REID POV
“Good morning, Imogen,” Sebastian says, but his gray eyes are looking at me.
And he definitely emphasized the word “morning.”
“Morning!” Imogen chirps, chipper as fuck.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks, this time emphasizing the word “sleep.”
I glare at him, my jaw set. This mother fucker. Goading me. Poking at me. Gloating.
“Fantastic, actually,” Imogen tells him, oblivious to the stare down happening between Seb and me. “Oh! Do you know what brand of mattress you use?” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder at the bed. “I asked Reid, but he’s clueless.”
“I do not know,” Sebastian says, sipping his coffee.
“Oh, that’s fine,” she says, waving him off and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll just ask Haven. See you later!”
With that, she prances away, leaving me to face my worst nightmare by myself.
“Sleepover, huh?” Sebastian says, taking another sip of his coffee.
My fists clench to stop myself from smacking that steaming hot mug of coffee into his stupid, smug face. He just watches me over the rim, his eyes flicking to the muscle twitching in my jaw and the vein pulsing in my forehead.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, though. I just walk away, heading down the hall to the back door of the packhouse.
“Where are you going?” Sebastian asks, his footsteps echoing mine as he follows me.
“Gym,” I grunt. “I want to get a workout in before we lead training later,” I tell him.
“I’ll join you,” he says, gulping down the rest of his coffee and dropping the mug off in the kitchen on our way through the house.
I grit my teeth and hold in a groan. That’s the last thing I want. The last thing I need. Especially when he’s the reason I need to work out some aggression in the first place.
I was hoping to imagine his face was the punching bag. I suppose his actual face is a much better alternative. But if he’s there, that means listening to his taunts for most of the morning. Or he may choose to go the silent route, baiting me to bring it up on my own.
He sticks his hands in his sweatpants pockets as we cross the lawn dusted with snow, his face turning towards the rays of the bright sun. The sun will melt the little dusting of snow we had last night before lunchtime, but it’s only a matter of time before it sticks, and we have a winter wonderland. Which is what Haven is hoping to have for the wedding in just a few weeks.
Seb breathes out, making little cloudy puffs of condensation in the air, and I make a face. He’s either oblivious to the tension building inside me, or he’s intentionally using his lack of words to get a rise out of me and put me on edge.
Who am I kidding? It’s definitely the latter. It’s what Seb does.
He just knows. He knows what makes others tick and knows how to get people to do what he wants. It’s how he lured me into all these stupid bets over the years, before I finally learned that betting against him on anything was the worst idea ever. It’s how he knew that the only way Haven would give Wes a chance was if she saw how important she always was to him, as opposed to being told.
And right now, he’s trying to get me to acknowledge my failing, my shortcoming, trying to get me to admit that I, once again, lost the bet. He’ll just be all silent and smirky and smug, never saying “I told you so” but thinking it just beneath the gleam in his eyes.
Well, two can play that game. If he’s not going to bring it up, then I won’t either. He thinks his silence will annoy me, will make me blurt it out and fess up and probably even beg him to let me off the hook. But I won’t let it get to me. I’ll just ignore him and his dumb face and his superiority. I’ll just use it as the fuel for my workout. I’ll make him be the one to talk instead of the other way around.
We reach the gym and change in silence, neither of us breaking. I know he’s waiting for it. Waiting for me to give in to the pressure he’s putting on me. His keen eyes watch me when he thinks I won’t notice. I yank the laces on my shoes a bit harder than normal, and Sebastian’s lip twitches, but I just continue on my merry way over to the indoor track.
Throughout our stretches, he watches me, still not saying a word. I clench my teeth and I’m sure my vein in my forehead is still pulsing, probably as large as a branch from the redwoods surrounding the pack, but I hold out.
I’m tempted to just start my run, but the importance of stretching before a workout is too ingrained in me, too much a part of my workout routine for me to just skip it. We may be werewolves and we may have advanced healing, but that doesn’t mean we’re immune to illness and injury. Just like our extended lifespan doesn’t mean we are immortal. We can still die. We can still be killed.
It was a reality I knew all too well.
“Run or spar first?” Seb asks once our warmup is complete, breaking the silence between us.
