“Then get from between me and my coffee. Your rude roars woke me up way too early and no one should expect me to be nice under the circumstances.” She pushed at his arm again, and this time Cullen just let her go. “Besides.” She finished buttoning the shirt she wore. “Wild animals are supposed to be kept outside, not in the kitchen.”
She made the comment so blithely. As though a killer weren’t glaring at her, his rage building at the insult. Though at this point, Cullen was fairly confident Graeme wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Evidently, she was just as confident.
“Before your mate blinks I could take your throat out.” Graeme flexed his claws warningly, but Cullen could actually sense a hint of surprised amusement coming from the Primal, an indication that his brother was gaining control once again.
“I’ll be certain to include that threat in my list of complaints when I call Cat later.” She shrugged, then eyed him thoughtfully. “I bet you’re a blast at Halloween. Does Cat dress as your circus trainer?”
Cullen barely smothered the amazed laughter that would have escaped. The choking sound he made was a piss-poor disguise, though.
Graeme’s primal markings were
lighter on his face now, the claws retreating beneath his nails as irritation replaced the rage that had held him in its grip.
“No wonder Cat likes you,” Graeme grumbled, his voice sounding more normal now. “You’re as much a brat as she is.”
“I’m actually better at it.” Chelsea smiled as she snagged one of the cups of coffee Cullen had started when he first entered the kitchen. “I taught her well. You can thank me later. After I’ve had my coffee.”
CHAPTER 14
From Graeme’s Journal
The Recessed Primal Breed
Ah, mates! Created with a heart and soul of such proud strength and wisdom. They are the Breeds’ greatest treasures. For the Primal, they are the only hope for sanity. The flame warming the icy logic only a monster can possess—
Cullen almost breathed a sigh of relief when Chelsea finished her coffee, ceased baiting Graeme and declared she was heading for the shower. He just knew that any moment the subject of the previous day’s attack would come up and Graeme would once again declare his intention to go after Cerves, the cartel leader.
And Chelsea was no one’s fool. She’d instantly realize there wasn’t a chance in hell Cullen was going to let the attack slide without some sort of retaliation as well.
Though his and Graeme’s ideas of retaliation strongly differed.
When she left the room Cullen sat silently waiting as he heard the bathroom door close. He stared back at Graeme, then rested an arm on the table and pushed his coffee cup aside. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“She should be drinking decaf coffee,” Graeme said, his gaze flicking to the coffee cup.
“She informed me yesterday morning that if caffeine was a problem, then up the dose of the injection,” he scoffed, his lips coming close to an amused quirk at the memory. “She wasn’t happy with either of us at the time either.”
A noncommittal hum met the news as Graeme stared back at him knowingly.
“You have something on your mind, Cullen?” his brother finally asked. “I can practically feel your displeasure whipping through the room.”
Was it displeasure he felt? He didn’t think it was. Graeme had crossed a line this time and if he let it go, Cullen knew his twin would just push harder if the chance arose again.
When Cullen didn’t immediately answer him, Graeme finally gave a heavy grimace before settling back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest to scowl at him.
“Go ahead, little brother,” he invited irately. “Get it off your chest.”
Well, at least his brother hadn’t called him a recessed little snot again.
“You will keep your monster contained where I’m concerned, Graeme.” Cullen didn’t demand it or make it an order, he made a statement of fact. “I don’t need or ask for your retaliation as though defending a child from schoolyard bullies. Are we understood?”
He couldn’t remember a single instance in their lives when Graeme had reacted so emotionally as to strike against him.
A grumbled, less-than-pleased growl rose from the other Breed’s chest as his lip lifted in an irritated snarl.
“We made a pact long ago to defend each other,” Graeme reminded him, his tone a warning grumble. “Have you forgotten that?”
His brother kept forgetting that those deep-throated sounds of dominant demand didn’t work with Cullen. That only worked within a pack or pride when the one issuing it faced another, weaker Breed.