“If I’d known this was what was keeping you all, I would have brought a big bowl of popcorn with me,” Joan Miller whispered to her eldest. Paul smiled and tucked his mother under one arm in a loose hug. She was shorter than every one of her sons, but still the clear Alpha female of the little familial Pride.
Gina’s mom took a spot next to her on the end. “Your Mitch moves like the wind,” she commented in a quiet whisper that wouldn’t carry over the background noise in the room.
Gina started a bit. While she agreed he did move like the wind, the part that stopped her short was her mother calling him her Mitch. Did her parents see what was happening between her and Mitch? Did they approve? Or was it simply a convenient phrase that meant nothing of the sort? She didn’t know, but she liked the tone of admiration in her mother’s voice. Mitch really was something to look at.
“He’s amazing,” Gina agreed, not bothering to hide her true feelings. If her tigress had her way, Mitch would be her mate. Her mother would have to get used to that idea sooner or later—assuming Mitch cooperated.
“Have they been at this long?” Her mother hopped up to sit on the ledge behind her, getting comfortable.
“About forty minutes. Maybe a little more. But Mitch had already grounded all of them—” she pointed to the assortment of younger people seated next to her, “—and me, before Dad got here. One at a time and as a group. He’s really something to behold when he gets going.”
“His fighting style is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” her mother commented, her gaze transfixed on the amazing speed and athletic motion of the three men fighting at the center of the dojo.
“He learned from the pantera noir. They trained him from the time he was thirteen.” Once again, pride filled her voice.
Mitch was like no man she had ever known. He’d faced such adversity in his young life, yet he’d found a way to grow into a man of uncommon skill and unquestionable honor. He’d been accepted by one of the most secretive and selective shifter Clans. The pantera noir were notorious for not accepting just anyone among them. They were especially protective of their monarch. Mitch had to have proven himself in some way to even be allowed to train with them. To be trusted with the life of the Nyx, he must have done something even more powerful.
Just watching him face off against their best fighters—her father and Tom Miller—it was clear he was in the same class as both of them. Maybe even better. After all, he was coming off a grievous injury. He had admitted that he wasn’t yet fully recovered. And still, he took on two of their best as if it were nothing. No sweat. No big deal. Just another day in the dojo.#p#分页标题#e#
He was beating them too. It wasn’t an obvious, flat-out victory, but it was clear as the bout went on that Mitch was scoring more points on them than they were on him. Gina was impressed all over again. If he could do this now, what would he be like at full strength?
Most importantly, would he be good enough to take on Uncle Gisli and win? She sent a prayer up that it would be so. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. He was hers and she was his. It would just take a little more time to convince him of that unrelenting fact. She needed that time. Desperately. But she didn’t think they were going to be allowed that luxury. Things were moving fast now and she had a premonition that events were speeding along and she had no choice but to be caught up in them. The whirlwind was coming and she could either fight it and lose, or allow it to sweep her along toward their destiny.
“You could do worse than a man like that,” her mother observed, still in that low tone that wouldn’t be heard beyond the two of them in such a large space. She nodded toward Mitch, now running literal circles around Tom Miller, much to the delight of his sons if their heckling hoots and hollers were anything to go by.
She turned to look at her mom, more interested suddenly in her opinion on Mitch as a mate than the mock combat taking place in the center of the room. Her mother’s opinion mattered greatly to Gina.
“Would you and Dad object if it turned out Mitch was my mate?”
Her mother turned to meet her gaze. “Is he?”
The sounds of the room faded as the moment of truth hit her. Silently, she nodded, holding her mother’s gaze. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the tears that came into her mother’s eyes sparked an answering moisture in her own. Why were they crying? Was it bad? Or tears of joy? Or what? Gina was so confused.
And then her mother reached out and hugged her.
“Oh, baby girl, I’m so happy for you.” The whispered emotion was thick and sweet. It was good. Her mother was happy with Gina’s choice. “Does he realize it yet?”