4
God, he was tired. He could sleep for a month and still not feel rested.
Tomas carried a tray of food up the main staircase and down the hall to his suite. He didn’t feel like dealing with other people right now, and he hoped Ciri felt the same. Then again, if she had her way most of the time, she’d eat in the kitchens with the regular Pride members rather than the formal dining room with the leading family.
Tonight, the food was a peace offering. He usually wanted to hash things out between them, get the disagreement out in the open and deal with it, but that wasn’t her way. If she were like him, she’d have yelled at him for picking up the phone instead of being there for her. The problem was, he had too many priorities pulling at him, and all of them demanded first place. That was no excuse for his behavior toward her tonight, and he needed to apologize for not protecting her, for doubting her. That was hardly the way to encourage open communication between them.
He nudged the door open with his shoulder and paused to watch her. It struck him how much she’d made the suite hers since they’d moved here. The energy of the place was always soothing to him. The walls were a pale green, and he thought the wallpaper was silk, but she’d added touches of art, of Asia, to the place. A painting of stark, bare branches transitioned to budding pink cherry blossoms. A set of woodblock prints. A small tray held a rock garden, with sand raked in patterns around smooth black stones. She sat on a large leather sofa that reflected his taste more than hers. Hunched over her laptop, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked. After a few moments, she started, her gaze flying to meet his. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?” He arched an eyebrow.
She pressed a few buttons on her computer and set it aside. “You’ve been standing there for a while, haven’t you?”
“Your instincts didn’t warn you?” He asked it even though he knew the answer. He was her mate, so her instincts wouldn’t alert her to any danger with him. He would never harm her. She shrugged and looked away. He sighed, stepped into the room, and kicked the door closed behind him. “I spoke to them.”
“You did?” Her eyes went wide, and he could see the momentary shock before a shy smile curved her lips. “You told them what happened today?”
Dios, the smile hit him like nothing else could. It was the same smile she’d given him the first time he’d seen her, curled up with her laptop, creating one of her designs.
He’d never seen anything lovelier.
Her hair parted simply in the middle, falling in an inky sheet just past her shoulders that framed her heart-shaped face. Her small nose and full lips did nothing to distract from the exotic beauty of her dark eyes. They’d captured him immediately, drawn him in and never let go.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I did. They’ve had some troubles with an outcast family in the past, but those people had left the city. They’re looking into when and why the outcasts might have returned.”
“I hope they can find out.” Her grin bloomed into the most open expression that he’d seen in weeks. “I’m glad you told them.”
“I’m sorry I thought anyone would doubt you. I should have given more care to your needs. I’ll try to do better in the future.”
“Thank you.” She tilted her head to the side, but her smile remained in place.
He wanted to hold on to this so badly, and he was sure he’d do something else that might push her away. “I—I brought dinner, if you’d like to join me.”
“No family dinner tonight?” The hopeful tinge to her voice sent a reflexive shaft of impatience through him. Was she never going to accept her place as a member of the leading families? That wouldn’t change, no matter how she avoided it.
Suppressing the urge to start one of their endless arguments, he decided to ignore her stubbornness for the time being. That would definitely kill this receptive mood she was in, and after the day she’d had and the way he’d treated her, she deserved to have her way. He set the tray on the low coffee table and sat in the middle of the couch. “I thought we could eat in here, unless you’re working on a commission.”
“I am, but it can wait.” She straightened her legs from where she had them tucked beneath her, but didn’t move closer. “I’m ahead of schedule.”
“Oh. Good.” When had it become so awkward to have a simple conversation? Could they sound more stilted? She was friendlier with complete strangers.
He lifted the lids from the two plates and set them aside. From the corner of his eye, he saw her hesitate, then tentatively scoot over to sit next to him. “Isabel made Beef Wellington tonight.”
“She’s an amazing chef.” Ciri reached for her plate and began to eat with delicate feline movements.
He pushed aside a bowl of fresh strawberries and picked up a bottle of wine. Pouring a generous portion for both of them, he handed her a glass. They could definitely use it. He took a deep swallow of his, let the mellow flavor of the red wine settle on his palate. It combined well with the meal. A sigh of contentment filtered out of him and he relaxed back into the soft leather sofa. “This is delicious.”
“Mmmhmm.” Ciri sniffed the wine, gave it an experimental taste. Her actions were so catlike, he had to grin.
