Mates: Prequel (Claws Clause 0) - Page 21

When Colt returned a few seconds later, Maddox realized he hadn’t managed to do so this time, either. Colt didn’t leave because Maddox told him to. No, he slipped out of the room so that he could retrieve his missing phone and turn the music off.

He tossed the silent phone onto the coffee table, then returned to his post standing near Maddox’s shoulder.

Colt was frowning, his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled down at Maddox.

“Sloppy,” he said in disgust. “I thought this was over with when Evangeline finally agreed to be your mate.”

Yeah, Maddox thought ruefully, so did he.

And maybe he was sloppy. With his metabolism, three bottles of human alcohol was enough to put him firmly into tipsy territory. He had let it affect him deeper than it normally should, embracing the sensation of being almost completely annihilated if only because it gave him something else to focus on that wasn’t the cowardly way he ran out on Evangeline.

He ran out on his mate.

What kind of asshole shifter did that?

His thoughts turned dark as he remembered her reaction to his proposal.

One whose mate didn’t actually want him, that’s what.

Maddox growled. At least, it started as a growl. Halfway through, his throat hitched, his eyes watered, and the sound that escaped him was closer to a pained cry from his wolf than anything else.

Sensing this was something more than an alpha wolf letting off steam, Colt immediately crouched down. He kept his eyes lowered, careful not to antagonize his brother’s agitated beast, before softly asking, “Okay. Tell me. What happened?”

Maddox didn’t want to say it out loud. Speaking it was one step closer to having to accept that Evangeline didn’t want him to claim her.

It was her right. Her choice. Even if she was a shifter, instead of a human, she still had to accept him fully for the bond to become unbreakable.

And she hadn’t.

He clenched his fists, sudden claws biting into his palms. It was either that or scratch the shit out of Colt’s expensive hardwood floor.

“She won’t let me bite her,” he half-slurred, half-snarled.

No reason to elaborate. In Maddox’s world, there was only one she. And, for most shifters, giving their mate a claiming bite was the highlight of their lives.

Too bad his mate didn’t want his mark.

The reminder of the way Evangeline refused him just about stabbed Maddox in the chest, it hurt that bad. The alcohol did nothing to dull the ache. He realized that, and felt even worse for trying desperately to drink himself into a numb stupor.

With a frustrated sigh, Maddox struggled to sit up b

efore using his wolf’s efficient metabolism to burn off the worst of his buzz.

It was a pity that Colt wasn’t born a true beta. When he wanted to be, Maddox’s younger brother could be calm and rational, a perfect foil to a raging alpha. Then again, Colt’s temper was as explosive as it was because he usually kept the lid on it screwed super damn tight. When it came off, everyone in the vicinity knew it.

Right now, though, Colt worked to help his brother. “Of course she won’t. She’s a human. She’s probably afraid it’ll hurt. You’ve got some fangs on you, Mad.”

“I told her it won’t. That I’ll make sure of it. She still said no.” He hiccuped, then fell back on his elbows. His stomach turned, the whiskey working its way through his system. He needed another bottle so that he didn’t have to feel the pain crashing into him. Since he didn’t have one—and he needed to sober up anyway—he sucked in a breath, bracing himself before he admitted, “She won’t marry me, either.”

Without warning, Dodge popped in, appearing in the far corner of the room. His derby was cocked, tilted forward to cover one of his electric blue eyes. He saw the bottles, smirked at Maddox still flat on his ass, then turned to Colt. “I thought you got rid of all that stuff the last time he got into it.”

“I did,” scowled Colt. “He brought some with him again.”

“Why does he always come to your house to get drunk?”

Maddox threw his head back, letting his wolf croon a high-keening, morose howl.

“Drunk and whiny,” amended Dodge. “At least he’s not singing this time.”

Tags: Jessica Lynch Claws Clause Fantasy
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