Page 25 of Reluctant Rebel

Mikhail pursed his lips. “It was a family heirloom.”

Jinx looked alarmed. “Is it really? Damn, I’m sorry.”

Mikhail chuckled. “I’m kidding. It’s just a toaster.”

“Phew.” Jinx wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead. She stared at the floor for a moment before looking back up. “Seriously, I’m sorry for being snippy with you. Defence mechanism.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her quickly. He didn’t blame her one bit.

“It’s really not,” Jinx insisted. “We’re going to have to find a way to live with each other. Sabre is your guardian, and she’s my best friend. She’s my family. I’m not giving her up. Even if it means I’m in discomfort every day of my life. She’s my tribe.”

Mikhail cocked his head to the side curiously. “Your tribe?”

“You know how wolves have a pack? Well, tigers have a tribe. Mine started small with just Sabre and Gage, but it’s recently expanded with Eric, Brax, and Draven.” She shrugged, looking adorably perplexed. “Hell, my tiger has even claimed Phaedra and Mercy now. She would hunt down anyone who hurt them.”

Mikhail tensed. “Claimed?” It sounded more like a growl than an actual word.

Jinx gazed at him, surprised by his reaction. But then understanding dawned on her face. “Not in a romantic sense. It's natural for tigers to form bonds with others, to protect and provide. You know, for security and, well, happiness.”

Mikhail pushed down the possessive beast riding his soul, forcing himself to think rationally. It was rare for werecreatures to be solitary; most craved a family unit for structure. He knew that. Why would Jinx be any different? “Of course.”

“Right,” Jinx stated. “So, I promise to try harder at our truce thing.”

“How about we don’t call it a truce? We’re not enemies,” Mikhail asserted. “Instead, we aim for friends.”

Jinx sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I would like that.”

Mikhail held his breath, searching her unique eyes for the truth. And finding it. “Thank the gods.”

“You really want to be friends?” Jinx looked surprised.

Mikhail nodded enthusiastically. “Very much. Jinx … I wish things could be different. I truly do.”

“I believe you,” she promised him. She bit her bottom lip, unknowingly tempting him before meeting his eyes again. “I’m going to be okay.”

“Yes,” Mikhail acknowledged. “You will be.” He knew it was true.But what about me?he thought.

After listening to his brother complain about the toaster no longer working, they all sat in Mikhail’s living room. His private quarters were a far cry from formal. Because he spent so much time in the public eye, exuding impeccable manners and diplomacy, he craved comfort in his home. Much like Brax, he’d kept the same set of rooms he’d had since he turned eighteen. They consisted of a large living room, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a formal study, and a kitchenette that offered seating at an island. He was a very poor cook, and his meals were provided to him daily from the kitchens other than some staple items he kept in his fridge and small pantry.

He made sure to take a seat in one of the two recliners. Gage snagged the other and the other four spread themselves out on his huge sectional. When Eric sat close to Jinx, so close that their thighs touched, Mikhail pointedly looked away.

“Wow, this leather is like butter,” Eric murmured, smoothing his hand over the surface of the lounge.

“Comfy, right?” Mikhail agreed with a smile. He looked around, hoping for some stupid reason that Jinx liked what she saw.

He liked to think his living room exuded an air of refined masculinity and understated luxury. The super soft leather sectional in rich cognac dominated one side of the space, itssurface adorned with textured cushions in charcoal and deep forest green shades. Opposite, a sleek, massive TV hung on the exposed brick wall, flanked by floating shelves displaying photos and treasures.

A handcrafted coffee table anchored the seating area, its surface messily arranged with a rare first-edition Hemingway, a crystal tumbler, and a small potted fiddle-leaf plant. Underfoot, a hand-knotted warlock rug in muted earth tones added warmth to the polished floors. The two matching recliners took up the remainder of the space.

“It's comfy because it’s made from unicorn hide,” Sabre revealed, practically sitting in Brax’s lap.

Eric looked appalled. He immediately jumped to his feet. “Unicorn? This is made from dead unicorns?”

“Would it be better if it was made from dead cows? Or dead goats?” Sabre questioned, looking amused.

Eric’s brow wrinkled in thought, and he sat back down hesitantly. Jinx took his hand, patting it comfortingly. Mikhail kept his mouth shut because the lounge was indeed made from unicorns.Butit was ethically sourced. At least, that’s what Sabre had always told him. She’d given it to him as a gift years ago. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her where she got it from again, Sabre clapped her hands loudly.

“Enough about unicorns. Those fuckers are just as annoying as fairies. Let’s talk Zagan. Where is he? What is his ultimate plan? And when are you going to tell the world you’re back?”

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