Little mate. In front of people, of customers who would absolutely spread that around town.
“I don’t care. Let him go.”
“He called you pathetic-”
“I heard him.” I stepped between them, which was possibly the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Malachar’s chest was heaving. Hisclaws were out. His eyes were pure red, no gray left. “But you need to let him leave. Now.”
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t listen. Thought the wolf would win and I’d be watching a murder in my bookstore. His claws flexed. His jaw worked. The rumble in his chest got louder, vibrating through the air between us.
Then his eyes finally flicked to me. Met mine. And I saw the struggle there. Man versus beast. Control versus instinct.
“Please,” I said quietly.
The rumble died. His claws retracted slightly. The fur on his back receded, just a fraction.
He turned back to the finance bro, who was pressed against the door now, shaking. “You will leave,” Malachar said, his voice still rough. “You will not return. And if I ever hear that you have spoken ill of her or this place again, I will find you. Do you understand?”
The finance bro nodded frantically. Fumbled with the door handle. Nearly fell through it in his rush to escape.
The other customers followed immediately. One grabbed her purse and bolted. Another didn’t even bother picking up the books he’d been browsing.
The door slammed shut. The bell chimed once, too cheerful for the moment.
Silence.
Malachar stood there, breathing hard. Slowly, the red faded from his eyes back to that gray-red mix. The fur disappeared completely. His claws retracted until his hands looked almost human again.
Then he turned to me, and his expression shifted. Softened with concern.
“Are you well?” His voice had gone gentle. Those intense eyes roamed over me, checking for injuries that didn’t exist. “Did he touch you? Harm you in any way?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. My brain was trying to process about seventeen different things at once. The way he’d defended me. The way he’d almost lost control. How he was looking at me now, worry etched across his face. How my heart was racing, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else entirely.
“You’ve been sleeping outside my bookstore for five days,” I finally said.
He blinked. That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. “Yes.”
“In wolf form.”
“Yes.”
“People think you’re a rabid dog. They’re scared to come in. You’re ruining my business.” I gestured at the now-empty store. “And you just scared away everyone who was actually here.”
Something flickered across his face. Hurt. “I was protecting you.”
“I don’t need protection from random customers!”
“He disrespected you.” His jaw tightened again, and I could see him fighting for control. “Insulted you. Called your place pathetic. You think I would allow that? You think I would stand by while someone speaks to you in such a manner?”
“You almost shifted in the middle of my bookstore! You threatened him! Those people saw you!” I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands. “That man is probably calling the cops right now. Or posting about the psycho at Woods & Pages on every social media site. Or both.”
“I do not know what those things are.” Malachar crossed his inked arms over his bare chest. The movement made his wounds pull, and I saw him wince slightly before he masked it. “But if he brings human authorities, I will explain that he was harassing you. Surely your King isn’t a tyrant. And if he is, I’d gladly challenge him for you.”
I was speechless.
“You can’t explain anything! You’re supposed to be in another dimension! You’re not supposed to be here at all!”
“Yet here I stand.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Because you called me. Because you are my mate. And mates protect each other. That is how bonds work. That is what it means to be mated.”
