Page 29 of Kitty Cat

Rygan opened his mouth to say just that, in order to get the annoying girl off his back, but his tiger roared before a word had passed his lip, refusing to let him lie.

Mine. Ours.

Holy fucking shit.

He blinked, taken aback, utterly confused.

“That’s what I thought.”

Tracy was still smirking, indifferent to the fact that his world had just turned off its axis, collapsed, and been rebuilt in a split second. He could still try to deny it, but it wasn’t going to convince anyone, least of all him.

Aisling - Aisling No Fucking Name - was his fated mate.

“Give me my phone, Tracy.”

His tone was pleading now. She heard it, and finally relinquished the device.

Rye dialed back the number which had just called his, feeling like someone had punched his gut, when her voice answered after the fourth ring.

“Hey.”

That was it, justhey.But it was his mate he was talking to.

Her voice sounded different over the phone, softer maybe. Might just have been because she wasn’t glaring with that expression that made him think she was considering whether she wanted to talk to him, or kick him in the nuts.

“Hey back.”

His voice somehow didn’t break.

Rye wasn’t good at the small talk thing, so he jumped right into it without prelude. “We have news about the Vergas pack. You won’t like it.”

He didn’t think he could find anything about the situation even remotely entertaining, but he’d been wrong. When she was pissed, Ace was pretty inventive with her use of profanity.Fucking shitty cocksucking hellwas his personal favorite.

Sassy. Passionate. Protective. Crazy.His.

“They need to go down,” she said in a growl.

“Agreed. I’ll contact my father, my brother and basically everyone I can think of. My family and I aren’t on the best terms, so I don’t know how that will go, though.”

“I’ve already made a few calls,” Ace told him, making him smile. She really was in this with the rest of them.

Of course she was.

Rye might have let her leave it at that, before his world had changed, but not now. Now, he wanted in. He needed her to lower her defenses, and open up to him.

“Ace, I know you’re used to doing your own thing, plan stuff out yourself - but I need to know what you have on this. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

She was silent on the other end of the phone for a while; but then, she talked.

“I don’t have much to say right now. I got in touch with a dozen friends; they’ll come down whenever they can. They’re all loners, for the record. But I trust them, and they are dangerous motherfuckers.” She marked a pause for a few seconds. “None of them are felines. Will that be a problem?”

“No,” he was adamant. “We’d appreciate help from anyone.”

They weren’t exactly at liberty to be picky. Besides, the ideologies of the backward pack tracking them had made a fact hit home: it didn’t matter what breed they were, what status they had. Hybrids, submissives, dominants. Who cared? They were all individuals. He loved the shit out of their little Lola Bear, and she apparently was half wolf.

The silence stretched out again; not exactly uncomfortable, but it was probably time to say goodbye and hang up. Finding it impossible to do so, he asked, “How was your day?”

If he sounded awkward, that was because he had no fucking clue what he was doing; small talk started like that, right?

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