“You’re so beautiful.” The words were out before he could stop them.
She stilled and stared at him for a moment, her expression quizzical. “Um . . . thank you?”
Was it really so strange for him to compliment her? He thought about it and winced inwardly. Yes, it was. Just as her complimenting his work with the summit had been unusual. Anymore, they argued, they had sex, or they ignored each other to avoid the other two options. Moments like this were rare, but moments like this had always been rare in his family. He didn’t remember spending much time with his father—he was always working for the betterment of the Pride. His mother saw to the children’s needs, and she made everyone’s lives comfortable.
As usual, he had no idea what the hell he was doing. He was just throwing himself into it, and falling flat on his face. He thought he knew what he wanted, he just didn’t know if he and Ciri could get to that. They were more like his parents than his cousin and Andrea.
“You’re welcome.” He reached for the wine, realizing his silence had made the moment even more awkward. “I think we need more of this.”
“Yes, please.” Handing him her glass, she let him fill it to the brim.
Throughout dinner, they managed to kill the bottle, and chatted in spurts about inconsequential things. It was nice. He enjoyed spending time with her—there just never seemed to be enough of it to spare for things he enjoyed doing. It was always spent on whatever his duties dictated, but he liked his work too, so it had never bothered him before his marriage.
“Will you be going back down to the office after this?” She shifted her head on the sofa to look at him.
He plucked a strawberry from the bowl they’d situated between them. Taking a bite, he let the juices, sweet pulp, and seeds roll over his tongue. “Probably. I have some more paperwork to handle before I can call it a day.”
“You need an assistant.”
“My father doesn’t have one.” No, his father managed to take care of everything on his own. He expected Tomas to be able to do the same. So did Tomas. If he couldn’t equal his father in work ethic and productivity, how could he consider himself fit to be the next leader? He had as much to prove to himself as he did to anyone else.
Her gaze went from his hand to the bowl between them. “Oh, you took the last strawberry. I love them.”
“You can have the rest.” He proffered what remained of the fruit.
Leaning toward him, she licked his lower lip. “Perhaps we can share.”
His body reacted before his mind did, his cock hardening until it ached.
Dios, this was twice in one day that she’d come to him instead of him reaching for her. A tiny part of his mind warned him that earlier had been about her fear and right now was about the amount of wine they’d both consumed, but his instincts cared nothing for the man’s rationality. His mate wanted him, and he craved her as he would nothing else in his life.
Taking the last bite of strawberry between his teeth, he offered her the fruit. She melded her lips to his, and the fruit dissolved in their mouths. He didn’t know which was sweeter—the strawberry or her. He knew which he wanted more. Her. Always her. He all but inhaled her, sliding his tongue between her lips and taking her taste into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her into his lap, arranging her legs until she straddled his thighs.
The soft feel of her sex against his made him feel as though he’d explode out of his skin. He loved touching her; he could never get enough of it.
His claws shredded the cotton of her shirt. He wanted his hands on her skin. Now. Retracting his talons, he caressed her back, flicked open her bra, and ripped the garments away.
Then her breasts were free and he buried his face between them to inhale the scent of her. So lush and exotic and uniquely Ciri. His mate.
Turning his head, he licked one nipple, teased it until it puckered to a tight point. Little moans spilled from her, and she slid her hands into his hair to try to guide his lips to her breast. He chuckled and pulled the nipple into his mouth, sucking strongly. Her back bowed and she cried out. “Tomas!”
He purred, loving the sound of his name on her lips, the sharp passion that edged her voice. It was moments like this that made him recognize why they were mates—when there was nothing but the raw connection between them, the Panthers shedding the trappings of civility, the synergy was perfect. They fit each other.
Her claws scraped against his scalp when he released the nipple and blew a cool stream of air on the tight tip. She twisted in his arms, her sex grinding down on his. He turned his head to take in her other nipple and she made a frantic noise that drove him to the edge of madness.
Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he wanted her pants gone. He wanted her naked in his arms. Shoving her to her feet, he had her stripped out of the rest of her clothing in a few seconds. The firm feel of her ass in his hands when he skimmed her panties off made him shake with lust. Yes, he wanted her this way. He ripped open his pants to free his dick. Spinning her around, he brought her back down on his lap so that she straddled him again, but faced away from him.
“Wh-what are you doing, Tomas?” She gasped and braced her hands on his knees.
