Page 12

Chapter

Eleven

M ia's fingertips tingled with adrenaline as she moved toward the door, hyperaware of Jim's presence behind her. Even weakened from his ordeal, she could feel his tension radiating across the room—a palpable wave of concern mixed with something darker. Possession. The need to protect what was his.

What he thought was his, she corrected herself, even as her wolf purred at the idea.

"Let me handle this," she whispered, not turning back. If she looked at Jim now, saw the exhaustion he was trying to hide, the blood he'd shed revealing truths, she might do something stupid. Like tell Matthews to go to hell.

Jasmine moved silently to the kitchen, casually placing herself near the knife block. Beatrice retreated to the shadows, for once suppressing her natural effervescence.

With a deep breath that did nothing to calm her racing heart, Mia opened the door.

Matthews stood on her porch like something out of a dream.

Moonlight turned his silver-blond hair to liquid mercury, highlighting the aristocratic cut of his cheekbones.

His charcoal suit fit him like it had been painted on by an artist who understood exactly how to showcase masculine perfection.

In his hands, he held a small wooden box that gleamed with old-world craftsmanship.

"Alpha Lee," he smiled, and damn it, it was a good smile. Warm, genuine-seeming, with just a hint of concern. "I hope I'm not intruding."

His scent hit her—clean pine and winter storms, with something underneath that made her pulse quicken. Not the wrongness she'd noticed before, but something else. Power. Pure, undiluted alpha power that called to her wolf in ways that made her uncomfortable.

"Not at all," Mia lied, carefully positioning herself to block his view of the interior. "Just having a quiet evening with friends."

Matthews' eyes—striking ice-blue that seemed to see straight through her—flickered past her shoulder. His pupils dilated slightly, and she knew he'd spotted Jim. Something dangerous flashed across his perfect features before being replaced by polite interest.

"How wonderful. I've always admired your pack's... inclusiveness." The pause was deliberate, but somehow he made it sound admiring rather than condescending. "So different from the Northern territories."

"What brings you here at this hour, Alpha Matthews?" Mia kept her voice steady, even as her skin prickled with awareness. He was standing close enough that she could feel his body heat, smell the subtle cologne that probably cost more than her car.

He lifted the wooden box, his movements graceful and controlled. "A peace offering. After the unpleasantness at the party, I wanted to ensure there were no misunderstandings between us." His voice dropped to a more intimate register. "May I come in? This is rather... personal."

The last thing Mia wanted was him in her space, but refusing would be both rude and weak. She stepped aside, trying not to notice how he moved—like a big cat, all coiled power and deadly grace.

Matthews entered, and the cabin suddenly felt smaller. He dominated the space not through size but through sheer presence. His gaze swept the room, lingering on each occupant before returning to her.

"Ms. Keene, Ms. Everly." He nodded politely, then his attention fixed on Jim. "And Mr. Miracles. How unexpected."

Jim pushed himself to his feet, and Mia's heart clenched at the effort it took him. But he stood tall, meeting Matthews' gaze without flinching. "Matthews. Fancy meeting you here."

The air between the two men crackled. Matthews was everything Jim wasn't—pure-blooded, politically powerful, physically perfect. And yet Jim stood there in his torn shirt, still bearing traces of blood, and somehow made Matthews' perfection seem... hollow.

"I brought a gift," Matthews said, opening the box to reveal a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid that caught the firelight. "A hundred-year-old scotch from my family's private reserve. I thought we might share a drink. Get to know each other better."

The way he said it, looking directly at Mia, made it clear this wasn't about pack politics. This was personal. Courting.

Her wolf bristled, and behind Matthews, she saw Jim's hands clench.

"That's very generous," Mia said carefully.

"Not at all." Matthews moved closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

"I believe in being direct, Mia. May I call you Mia?

" At her nod, he continued, "We're both alphas.

Both leaders. We understand the weight of responsibility, the isolation of command.

" His voice dropped to something almost hypnotic.

"I think we could understand each other very well. "

The words were perfectly pitched, the offer genuine. Here was an alpha who could strengthen her pack, who understood her burdens, who was offering partnership and power. Everything a smart leader should want.

Her wolf snarled in rejection.

"I'll pour," Jim said suddenly, his voice cutting through the spell Matthews was weaving. "Since I'm already up."

Matthews' perfect composure cracked slightly. "How... considerate."

Jim moved between them with casual deliberateness, forcing Matthews to step back. The brief brush of Jim's body against hers sent electricity shooting through her system—a reminder of what real chemistry felt like.

"No glasses?" Matthews observed, recovering smoothly.

"I'll get them," Jasmine offered.

While she was gone, Matthews moved to the fireplace, studying the photos on Mia's mantel. "You've built something impressive here," he said, sounding genuinely admiring. "A female alpha, leading successfully. It's rare."

"Should it be?" Mia challenged.

