“It must be hard for you to have a true mate who’s so dark inside,” John said when she didn’t answer his question.
Paxton hadn’t been dark inside. He’d been empty. Utterly. Empty. As an omega, she could read a person’s emotions through touch. All she’d felt from Paxton was a chilling apathy that made her skin crawl. And she often wondered what it said about her that the other half of her soul had been so devoid of emotion.
Maybe her deceased parents were right when they told Bree that his nature didn’t reflect on her; that he was just wired differently, or that his brain had suffered damage due to his difficult birth. But some of the people in her pride believed that Bree must share some of “his darkness” purely because she was his predestined mate. As such, she wasn’t close to many people, but those she cared for didn’t think that way—that was all that mattered to her.
“I assure you that I will not reveal his whereabouts to anyone,” said John. “You have no need to protect him from me. I just want to speak with him.”
“Then go hire a psychic—maybe they can help you commune with his ghost or something. Now, I have shit to do, so …” Tightening her grip on her purse, she walked right past them.
“Have a good day, Miss Dwyer,” John called out.
Bree didn’t glance over her shoulder as she replied, “Whatever.” Why he’d want to waste time searching for a dead man, she didn’t know. She also didn’t care.
Paxton Cage was dead. Dead.
If she repeated it to herself often enough, she might even fully believe it.
Standing behind the jewelry store counter, Bree talked with a male lion who wanted to buy a necklace for his mate. Over the past hour, he’d been torn between two. Whenever he seemed close to settling on one necklace, he’d then ask to touch the other again. Store policy was that only a single tray could be out of a display case at a time, so she’d had to repeatedly replace one with the other. Such fun.
Still feeling the effects of her hangover, she had no idea how she’d made it this long without falling asleep. She wondered if it would be so bad to take a nap in her locker—hey, she’d slept in more uncomfortable places. The moment it hit closing time she was so out of there.
She’d worked at Pot of Gold since she was eighteen. It was elegant and inviting with ambient lighting, crystal chandeliers, gold silk draperies, framed jewelry-art, and gleaming white walls with gold trim.
Diamonds, sapphires, rubies, opals, emeralds—there was bling everywhere twinkling under the bright lighting. The store sold all types of jewelry from bracelets, earrings, and rings to cuff links and watches. Some items were simple yet elegant. Some were cheap and cheerful. Others were flashy and expensive.
There were pieces in rounded glass cases as well as in turnstile displays near wall-mounted mirrors. Some of the decorative displays featured scarves and sequins, courtesy of her sales associate and good friend, Elle—the brainchild behind last night’s “let’s make margaritas” plan—who also happened to be Vinnie’s only daughter.
Totally envious that the redhead didn’t get hangovers, Bree tossed her a little snarl. Elle paused in her conversation with Greg, the store’s security guard, and discretely flipped her the finger. Bree sniffed.
There was a case of collectible figurines near the help desk that James Devereaux, who was Vinnie’s brother, manned. James’ mate, Valentina, managed the store. She was currently talking with a customer on the other side of the showroom—a human who had no idea the store was run by shifters. Since pallas cats had so fully immersed themselves into the human world pretty much the entire race was oblivious to the existence of her kind.
Their animal counterparts were referred to as Pallas’ cats, but shifters called themselves “pallas cats.” They didn’t claim territories, but their pride members often lived and worked closely together. Most of hers resided nearby in two apartment buildings and a cul-de-sac of houses—all of which were owned by Vinnie.
Working in a jewelry store wasn’t particularly exciting, but she enjoyed having a job that she didn’t have to think about once she got home. She could relax, switch off, and not have to think about the store until she next returned to work. She liked that. Liked having a little “simple” in her life. In her opinion, “simple” was often underappreciated.
Not many people were lucky enough to be able to say they liked all their coworkers, but the Devereauxs were amazing. Paxton’s mother was Vinnie and James’ sister, so the large family had pulled Bree into theirs the moment they realized she was Paxton’s true mate. They’d rallied around her after the death of her mother when she was seven, just as they had when her father died when she was eighteen. Aside from her parents, Bree had no other blood relatives in the pride, but she hadn’t needed any—not with the Devereauxs at her back.