Prides were like the government. There were subsidiary offices all over the country, and Anchor was pretty damned important. This was the North Eastern hub of the national Pride, and their Leona, Jessica, and Chloë’s mother, was the leader for the entire region. That was the reason his mother sucked up to her. She was on the National Pride’s seat. The Mater Leona was probably on her speed dial, and Eloise Drummond had so fancied having that number tucked into her own contact list.
Anchor had to be secured and protected. This was the only place adults and cubs could run in their other form with no fear of persecution from hunters. Now he had a cub of his own on the way, he could understand the importance of maintaining such high security standards.
Not one ounce of him believed the cub to be another male’s. As unlikely as it had been that his mate held shifter blood, he had always believed that option over the alternative. Not out of wishful thinking, but because he had faith in his mate.
He also had faith in his nose. He’d have scented another male on her skin. It didn’t matter that his nose had failed to scent any shifter in her blood, neither had his mother’s or father’s.
That baby was his. Faulty olfactory senses or no.
As he ran through the parkland, the wind rustling through his fur, he wouldn’t deny that he strutted a little. His beast showed the cockiness he felt in having created another cub for the Pride.
He leaped over fallen trees and nuzzled his nose into interesting scents.
Man, this more than beat his usual daily run. Jogging in human form didn’t pack the same punch. Every single one of his senses had opened and was reveling in being whacked, full frontal, with the beauty of the morning.
He roared because he could.
He bellowed his fury at a deer daring to be in his woods.
And, when he’d run and run, he rolled over into the dew-slicked grass. Heat might be an average Lion’s preference, but this one was a New Yorker. To his bones.
He rested, perusing the rest of the world from a vantage point that was both sheltered by a tree, but let him feel the wide open spaces of the woodland around him. Bark rubbed against his fur, the smell of molding leaves filled his nostrils, and he knew he couldn’t be happier.
In fact, the only way he could, was if Lia was at his side.
As it was, she was waiting for him, and the beast liked the idea of her still sleeping in his bed. He liked it so much his chest rumbled with a rolling vibration that was the lion’s version of a housecat’s purr.
Caden dallied in his form for a good two hours. Taking in the dawn then slowly making his way back home when the sun hit a point he recognized as being around seven a.m. He shifted back, relishing the tug and stretch of muscles, the pop and crack of bone as it took him from a five-hundred-pound lion into the insubstantial human body that couldn’t contain the animal in his heart, and which shivered once the cold of the morning hit him.
He changed into his clothes and set off at a loping pace for home once he was dressed. The parkland had been pretty sparse at dawn, but now as he moved away from it, he saw cars pulling in and heard cheerful laughter as people made their daily pilgrimage to this part of Anchor.
He’d missed it. Missed the shift, and he hadn’t even noticed until he’d actually taken the time out to run in his real skin.
His run took him past the bakery, and he headed inside to see if they still sold the bear claws he remembered eating by the handful when he’d been in high school. Lia was usually more of a savory person than a sweet, forgoing the dessert but never missing the starter when they ate out. Of late, however, the baby had been making itself known. She’d started eating his cereal on a morning, and tubs of ice cream had suddenly appeared in the freezer. He knew because his sweet tooth was a killer. Most cats had a thing for protein and refined carbs. It was a shifter thing.
“It’s good to see you back in town, Caden,” Mrs. Hopkins, the life mate of the baker, told him, a reprove in her voice as she handed him his pastry.
“It’s good to be back, but I doubt it will be for long, Mrs. Hopkins.”
In human society, rank was determined by wealth and occupation. Not so in the Pride. Mrs. Hopkins might only be the life mate of the baker, but in the Pride, she was an Enforcer. She and her husband both worked on the council.
“It’s not right that you’re stuck in the city. It’s not natural.”
“That’s where my job is,” he mumbled around a bite of his bear claw, almost groaning as the cream cheese filling started to melt on his tongue.
“From what your mother says, you could set up shop anywhere, and they’d still come to you in their droves.”
That made him snort. “Because that’s just what Anchor wants. Droves of corporate clients heading into town just to see little old me.”
“You could establish a firm in Bradley,” she retorted, unperturbed by his dismissive argument.
“So I could, but I won’t be doing that, Mrs. Hopkins. I appreciate your suggestion though.”
Damn protocol meant he couldn’t tell the interfering old witch to shove her suggestions where the sun didn’t shine. He’d have loved to. Dearly. But the last thing he needed was his mother on his back because he’d offended one of Anchor’s Enforcers.
“You should think about it, Caden. You shouldn’t be in a place your beast can’t roam.”
There was a double entendre behind her words. Nothing sexual, but he knew she was having a dig at Lia. “My beast’s mighty satisfied with his lot, I can assure you,” he told her with a forced grin. Handing her a couple of bills, he paid for the bear claw in his hand and the one in the carton she gave him.
He was quite accustomed to her and the rest of the town’s disapproval. Had been ever since he’d transferred to college in Boston. Men were to be kept dumb and strong, but if they happened to possess a knack for business, then they could play at it so long as it didn’t interfere with their place in the Pride. That was the way the world worked. Male cubs did not go off to Harvard to study law.