He turned, smiling. "No. But that doesn't make it less remarkable." His gaze was warm, appreciative without being leering. "I've been watching you since I arrived. Your pack's loyalty, their prosperity, the way even the elders defer to your judgment. It speaks to exceptional leadership."

Despite herself, Mia felt a flutter of pleasure at the praise. It was so rare to have another alpha truly acknowledge her achievements.

"She doesn't need your validation," Jim said quietly, returning with glasses.

Matthews' smile sharpened. "Of course not. I merely observe what others might miss." He accepted a glass from Jim, their fingers deliberately not touching. "Tell me, Mr. Miracles, what brings a tattoo artist to compete for an alpha's hand? Surely you have... simpler options available."

The insult was silk-wrapped but unmistakable.

"Jim's hardly simple," Mia interjected before Jim could respond.

"No?" Matthews' eyebrow arched elegantly. "A turned wolf, struggling with control, abandoning his alpha for a year without explanation? Forgive me, but that seems... complicated at best."

Each word was a calculated strike. Mia felt Jim tense beside her, his control fraying.

"People make mistakes," she said evenly.

"Do they?" Matthews moved closer to her, his presence overwhelming. "In my experience, people show you exactly who they are. A wolf who abandons his pack once..." He shrugged eloquently.

"You don't know—" Jim started.

"I know enough." Matthews cut him off smoothly, never looking away from Mia. "I know that I would never leave. Never abandon someone I claimed to care for. Never make them question their worth."

The words hit their mark. Mia saw Jim flinch, saw the guilt and pain flash across his features.

"That's enough," she said firmly.

"Is it?" Matthews set down his untouched drink.

"We're all adults here. Surely we can speak truthfully?

" He moved even closer, close enough that she could see flecks of silver in his blue eyes.

"You deserve someone who stays, Mia. Someone strong enough to stand beside you, not behind you.

Someone the Council respects, who can strengthen your position rather than undermine it. "

Every word was true. Logical. Smart.

Her wolf wanted to rip his throat out anyway.

"The Council's opinion—" she began.

"Matters," Matthews interrupted gently. "Whether we like it or not. They're already questioning your... progressive attitudes. A proper mate could silence those doubts. Secure your legacy."

Behind him, Jim had gone very still. The kind of stillness that preceded violence.

"And you're offering to be that mate?" Mia asked directly.

Matthews smiled, devastating and sincere. "I'm offering to explore the possibility. Tomorrow's border patrol will give us time to... discuss the future. Without distractions."

His gaze flicked dismissively to Jim on the word 'distractions.'

That did it.

"Actually," Mia said, stepping deliberately away from Matthews and closer to Jim, "I'll have my beta handle the patrol schedules. As is traditional."

Something cold flickered in Matthews' eyes before being masked. "If you prefer. Though the Council specifically requested?—"

"The Council can request all they want," Jim cut in, moving to stand beside Mia. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel his heat and his scent. "Pack security remains pack business."

Matthews studied them both, his perfect features revealing nothing. Then he smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes.

"Of course. I apologize for overstepping." He moved toward the door with fluid grace. "I'll see you at tomorrow's challenge, Alpha Lee."

He paused at the threshold, looking back. "Oh, and Mr. Miracles? You might want to have that nose looked at. Still bleeding, I see."

Jim's hand went unconsciously to his face, finding the dried blood from his earlier ordeal.

Matthews smiled wider. "Temporal magic can be so... damaging. Even fatal, I'm told. Do be careful."

The threat was subtle but unmistakable. He knew. Somehow, he knew about Jim's condition.

Then he was gone, leaving only the lingering scent of winter and wrongness.

The moment the door closed, Mia sagged against Jim, who caught her automatically.

"You okay?" he murmured against her hair.

"He's not wrong," she admitted quietly. "On paper, he's perfect. Everything my pack needs."

Jim's arms tightened around her. "Paper doesn't keep you warm at night."

"Poetic," she said, but didn't pull away.

"I try." His voice dropped. "I wanted to kill him. When he moved close to you, when he?—"

"I know." She could feel the tension still thrumming through him. "I could smell it on you."

"Did you... were you tempted? Even a little?"

The vulnerability in his voice made her turn in his arms to face him. "By Matthews? He's handsome, powerful, and could solve half my political problems with a mating bite."

Jim's expression shuttered.

"But," she continued, reaching up to cup his face, "he doesn't make my wolf sing. He doesn't make me want to throw caution to the wind. He doesn't make me feel... anything."

"And I do?"

Instead of answering with words, she pulled his head down and kissed him. It wasn't gentle—it was claiming, demanding, a clear answer to every question.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Jim rested his forehead against hers.

"He knows about my time-slips," he said quietly.

"We'll figure it out," Mia promised. "Together."

From across the room, Beatrice stage-whispered, "Finally! The sexual tension was killing me!"

Despite everything, Mia laughed. But underneath the moment of levity, she knew Matthews' visit had been a declaration of war.

And wars between alphas rarely ended without blood.