Twelve hours later, he still wasn’t in the best of moods, all of his protective instincts working overtime as he was separated from the most vulnerable members of his pride. He really didn’t like the plan they’d come up with. Following them wouldn’t be hard; they’d left a trail a mile wide.
He got Coveney to fly with Ola, Tracy, Kim and the seven cubs they’d adopted into their fold; although Niamh would probably take offense to being called that. Since she’d turned twelve, the little girl had tried to grow up too fast, not caring about the fact that her lipstick and high heels were turning his hair prematurely gray. There he was, thirty-one, going on eighty-one thanks to the millions of duties falling on his shoulders. Being the Alpha of a pride was no joke.
Flying wasn’t too much of an issue - using his father’s jet meant that the wolves wouldn’t be able to track their details, like they would have if they’d taken a commercial transit. But the rest of them weren’t as discreet. Christine, their only submissive, was traveling on the back of his motorcycle; Daunte and Ian flanked his sides, while Jas drove a SUV with their belongings behind them.
He would have breathed easier if they’d made a detour to get any follower off their trail, but Daunte was adamant that they needed to arrive before the kids, so that they might settle things with the mysterious loner.
Every passing minute, Rygan was more intrigued about the woman who made his Beta stress out so much.
“Chill,” he told him at their last pit stop before they’d made it to the place Daunte had input into their GPSs. “If you can’t sweet talk her, we can pay her off.”
They might not be the biggest, oldest, or the most fearful pride out there, but they certainly didn’t lack funds.
Rygan had been given a fair bit of cash by his grandmother when he’d become Alpha, and he’d invested it wisely. Besides, unlike a lot of shifters out there - they normally kept to themselves, finding roles within their community, and shutting out the rest of the world - most of the members of the pride had businesses.
Christine handcrafted some girly shit that somehow sold - hats, scarves, Teddy Bears and god knew what - Coveney was a wiz behind a computer and pimped his skills as a PI, Jas had a popular travel blog, Ian invested in start-ups, Tracy wrote novels. Rygan didn’t demand it but they all pitched in, dropping some of their profit in the pride’s savings account when they could. Which was often. Last time he’d looked, the amount in their savings had a lot of zeros. No loner was going to turn up her nose at the kind of bribes they could afford.
But, surprising and intriguing him again, Daunte snorted, “No. Trust me, if she doesn’t want us in her territory, there’s nothing we can say or do to change her mind.”
Daunte was adamant, but he didn’t elaborate, to Rye’s annoyance.
They finished the last leg of their journey within the next couple of hours; by the time they stopped in front of a handsome plantation built at the heart of a wild, untamed forest, Rye was imagining that they would be met by a she-bear, a fearsome witch, or maybe even a damn vampire.
“Wow. This place is beautiful.”
It was; the location, the old house with ivy crawling up the walls, and those strong, high trees surrounding it were picturesque. His cat was seriously drooling over the untamed landscape, desperate to shift. He wanted to go play. Badly. But now wasn’t the time, and Rygan told him so.
Quiet.
The tiger inside him was normally more or less amenable - he understood that Rye let him have its say when he could - but today, it felt agitated. There was… something. He couldn’t place his finger on it. He scented something that made every part of him uneasy, unhinged.
Rye had no gift, but there was a fair bit of witch blood in his family tree - his grandmother had healing powers, like Ola, his aunt was a Seer, and his mother, a powerful empath - and he knew that meant he should listen to his instincts more than the average shifter so, he stayed vigilant, ready for the world to explode.
“Do I hear a waterfall?” Ian asked, and Daunte pointed west.
“Yep, that way. There’s a lake further into the forest, too.”
Ola shook her head and playfully bumped his shoulder.
“You’re in deep shit for not telling us about this place before. It’s perfect.”
They’d moved seven times over the last ten years, since he’d formed the pride, but they’d never settled anywhere nearly as nice; these kinds of places were normally packed with humans, but during their ride over, they hadn't come across even one house. This was the perfect location for a pride.
“Oh, he most certainly is in deep shit.”
They all tensed and turned away from the view and towards the direction of the beautiful, singsong voice, startled because none of them had felt or heard anyone approach, even though Rye had been on high alert.
Fuck.
Rygan had a hard time staying focused; the moment he saw her, his entire attention was captured by her.
The brunette who’d appeared on the step of the elegant home was small, petite, delicate, and dangerous. Her aura said so. The way she moved said so. The way his tiger clawed to the surface, urging Rygan forward, definitely said so.
His tiger had never paid any attention to a female before. Never. He didn’t form any words, but Rygan understood his feeling completely. Usually, when Rygan looked at women he found appealing, his animal was bored, finding them unworthy of his attention. Pitiful. Weak. He told him, play with it if you must, but don’t get me involved. Problematic, as no shifter could hope to form a relationship if their animal didn’t approve.
Right now the dumb tiger, who should have bared his teeth, jumped and said chase the pretty kitty.
Shit.
Daunte echoed his curse, holding his hands up, “Look, I can explain.”
He actually didn’t finish the last word, as her foot was kicking him ten feet back. The woman had effortlessly jumped to him, and she did it again, one of her knees colliding with his jaw, while the other wrapped around his neck. She did a flip that turned his Beta flat on the ground, all in a few seconds.
Jas was stepping forward, ready to defend her pridemate, but Rygan held her back. Normally, because of their difference in size and muscle mass, females fought females and males fought males, so it was understandable that the enforcer felt like intervening; but Daunte wasn’t letting the woman win out of courtesy. He was trying to push her, struggling to get up. She’d just beat his ass, fair and square, without breaking a sweat.
What. The. Hell.
“He told us to stay back,” Rygan reminded Jas, and the woman’s head snapped to his.
She’d caught his tiger’s attention immediately, but now she had his.
Damn. She was a fucking wet dream. Those fiery golden eyes turned cat - narrow irises and all - that pretty face, and every sinful curve her yoga pants and t-shirt weren’t hiding got him hard; almost as much as her display of dominance.