Page 5 of Targeted By Fate

His tail swished, the tip brushing over my chin, and goosebumps frogmarched over my chest while my cock engorged. That couldn’t happen, not yet. We hadn’t formally met, not that shifters of old bothered with pleasantries, but my mate had his fur. We couldn’t move forward until he took his skin.

Maybe he didn’t scent me as his mate, so we’d have to get to know one another as humans did. Maynard mated a human, one he’d met years before, so if my trigger-happy brother could court his mate, I could too.

The cat peered over my shoulder, and I swung around, not wanting the gruesome images to be coupled with his memories of meeting me. His body shuddered, his faint heartbeat pounding against my chest.

I stroked him, and he purred while I whispered that the dead were bad guys and I would always protect him. Not knowing how much he’d seen or heard, I figured that was enough for now until we could talk, face to face, man to man.

A faint rumble in the distance told me the cleaners were on their way, and I didn’t want to be naked, standing on shifter remains, holding my mate when they arrived.

“I’m going to put you down while I get dressed.”

In what?My beast was looking at the shredded remains of my clothes.

Damn! I’d have to race out to the car.

Still hugging the cat, I bent low, grabbed my keys and a second set that scented like my mate. Keeping to the shadows, I made it to my vehicle and grabbed the bag of clothes I kept in the trunk. The cat curled up in the passenger seat while I pulled on a T-shirt and pants and jumped behind the wheel.

The cleaners got to work, and the head guy acknowledged me with a nod. While they kept their voices low, I picked up them complaining about the mess and the stink. The bodies were still warm, and a human would not have identified any decay, but shifters’ heightened senses had the cleaning crew putting on masks.

“You’re safe. I’m not leaving you.”

A niggling worry wormed its way into my brain. My mate hadn’t shifted, and even if he didn’t recognize me as his one and only, why hadn’t he taken his skin? He’d witnessed some or all of a shifter takedown, gory deaths that weren't a part of most current-day shifters’ lives.

But my family were mafia, our pack controlled swaths of territory in the city and beyond, and while I didn’t kill shifters gone rogue every day, it was part of my job description.

“Sit tight. We’re going h—” I couldn’t say “home” because I shared a place with my younger brothers. They’d be asking a million questions about how we met and how many bad guys I took down. They’d be criticizing my technique—both my killer instinct and how I reacted when meeting my mate—and they might terrify my one and only.

I thought back to how Rhodes had reacted when we confronted him, and my body heated up as a flush crawled over my face and chest. Our behavior when we met Maynard’s mate wasn’t something to be proud of. But in our defense, mating a human was a huge deal, something our brother hadn’t considered.

Concentrate on our mate, not your brother’s.

My wolf was right. But perhaps I was thinking about Maynard because I didn’t want to consider that my mate had a problem with me. Maybe he was a pacifist and didn’t believe in taking another life. It was possible, though I doubted his beast felt the same way. I’d watched cats of all sizes, wild and shifter, tease their prey for hours before devouring them.

So did I think my mate had a problem with spilling blood? Nope. I was scared that he was sickened by the slaughter he may have witnessed and was waiting for an opportunity to escape. My belly roiled, and I took deep breaths because I refused to show weakness in front of my mate. My ego wouldn’t allow it, and I needed to be strong and exhibit courage and kindness.

I was a mess, outside and in, and I started the car. I was about to tell my mate to buckle up and burst out laughing as an image of the cat wearing a seat belt appeared in my head. My mate fixed his green eyes on me, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers up and down my spine.

Putting the car in gear, I pulled onto the road, thankful there was little traffic because I didn’t look behind me. But where to go? Not home, not headquarters, and not some rundown motel. My mate needed to understand I had means and could treat him like a prince—no, a king.

Thought you didn’t believe in a monarchy.

I don’t. I didn’t, but from an outsider’s perspective, an Alpha who ruled over a pack wasn’t that much different to a monarch. And I was his Beta.

“I’m going to take you somewhere nice where you can shift and shower. I’ll order food, and we can talk.”

The cat meowed, but he stayed where he was and didn’t leap onto my lap. Whether that was a positive sign or not, I wasn’t sure.

There were numerous hotels where the pack had hosted functions, and the management were shifters. I chose the closest, and as I gave the valet the keys, a bellboy arrived to take the luggage. Thank gods I kept cash in the car, and I stuffed a fistful of bills in his hand and carried the cat and the bag myself.

But when I arrived at the front desk, the staff were human. I wasn’t familiar with the name of the manager on duty which was displayed on the wall. Not wanting to create a scene, I asked for a room and was told I had to pay a pet fee.

I bristled at the assumption that my mate was a pet, and I gripped the cat, hoping he didn’t freak or worse, shift and tell the desk clerk what he thought of him.

“It’s okay, Kitten.” He wriggled in my arms, and I slapped a smile on my face as if I dealt with the situation every day. “He thinks he’s human, not a cat.”

My explanation didn’t go over well with the front desk clerk. He wasn’t a cat lover based on his quizzical expression.

“It’s a joke.” I had to shut up because I was making it worse.

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