“Yeah. He is. His friends are cool, too. Very . . . edgy.”
“I haven’t talked to them yet. But if you like them, I like them.”
And since they were all human, I could break them like a twig if they hurt her. So that was a nice benefit.
The conversation in the loft quieted, and I instinctively glanced up to find the source of the change.
The source was a shifter. My shifter.
He’d emerged from the long hallway that led to the loft door, his body tough and strong. He wore jeans and a heathered NAC Industries henley that hugged muscle, and he carried a bottle of wine. His dark hair waved around a chiseled face punctuated by brilliant blue eyes and a mouth that was usually arranged into a self-assured grin. He had the bearing of a prince, the body of a god, and the ego to match both, all of it matched by his integrity, wit, and concern for his Pack.
And his eyes were fixed on me.
His mouth curved, and more than one human around me made little sounds of appreciation and lust. The prince, allowing the commoners to take a look.
“People look at him like he’s a properly made baguette,” Lulu whispered. “Ready to be devoured.”
They did, and I couldn’t blame them, given that my thoughts ran along the same lines. Minus the implicit insult to my bread-making skills.
“And then he looks at you,” she continued, “like he’s the big, bad wolf and you’re the grandmother.”
“That is a very disturbing analogy.”
She held up her hands. “You’re right. It was, and I take it back. I tried something out, it wasn’t the right direction. I made a mistake.”
Connor’s best friend, Alexei, stepped in behind him. Alexei was just as tall and built, with dark blond hair and hazel eyes that scanned the room with suspicion. Alexei was the quiet and loyal sort. Unless he was harassing Lulu.
“Oh, good,” Lulu said. “Alexei’s here.” There was conviction in the sarcasm, but joined by a spark in her eyes that I was glad to see.
I liked Alexei, and not just because he was loyal to Connor and the Pack. He and Lulu bickered like children, and he was pretty creative with the teasing. Never, I thought, crossing the line into inappropriate—not when she seemed to enjoy their sparring as much as he did. Still.
“You want me to tell him to knock it off?” I knew she could take care of herself, and usually had no qualms about telling off bullies. But, again, still . . .
“Please,” she said and waved me off. “I can handle one puppy.”
“He’s not a wolf,” I said. “He’s a very big cat.”
She just stared at me. “What?”
“The Breckenridges aren’t wolves. They’re panthers.” I cocked my head at her. “I thought you knew that.”
“I did not.”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good evening,” Connor said when they reached us, kissing me softly. Just a brush of his lips against mine. A hint and a promise. “Sorry we’re late.”
“You’re right on time.”
Literally and figuratively, I thought, still marveling that this boy I’d thought was conceited and obnoxious had grown into . . . well, still conceited. But much less obnoxious. As if he understood the line of my thoughts, he smiled widely. “We were both right on time.”
Maybe a little obnoxious. But in the best possible way.
“Lulu,” Connor said with a smile. “Thanks for having us over.” He offered up the wine. “Hostess gift.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking it.
“A friend of mine has a vineyard near the Wisconsin border. It’s supposed to be pretty good.”
“How does it pair with deviled eggs?”
He blinked. “I have no idea and don’t want one.”
Lulu turned her gaze to Alexei. “I see you brought the tabby.”
She’d made that switch quickly enough. Alexei just looked at her, and the challenge in his eyes was clear. I’ll take you on. In every possible way.
Pink rose on her cheeks. “Go climb a tree.”
“Go suck on a paintbrush.”
“Weak,” Lulu said, then strode off toward Mateo. He smiled as she approached, waved her closer, then added her to the conversation with Petra.
“Suck on a paintbrush?” I asked, looking back at Alexei with obvious pity.
“I haven’t been able to come up with many artist-specific insults.” And he was considerate enough not to use her magic—or decision not to practice it—against her. “Who’s the human?”
“Date,” I said.
Alexei snorted dubiously and wandered off toward the food. With, I belatedly realized, a bottle of vodka in hand. His hostess gift, I assumed.
“Was that disdain for Mateo, or the idea of her dating him?” I wondered.
“I think it was for the concept of her dating, generally. He knows she’s not interested, but I think that’s actually made it worse. The thrill of the chase, and all.”
I gave him a speculative look. “Maybe I should have made you chase me harder. Or further.”
His smile went feral, and I could actually hear girls sighing on the other side of the room. “Try it,” he said, a dare in his brilliantly blue eyes.
“You think you could catch me?”
This time, the kiss was possessive and consuming, and as arrogant as the dare had been.
“Elisa Sullivan,” he said, smiling against my lips. “I’ll always catch you.”
A throat was cleared. We turned our gazes, found Theo smiling at us, raising a crusty loaf of bread in a paper envelope in greeting. “I’m interrupting,” he said with amused and unapologetic eyes.
Theo was a former cop who’d become my partner at the OMB. He had dark brown skin and dark hair in short whirls, and hazel eyes above a generous mouth.
“It’s a party,” Connor said. “Interruption is impossible.”
But I narrowed my gaze at him. “Why did you bring bread?”
Theo blinked. “Because I like bread? And it’s a party? And Lulu said to bring something?”
“But did she specifically say to bring bread?”
Theo looked at Connor for help, but Connor just shrugged.
“I got nothing, man.” He put an arm around my waist, kissed my temple. “Why are you interrogating your partner over bread?”