Page 60 of Strike It Witch

Mason yanked me back by the hair and snarled, “Watch your step,witch,” then spun me away from him, wiping the blood onhis hand on a handkerchief he produced from the inside pocket of his suit coat.

“Now you want to go dancing? I knew you liked me.” I blew a long brown strand of my hair out of my eyes and rolled my head around to work out the stiffness.

The second alpha didn’t take the bait. He stormed out of the room after one final, dead-eyed look at Ronan.

“At the rate I’m going today, I’m going to need anotherhealcharm,” I muttered.

“Were youflirtingwith him?” Ronan’s eyes were gold again.

“I was using my innate seductiveness as a distraction. Do you think it worked?”

“No.”

“Me neither. The whole scene perfectly aligned with my brand of awkward seductiveness. I’ve always been more femme maladroit than femme fatale, despite the rockin’ bod, badass heels, and sexy lipstick.”

Ronan’s gaze went to my mouth and stayed there for a beat. Then he growled, took me by the elbow, and marched me down the hall past the restrooms. “It’s not because you aren’t seductive, but because Hartman’s a fucking force. Don’t underestimate him. He plays the part of dumb muscle. He’s not dumb.”

“He didn’t sound dumb. He sounded homicidal.”

Ronan stepped into me, backed me against the wall. Sweat formed droplets on his forehead. His body was hard and taut, and I wondered how close he’d really been to shifting just now.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Donotscrew around in there,” he whispered, lips pressed against my ear. Heat from his body seeped into mine at every point of contact—his hand on my arm, his cheek on my cheek, his breath in my ear. “There are things going on within the pack right now. Delicate things.”

“Is that why you’ve been demoted to third alpha?” I whispered. “I thought Floyd gutted his old security team and bumped you to second.”

His jaw tightened. “Just be careful in there. I can’t protect you.”

I turned my head and pushed my mouth against his ear. “Understand this, Ronan Pallás. I am not without power. I don’t require protection.”

When I lifted my hand to give him a little demonstration of the aforementioned power, he pushed my arm against my side. “No.”

“Let. Go.”

“Betty, don’t. Please.” He looked at me with something not wolf, not male, but utterly human. There seemed to be a balance thing happening here, and he really didn’t want me to upset it.

“What’s going on?” I kept my voice so low even I couldn’t hear it. “And how did you know I was here?”

“I have my ways.” His lips grazed my ear, and goosebumps dotted my skin. “You need to understand. As third alpha, I have a responsibility to my leader.”

This was his way of letting me know he couldn’t get between his father and me. Standing up to Mason Hartman was one thing, but taking my side against Floyd would be seen as a betrayal of the pack. For some reason, Ronan was desperate to stay on the good side of the pack—or his alpha leader, which amounted to the same thing.

No matter what kind of a person their leader was, the shifters in his pack were compelled to be loyal to him. It was one of the perks of being king. A good alpha leader used this benefit of leadership sparingly.

Alpha Floyd was not a good alpha.

“You’re going to tell me everything later, right?” I mouthed.

He sidestepped the question. “Are you really okay? Mason didn’t cut you?”

“Mason bruised the hell out of my neck, but he didn’t cut me. I came in with that wound.”

“Not the smartest idea, walking into a wolf bar while bleeding.”

“Today I’ve given what amounts to a masterclass on stupid choices. Why should this be any different?”

“Let me see it.”

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