at him. “I live with her. I don’t need to hear about her from you.”
Finn shrugs, giving up way too easily. “If you say so. Say—wanna have lunch?” He meets my gaze, lets me hold it without turning aggressive or defensive.
My jaw tics. I want to say no. But I am hungry. And more than that—I want to see Susan.
Heath Ledger’s smile in the Batman movie is less unsettling than Finn’s grin. “That’s a yes. Follow me. I know just where to seat us to get the waitress we both want.”
A violent growl rips up from my throat—not a play-sound like tumbling pups will make. Not a threat noise a wolf makes to warn his opponent.
It’s the most dangerous, most serious noise a werewolf can make. It’s the You’re threatening my mate growl.
And Finn’s grin turns feral.
“I. Feckin’. Told you!” he crows. He makes a tsk-tsk cluck of his tongue, drawing his chin to his neck and giving me a knowing look. “Susan is your anamchara!”
The last word rolls so nicely off his tongue. Ah-nehm kahrr-uh. It sounds mildly interesting in his accent; not earth-shaking—and boy is that misleading.
Anamchara is the Gaelic word for soulmate.
CHAPTER 26
LUCAN
Lunch is eventful. Finn restrains himself and doesn’t flirt with Susan at all—but customers do.
Customers flirt a lot.
Finn has to grab my arm, growl at me, and at one point, trip me and pin me to the floor. Sure, he could just make me leave, but he’s letting me stay to prove a point.
Susan isn’t just a nice woman I’m helping out.
Susan isn’t simply a friend.
I’ve helped lots of women. I’ve made friends with lovely women from packs all over the world. I’ve slept side by side with just about every female that’s ever visited our dens and gone on family hunts.
Yet I’ve never felt the same bone-deep attraction to any one of them like I do for Susan.
And I’ve never become territorial over a woman. Not until now. Not until her.
Finn’s right. She’s my mate.
I’m not leaving her when she’s done with me.
The problem with that is, at some point, Maggie’s going to grow up. She’s not going to need to be watched after anymore. And then it’s just going to be awkward to refuse to leave Susan’s house.
“I have to tell her,” I say raggedly, spittle sticking to the side of my mouth in the form of foam. I thrashed for a good minute and a half when the last guy pressed his tip—in the form of folded bills—into Susan’s cleavage. Finn had to call out to everybody not to worry, that I was just having a seizure.
The distraction had actually helped Susan. She was having trouble smiling her thanks at the customer. Her face had been such a mixture of disbelief and discomfort and forced politeness as he shoved his fingers between her glorious tits.
My ‘seizure’ gave her the opportunity to redirect her attention away from the guy without causing offense. She may not love me, but she likes me—yet she was visibly relieved to rush away from him to come and check on me.
I would have killed that man.
Then I wanted to kill Finn for stopping me.
(Rooker, bless him, separated himself from the shadows along the wall and hauled the customer off to have a word.)
Finn stops me now, again. “You will not tell her,” he orders.
Instantly, I lock up. A submissive bound to the will of an alpha.
Guts chilling with horror, I throw him a look of unadulterated disbelief. “Take it back!”
Finn isn’t playing anymore. And he drills his most serious alpha stare directly into my eyes. “No. You don’t know Sue yet the way I do because you haven’t hit on her like I have.”
He catches me and forces me back into my seat, stopping my fist before it connects with his face. “Nuh-uh,” he says, fangs flashing, “I let you get one in earlier for Sue’s honor. Now it’s time for you to listen.”
Unable to do anything but, I drop my gaze to the scarred tabletop and bare my teeth.
“I can’t believe you put her in this position,” I growl.
“Oh, I wouldn’t think you’d have any complaints about her position,” he muses, turning his head sideways to better ogle her from the back as she leans across a table to deliver someone’s food.
His hand clamps on my shoulder and shoves me down. His other hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my growl. “Sue’s fucked in the head,” he declares without preamble. He doesn’t even sound strained as he