I stand there, hands on my hips and eyes pointed at the turf on the floor of the gym, waffling between the two. Do I want to pound his face first, or kick his ass in a race around the track first?
Both sound equally appealing, and both would bring me satisfaction, especially with the knowledge of what is coming. But if we race and then spar, I’ll get the extra enjoyment of ending my workout with a sparring pin, which at the moment sounds much more exciting than ending the workout with a racing win.
“Run first,” I grumble, and his lips twitch again, making that vein in my forehead pulse again. “Last one to finish five miles buys lunch,” I say, taking off before he can respond or get ready.
Too late, I realize my mistake. Too late, I realize I shouldn’t have uttered those words. But it seems I never learn. That, or I am a glutton for punishment.
Sebastian catches up to me with ease, not even breaking a sweat, using a speed I haven’t seen him use in almost 15 years. The speed he used that day he raced Alpha Wesley before Wesley shifted into his lycan almost six months before he should have.
“Goddess, damn it,” I grumble, picking up my pace to keep up with him.
How did I forget that Seb is a master deceiver? That he puts out the barest amount of effort needed for every workout or training or sparring match, but that in truth he is much stronger and more powerful than he lets on?
I’ll tell you how. Because I am too fucking cocky at times, that’s how.
I try my best to stay with him, but after the third mile, I have to tap out and slow my pace. I’m fuming by the time I finish mile five and join Seb at the water station. It’s my own damn fault, but that doesn’t make me any less mad. It probably makes me more mad.
I chug my water, then crush the cup in my fist, enjoying the sound of the crunching paper and the way it feels in my hand as it collapses. My face drips with sweat, a river of it running off the tip of my nose, but Sebastian is fresh as a mother fucking daisy, his forehead barely glistening with moisture.
“Still want to spar?” Sebastian chuckles as he sips his water, his eyes flicking down to the crushed cup in my hand.
No.
“Yes,” I grit out between my teeth as I move to wrap my hands before we spar.
Like I said, we heal quickly, but I prefer to not have bloody knuckles all the time.
I know I won’t win. But I am sure I can get some good hits in, so I can get at least some satisfaction from the feel of my fist meeting his face. Especially since he’s still giving me those smug looks, still obviously waiting for me to cave and bring up the bet.
But I won’t. I won’t give in. I won’t give him that satisfaction, give him something else to hold over me. His head doesn’t need to get any bigger than it already is. He’s too damn sure of himself in everything he does. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two.
I wish it could be me.
I shake out my muscles and roll my neck, stalking over to the sparring ring with Seb hot on my feet. I duck under the ropes and he hops over, stretching his arms across his chest and behind his back. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside. It’s soaked with sweat from my run and will be more of a hindrance while we’re sparring, sticking to my skin and making it easier for Seb to grab me.
Seb crouches down into a starting position and I launch myself at him, not even waiting for an acknowledgement that he was ready. I needed to get my hits on him in and let the frustration and annoyance out before he had a chance to take me down.
Of course, once again, I overestimate myself and underestimate Sebastian.
I get one hit in, square on his jaw. But then he gets the upper hand on me, putting me in a chokehold in seconds and taking me to the mat. I squirm and fidget and fight against him, but there is no point. He has me pinned.
I swear there is smoke coming out of my ears as I tap the mat and he releases me. I hop up to my feet and shake the loss off.
“You’re a little slow today,” Seb comments.
“I’m still warming up,” I retort, and then I pounce for him again.
“Maybe you should put in extra hours at the gym instead of trying to get laid so much.”
“Maybe you should try to get laid instead of making ridiculous bets with everyone all the time,” I shoot back.
His jaw ticks and he frowns, and I take my shot, shouldering him in the gut and taking him down to the floor. It was a cheap move, but recently the mention of his self-imposed virginity pledge seems to bother him more than it used to. He doesn’t try to get out of my hold, he just taps the mat, surrendering right away.
We both jump to our feet again and square off for our third round. This time, he doesn’t even let me get the jump. He just goes straight for the knockout. His fists meet my body in precise strikes, hitting specific spots on my body that he knows will weaken me. I have no time to react or defend myself because he’s too damn fast, and in a blink, I’m on the mat again, pinned in another chokehold.
“Fuck it, you win!” I gasp, and he releases me.
