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Melinda’s Wolves(10)

By:Becca Jameson


“Or think of claiming our mate without getting punched in the face,” Trace interrupted.

“Right. Sorry.” Keegan pursed his lips, and Melinda glared at him, noticing the obvious energy he expended fighting against continuing their disagreement.

She might have laughed, if it were funny. But nothing about the land development project was funny. She didn’t care if he was just doing his job. She’d been on the side of the opposition since the beginning. And after the earthquake, her side bought months of delays by continuing to push their issues.

The earthquake had been an excellent deterrent. After the collapse of many buildings in the area and the destruction of parts of the casino monstrosity, many members of her tribe had switched sides. At this point, there were far more people opposed than before the earthquake.

But the builders already had permits, and stopping them didn’t seem a belated possibility. After a year on hold, she was well aware that the casino had resumed construction a few weeks ago.

Trace pulled up to a ranch-style home. Melinda peered out the window at her first glimpse into Keegan’s world. The house wasn’t huge, but it was immaculate on the outside. A certain amount of pride went into every bush, the perfectly groomed grass, and the quaint front porch with two Adirondack chairs situated at an angle with each other.

Melinda blew out a breath, already knowing this mate of hers was type A. If they were going to be at odds over that damn casino, wait until he found out what the inside of her condo looked like.

Keegan opened the passenger door and jumped down. He reached back as Melinda scooted to the edge of the seat and lifted her out.

“I’m pretty good at getting in and out of cars, Keegan. Been doing it for years. I even have my own driver’s license.” She was half teasing, but she hoped she sounded somewhat serious. She was still feeling confrontational.

He didn’t release her waist. Instead he set his forehead against hers. “I know, but I like touching you. So get used to it.”

With him so close and in her personal space, he consumed her, blocking out the world. When he finally released her, he took her hand and led her to the porch.

Trace unlocked the front door.

“You have a key?” she asked. It was Keegan’s house.

Trace nodded. “We’ve been close for twenty-five years, babe. He has a key to my condo too.”

How close? She was worried about the number of women they might have shared over the years. She couldn’t decide if she was jealous or flat out scared.

Trace held the door open and motioned for her to enter.

The first thing she noticed when she stepped inside and Keegan flipped on the light switch was the entire place smelled of primarily Keegan with a hint of Trace. No one else. That both comforted and intoxicated her.

At least they hadn’t fucked some other woman inside the house recently. That would completely unnerve her.

She let her gaze roam around the room. It was tidy, but lived in. Comfortable. Inviting. The walls were painted a dark brown on two sides, warming the space. The leather couch and two chairs were both the same color of dark brown. Pillows were tossed in the corners of the couch in rich jewel tones.

On the wall opposite the sofa was an enormous entertainment center, the woodwork amazing. It looked custom made. It held a large flat-screen TV and several gaming and stereo components. It was obvious Keegan spent a lot of time in this room. Remotes and game controllers littered the coffee table.

“Can I get you a drink, Melinda?” Keegan ran a hand down her arm until his fingers lightly gripped hers. He was forever touching her. Every time they made contact, she lost a piece of herself to the claiming. Her heart raced to the point that it seemed to ring in her ears. A tingling spread over her like a jolt of electricity.

“You have some wine?” Maybe she could relax if she had something to drink. It might calm her nerves.

Keegan nodded. “Red or white?”

“White if you have it. Or do you have something on the sweeter side?”

“Zinfandel?”

“Perfect.”

Keegan released her to head for the kitchen area.

Trace took the same hand Keegan released, making her suck in a breath. She couldn’t catch a break. Every second her sensitivity to the two of them increased. “Come. Sit. I know it’s late. Super late. But let’s talk.”

It was late, past one in the morning. But there was no way in hell she could sleep even if she tried. And neither would either of them.

Melinda pulled her hand free of Trace and rounded to the living area, choosing an armchair that neither of them could share with her. She sat on her hands on the edge of the seat, her legs bouncing up and down rapidly.