But he could smell her increased moisture, could sense the intensity of her arousal. This new position excited her. She flexed her thighs, opening herself to rub her slick flesh against his cock. He hissed, his fangs punching through his gums. The Panther within him clawed for the freedom to rut with its mate. To claim her again and again until there was no distance between them and never would be.
Wrapping her tight in his arms, he coasted one hand down her belly to tease her clit. The wetness he found made him snarl with the need to be inside her. She made a choked sound, her hips arching to meet his stroking fingers. “Do you like this, Ciri?”
“Of course I do.” She wriggled her ass, her dampness gliding against his cock. “You can’t tell?”
It was his turn to choke at the sensual movement, the pleasure. She purred, casting a wicked glance over her shoulder at him. He slipped his other hand up to fondle her breast, and he watched her eyes close in ecstasy. “I can tell. I just had to hear you say you want my hands on you.”
“I love . . .” She shivered, her fingers locking around his wrist to hold his hand tighter to her clit. “I love your hands on my skin.”
His heart had tripped at the word love. When was the last time she’d said she loved him? When had he last said it to her? A long time. Far too long, but it didn’t feel right to voice the sentiment anymore. He knew what he felt for her, but did she still feel the same? He had no idea, and he didn’t have the guts to ask. It was the one fight he couldn’t face. He didn’t want to hear the truth, because he was terrified of what she might say. It might bring an irrevocable end to what he needed more than he needed his next breath.
“Tomas, please. I want you inside of me.” Her talons pierced the fabric of his pants, digging into his knees.
He bent forward and licked a path up her delicate spine. She shivered, and he watched goose bumps break out across her skin. He nipped at the edge of one shoulder blade, let her feel the sharpness of his fangs. “Oh, you’ll have me inside you, my mate.”
She stilled at the tone in his voice, no doubt sensing that he had something interesting in mind. The she-cat would be too curious to resist. He chuckled. Slipping his hand farther between her thighs, he thrust two fingers deep into her pussy. She moaned, the sound loud in their sitting room. He liked that, the feline within him fascinated by every detail of her. Her skin, the smell of her, the feel of her, her every reaction.
Twisting her nipples one at a time, he kept them hard little points that made her squirm the longer he played with them, the more sensitive they became. At the same time, he continued to shove his fingers into her wet sex. Every cry of his name, every one of her little movements, made fire burn in his veins. It took every ounce of his control to keep a grip on the wildness inside. Her body moved with his fingers, grinding down on his hand to increase friction. He pushed her hard and fast, felt the clench and release of her inner muscles, sensed when she was close to orgasm.
And then he stilled his movements.
The feline screech of a Panther ripped out of her. “Don’t stop!”
“I’m not stopping.” He drew his fingers from her pussy and trailed them to her ass. Teasing that tight pucker, he slipped one finger in, using her own slickness to ease his path. He moved back and forth between her two channels until he could slide three digits into her. “I’m just getting started.”
“Yes, yes, please, yes.” She shoved her hips back to take him, her pussy growing even wetter for him, her excitement a heady aphrodisiac that drove him to the edge of sanity.
He needed her. Now. Right now. He couldn’t wait. Jerking his hands from her body, he clasped her hips and guided her backward until his cock pressed to her anus. With inexorable pressure, he forced the head of his dick into her ass.
“Tomas.” The sound was little more than a guttural hiss, and he could sense how close the Panther was to the surface, how she struggled to control it. He liked that she grappled with the same instincts he did.
Working his cock deeper into her anus, he groaned at the tightness of her channel closing around his shaft. It was almost too narrow for him, but it felt fucking amazing. He brought both hands up to circle her nipples, and she choked on a sob. He could feel her muscles shaking, and he decided to increase her torment.
Gliding one palm down, he rubbed a finger over her hardened clitoris. She jerked against his hold each time he swept over the bundle of nerves. “Why aren’t you moving?”
“You move, Ciri. Ride me.” He eased away from touching her clit, just teasing her unless she arched forward to increase the contact. She did, of course, and they both cried out at the sensation.
She followed his lead, pressing into his stroking fingers, working herself faster and faster on his cock. Sweat slid down his skin, and he lifted his hips to drive himself deeper into her ass. The leather couch creaked under their weight, adding to the carnal symphony they created together. The sounds she made each time she forced herself down on his cock made him shudder, barely able to hold on to control.
“I’m going to . . .”
