Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Well, whatever the case,” began Havana, “I’m thinking Blair’s right that Livy’s chosen Bailey for Deke.”
Blair nodded, her eyes dancing. “Be warned, Bailey—Livy might be a submissive shifter, but she’s no pushover. That woman is as persistent as a damn wolverine, and she loves her children fiercely. If she has truly decided that you’re what Deke needs, she’ll stop at nothing to make sure he has you.”
“I’m kind of excited to see how this all plays out,” said Aspen, smiling and rubbing her hands together.
“It’s going to be fun,” Havana asserted, her mouth hitched up.
“Excuse me,” Bailey cut in, “but nothing is going to ‘play out.’ Even if you’re right that Livy’s up to something, it still won’t amount to anything. I’ll just tell her to back off, and she will.”
Giving Bailey a pitying look, Blair gently patted her on the head. “You’re so pretty.”
“Don’t make me burp in your face.” Catching movement from her peripheral vision, Bailey looked to see a tall, stocky figure stride into the bar. She tensed. She knew that walk. Knew that nape tattoo. Knew that scraggly haircut.
Bailey hissed right along with her inner serpent, who recognized him just the same. “That motherfucker.”
Havana stiffened. “Who?”
“Remember my cousin who died shortly before we joined the pride?”
The devil nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, he ain’t dead.” Bailey lurched to her feet. “He’s also standing right there.”
Setting three shot glasses down on the bar, the bartender sighed at Deke. “Whiskey is not going to help with your little problem.”
Deke wouldn’t consider touch-hunger “little,” but whatever. “I wouldn’t have thought that you cared.” He and Gerard didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
“I don’t.” The bartender gave a superior sniff. “I’m just stating what should be obvious.”
Well, of course Deke didn’t need telling that alcohol wouldn’t solve his issue. Only one thing would, and Gerard was the last person Deke would have expected to recommend it. “You’re actually urging me to sleep with a woman who isn’t Dayna?”
The other male usually gave him judgmental, disapproving looks—offended on her behalf, despite that she and Deke had an “understanding” where touch-hunger was concerned.
Gerard parted his lips to speak again. His words didn’t come out. His gaze slid to something behind Deke, and he then snapped his mouth shut.
Glancing over his shoulder, Deke almost groaned. Both his Alpha and Beta male were approaching, looks of resolve etched into their faces. And he knew they would once more pester him to “open up.” More, he knew his time for putting them off was over. He could see that in the hard sets of their jaw.
The bartender melted away as the two males closed in on Deke.
One hand splayed on the bar, Deke lifted a shot glass and then flicked his Alpha a brief look. “This isn’t the time or the place to have the conversation you want to have.” He knocked back his whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.
Luke snorted, propping his hip against the bar. “At no point has any time or place suited you when we’ve questioned you in the past.”
Fair point.
“We’re not going to let you blow us off, so don’t bother trying,” stated Tate. “I warned you that we’d only give you so much time to get your mental shit together.”
Inwardly cursing, Deke placed his glass on the bar.
“You haven’t been yourself lately. Then you got hit by touch-hunger. But instead of addressing it, you seem intent on ignoring it. Which makes no sense.” Tate folded his arms, his gaze steely. “Tell us what’s going on.”
Deke looked from one Devereaux male to the other. The brothers were very similar in appearance. Tall, dark, broad, and blue-eyed. Tate carried a little more muscle than his younger brother, but both were well-built. “You’re really gonna push me to talk about this here and now, at my dad’s birthday party?”
“Yes,” replied Tate. “Because it means you can’t leave and avoid our questions this time.”
Fuck, Deke should have anticipated that they’d corner him now. They were sneaky that way. He grabbed a waiting shot of whiskey from the bar and tossed it back.
Luke sighed. “No amount of alcohol is going to make the touch-hunger go away.”
“Helps take the edge off, though.” Cricking his neck, he set down his empty glass beside the other. Usually, he wasn’t much of a drinker. He’d knock back some beers while shooting the shit with his pride mates now and then, but that was pretty much it. Until recently. He’d take whatever relief from the touch-hunger he could get.
Generally, Deke could go seven months without sexual touch before it became an issue. Whenever touch-hunger had struck in the past, he’d instantly worked it off—sometimes it had taken days, sometimes it had taken weeks. But this time, he was having … difficulties alleviating it. As such, since it hit him a few weeks ago, his body had been in a constant edgy state.