hurt her last night. His parents had always found fault in him. Always criticized and lectured him for the slightest infraction. Mila hadn’t judged or slammed him. Hadn’t tossed him out on his ass, verbally struck back at him, or pushed him away. Instead, she’d left him to either walk out or clean up the mess he’d made. And then, having listened as he’d shared his secrets, she’d demonstrated a level of understanding and compassion—not pity, which he couldn’t have taken—that no one else had ever given him.
That was one of the things about Mila that had always made him feel comfortable around her, he realized. She accepted people for who they were—accepted their good points and bad points. Never expected them to be anything else. Never expected perfection. Never expected more of them than what they could give.
Dominic needed that acceptance. Having someone who cared for him exactly as he was . . . he’d never had that before. He wanted to cling tight to it.
“Kiss me,” he whispered. She gave him her mouth—no hesitation, no defiance. The kiss was soft, deep, drugging. And he soon had her flat on her back, spreading her legs wide for him. He took her slow and hard, gave her no reprieve. When they were both close to shattering, he snarled, “Mark me again, Mila. On my throat this time, where everyone can see it.” The moment her teeth closed around his flesh, he came with a growl of her name.
Her parents popped in to check on Mila just before she and Dominic were about to head to Phoenix Pack territory. Both Valentina and James were delighted to see that the imprinting process had started, and Mila could tell that they intended to take full credit for the fact that she and GQ were together. Yeah, her parents’ little plot had certainly paid off.
As all four of them were leaving her apartment, James whipped out his cell to call Ingrid and pass on the news. And seeing how fast her mother was dashing up the stairs to her apartment, Mila just knew that Valentina was intending to call her own mother.
“Ingrid is quite the Chatty Cathy,” Mila told Dominic as they descended the stairs. “So it won’t be long before the entire pride knows we’re partially imprinted.”
He squeezed her hand. “Good. The sooner everyone knows, the better.”
“How do you think your pack will feel about it?”
He pursed his lips. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether they bet it would happen sooner or later. They won’t like losing a bet. Still, they’ll be happy for us.”
Her brow furrowed. “Surely they wouldn’t bet on something like that.”
“That’s just—” Dominic cut off as a familiar unwelcome scent drifted to them. And then, just as they turned to descend the next stairwell, they saw Joel coming toward them. Dominic’s wolf stood to his full height, his upper lip curling.
“Hey, Mila, it’s good to see that you’re—” Joel’s nostrils flared, and he came to an abrupt halt, obviously having detected that Mila and Dominic were wearing each other’s scents.
Joel looked at Dominic and sighed. “Guess I was wrong in thinking you weren’t serious about her.” His gaze cut to Mila, and his expression softened. “I’m glad I was wrong. You deserve to be happy.”
“Does that mean you’ll start being civil toward Dominic now?” Mila asked him.
Joel’s mouth curled. “Let’s not ask for miracles. I’m assuming this means you’re not moving to Russia.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Dominic cut in. As far as he was concerned, it was only a matter of time before they were fully imprinted on each other.
Joel gave a curt nod. “Good. Well, I can see you’re going somewhere, so I’ll be off. Take care of her, wolf.” Brushing past them, he jogged up the stairs.
Quite frankly shocked that the male cat hadn’t voiced any objections, Dominic frowned as he and Mila continued down the stairwell. He waited until Joel was out of earshot before saying, “I didn’t expect that.”
“He only disapproved of you because he thought you were a user like my ex,” explained Mila. “Now that he knows I matter to you, he’s okay with it.”
Some part of Joel had needed to know that his predestined mate would be cared for. Dominic understood. Still . . . “I expected jealousy.”
“He’s devoted to Adele. Anything he feels for me is purely platonic. I know it might seem strange that someone could feel nothing romantic for their true mate, but—to put it simply—the love he feels for Adele