He left the bakery with its appetizing aroma, with the glistening glass counter that shielded delicious pastries from the clients’ lust for sugar and headed out the door. When Chloë Gilbert just happened to be seated outside, nursing a coffee, he didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or laugh at her tenacity.
Lia had pressed him repeatedly to go to the police about Chloë’s activities. He couldn’t explain that the police in Anchor were more likely to reprimand him than they were Chloë. They’d probably laud Chloë’s stubbornness, her single-minded path that urged her to claim the male she wanted for her own.
To a human, Chloë looked like a nutjob. To a male Lion, Chloë looked like a nutjob. To the Pride females, she looked strong. Exactly how a Leona’s daughter should be. God forbid.
At least his mother was pissed at Chloë. That meant she wouldn’t be helping the younger female to further press her suit in any more sabotaged lunch dates.
He tried to walk past. Tried and failed.
“Caden?” Chloë called out.
He longed to ignore her. Longed to just walk away, but he couldn’t. Fucking protocol. “Chloë, I don’t particularly want to talk to you again. Just like I didn’t want to talk to you in the clinic. Surely you can understand that?”
She stood, abandoning her coffee cup, and approached him. “Please, Caden, just hear me out. It was all a big misunderstanding.”
He snorted. “You accidentally tipped ketamines into my drink?”
She had the decency to blush. “You wouldn’t listen to me. Wouldn’t answer my calls. You know it goes against protocol, you know that if a Pride female contacts you, it’s your duty to answer or call back.”
“Some protocol. Means I can’t ignore someone who is technically stalking me, all because the females of the Pride have huge egos, and can’t bear it if a lowly male dares to shun them.”
“I wasn’t stalking you,” she snapped.
“No, not for the last year. You actuall
y left me in peace. But before that, you did. An e-mail a day, a call every two. Popping up at the office, or just accidentally bumping into me on the street.”
She flushed harder. “I was trying to make you see sense.” Chloë stepped closer to him, into his personal space. He instantly froze, refusing to take a step back. That would be a sign of her dominion over him, and there was no fucking way that was going to happen.
When she pressed a hand to his sweat-dampened sweater, toying with the jersey cotton, he reached for the offending extremity and pushed it away. “Don’t touch me, Chloë. I’m warning you, I’m not in the mood.”
“Why can’t you see we’re meant to be together? Why did you shack up with that slut?”
The only reaction he could give with no repercussion from those above was to grit his teeth. Fuck, not even a daily run in his skin was worth this shit. When she tried to put her hand back on his chest, he grabbed her wrist and tightened his hold about it. She jumped in surprise, pleased surprise at first, then, she tensed with pain as his grip grew stronger.
“Why is it you believe we’re meant to be together? What have I ever done to encourage you? I’ve pushed you away, rejected you in every possible way I could without outright telling you to fuck off. I’ve married another woman, for God’s sake, and you’re still not hearing the answer!”
He lowered his head, pushing his face into her personal space this time, and gritted out, “I don’t want you. Have never wanted you, and will never want you. No amount of dope, ketamine, or heroin will ever make me want you. Do you hear me? If you try to do anything to hurt me or my family, if you try to drug me again, I will press charges. And I don’t care if I have to go to National or speak to the Mater Leona to get you off my fucking case.”
She gasped at his words, her eyes tearing up. Behind him, someone laughed. Then, came the sounds of titters and whispered words. Those moist eyes grew round with horror as she looked over his shoulder. When he half-turned and saw a small crowd had gathered behind him, he grimaced. Shaming her had never been his intention. As it was, she pulled free from his grip and scurried away like the rat she was.
He watched her go, felt no real pity for her predicament, but sighed when someone patted him on the shoulder. He tilted his head and looked back. Mrs. Hopkins shook her head at him. “You just made a powerful enemy.”
He knew that, and was pissed off that she was right. Chloë’s obsessive tendencies had been focused on getting him to yield to her desires. Undoubtedly, those desires would tilt on their head, and just like they always said, the fine line between love and hate was soon to be crossed. If it hadn’t already been jumped over.
“She drugged me, Martha.” For the first time in his thirty-four years, he used her first name. “She nearly killed me with the dose she used, too. My mate is carrying my cub. I can’t afford to have some psycho jumping around every corner trying to best her last attempt to get me to turn to her.”
Martha Hopkins frowned. “Lia’s pregnant? How’s that possible?”
The results from the blood test still hadn’t come back, not so far as he was aware, but he made the statement with complete confidence. “She has shifter blood.”
Martha’s brow rose. “That changes things.”
“You’re right, it damned well does.” He growled.
“I’ll speak to the Leona on your behalf. I’m going to assume she isn’t aware of her daughter’s extracurricular activities.”
“I don’t know. I’d assume not, but she might agree with Chloë and my mother. Although now Chloë’s crossed the line, even my mother isn’t on her side anymore.”
