A twinkle of amusement lit Zan’s eyes. Either Dean had gone through his belongings and found out Zan didn’t have any loose apparel, or he’d retrieved them from his own home as a courtesy. From what he’d learned about his sibling the night before, Zan believed it to be both.
Dean appeared to be an intelligent, caring, and methodical leader. It was only smart to protect his pack by learning as much as possible about an unknown shifter. Even if said shifter was a brother.
“Earth to Zan?”
“What?”
“Where. Are. You?”
Approving the thoroughness, Zan donned the pants. “In a house. A bedroom to be exact.”
“Was that man in the photo your brother? Did you get in contact?”
“Yes and yes. I met him last night actually.”
And also met a woman that smelled like heaven, tasted like sin, and stirred my blood even now.
“So that’s why you didn’t call.”
“Actually,” Zan decided against the shirt and shoes and drifted barefoot to the open bedroom door. “I was shot last night.”
Zan ignored the string of curses and questions and instead asked, “Where are you?” Because it sounded as if Scott was in a moving vehicle and that he wasn’t alone. If those boys took it upon themselves to jump the gun and come after Zan, well, his little family reunion was going to turn into a clusterfuck.
“We flew into Denver this morning, rented a car and are nearing Woodcliff. We need your coordinates.”
Zan had stopped listening the moment he stepped into the master bedroom. There, on the bed, the woman who was to be his mate was sleeping in the arms of another man.
Fury rose hot and thick in his chest at the sight. “I’ll call you back in twenty.”
Zan thumbed his cell off, focused more on doing bodily harm to the shifter who had one brawny arm wrapped around the waist of Zan’s mate, holding her so close to his body that her head rested on his shoulder.
In that instant Zan didn’t care if they were lovers, friends, or even married. All he knew was that some other male was too damn close to his female, and that male needed to die.
“Whoa there, big boy,” the blond man on the bed said. Though his tone was amused, there was nothing lazy or funny in the watchful look aimed at Zan through half-closed eyes. “DocCha wouldn’t be pleased waking up to find her good buddy Ben in bloody pieces.”
Zan paused in his approach. “What’s she to you?” It came out as a growl.
Ben never took his eyes off Zan. Smart man. “She’s under my protection.”
“She doesn’t need protection from me.”
“Boy, if you could see the way you look, you’d be cautious too. And until you get yourself under control, I’m not moving.”
Zan sneered. “Hiding behind a female?”
“Protecting a female.”
That was the second time Ben used that word, which only pissed Zan off even more. As if he’d ever let harm come to his woman. Besides, if anyone was going to protect Jackie, it would be Zan. He lifted his chin. “I’d never hurt her.”
Ben sent Zan his own sneer, his tone now holding a clear warning that couldn’t be missed. “I don’t care if you are Dean’s brother. I don’t know you. And until I’m good and ready to believe the best of you, I’m not leaving Jackie’s side.”
Logically, Zan could understand and even appreciate the cautiousness the other shifter smoothly executed. Emotionally, he wanted to rip the man apart. After a moment, Zan closed his eyes and took in deep lungfuls of air through his mouth, knowing if he pulled in the mixed scent of Ben and Jackie through his nose his wolf just might break free and cause bodily damage. Pushing aside the anger and possessiveness clawing at the very fiber of his being, he concentrated on reigning in his beast.
“That’s good.” There was nothing patronizing in Ben’s tone, only soothing approval.
Several minutes later, Zan felt more like himself. Composed, he opened his eyes, flicking his gaze from Jackie to Ben and back again. Though the sight of Jackie’s head resting on Ben’s shoulder still pissed him off, he now realized that both were clothed, on top of the covers and there was no scent of sex in the air. In fact, another quick glance and sniff at Ben revealed no sexual interest.
Zan’s muscles finally unclenched and he asked the first thing that popped into his mind. “DocCha?”
“Hmmm. An affectionate nickname some of us have for one Dr. Jackie Chavez. Though,” he grinned as Jackie wiggled against him, starting to wake, “maybe I should start calling her cuddle bunny.”
Zan’s wolf snipped at him. Promising both of them he’d retaliate the teasing by breaking several bones in the younger shifter’s body, Zan watched Jackie’s eyes flutter open.