“Come,” he ordered, pressing down directly on her clit and shoving his dick inside her. She screamed and her inner muscles closed around him. He kept stroking her, kept thrusting into her ass. Her body heaved each time he flicked a finger over her clit. “Don’t stop moving until I tell you to. Come for me again.”
Her hair fell forward as she bowed her back to work herself harder on his cock. The movement revealed the mate mark on her nape—the only scar that a Panther could keep. Sleep healed them of all other wounds. The magic of their race didn’t grant them longer life than a regular human, but it did guarantee them extraordinarily good health for the years they had. Ciri’s back arched, and possession swamped him. His. She wore his mark. She was his in the most fundamental claiming of their kind.
The thought made him explode. His body locked in a tight line and he jetted come into her ass. He pinched her clit hard, and she sobbed, shaking as another orgasm thrummed through her. The clench of her muscles around his cock just dragging the sensations out for him. It was perfect. Being with her like this was the only time in his life when everything felt right, when he didn’t have to fight to prove himself.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last beyond the time it took reality to return and all the problems to resurface and begin nagging at the back of his mind. He sighed as his high crashed. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his forehead between her shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, that was good.”
He chuckled, kissed her soft skin. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“Didn’t you?”
Purring softly, he repeated her own words to her. “You can’t tell?”
Whatever she might have said was drowned out when the cell phone in his pocket blasted out a loud samba. He released her and dropped his head back against the couch. It was a repeat of earlier. “Shit.”
“Don’t pick up the phone.” The soft plea in her voice broke his heart.
“I won’t.” He sighed, stroking a hand down her naked back. “But you know Father will just call back.”
“I know. Just forget I said anything. I’m sure whatever he wants is more important than this.” She lifted herself off of his lap as the phone stopped ringing. The silence would only be temporary. He pushed to his feet, tossing aside what remained of his clothes.
Twirling her into a dance as the phone began the samba again, he spun her into the bedroom. “I’m not going to forget about it. We’re going to talk. After we have a shower.”
“Argue, you mean.” She clutched at his shoulders when he dipped her backward over his arm.
“If that’s what it takes.” Better than her being upset and hiding it behind a wall of insufferable calm. He rolled his hips in a dance move, then swung them both around until they reached the bathroom. The tiles were a cold shock against his feet. “Let’s get cleaned up first, then we’ll worry about other things.”
She didn’t want to fight.
They stood under the hot spray of water, washing away reminders of the sex they’d had on the couch. What she wouldn’t give to go back to that uncomplicated moment. That seemed to be all she wanted—less complication. She didn’t see why that was so wrong.
The water ran down her body, and she couldn’t help but recall this was her third shower of the day. After she’d left Tomas in his office, she had run into Isabel, who noticed something was wrong and dragged her into the kitchens to have tea. Isabel’s domain was always a comforting place to be, and the other woman had a quietness that Ciri liked. While they were sipping tea together, Ben had joined them. Neither of them mentioned that she smelled of sex and fear. Instead, Isabel filled them with tea and sweets while Ben pulled out his laptop to show them the pictures he’d taken. It wasn’t as odd as she would have expected to have a non-shifter spend time with her. Gradually, she’d felt herself relax. While she was inside the mansion, at least, she was safe.
An hour later, she’d felt ready to take her shower and get some design work done. That always helped her feel calm and centered. But first, she’d had to have that bath. Her own stink had been driving her nuts.
At least this shower was for more pleasurable reasons, but that sense of serenity she’d sunk into had evaporated like steam. Because Tomas wanted to argue again.
Dropping her head back, she let the water rush through her hair and run down her face.
A low growl sounded from Tomas. “You look so sexy when you do that.”
She couldn’t help her laugh, pushing away a few locks of hair that clung to her cheeks and jaw. “You always look sexy. Especially wet and naked.”
A flush rose to her cheeks at her own bold words, but she’d found that he liked it when she spoke of her desire for him. She preferred to show him rather than tell him, so she stopped talking and started doing. If it kept the sweetness of their dinner together going a little longer, she wanted that. She wanted it badly. As badly as the Panther inside her wanted its mate. For once, she and the cat were in agreement.
Reaching forward, she set her hands on his muscular chest. Water matted the dark curls there, and she danced her fingers over them until she touched his flat nipples. They puckered for her and she grinned. He groaned. “Your fangs are showing, Ciri.”
