael?

Joy’s eyes softened. “He’s stubborn. You know Miles. He digs in his heels, especially when he thinks he might be mistaken. I think the world might end if Miles ever admitted he was in the wrong.”

“You got that right.” He covered her hand, still on his thigh, and squeezed it. “You handle him however you need to. But I won’t let him take his dislike of me out on you.”

She squeezed his hand back, then left the SUV. Quince knew the shit would really hit the fan once Miles took a good look at Joy’s clothing. Or lack of clothing. Though the boy shorts and tank might be able to pass as thin casual wear, maybe, it seemed too obvious to Quince that Joy had just been fucked seven ways from Sunday.

He couldn’t forget their merged scents, or the fact that for just a moment, Joy had initiated what felt like the beginning of a true bonding.

“Well, look at this.” Miles opened his eyes wide with mock surprise as he stopped a few feet away from Joy. “My dearest sister wearing next to nothing. Is this what you’re considering for our new junior line?”

Quince left the vehicle to stand behind Joy, at her back.

The frost descending over Miles’s face was almost visible to the naked eye. Light green eyes flashed with loathing as he scowled at Quince. “Slumming, honey?” he sneered. “I know your taste in men is deplorable, but even you can do better than this.”

“Excuse me? Even I can do better than this? What the hell does that mean?” Joy planted her hands on her hips, her tone one Quince knew to steer clear of. If Miles possessed an iota of sense, he’d back away and return later for a confrontation. Joy in a rage might turn Quince on, but the woman was lethal. Her brother should know better.

Miles gave him a contemptuous onceover. “Please. It’s obvious. This cat isn’t worth your time. He’s gutter trash. Come on. We’re going home.”

Quince would have loved nothing better than to give Miles that fist in the mouth he seemed to be begging for, until he realized what a blessing this might turn out to be. Miles telling Joy not to date Quince. It was like a higher power coming down to order Joy to love him forever. At this rate, he and Joy might be mates by tomorrow.

He could scent the musk of rage settling over her, a deep perfume that turned him inside out and always had, and had to stifle the wide-ass grin threatening to overtake his face.

She fired back at her brother, “You know what, Miles? You can go fuck yourself. I’m happy here. And I’m happy with Quince.”

His cat sneered at Miles, needing more taunting, more play, to set off this potential obstacle to mating Joy. Although Quince liked finally getting one over on his old friend, a part of him mourned that it had come to this. Why the hell had Miles believed—continued to believe—such bad things about him?

“Please. You’re happy with what? A pride leader who’s not as bad as Lex used to be? I understand you’re glad to be home. I admit, I’m not a fan of Montana. Or those Chastells,” Miles muttered.

Quince decided to stir the pot. “I don’t know. Personally, I kind of liked Dean.”

Joy crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah. He and Grady are like the brothers I wish I had.”

Miles’s eyes narrowed. Score a hit for Joy. “Too bad. I’m the only brother you have down here. Your only family.” He took a step forward.

Quince wanted to let Joy handle him, but he couldn’t deny his instinct to protect. He stepped to meet Miles, putting Joy behind him. “Back off. You won’t hurt her.” Not while I’m still breathing.

Miles gaped. “You’re protecting her from me? I’m not the one who tried to kill her!”

“Yeah, well neither is he,” Joy defended him, bringing warmth to the cold spots in his soul. “He did what he had to for the pride. Michael wanted him to do it. Quince saved us. More than a few times.”

“You can’t believe his shit?”

“Why not? You believe all the lies told about him. I did for a while too. But Miles, things are different now. There’s no king of the mountain here.” Joy tried to reach out to her brother, but Miles wasn’t in the mood.

He stepped back from Quince and snarled.

Quince reached for Joy’s hand behind him. “Let it go. He’s not ready to listen.”

She came to stand next to him.

Miles stared at their clasped hands, and his face went blank. “So you’re choosing him over your own brother? He’s a liar and a cheat.”

“Miles, you’re wrong,” she said softly.