Page 87 of Taken By the Blood God

So far, neither of us had been in any hurry to go looking, but I kept expecting that to change any day now.

Zeke shot me a knowing look. “I’d prefer to find my own mate, not allow my father to pimp me out to half the cat clans in Texas.”

“Who says you wouldn’t find your own mate?” I asked.

Another knowing look came my way. “You know that my father thinks he can control my mate.”

“He wants you to settle?” I asked.

Settling was what shifters called it when we marked someone other than our fated mate. While fate rarely made mistakes, there were a few fated couples who couldn’t stand each other. Or shifters who never found their true mate. In those cases, they often settled for someone because loneliness could drive us to madness. Or death.

Zeke shrugged. “He hasn’t said that, but I think it’s only a matter of time before the subject comes up.”

I shook my head. “You’re kidding me! Your mother is his fated mate. How can he expect you to accept anything less?”

“Now you understand why I’m not so eager to go to this regional meeting.”

Without another word, I went to my liquor cabinet and pulled out two bottles of tequila.

“Well, this calls for more than getting tipsy,” I said, handing him a bottle. “One for you, and one for me. If we chug’em back quickly enough, we’ll be drunk.”

He grinned at me, his blue eyes twinkling. “This is why we’re friends. You understand what I need.”

I tugged the cork off the top of my bottle, holding out toward him, neck first. He opened his and clinked the neck of his tequila bottle against mine.

“To pushy relatives,” I said.

Zeke lowered the bottle. “I refuse to drink to that.”

I sighed. “Fine. To best friends.”

His grin returned as glass clinked again. Together, we lifted our bottles and took a couple big swallows each.

An hour later, we weren’t just drunk. We were smashed.

I was sprawled across my couch, my head resting on Zeke’s shoulder. His body was angled in the opposite direction of mine, and his head rested against the back of my skull. I’d been thinking about his dilemma since we started drinking, and a brilliant idea suddenly came to me.

“Zeke!” I cried, jerking into a sitting position.

He jumped up behind me, grabbing my shoulders to pull me back from the edge of the couch. “Jeezus, Poppy. Ya scared the shi’ outta me. Wha’s tha matter?”

I twisted so that I faced him. My eyes struggled to focus because his nose was only an inch from mine. I leaned back just a bit so I could see him clearly.

“I ha’ an idea. A brillian’ idea.”

“Oh, fuck. For the las’ time, skinny dipping while drunk isn’t a brillian’ idea. Issa cliché,” he retorted.

I snorted. “No! I mean an actual brillian’ idea, not jus’ an excuse to check out your ass.”

He blinked at me. “Ya check out mah ass?”

I smacked his abdomen with the back of my hand. “Focus, Zeke!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “No nee’ to get violent. Wha’s your idea?”

“I know how to get your dad off your back!”

He waited, staring at me while I grinned at him. “Okaaaay, are ya going to tell me what tha’ idea is?”

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