Page 39 of Her Purr-fect Christmas Mate

“I wasn’t worried about her not liking me,” Peony murmured. *Believe it or not, I was trying to reassure you.*

The touch of her mind against his was too much. His jaw ached. “We could see my grandmother in the morning, then drive to visit your family for the rest of the day. If that works for you.”

“Make ’em wait? I like it. Oh! Here’s our stop.”

Mordecai stayed with the car as Peony carted an armful of parcels to a nearby building. He watched as she buzzed the door, her breath coming out in white puffs.

Grandmother.Why had he mentioned her? If only he’d kept his mouth shut, he could have…

Could have what? Avoided the subject forever? Pretended she didn’t exist?He groaned. The ache in his jaw moved to the back of his head, tense and squeezing.She’s going to find out sooner or later.

And as much as I might wish it would be later, it’s going to be sooner.

The door opened. Peony greeted the person behind it cheerfully, and although he couldn’t make out their conversation, he could imagine it. He saw the moment the customer asked what was happening to the bookstore. Peony went completely still. Then she burst out of the stillness like she was cracking through a thin film of ice, her reassurances too bright and too perky to be genuine.

When she came back towards the car, there was a moment when the brightness broke and uncertainty flooded up in its place. He tasted it on the very edge of the matebond before she locked it, and her expression, away again.

By the time the pile of books in his car was down to the last brightly colored parcel, he understood.

“Last stop.” Peony’s voice was as chirpy as it had been all afternoon, but it rang false. The hollow bit of Mordecai’s chest ached. “I’ll be a minute.”

She raced out of the car and up to the building as though her heels were on fire. He tried to drag his eyes away from her but couldn’t.

The tight line of her shoulders was clear even through her muffling winter jacket. Her cat form had pounced and scratched at him, and even when she’d shot barbs at him in human form, her body had moved with constant energy. She’d danced rings around him, sneaking closer and darting away, with an electric tantalizing intensity that had left his head spinning. And now she was stiff, jerky, as though her whole body was shutting down.

He’d gotten it all wrong.

This wasn’t a game for her. She really had intended to give up the Hypatia.

And she was only now discovering what it meant to her. What she was really giving up.

She didn’t know.

No wonder she had blown hot and cold, fighting against him and herself at the same time.

She hadn’t known how precious the bookstore was to her until he’d come to take it away. Hadn’t known how much she loved herself or the life she was already living until he kissed her and took it all away.

His mate had spent her whole life waiting to meet him and find out who she truly was. And now she had, and it was tearing her apart.

How? How can anyone live like that?He couldn’t imagine having something so important in his life and not knowing it for what it was. His revenge had fueled him since he was a child. He’d always known what he would do with his life. The destruction of the Hypatia was his guiding star. To not have that direction… or to have it but not recognize what it was until it was gone…

And she was going to let him. No wonder anger and anguish had flared from her like the last sparks of a dying fire. She thought her newly emerged inner animal meant she was small and weak and had to fold herself into his life. His plans. His revenge.

Until she snuffed out everything that burned so fiercely inside her.

Scales crawled over his skin as his dragon moved uneasily.Our fault?

He bit back a sigh. His ankle sent him a ghostly twinge, a pretend echo of a pretend injury.Not your fault,he told his dragon gently. Wanting his mate was as natural as breathing, or lifting his face to feel the morning sun. He couldn’t blame the creature for throwing them both into Peony’s path.

But he could blame himself for everything that had happened since.

Light glowed around Peony as someone opened the door. He watched her greet the other person, exchange small talk, wave excitedly to someone farther inside, and hand over the bag of giftwrapped books… and then brace herself before she turned and came back down the steps.

“Peony,” he said as she sat down, and he caught a whisper ofHelp, he’s using the disappointed Victorian schoolmaster voice.

And a hint of arousal, which confused him.

“We should talk,” he went on, and her eyebrows shot up.

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