“Sorry, man.” I gave his back an affectionate whack. “Things have been busy.”

“I bet.” He studied my face while his subordinate enforcers gave me a nod of respect, then filed into the kitchen for what could only be dinner, part two. “Responsibility looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” But my next thought trailed into oblivion when I saw Brian Taylor coming down the hall, his gaze trained on Abby as if no one else existed.

“Abby.” Brian’s heartbeat spiked and he dared a brief glance down the length of her body, obviously caught between the desire to look and the enforcer’s imperative to remain respectful, especially to his psychologically fragile fiancée. “You look amazing. Really beautiful.”

Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled.

Irritation shot up my spine in a white-hot blaze. I’d never seen the two of them together and I hadn’t spoken to Brian in at least a couple of years, yet I was suddenly certain that he wasn’t right for her.

He wasn’t good enough.

If Brian were truly Alpha material, shouldn’t I feel threatened by him, on some level? Shouldn’t my respect for his power and leadership potential be at constant war with my instinct to stomp them both right out of him?

I mean, sure, I wanted to shove him facedown on the floor and make him lick up the dirt I’d tracked in on my boots, but where was the admiration that was supposed to temper the demand for Alpha dominance coursing through my veins? If I pushed Brian down, he would stay there. I could feel that, just like my inner cat felt the call of the woods.

Abby needed a man who would get up. Who would push back.

She needed a man who couldn’t be knocked down in the first place.

Don’t start, I thought as I choked back an instinctive growl in Brian’s direction. She is not yours.

But she was mine, at least on some level, and she had been since the day she’d joined my Pride. And that wouldn’t end until…

Until she swore she would have Brian as a husband, then later let him take her as his wife.

The thought of him touching Abby made every muscle in my body clench with rage.

Vic’s brows rose in my direction and I realized he’d caught some small, revealing twitch. Or maybe he could sense fresh pheromones rolling from my body like smoke from a fire. He would have questions for me later.

Fortunately, both Brian and Abby seemed oblivious.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her. “Can I get you…”

“No, thanks, I’m…” Abby shrugged, absently twisting the ring on her left hand.

Could neither of them finish a sentence?

A door on the left side of the hall opened and Owen stepped out, mercifully drawing my attention from the poor junior enforcer who’d unwittingly inspired my disdain. Cradled in the crook of his right arm was a tiny bundle wrapped in a pale pink blanket. “Abby!” The new father’s eyes lit up when he saw her. “Come meet your new cousin!”

“Oh, let me see! Letmeseeletmesee!” She brushed past Brian on her way to view the new arrival, and his obvious disappointment soothed me. “I’ve seen a million pictures of her, but that’s not as good as holding the real thing!”

Owen’s baby was the first tabby born in the US in more than a decade—we’d all seen the pictures. But few outside of the immediate family had actually held her.

The proud papa put his daughter in Abby’s arms, and she practically melted on her feet. “You named her Mercedes, right?” she whispered, obviously afraid to wake the infant.

He nodded. “Manx didn’t want to, but I insisted she be named after her mother.” He ran one rough finger gently down his sleeping daughter’s cheek, love for his family stamped all over his face.

Owen was a lucky, lucky man. Manx was the first tabby in history, as far as I knew, who hadn’t married an Alpha. She’d fallen in love with his gentle spirit and honest affection almost from the moment they’d met, and if not for him, she might never have overcome the trauma and grief that had brought her into the South-Central Territory from the war-ravaged Prides in South America.

Owen shrugged and smiled at Abby. “But Parker started calling her Sadie, and it stuck.”

“Stuck!” the two-year-old in question echoed, and I glanced through the open doorway to find him curled up on the bed with his mother. He looked just like the pictures Owen sent out periodically. Tall for his age and gangly, like his father.

Manx waved at me over the top of the Spanish-language storybook she was trying to read to their middle child. They’d named him after Parker Pierce, the only South-Central Territory enforcer who’d died in the fight against my stepfather.

“Full house tonight,” I said, watching Manx with her son. It was great to see her happy after all the tragedy that had preceded her acceptance into the Pride.

Owen laughed. “Yeah, we came up to watch the kids during the council meeting, but I’m starting to wonder if we don’t create more chaos than we cure,” he said as Des and Logan tore past us down the hall in matching superhero capes. Owen and Manx had built a house of their own on the other side of the property the year they were expecting Parker. That kept the kids close to their extended family, yet gave everyone some much-needed space and privacy.

“We should all be so lucky.”

Owen’s happiness was like a light shining just beneath his skin, casting its warm glow on everyone he came into contact with. He was perfectly content managing the ranch for his mother and raising his family, and I’d never in my life seen an existence fit a man so well.

“Hey, Ab—” Brian began, but the last half of her name was cut off by a shout from the office.

“Jace! Abby!” Rick Wade’s voice boomed down the hall, startling baby Sadie awake. She began to fuss and Abby reluctantly handed her over to her father as we were summoned to the meeting. “We’re about to get started in here!”

“She’s beautiful, Owe,” I said, as Owen took his daughter back. Then I gestured for Abby to lead the way toward the office, conveniently cutting Brian off before he could finish his sentence.

I could feel him glaring at my back all the way down the hall, and if he’d had the balls to call me out, I might have thrown my support behind his engagement to Abby.

Maybe.

But he didn’t say one damn word.