“I should damn well hope not.” She frowned at him. “I’m the Pride’s Enforcer, Caden. You should have come to me about this.”
“I didn’t want to. I just wanted to let things lie and not embarrass Chloë. I didn’t reckon on her gall in approaching me so soon.” He turned to the crowd still eavesdropping into his conversation. “You can all run on home now. The show’s over.”
“Unless you’re here to buy bread,” Martha inserted wryly.
Caden grinned. “Yeah. I can highly recommend the bear claws.” He nodded at Martha. “I’ll see you around.”
“I’ll be sure to talk to the Leona about this, okay?”
He disliked the necessity of making this bad situation worse by formalizing it in Pride law, but he couldn’t afford for Chloë to go vigilante on his ass.
It was amazing how Martha was going to make a move against the Leona’s daughter, and all because Lia was pregnant. How that changed things.
Cubs were revered by all. A female’s position within the Pride depended on how many children she bore. Chloë, who was still mateless and therefore childless, now held less power than Lia, even though she was the daughter of their regional Leona.
As much of a relief as it was for his mate to finally have some power in the Pride, even if she was completely unaware of it, he knew the cub could potentially be targeted by Chloë. It just depended on how psychotic she actually was.
Which hardly boded well.
Grimacing at the thought, he walked back to his mother’s home as he finished off his bear claw. By the time he made it up the garden path, he’d almost been tempted to start on his pregnant wife’s pastry. Wisely, he steered clear of the morsel, but vowed to buy four the following morning.
Opening the door, he walked into his parents’ house—this place had never been his home. The first place that had ever made him feel that way was the apartment he shared with Lia. When she’d moved in with him, that very day, it had started to feel like a place he actually wanted to be in, a place he could enjoy and where he could relax.
This house, as beautiful as it was, held all the heart of a museum. Pretty things, expensive baubles, and pristine architecture did not give soul to a building.
He was about to start for the elevator when he heard his mother shriek, “Caden? Get in here now!”
It pissed him off to feel like a fifteen-year-old kid skulking into his home after stealing a car and going joyriding. But then, his mother could easily turn the distinguished attorney into a teenager again.
He crossed the hall and headed down a corridor. This part of the house contained most of the family jewels. When guests came here, they were led down this corridor and taken to the office or his mother’s sitting room. Therefore, it was the perfect place, in his mother’s opinion, to have the Monet.
Her snobbery never ceased to disgust him, but he pushed it aside as he did every time she annoyed him, and walked into her office. And what he saw, shocked even him.
“What the hell’s wrong? Is it Lia? Dad?”
Eloise rarely had a hair out of place. She was usually neatly dressed. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her slobbing about in jammies, like Lia did on a Sunday. But in this instance, her hair was a mess. Strands had tumbled out of her bun. Her makeup was smeared, and her clothes looked rumpled. Considering she’d probably only been dressed for the last hour, how the hell she managed to look such a state was more of a concern than anything else.
She still hadn’t replied by the time he’d taken a seat in front of her desk. She scrubbed a hand over her forehead, lifting away the loose strands of hair that had gathered on her sweat-speckled skin. “You never told me. How could you have kept this from me?” she burst out. “Why wouldn’t you tell me something as important as this?”
He shook his head at her, raising his hands in a silent prompt to calm down. Her voice had tilted from conversational volume to an out-and-out bellow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your mate!” she hissed.
His brows rose at that. “That’s the first time you’ve ever called her that.”
She sneered. “I’d have been calling her that from the very beginning if you’d shared her patrilineage with me.”
“Her father? What does he have to do with anything?” he asked with a scowl. “And how could I have told you something I don’t know? Not ev
en Lia really knows that much about him....” He broke off, then frowned at her. “The test results have come back.”
“Yes!” she hissed. “They came back. And there was a DNA match on the records.”
“She really is a shifter?
He asked the question even though he’d been so certain of it only ten minutes before. Having it confirmed was like taking the weight of the world from his shoulders.
“Yes, she has goddamn shifter blood. She’s Archie McKinnon’s daughter.”
The name dropped into the office with the weight of a bomb about to detonate. He shook his head. “That can’t be right. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Well, he obviously wasn’t when he got his female in the family way.”
He rolled his eyes at his mother’s snappish logic. “Her surname wasn’t even McKinnon before we married. It was West.”
“That must be her mother’s maiden name.” Eloise lifted her hands and pressed her fingers to her temples. Grunting, she murmured, “This cannot be happening.”
“I’d have thought you’d be pleased about this. You always did want a connection to National.” It was easier to act the smartass than it was to absorb this new information.
“I’ve scorned and shunned her for the last two years, Caden! How the hell am I going to be able to hold my head up high in National Court?”
It figured that was all his dam cared about. She always did have a way of prioritizing her problems.
“That’s all you can say?” he spat, then shook his head at his own surprise. “But yeah, you’ve got that damned right, considering you’ve spent the last two years insulting my mate. Maybe you should think about sucking up to her, actually being kind to her, and then you won’t have to worry about the moment when she meets with her grandmother!”
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