Page 35 of The Reluctant Mate (Shifters of the Three Rivers #5)

Chapter thirty-five

Sofia

B oth Derek and Lucian froze at the sound of my voice, their heads snapping toward me in perfect unison. The intensity of their combined stares nearly made me take a step back. If these two ended up fighting, there wouldn’t be a building left standing when they finished. I couldn’t have them fighting, wouldn’t allow it. Not over me.

“Sofia.” My name on Derek’s lips was a prayer, a plea, filled with such raw longing it made my chest ache. My breath hitched as I took him in—bloody but upright, his shirt torn in places to reveal tanned skin and the rippling muscles beneath. Blood spattered across his face only enhanced the dangerous angles of his features, the wild gleam in his stormy eyes. The very image of raw, untamed power. He looked every inch the lethal predator he was.

And for one wild, unbidden moment, all I could think was: He looks like mine.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice steadier than I expected.

He frowned, as if my question made no sense whatsoever. “I’m here for you.”

Maybe if I counted to ten, my head wouldn’t explode. I got to three—go me!—before my hands went to my hips, and I glared at him. “Is this a joke?”

“A joke?”

“Yes, Derek, a joke.” I spread my arms wide and did a slow twirl. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, no thanks to you. I don’t need rescuing, I certainly don’t need your protection, and I definitely don’t need you .”

“Sofia.” His voice held more than a hint of warning, like I was the one being unreasonable.

“Don’t ‘Sofia’ me, Derek Shaw. You’ve got some balls showing up here.”

Nerve! I meant nerve! Why did I have to say balls ?

His lips twitched into that infuriating smirk—the one that made him look like he could hear every deranged thought in my head—then he spread his hands in a placating gesture.

“Let me explain.”

My head really was going to explode. Right here. Right now. Gray matter splattered across Lucian’s fight club.

“No explanation necessary, Derek. You gave me a mind-blowing orgasm…” I hesitated for a heartbeat, realizing I’d just announced to the entire fight club that Derek had given me a mind-blowing orgasm, but powered on, too angry to care right now. “Then left me without explaining shit. I’ve got the hint. It took me long enough, I admit. And me being a slow learner is definitely something I’m going to work on,” preferably somewhere hundreds of miles from him, “but while it may seem important to you right now, rehashing the most embarrassing times in my life is not what I had in mind today.”

His face darkened, and he looked even more pissed off, something I didn’t think was even possible.

“Most embarrassing times?”

“Ah, so you do listen when I speak. Maybe with your next…” mate —no, I was his only mate, damn it— girlfriend ? that didn’t sound right either, “sex bunny…” Oh Goddess, had I just called myself a sex bunny ? I pushed through the blush I could feel scorching up my face. “When she says ‘no, don’t tie me up so I’m all helpless for the scary-ass hunters to find,’ you might consider listening to her.”

“And maybe if I thought you actually trusted me so when I told you to do something, you’d do it without making it into a five-act production with step-by-step reasoning delivered on paper, I wouldn’t need to tie you up just to get you to stay in the one place I thought you’d be safe.”

There was a pause, broken only by the sound of one of the men on the floor groaning. Then I stepped forward, closing the space between us in two swift strides, and swung my fist with every ounce of strength I possessed. The impact was sharp, jarring, my knuckles connecting with the hard edge of his jaw. Pain flared through my hand as the force of the punch sent Derek’s head snapping back.

Derek took an audible breath in, and a long, measured breath out. Then he touched his lip with the back of his hand, studying the fresh blood there with almost clinical detachment. His eyes weren’t angry when they looked back up at me. No, they were soft with something I couldn’t place.

“I deserved that.”

Damn fucking right he did.

“Let me… let me explain everything.” His eyes searched mine. “Please, Sofia.”

It was the “please” that made me hesitate. I’d never heard Derek say please to anyone. His usual idea of negotiation was a well-timed growl and a death stare that made most people in the Pack check their life insurance policies.

Lucian’s eyes flickered toward me. “Your choice.”

My choice. He was asking if I wanted to talk to Derek or if I wanted Lucian to throw him out. Or try to, anyway. I glanced around at the carnage scattered across the floor, men still groaning and clutching various broken parts of themselves. There’d been enough fighting for one night.

“Fine.” The word came out clipped, reluctant. “You got ten minutes.”

If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, hadn’t been so painfully attuned to every micro-expression that crossed his face, I might have missed the way Derek’s shoulders softened—a fraction, no more. He straightened immediately, muscles re-engaging like armor sliding back into place, but I had felt the shift in him, anyway. He really had been ready to fight his way through everyone to reach me.

Lucian’s expression was unreadable, but he gestured to the side, where Darla stood with her arms crossed.

“Take them upstairs,” Lucian said simply. “I’ll deal with getting this mess cleaned up.”

She didn’t acknowledge the order verbally, just gestured for Derek and me to follow with a sharp jerk of her chin.

I could do this. Ten minutes of Derek Shaw, then he would be out of my life for good. I could endure anything for ten minutes. No problem. None at all.

The lights flared to life, harsher than before, as I trailed after Darla and Derek across the ruined floor of the fight club. Men lay scattered in twisted shapes, some moaning quietly, others unconscious. The scent of sweat and blood, threaded through with adrenaline, pain, and fear, was strong, a metallic tang that stung the back of my throat. Derek didn’t seem fazed by any of it; didn’t so much as glance down at the damage he had wrought.

Darla led us up to Lucian’s office, pushing open the heavy wooden door and waving us inside with a gesture that managed to be both casual and commanding. She paused in the doorway, her eyes narrowed as she took in Derek’s blood-spattered form before her gaze came to rest on me.

“Want me to stay?”

Yes.

“No,” I said. “I can handle him.”

Darla studied me for a beat longer. “Call if you need anything.” She threw a parting glare at Derek—a silent promise to inflict violence if he stepped out of line—and strode out, the door clicking softly behind her.