“That’s just a pack rule,” he says, once he’s collected himself. “People claim partners without being mated all the time. I’ll release my claim when you’re in the clear. It’ll be fine.”
“That’s stupid,” I mutter.
He pauses to lick the leftover cheese from his fingers.
“What is, pack rules?”
“No,” I say, trying not to vomit as I pass him a few napkins. “Claiming a partner. What’s the point if you’re just going to be hit with a mate bond at some point?”
Elliot shrugs as if he’s never really thought about it.
He probably hasn’t.
Too busy sourcing his own rotating supply.
But before I can dismiss him as the brainless man-whore I know him to be, he states matter-of-factly, “People get lonely.” Then, with a bit more of his usual cheek, he adds, “Not you, or me. But other people. You know, the ones with hearts?”
He winks at me, and I abandon the fry in my hand to throw it at him.
It hits him smack dab in the middle of his forehead, leaving a little salt stamp between his brows, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing as he presses a hand to the wound.
He makes a show of checking for blood before selecting a weapon of his own and launching it across the table.
For a brief moment, I think he’s going to miss, then I watch as the french fry arches up and over, landing perfectly upright between my breasts.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Elliot says, leaning forward, tongue hanging half out of his mouth. “Let me get that for you.”
My hand comes across his face. Hard enough he rears back, but not hard enough to wipe the stupid grin off.
He leans back in his chair, holding a hand to his cheek and smiling from ear to ear.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’m not kissing you.”
He chuckles softly.
“We’ll see about that.”
Chapter6
Oliver St. Grey is Lucky He's Dead
ELLIOT
Can you die from boredom?
My mother told me I couldn’t, but I’m starting to think she was lying.
We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour, and Dame’s been talking for nearly forty minutes.
At first, I thought it was just me. I don’t do well in pack meetings. Too many people, too much talking. I’d rather have my tail cut off than sit here for more than five minutes. But I can see Kitty nodding off on the other side of Dame, and I’m almost positive I can hear snoring from somewhere in the back.
I knee him under the table when his voice begins to drone, hard enough that he jerks.
“Get to the point,’ I mouth.
“Oh, right,” he mutters, straightening. “All of that is to say that we have received an inquiry!”
Voices murmur around the room, and a few people sit up straighter in their seats.