I stay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, panting and cursing to myself in my head.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Sebastian coos, squatting next to me and patting my cheek.
I swat his hand away and turn onto my side, rolling my eyes.
“Now, if I recall correctly, the bet was if you broke one of your ‘rules’, then I got to set you up on a date. An actual date, where you take her to dinner and talk to her and get to know her. A date with no sex at the end of it.”
“Hmph,” I grunt, sitting up and resting my elbows on my knees, avoiding his eyes.
“Is that correct or not?” he pushes.
“It’s correct,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“Great!” he exclaims, and jogs over to our phones. “Here,” he says as he comes back, messing around on mine and tossing it to me before going back to the water station.
I snatch it out of the air and find the date-to-mate app already opened. The account name is “CookieMonsterBeta,” and the entire profile is already filled out with likes and dislikes and anything else the website asks for when you signup.
“The fuck is this?” I ask, turning the screen to him.
“Your profile,” he replies, cool as a cucumber, just sipping water from his cup as I stare at him from the floor.
“You made it for me?” I gape.
“What’s the matter? Did I answer the questions wrong?”
“No, they’re all fucking correct!”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“They’re all correct!” I repeat, and he just laughs at me. “Am I really that much of an open book? And come on, did you have to include that Rapunzel is my favorite Disney princess?”
“Girls love that shit.” He shrugs. “You already have several matches, but I think TearinItUp is the one.”
I tap on the profile he mentions as he walks into the locker room. I don’t even bother to look at any of it, instead just typing out a message to ask her on a date.
“I’m so going to regret this,” I sigh, closing my eyes and hitting send before I can change my mind.
TARYN POV Evergreen trees sprinkled with snow rush by me as my feet carry me through their midst. The sharp, cold air stings my face. The scent of pine and snow and early morning sun is refreshing and invigorating, encouraging me to keep my pace as I finish this leg of my morning run. My thighs burn, but it is a good burn, a burn you only get from a solid workout, from an energizing run. I have started my day this way for years now — since the day of my first shift — and on the days I skip it, I can tell a difference in not just my physical energy, but my mental energy too. I crest over the final hill and the large, luxurious craftsman style packhouse comes into view, the sprawling lawn holding a fresh dusting of snow. I pick up my pace, the finish line of my personal race in sight, and let out a tiny “whoop!” as I reach the steps in front of the house. My steps slow, and the image fades, the virtual reality headset signaling the treadmill that the preset workout is complete. I rea
REID POV My knee bounces as I sit in Wesley’s truck parked outside of Rendezvous. It is one minute until six pm, and I should be inside already, but I am not. I grip the steering wheel, then grab my phone and send off a message to TearinItUp. Me: Running late because of the snow. Reservation is under the name Stephen. I toss the phone on the passenger seat and press my forehead into the wheel, groaning. I used my middle name for the reservation, since the entire premise of Date-to-Mate is to remain anonymous until you meet face-to-face. And because my original plan was to drive down here, sit around for a few hours, and then drive back home, so Sebastian will at least think I’ve fulfilled my end of the bet. But now that I am here, I am waffling on my plan. I can’t just stand someone up, even if it’s someone I’ve never met. I am many things — a player included — but a man who breaks his word and his promises is not one of them. And with my luck, that plan wouldn’t fool Seb, anyway.
TARYN POV Reid stares at me from his side of the table, those baby blue eyes wide and unblinking. He folds his hands on the top of the table, looks down at them and then back up at me. “I’m sorry, I — what?” he asks. I huff out a dry laugh and sigh. I still can’t believe my luck, that the best match the app could make for me was with a male who doesn’t actually want a mate. A male who doesn’t even date. How or why he’s even on the app is beyond me. “I said, since we’re not mates, there is no reason for me to try to wrangle you into another date.” He shakes his head, clearing whatever thoughts he has there. “Right,” he says, rubbing his short beard. “Right. That would — that would be silly. A waste of your time.” “We can even just call it a night now, if you want,” I tell him, though in my head I’m crossing my fingers that he says no. “No, no,” he says, lifting his hands, the veins in his exposed forearms bulging. “Like I said, I made a promise, and I’m going to see this through.
