When He's Ruthless (The Olympus Pride 4)

She’d changed everything. Changed him. From then on, he no longer felt like he operated on autopilot. She’d given him purpose. A reason for being. A reason to live rather than merely exist. More, she’d brought him back to himself.

There were times since meeting her when the mental tempest started up again. Times when clouds began to gather and a thick fog tried to surround him. But he could call Blair, hear her voice, and then the storm would ease off. Because she restored his balance. She soothed him, filled him up, quenched that craving to feel something.

Watching her grow, mature, and develop into the person she was today—someone strong enough to go toe-to-toe with him when necessary, despite being twelve years his junior and not a born alpha like him—had been magical. He loved that he’d been able to guide, support, and watch over her all these years. He loved that she’d always known she was valued and that her true mate waited for her; known that she’d never be alone and he’d always be there when she needed him.

She’d sensed the anger he carried, she’d asked about it, but she’d let him get away with only telling her dribs and drabs. That would change when they mated. Blair would never stand for anything less than all of him. But that was okay, because he’d expect the same from her. And he’d get it.

There would be nothing easy for her about having him as a mate. He felt for her. He did. Because he was a stubborn motherfucker who wasn’t always rational when it came to the subject of her safety. Not controlling in his efforts to shelter her, though, which he suspected was the only reason she’d never clawed him for it.

Luke didn’t like that he was going to his mate saddled with so much emotional baggage. He didn’t want her to see all that he hid inside, but he had no way to spare her that other than to walk away. That he could never do. He needed her more than she needed him—he’d always known that.

He had no balance without her. She was the only thing that brought him peace; that quieted the storm inside him. Like his cat, he adored her. Was so totally gone for her it was almost embarrassing.

He didn’t worry that she’d struggle to take on the position of Beta female. She might only be eighteen, but there was nothing immature about her. Never had been, really. Mitch once told him she was born forty and had pinned people with that steely stare even when in the cradle. Luke could believe it.

Also, she was highly dominant. And so damn fierce. Cunning as hell, too.

Nonetheless, some of his pride mates doubted that someone so young could truly make a good Beta. They might go as far as to test her. Which would be a massive mistake. She knew how to handle herself—he’d made sure of it. Plus, she was used to dealing with difficult characters. How she handled them, well, that was always interesting.

Card-carrying members of the “Ramifications Don’t Interest Me” party, bush dogs weren’t quite the same brand of crazy as pallas cats. Luke’s kind didn’t give one solitary fuck. Bush dogs? They gave a fuck. They just didn’t give a fuck about you. In fact, they were happy to pretend that everyone outside their pack didn’t exist. If you made them notice you by screwing them over, they would in turn make it their mission to scar you for life.

They liked to play. With your ego. Mostly by crushing it. If there was a color-coded scale for Self-Esteem Assassins, Blair’s kind would be at Level Red.

As for their inner animals … they were like miniature bears. Courtesy of their inborn Napoleon complexes that no one talked about aloud, they could be overly aggressive. Unlike pallas cats, they wouldn’t strike hard, fast, and first. They’d feign submission; whine and simper and give you big doggy eyes, doing a perfect imitation of man’s best friend to melt your heart.

Then they’d snack on you like raging cannibals.

And if you were up against a group of them, you were quite simply fucked. Because a bunch of bush dogs could overpower anything.

Another way they differed from pallas cats was that, unless the situation warranted it, they didn’t fight until someone was dead. No, they’d let you live so that you’d forever suffer the shame of being brought down by Corgi-sized balls of lunacy.

To bush dogs, the meaning of fair fight meant “we will blindside you, maul you, humiliate you, and leave scars on your soul.”

So, yeah, Luke wasn’t worried that Blair would struggle to handle anyone from his pride who dared test her strength. Still, he’d be pissed to all hell about it.

Finally, he pulled into the parking lot outside his apartment building. Much like the neighboring complex and the nearby cul-de-sac, it homed his pride mates and belonged to the pride itself. Unlike most breeds of shifter, pallas cats rarely claimed territories. However, they often grouped together for protection.