When He's Ruthless (The Olympus Pride 4)

He nodded. “She’s bold enough to try it. She’ll test you. She might even encourage others to test you. As much as I’d love to warn everyone to back the hell off, it wouldn’t help. It would weaken you in their eyes. But I’m not worried that you’ll struggle to handle them. Now can we please get back to—”

A rhythmic knock came at the door.

“Mother of Christ.”

“You might as well answer it,” said Blair. “The mood is somewhat spoilt.”

Yeah, Luke had noticed. Silently cursing, he again prowled through his apartment and opened the door. This time, his sister stood on the other side of it. “What?” he bit out.

Elle’s brows lifted. “Oh, well, that’s very nice, isn’t it?” She stepped into the apartment. “I bumped into Finley. She said you slammed the door in her face without speaking a word. She’s worried that something’s … Wait, do I smell Blair?”

Luke sighed as his sister hurried through the apartment, following the scent of his mate. This was absolutely not how he’d expected the morning to go.

In the bedroom, he found them standing near the bed hugging as they excitedly babbled greetings. It warmed his heart that they got along so well.

Elle pulled back slightly, beaming. “I had no idea you were here, I—oh.” She winced and then turned to Luke. “Now I get why you didn’t want visitors. I’ll go. But first, I gotta ask …” She looked at Blair. “Does this mean you’re part of the pride now?”

His mate sat on the bed. “It does.”

Elle clapped, but then her smile faltered. “On the one hand, I’m delighted. On the other hand, I know Luke wouldn’t have broken his promise to your parents unless things went tits up. What happened?”

Blair pulled a face. “It’s a long story.”

“At least give me the short version before my imagination starts running riot.”

Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to rekindle the mood, Luke sank onto the corner armchair and brought his sister up to speed.

Elle did a slow blink when he was done. “Wow, that’s so completely wacked I’m struggling to process it.” Sitting beside Blair, she looked at her. “You have absolutely no idea who could be stalking you?”

Blair cocked her head. “Would we call them a stalker?”

“They sent you weird-ass gifts, plied you with strange phone calls, wrote a massively creepy email, possibly killed someone to prove their devotion to you, and also seem to believe not only that you’re theirs but that you know it. I’d call that stalker behavior. You know, you should speak to River about this. As a cop, he’ll be able to educate you on stalker stuff.”

“Which is why I asked for him to be present at the meeting,” said Luke.

“What meeting?” asked Blair.

“I texted Tate last night to let him know you’re here and that there are things he should be made aware of. He wants us to show up at his place in”—Luke glanced at the wall clock—“half an hour. A few others will be there.”

Elle stood. “Why don’t I make coffee while you two dress?”

“Sounds good,” said Luke.

Blair inwardly snorted. He didn’t look like he thought it would be good. Well, it wasn’t. She’d expected to be claimed before she left the apartment this morning. But the appearance of Finley followed by talk of Blair’s recent problems in addition to Macy’s death … the last thing Blair was feeling was in the mood for sex.

Once they were alone again, Luke fluidly rose from the chair and crossed to her, making her pulse jump. He bent over and fisted her hair. “Tonight, Blair,” he told her, his eyes glittering with promise. “Tonight, you’ll get claimed.”

“So will you.”

His gaze heated, and his grip on her hair tightened. He kissed her hard, licking into her mouth, delving his tongue deep. He ended the kiss with a sharp bite to her lip and then straightened. “Goddamn cockblockers,” he muttered as he stalked into the bathroom.

Once Blair was washed and dressed, she crossed to the nightstand and snatched the phone she’d placed on silent mode last night. She quickly skimmed through her notifications. Damn, she had dozens upon dozens of text messages, missed calls, and voicemails.

Just as she was reading the last of her messages, Luke appeared in front of her. “Exactly how many texts has Noelle sent you?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, none. She hasn’t tried calling either. She’s either sulking, or someone has convinced her to temporarily back off. To break it all down … My father and Donal are asking me to return to the pack. Embry is apologizing for trivializing my concerns. Antoine is saying I should question if I’ve truly made the right decision for me. Mitch is demanding I let him know if anyone from the pride is mean to me so he can come drop kick the fucker. Kiesha says she’ll miss me being part of the pack but also wishes me well. And several of the pack are wondering if it’s true that I’ve left for good—oh, and if you’ve claimed me yet.”