He took her slow and easy after that, Irene’s cheek braced against his chest, her arms holding him tight.

And when the Pack howled to them outside the window, his mother and father included, he felt her smile.

Ten

Van reached out for Irene but his hand touched an empty bed. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room and found Irene standing by the terrace doors, staring out at the nearby ocean. She had a sheet wrapped around her and her hair looked wild and completely untamed in the early morning light. She looked well-fucked and he wanted her to look like that as often as he could manage.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You’re not reading, complaining you have to get back to work, or working. You’re just standing and staring, which means you’re thinking . . . which means something’s wrong.”

“You figured me out rather quickly.”

“Actually I’ve had seven years to figure you out. So what’s wrong, doc?”

She leaned against the doorframe. “Thinking about last night.”

“You regret it?”

“No.” She turned those amazing blue eyes toward him. “But I’m hoping you don’t.”

“Why would I?”

“Because this isn’t changing.”

He didn’t understand her. “What isn’t?”

“Me. This is it. Based on genetics, the only changes I see happening are the widening of my butt and the occasional mole if I don’t avoid the sun. My brain, especially, will not change barring Alzheimer’s, dementia, or a tragic head injury.”

Laughing, Van lay back in the bed. “Irene, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m never going to be suave or delicate or polite. I’ll never look any better than I do at the moment and I’m severely average.” She held up her hand before he could say anything. “I’m not blind and I’m always honest with myself. And it’s never concerned me before. I’m very happy with who I am. I’ve got bigger issues on my mind than whether I’m wearing the latest Gucci outfit or if I look fat in photos.”

“Okay.”

“That being said, I am not going to spend my life worrying that I’m not pretty enough for you or disappointing you when we go out to some godawful dinner that I’d rather chew nails than go to. You wanted this and now you’re stuck with it.”

Van raised his eyebrows. “You done?”

“Yes. I’ve said all that needed to be said.”

“Good. Now come here.”

She turned from the door and walked back over to the bed. He lifted the comforter and she dropped the sheet and slid inside. He pulled her close, locking his hands behind her back andpushing his knee between her thighs. He rested his forehead against her shoulder.

He’d just begun to fall asleep when she tapped his arm.

“What?” he sighed.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Your concerns are groundless and you’re looking for an excuse to run. I’m not giving it to you, nor am I going to bore myself with bullshit platitudes. If you wanted that you should have stuck with Bradley.”

“You scared him away,” she reminded him.

“And he ran like a girl. I didn’t. So shut up and go to sleep.”

“Well if you’re going to be rude—”

“You know I’m cranky in the mornings.”

“Currently you’re downright satanic.”

“Whine, whine, whine.”

She punched his shoulder and he rolled her over to her back, using his body to hold her down.

“Clearly I need to teach you the proper way to respect the Alpha Male. Or, as you’ll call me from now on, your lord and master.”

Irene stared up at him, her face—as always during moments like these—expressionless.

“What? Would you prefer ‘my savior’?”

For Irene, the strangest part of her recent life changes came when she finished her work. Normally, she didn’t really finish her work until well into the next morning. Getting three or four hours of sleep pretty standard for her. But, for the first time in her steel-trap memory, Irene actually had a desire to leave at night. She had something to look forward to.

Van shared management of the main Van Holtz restaurant with his sister—requirements for all young Van Holtzes. The nights he worked late, so did Irene. The nights he didn’t, she usually made it home no later than seven. He always had a meal waiting for her, constantly worrying she didn’t get enough to eat. Or the proper things to eat. He flatly refused to buy her any peanut butter and crackers.

After she’d eaten and he chatted with her over his wine, he’d shift and go hunting with some of his Pack and Irene would grade papers or review lab work. They never spoke of her returning to her and Jackie’s house and last Irene heard Paul had successfully moved in.

Strange how shifters did things. No big discussions or informing people of plans. One day you were living with a friend and enjoying your life as the town genius, the next thing you knew, you’d been moved into a mansion and were the average one among the populace.

A few times, due to her work, Irene did have to stay late and either Van or one of the wolves came to pick her up. Van hated her staying late, constantly concerned about her safety. But it couldn’t be helped; she simply didn’t have what she needed at the house.