instinctive ability to read people, no one argued with the family matriarch. But in Vicki’s case, Gran grew more and more intolerant. Hell, Vicki couldn’t even date without an interrogation anymore, and Sean wondered why she didn’t go out. Gran simply didn’t think any man Vicki brought home measured up.
But she’d been pleased when talking with Dom. What the hell was the old girl up to now?
Chapter Seventeen
Sean chose that moment to enter the kitchen. He glared at everyone, including the women with him.
Dom said in a quiet voice, “Diana, Kate, this is Vicki, Eric’s consort.”
Supposedly, Eric had informed everyone in the clan about her yesterday morning. She wondered why Dom felt the need to do so again with Diana and Kate.
The women nodded at her. Diana seemed a bit more friendly, though she focused most of her attention on Sean. Kate glared at her when Dom wasn’t looking. Her venom spoke volumes. Definitely not a fan of mine. Good. Maybe I can use that.
Vicki nodded back. “Sean, that’s Rule.” She pointed at Rule hovering by the counter. “The cook.”
“The only one who can cook,” Rule said with an arrogant sniff that made Diana and Kate smile.
To Sean, Diana said in a loving voice, “Sit down, honey, I’ll get you something to eat.”
Rule and Dom stared at her in shock, and even Kate blinked in surprise.
“No thanks,” Sean said with icy politeness. “I want to see the prime. Now.”
Vicki knew better to argue with Sean in this mood. It seemed even Diana sensed there’d be no reasoning with him. Using her inner sight to look at his aura, Vicki was dismayed to see it clouded with fatigue, uncertainty, and that same undeniable hunger that still raced inside her.
“Cut it out,” he growled at her, which had Dom and Rule, oddly enough, coming to her defense.
“Watch how you talk to Vicki,” Rule rumbled.
“Unless you want to lose your tongue and the head that goes with it,” Dom added. To her unease, he seemed to grow larger and hairier as he stared down at her cousin.
Sean stared into Dom’s eyes a minute too long, because Dom’s nails and teeth grew razor sharp. Diana took a step forward, seething with worry.
As if he realized he’d pushed as hard as he dared, Sean glanced away. “Sorry.”
He didn’t sound sorry, but he’d said it. Diana’s sigh of relief mirrored her own.
Vicki socked him hard on the arm.
“Ow.”
“Moron. Tone it down, would you? We’re not exactly at home,” she cautioned as Dom slowly resumed his more human form.
“It’s been a long weekend.” Sean glared at the women behind him but said nothing more.
Dom took charge. “You want to see the prime? Follow me. You too, Kate. Diana, stay here.”
Diana sat without protest and stared after Sean with longing. Clearly the female cared for him.
Pulling away from more drama she could do without, Vicki hurriedly followed the others out of the kitchen down a familiar path. Two Ravagers stood outside the conference room. She recognized one of them as Malcolm, the Ravager she’d knocked unconscious. They nodded to Dom in respect, and to her surprise, nodded to her as well. Malcolm added a wicked grin and a thorough appraisal as she passed by. She ignored a surprising flare of heat and glared.
Sean stood protectively at her back as they followed Dom into the conference room where the cracked table still sat.
She flushed at the result of her temper.
Reading her, Sean grinned, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice.”
“You two wait here. Kate, come with me.” Dom dragged her with him out through another door and handed her off to someone else. After a few words, he shut the door behind him and gestured at the table. “Please, sit.”
“Sure, let’s be civilized about this,” Sean said, sarcasm evident in his tone. “Look, Savage. Vicki and I have a business to run. We aren’t marked, no matter what the fuck Diana and you think.” Sean looked at Vicki, his expression darkening when he saw the bruise on her throat, one that appeared a mirror image of the one he’d had yesterday on his own neck.
“It’s not a matter of thinking it, Sean. It’s done.” Dom shrugged. “Our chemical stimulant has already entered your bloodstreams. You feel the psychic press upon your senses, the roar of guer that boils beneath your skin unless you satisfy the cravings.” Much of what Dom said made little sense, but the intensity of his words intrigued her. “That wildness needs to feed. You’re