"Absolutely." I flash her my most wolfish grin. "And I have terrible taste. Ask Killian. Last time I went clothes shopping alone, I came back with leopard print everything."
"Leopard print is not your color," she sighs, setting her grimoire aside. "Your undertones are all wrong for it."
I blink, genuinely surprised. "Wait, I have undertones?"
"Everyone has undertones." She stands, stretching in a way that makes her shirt ride up, exposing a sliver of skin I immediately want to taste. "And FYI,allof them clash with animal print."
"See? You know fashion. I don't. Which is why you should come pick your own stuff before I buy you a wardrobe that'll make you look like a backup dancer in an '80s music video. An MC Hammer music video, to be exact."
She sighs, but it's the kind that means I've won. "Fine. I guess I could use some new things for work. Let me grab my purse."
"No need," I say, dangling my black card between two fingers. "Pack's treat."
Her face does that thing where she's torn between pride and practicality. "I don't need?—"
"It's not about need," I cut her off. "It's about want. And I want my mate to have nice things. Things that make her feel good. Things that aren't leftovers from her escape plan that still smell kind of like that douchebag who got his arm ripped off by Killian. What was his name again? Clives?"
"Kyle," she says dryly.
"Oh, that's right. Kyle. KyleStarbridge," I snort."Sounds like he's selling candles."
"Is this really about me smelling like Kyle?" she asks, folding her arms, but there's amusement in those intense blue eyes.
"And spoiling you," I answer. "But burning everything that asshole's ever touched would definitely be a bonus."
She laughs, shaking her head. "I hate to break it to you, but Kyle has touchedme."
My lip curls back at the reminder and my wolf snarls. We're usually on the same page. "Is he left-handed or right?"
Regina blinks. "Left. Why does that matter?"
"Cuz now I've gotta tear the other arm off," I answer.
She rolls her eyes. "You aresoridiculous."
She's happy, though. I can feel it. She likes that we protect her, that we want her to be ours and ours only.
It's still weird, feeling her emotions alongside my own. Good weird, though. Like discovering a new flavor of ice cream thatsomehow tastes exactly like what you've been craving your whole life without knowing it.
"Besides," I add, "Killian's family is loaded. Like, obscenely loaded. This shopping trip won't even register as a rounding error on his monthly statement."
She hesitates one more second before grabbing her jacket. "I'm paying him back eventually," she grumbles.
"Sure you are," I agree, knowing full well she won't. Not because she's not capable of it, but because Killian would rather tear his own arms off, too, than take money from our mate. And I'd give her everything too.
Not that I have as much as he does. Being more awesome doesn't pay that well.
As we head out to my Jeep, Regina pulls out her new phone—the one Killian got her after we discovered her ex and his wicked bitches were using the old one to harass her—and starts typing.
"What are you doing?" I ask, opening the passenger door for her.
"Telling the group chat where we're going," she says. "So they don't worry."
I snort. "They're gonna worry anyway. And probably try to meet us there. Turn the whole damn thing into a pack field trip."
She rolls her eyes, but there's fondness in the gesture. "They're not that bad."
"Wanna bet? Five bucks says Killian shows up within an hour claiming he 'just happened to be in the area.'"
