Rook grabs me by the arms, holding me in place. “I won’t let that happen.”
“I can’t fucking shift, Rook!” I exclaim. “I can’t win against her like this.”
The selfish bitch played a good hand, one she knew she would win.
He pulls me into him, his arms tightening around me and forcing me to focus on him instead of the alarm bells going off in my head. “Listen to me. I won’t let that happen, okay?”
“You can’t do anything, Rook,” I point out. “Once a formal challenge has been made, no one is allowed to step in.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he says. “I’m not going to let her touch you.”
I raise my hand to let my fingers run over his scratchy cheek. “If you intervene, she can go to the shifter council about it. They could rule in her favor and give her the lounge anyway. You can’t do anything, Rook. I have to face her.”
His expression turns furious, and his hands drop away from me as he turns and runs his fingers through his electric hair. “You expect me to just do nothing?”
“You’ve done it before,” I point out. His head whips around, and he pins me with a stony stare. Guilt flips my stomach over. “Sorry. That was a low blow,” I mumble. “I’m just...freaking out. And we both know you can’t do anything to stop this. Not without jeopardizing everything you have.”
Silence stretches between us, and I know he’s just as worried as I am. His hands are buried in his pockets, and I can easily see the strain around his tightened eyes.
I need to face this and not freak out, because he’s freaking out, and me being on edge isn’t helping. If I don’t show him that I can face her, then he’ll do something stupid like kill her, and then the council will be on his ass. That’s the last thing I want to happen to him. After watching him and his lounge for the last several days, I’ve seen how good of an alpha he is to his people. I won’t let him throw it all away because I’m in a panic and he wants to protect me.
I take a steadying breath. I’m gonna fake it till I make it. “Alright. It’s fine. I can handle her.”
“Sinclair,” he says, exasperated.
“What? I totally can,” I defend. “You think I can’t?”
“If you could shift into your beast? Yes. But that’s not the case. I can’t just let you face her challenge and get yourself hurt or killed. You’re my fucking mate!”
“Yeah, I am.” I stalk over to him and point a finger into his chest. “And guess what? If other lounges find out that I was issued a challenge and you stepped in for me, what do you think will happen?”
He clenches his fists.
“Exactly,” I go on. “They’ll think I’m weak. That we’re weak together. If I don’t face her, I’ll get inundated with so many challenges I won’t be able to catch a break until someone takes over this lounge.” I graze my hand down his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I have to do this, Rook. You and I both know it.”
Pissed off, he stalks over to a vase that’s probably super expensive and chucks it against the wall. “Fuck!” he shouts as it shatters into a million pieces, his face murderous.
“You’re cleaning that up,” I tell him pointedly.
He narrows his eyes at me. “I have staff.”
“It’s not your poor staff’s fault that you’re having a temper tantrum,” I tell him. “Now, when is she coming?”
“She’s already here,” he replies, before clenching his jaw.
Well...fuck.
Fake it, fake it, fake it.
I tamp down the anxiety and rush of adrenaline that are fighting for my attention. I need to think. I need to do what my mat can’t. I need to be logical and not let my emotions and pride guide my actions. There’s a way to deal with this, with her…I just need to figure it out.
The room is silent, and then an idea hits me. “Is she alone?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Okay. I need my phone,” I say matter-of-factly, heading through the doorway toward our bedroom so I can get dressed. The more confident I seem, the less likely he’ll be to totally lose his shit, break all the vases in the damn house, and kill my mat with his bare hands.
“How long can we make her wait?” I ask as I head into the closet and grab an outfit from the clothes that Rook had