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Sure, the dark-haired hottie with violet-gray eyes was the very picture of a man I’d like to engage in some quality one-on-one bedroom time with, but that didn’t change the fact I couldn’t remember who he was. He’d been polite as Lucas explained what he thought was wrong with me, and after a minute or two they seemed to have forgotten I was in the room.

Memories of my apartment hadn’t vanished, so I found my way to my bedroom and was relieved to discover nothing had changed. Nothing except the lingering fragrance of Desmond clinging to each object in the room. He was all over the sheets, permeating the air as if he had touched everything.

He probably had.

I was getting the feeling Mercedes didn’t have all the right intel on my relationship status. She clearly believed Lucas was my boyfriend, as did he, but if that was the case, why was Desmond a permanent fixture in my bed?

Oh God, had I turned into a slut?

Once I’d stripped down, leaving on the Yankees shirt I’d been wearing, I dug under the covers and listened to my two supposed men bicker like an old married couple.

“Did you ever stop to consider maybe she’s experiencing some sort of psychological breakdown thanks to your little mating stunt?” Desmond’s voice was hushed but angry.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The shuffling sounds of pacing footsteps on carpet came to a standstill. I found myself wishing Lucas had taken his shoes off when we’d come through the door. All his pacing was probably dragging snowy muck through my already-shitty carpet.

“You didn’t think this could be your fault. You never think it’s your fault. You’re so fucking untouchable.”

“Get a grip. This isn’t my fault. She’s under some kind of spell.”

“And you’d know a thing or two about keeping her under a spell.”

There was a long pause, but I could hear their harsh, ragged breathing if I listened hard enough.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, Desmond. Speak up. You obviously have something to say to me.” Lucas’s voice simmered with a quiet rage that made my hair stand at attention.

“You treat her like she’s something you own. When she ran, you let that vampire use magic to bring her home against her will. When you were worried she cared more about me, you abused your power and forced the bond on her. Well guess what? She still loves me more.”

> The meaty crack of a fist meeting flesh filled the air instead of an awkward silence.

Lucas spoke first. “You know why I had to do that.”

It wasn’t a question, but Desmond answered anyway. “I was out of line.”

“This isn’t easy for me, either, you know. I know she loves you more. That’s not the point, though, and you know it. We need her as queen or everything falls apart. I’m not ignoring your feelings, Des, I just can’t make them my priority.”

“I know.”

“We discussed this. You knew if the bond manifested I was always going to claim the mate. If I let you have her, the pack would see it as a weakness.”

Desmond cleared his throat, then cracked his jaw. “What about what she wants?”

“What about it? She’s coming around. Soon she’ll understand we all need to do what’s best for the pack. Anything else is selfish.”

At some point I’d sat up and thrown my legs over the edge of the bed. They discussed my future like it was something I had no say in. Throwing around words like queen and mate as if I were real royalty and my fate was already sealed. If that was the case, I wanted out of this weird, fucked-up version of what my life had become.

“You can’t decide someone else’s future for them, Lucas.”

“Secret has a duty to this pack.”

“And your feelings for her as a person mean nothing?”

“Are you questioning my feelings for her? Do I need to remind you you’re only here because I allow it? Don’t question me, Desmond. I can make sure you never lay eyes on her again.”

The silence that followed gutted me.


Tags: Sierra Dean Secret McQueen Paranormal