“Are they?” Her smile widened and she ran her tongue down a sharp tooth. “Well, I will have to be very careful, won’t I?”
“Madras.” His hands shot out to brace himself on the slick tile walls when she bent forward to lick his nipples. She twirled her tongue around them one at a time, shaping her lips around them. The taste of his skin, the smell of him, was something she’d never get enough of. She closed her eyes, savoring him, and made certain he felt the scrape of her fangs on his flesh.
His hips jerked, and she groped blindly for his cock, knowing she’d find him hard and more than ready to take her. Moisture gathered between her thighs, and the shower spray running down their bodies only accentuated the anticipation thrumming through her.
“My turn,” he rasped. His hands closed over her shoulders, jerking her upright. “I couldn’t take any more.”
Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he bit her hard. She jolted in shock, tingles exploding down her skin as her entire body reacted to the pleasured pain. His fingers slid down to cup her hips, pulling her up until she had to wrap her legs around his waist. Every inch of her was plastered against him, the water sealing them together.
Her nipples rubbed his chest, the hair there stimulating her sensitive flesh. He turned to press her back to the slippery wall, lifting her higher until his cock nudged the lips of her pussy. Her sex fisted, her desire ratcheting up.
“Fuck me, Tomas.” She moaned, her head rolling against the wall. “Now.”
He laughed, the sound strained. “As you wish.”
Gravity would have impaled her on him, but that wasn’t good enough for them. She tightened her legs on him as he thrust upward. Crying out as he filled her to the limit, she felt her muscles clamp down on his thick length. So right. So perfect. Her flesh was already swollen from his use earlier, and if she hadn’t been so wet for him, it might have hurt.
Slipping her fingers into the silk of his hair, she used her superhuman strength to jerk his head up for a kiss. He snarled, gold flickering in his eyes, shimmering beneath his skin, the Panther showing through on his handsome face. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, grazed it with her fangs. His movements inside her carried the same amount of ferocity as her kiss. She shoved her tongue into his mouth, and he hammered his cock into her pussy. The feel of his claws digging into her hips sent shivers racing over her skin.
The shower’s steam wrapped around them, caressed them, and beads of hot water cascaded down their writhing bodies. It turned her on more, drove her ever closer to the edge. Tomas filled her again and again, the angle making him hit her G-spot every time. She hissed into his mouth, the Panther struggling for freedom. She knew her eyes would have burned to the same gold as his, both of them just short of feral.
She tilted her hips up, letting his thrusts grind his pelvis against her clit. The increased stimulation was enough to spin her into oblivion. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, one huge pulse that made her scream at the intensity of it. The sound was more cat than woman. Her orgasm continued, each convulsive wave dragging her toward the most animalistic side of her nature.
Hilting his cock inside of her, he rotated his hips and came hard. A growl ripped from him, his talons scoring her hips as his grip turned painful. “Ciri!”
They were shaking when it was over, the water still pouring over them. He reached out and turned off the shower. She let her forehead rest on his broad shoulder and panted, her heart pounding in her ears. The power of their coupling always took her breath away, stunned her with its force. She had never truly believed that sex was better with a mate until the first time Tomas had touched her.
Cradling her close, he carried her out of the shower and set her on the end of their long marble vanity. The cool stone made her shiver, but it also felt good. She leaned against him as he used a soft towel to dry them both. It was wonderful to have his tender ministrations, his sweet attention. Something that was so rare, but had typified the first weeks of their courtship. Hot tears welled in her eyes at the thought, pain spilling into her heart. She swallowed hard and pressed her face to his chest so he wouldn’t notice. She wanted nothing to interrupt this moment.
As if on cue, the sound of his cell phone carried through the bathroom door. A human might not have picked up on the noise, but she was a shifter, and the ringing scraped across her nerves. Was it so much to ask that everyone leave them in peace for the night? Just one night! But, no, members of a leading family were always on duty.
She hissed at the second ring. “God, I hate that you can’t have a life outside of being the heir.”
She regretted the words the moment they fell from her lips. It would only start the fight she’d wanted to avoid.
Stiffening away from her, he met her gaze. “I can’t change who and what I am, Ciri.”
“But you expect me to!” Her temper flared and for once she couldn’t squelch it, couldn’t hide it. The upheaval of the day had broken through her carefully constructed sense of serenity.
His jaw tightened, a muscle beginning to tick there. “We’ve both had to deal with a lot of changes.”