REID POV Once our date is over and I am back in the truck, I lean against the driver’s seat, my head tilted up to look at the ceiling. “What the fuck do I do now?” I ask the air. I had hidden my confusion, wrangled control of my wolf, and pushed both to the back of my mind for the remainder of the date, so I didn’t look like a complete fool. I’d put on a mask of confidence and acted like my normal charming and flirty self, so she wouldn’t grow suspicious. But now that it was done — now that I had paid the bill, and we’d said our goodbyes and parted ways — now I had to face the truth. She didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel the bond or scent me as her mate. I’m not sure why. I know she’s old enough — her profile had said she was 22 and no one can feel the mate bond until both mates are 21 or older. But the fact is, she didn’t feel it. I’m not sure how this happened, not sure what I did to deserve this, but it is obvious I am being punished. Maybe it’s because I mocked the mate bond for
TARYN POV “You’re home early.” I roll my eyes as I enter my apartment in the packhouse, unsurprised to find Blake parked on my pink velvet couch with the tv on, a ginger beer in one hand and a piece of pizza in the other. “Was it a bust?” she calls after me as I walk down the hall to the single bedroom. I just ignore her and start pulling out clothes to change into — plaid flannel pajama pants, fuzzy green socks, and an ivory waffle henley top, to be more specific — and take them with me into the bathroom. I peel off my turtleneck, skirt, black tights, and black ankle boots, toss the clothes into my hamper and the shoes into my closet, then throw on my pajamas and put my curls up in a high puff on the top of my head with a dark pink satin scrunchie, leaving a few loose pieces framing my face. “It was a bust, wasn’t it?” Blake repeats as I walk back into the living room and plop down on the other end of the couch. I pull a turquoise throw pillow into my lap and fluff it a few time
REID POVI amble across the packhouse grounds in the early hours of the morning, another light dusting of snow falling around me and sprinkling the grass like powdered sugar on a pancake. Without my permission, my eyes lift to the mountains in the east, where the snow clings a little stronger to the ground and the pine needles, up towards where I know Silver Ridge’s borders are.I can’t see the pack from here, but I know the exact spot on those hills where their lands begin. It’s my job to know.That’s the only reason I’m looking. To make sure no one is wandering too close to that line where our border ends and theirs begins. Not because of a certain exquisite mahogany-skinned she-wolf who lives there. Definitely not because of that.I wonder what she’s doing.“Goddess, damn it,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away and gluing them to the path in front of me.My wolf whimpers in my mind, tugging against my control to get me to look over there again.“Not going to happen, mangy mutt!” I say u
REID POVMonday arrives all too soon, and I find myself pacing the training grounds after the elite warrior training, nausea bubbling in my stomach and sweat pooling in my palms and dotting my forehead. My wolf is ecstatic because he knows Taryn is on her way, but I am markedly less enthusiastic about seeing her again.What if she can feel the bond now? How will I explain myself? Will she think I was just trying to use her, to get a night of sex out of her before I reject her?And why do I care so damn much about what she thinks when I am just going to reject her, anyway?“Focus, Reid,” I mutter, rubbing my temples and forcing myself to stop my incessant pacing. “It’s just training, and if she didn’t feel the bond on Friday, it’s highly unlikely she will suddenly feel it today.”The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and stand up, goosebumps forming over my whole body, even though the cold rarely affects me. The scent of peonies, strawberries, and peaches floats towards me, stronger
TARYN POVI spar with Maddie for at least an hour. Maybe even more. I lose track of my wins and losses, but I know we’re pretty even. She may have one or two more wins than me, but since she’s a lycan and I’m just a werewolf, I’m feeling pretty good about myself and my abilities.I just have to hope she hasn’t been taking it easy on me.That would be embarrassing.I scramble to my feet after getting pinned by Maddie again, readying myself for another round, when Reid walks into the ring with us.“That’s enough,” he says. “You can clean up.”My shoulders slump in relief, and I follow Maddie out of the ring and towards what I assume are the locker rooms, but Reid grabs my hand, stopping me.“Not you,” he says. “We’re not done yet.”I glance back at him, forcing my eyes to stay on his face instead of wandering lower. So far, the entire time I’ve been here, I have had to remind myself not to ogle him. But his tatted biceps that his black t-shirt sleeves can’t contain, and his broad, muscul