“You were the one who said Geena’s suggestion was a good one, remember.”
“Doesn’t mean I like that Gwen and Kenny will be in the same room together.”
Overhearing that, Bracken sighed as he reached them and said, “Yeah, I don’t like it either.”
“Hey, who is that guy that keeps staring at Gwen?” asked Ally. “Is he one of the Moores?”
Zander didn’t need to look to know whom she was talking about, because he’d already noticed. Placing his bottle on the tall, high table where the other drinks rested, Zander said, “No. That would be Aidan, Gwen’s old therapist.”
Ally sneered, no doubt remembering all he’d told his pack mates about the human. “Asshole,” she muttered.
“Yeah, he’s definitely that,” agreed Bracken.
“Clearly my warning to stay away from Gwen didn’t penetrate,” clipped Zander.
Careful not to knock the rack of pool cues, Bracken leaned against the wall. “Well, to be fair, he’s in a public place, and he’s on a date.”
“Sitting in Gwen’s section of the bar,” Zander pointed out. “He thinks that being in a public place means he’s safe.”
“Damn,” cursed Derren. “Your shot, Z.”
As he got a good look at the table, Zander understood Derren’s frustration. The wolf had managed to pot all balls but the black, and the white ball was lined up perfectly to hit it. Zander effortlessly sank the black and then leaned the cue against the table just as Gwen approached to take their empty glasses and bottles. That lush mouth kicked up into a smile as her eyes met his.
“Come here,” he growled. She did, and he pulled her close, splaying his hand possessively on her lower back. He kissed her, growling in satisfaction as her body fairly melted into his, fitting against him a little too perfectly. His wolf took in her scent, letting it drown out the distasteful smells of dry chalk and green felt.
Gwen smoothed her hand over the solid bulk of his shoulder. “Why are you so tense?”
“I don’t like that Aidan’s here.”
She shrugged, nonchalant. “He always comes here when he’s on dates.”
“Does he always sit in your section?”
“Yes. But if I ask him to move or for one of the other waitresses to switch with me, he’ll think he bothers me. He’ll get a kick out of it.” Gwen nipped his lip, smiling at his low growl. “Now let me go. I’ve gotta work.”
Zander put his mouth to her ear. “If we were alone right now, I’d have you flat on that pool table with my dick in you.” He snaked his hand under her tank top just to feel all that soft skin. “On second thought, it wouldn’t be so bad if Aidan was here. Then he could see me taking you. He’d get that you’re mine.”
She arched an imperious brow. “Yours?”
“Mine.” He stroked the mark on her neck with his thumb. “Another shifter would see this and understand exactly what it meant—that you’re off-limits, that you’re not to be touched, that there’s someone who’ll raise fresh hell if you’re harmed. But a human . . . they know what the mark is, but they don’t get the true extent of how serious it is. That makes me antsy.”
“Zander, I think the humans here know that you consider me taken, since you’re rubbing yourself all over me like a cat.”
“Again with the ‘comparing me to a cat’ thing,” he complained.
“You know what I mean.” Gwen straightened, pushing against his chest. “Now I really have to work. Be good.” Collecting the empty bottles and glasses, she said a quick “Hi” to the other wolves, took orders for more drinks, and then disappeared.
Ally twisted on her stool. “Now there’s a guy staring at you.”
Zander followed her gaze. A tall, burly male was studying him closely through narrowed eyes. “That’s Gwen’s future brother-in-law, Chase. He owns this place. From what I understand, he’s protective of her.”
“And part of you is offended by that,” Ally sensed. “You feel that protecting her is your job. There’s no point denying it, Zander. I can sense what you’re feeling.” She crossed one leg over the other. “I like Gwen. She’s good for you.”
Yeah, she was, but Zander wasn’t the heart-to-heart type, so he said nothing.
“She doesn’t have any emotional expectations of you. She doesn’t pressure you to open up. You needed that at first. It was the only way you were ever going to know that, really, you don’t want distance.”
What he really didn’t want was to have this conversation. It felt like he was being profiled. Made him feel exposed to know someone could read him so well. Gwen was good at reading him, but he didn’t mind that so much—it didn’t feel like an imposition, though it probably should have. So Zander concentrated on the game that Bracken and Derren were playing, hoping Ally would take the hint.
“Marlon’s told me a lot about her,” continued Ally, unfortunately. “Enough for me to realize that, like you, she doesn’t give much of herself to people. You both seem to back away from anyone who pushes. But you didn’t like that she backed off and gave you space, did you? You wanted her to push. You wanted to know her, and you wanted her to want to know you. Over time, she stopped backing off and dropped her guard a little. But the irony is that if she hadn’t given you space in the beginning, if she hadn’t fought to keep a distance from you, you might never have seen that you don’t want it because your defenses would have stayed up.”
Zander sighed. “Are we done with the amateur psychology?” He tried to sound bored, but they both knew she’d interpreted the situation too well for his liking.
“No. Now, as I said, neither of you give much of yourself to people. You both seem that way for different reasons, though. With you, it’s because you find it instinctively uncomfortable to connect with people, probably because the connections you had with your family, particularly with your twin—a person who should have been closest to you—were weak and, in Rory’s case, warped. I wouldn’t want to let people close either.” Ally propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “You confuse Gwen.”
That made him frown. And intrigued him, which was no doubt Ally’s intent. “Confuse her?”
“The level of attention you pay her. The possessiveness. The way you try to preempt what’s best for her. It baffles her. That’s how I realized that the reason she doesn’t give much of herself to people is that she doesn’t think they want it—and she definitely doesn’t trust that they’ll want to keep or protect her.”
That made sense, he thought. Gwen’s mother and stepfather were too wrapped up in their own drama to care about her. Her biological father hadn’t even acknowledged her.
“I think a big factor was that some of the boys who pursued her over the years were really just trying to get to her foster sister.”
He scowled. “Why?”