Squelching the urge to scratch his eyes out for managing to remain calm when she could not, she spat at him, “And still, you’re not the one who has to change who and what they are.”
“What do you want me to do, Ciri?” Gold flickered in his eyes, belying his restrained tone.
She sniffed disdainfully, hopped down from the counter, grabbed the towel from his hand to wrap around herself, and spun away. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“Don’t do this.” He wrapped his fingers around her bicep, his grip almost painful. “Don’t turn away from me.”
Jerking at his hold, she gave a futile attempt at escape. He was a male feline, much stronger than her. She snarled at him, frustration shredding her control with Panther’s claws. “I haven’t done anything. Except mate with you.”
“And you regret that?” His question was flat, his expression going carefully blank. He released her, his hand wilting to his side. She hated that, hated herself even more for doing this to him. This was why she usually resisted arguing with him. He wanted the bad feelings out in the open, but what use was hurting each other more? It didn’t solve anything.
She swallowed hard and tried to pull herself back together, but her tone still had a bite. “I regret that I had to give up my whole life for a man who can’t spare an hour for me unless it’s in bed.”
He flinched, and she knew she’d hit her mark. “You know my work is important.”
The ugly bitterness that festered in her soul poured forth. “Yes, I do. The most important thing in your life.”
“The Prides are the most important thing.” He thrust his fingers through his wet hair, droplets flying through the air. “Without them for protection, we’d all be lost—scattered to the wind with no defense against humans discovering us and turning us into lab rats.”
She sighed and rested a hand against the bathroom doorjamb. “Right now, I feel like I’m lost even with them.”
“Ciri . . .”
“Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head, closing her eyes as the purest truth came out. “I just . . . didn’t realize before we were married how very different we are.”
His voice softened, but she could still sense his aggravation. “I had a lot less responsibility to deal with at the time. I wasn’t yet the Brazilian Pride heir, or Second in another Pride.”
“I know.” She compressed her lips, and just felt . . . sad. Meeting his gaze, she blinked back tears. “I know.”
A hint of desperation filled his voice, and his usual ardor animated his face. “We have a lot in common.”
Disbelief zinged through her. “Name something. Anything.”
“We love each other.”
She snorted, and she could tell that stung him. “What else? We value none of the same things. You love politics, and I want nothing to do with it. I love art, and you couldn’t tell a Monet from a Picasso if your life depended on it. You were born to power, and I was born as no one special. You’re Brazilian, and I’m Japanese. You’re progressive, and I’m a traditionalist.”
He shook his head. “We’re both driven by our work, defined by it, even. We value our families and want the best for them, for all Panthers. We just go about it in different ways.”
“That’s not a lot of common ground.”
“We can find more.” He threw his hands in the air.
“When are you going to make time for that?” She shrugged helplessly. “Do you plan to give up the three hours of sleep you get each day?”
He growled. “It would be easier if you could find some way to care for Pride politics.”
That foreign, terrifying rage stabbed through her again, and she flared back at him. “It would be easier if you weren’t a Pride heir, but it’s unlikely either of us will get what we want, is it?”
“This is important.” He gestured at the Pride den around them, his hands moving in sharp, jerky motions. “What I’m doing here affects so many people. It’s vital that I do well. This is important.”
The wilder his manner became, the more she withdrew behind her reserve. She just couldn’t relate to this fervent side of him. “I understand that, but that doesn’t mean I want to be the one to do it. There are other things that are important too, Tomas. Like our marriage, for example.”
“I’m not saying that’s not important.” He jammed his fists down on his hips, magnificent in his nakedness and anger.
She arched an eyebrow. “But it’s not worthy of your time or attention.”
“I won’t be Second forever.”
Dropping her forehead against the doorjamb, she sighed. “I know . . . but you said it would get better after you got used to being Second, it would get better after the first state visit, it would get better after, after, after.” She rolled her head so she could look at him. “It’s never going to get better, Tomas. There’s always going to be something. I know those somethings are important, but why isn’t what other people value important, too?”
“The Prides are the most important thing.”
“Okay.” She turned around and walked away, as she did from all their arguments. In the end, what else could she do? They were mated, but they really didn’t understand each other. They knew what was fundamental to the other, but many of those things were at odds. If they changed the very foundations of themselves, they would no longer be who and what they were. If they gave in to the other’s needs, would they still be mates?