Just as Alex was about to tell him that, no, her name was “Bree,” she flashed Isaak a smile and said, “Agreed. It’s nice to meet you.”
Dimitri sighed. “Why not choose female wolverine, Aleksandr? Why must you make your mother’s shameful mistake and pick dumb cat? Our Valentina could have had anyone. Anyone. Yet, she chose that.”
James groaned. “Will you just let it go already?”
Isaak cocked his head. “I heard a squeak, Valentina. Quite high-pitched. You must have vermin again. Where is rat poison? I will get it.”
Valentina swatted her brother’s arm with a dish towel. “It will be in your food if you do not cease trying to play games with my mate, Isaak.” She scowled at her other brother. “Dimitri, watch your words or leave.”
Sergei slowly approached Bree. “We have not spoken before, but I remember your eyes. They are very striking.”
“Thank you,” Bree said simply. Her cat, wary of the strangers, pushed hard against Bree’s skin as she studied the highly dominant males. The feline wasn’t whatsoever subtle about it, so Bree knew the others in the room would sense it.
Sergei’s eyes glittered with approval. “Your cat is bold. I like bold.”
Dimitri took a moment to silently assess Bree and then twisted his mouth. “A very strong omega.”
“Strong enough to be primary,” said Valentina, proudly. “When Dani steps down, Bree will take over. For now, she has other things to worry about.” She looked at Alex. “You should tell your uncles about the trouble surrounding Bree. They may be able to help.”
“What sort of trouble?” asked Isaak.
While they all settled at the table and Valentina fussed over everyone—filling plates and pouring drinks—Alex told his uncles about the current goings on concerning Bree.
Dimitri forked a piece of steak. “I have heard of Cage but never met him. I heard he is like ghost. No one sees him go in or out of buildings. They only find bodies. If he is nearby and wants you dead, Breasha, I think you would already be so.”
Yeah, the wolverines had apparently decided to call her Breasha.
“But now that you’ve mated Aleksandr, Paxton may no longer care if you live,” said Sergei. “Do not worry, though. Aleksandr will protect you. Ivanovs take care of their own.”
Sighing, James lifted his glass of wine. “Alex is a Devereaux, as you well know.” But Sergei ignored him.
“Wolverines are born to protect—it is in their nature, their blood, their bones,” Isaak told Bree. “Aleksandr is fierce even for one of our kind. He makes us all proud. It is not easy for boy to grow without father to guide him, but Aleksandr turned out well.”
James’s jaw hardened. “He has a father, and that father is sitting right here.”
Isaak glanced at the floor. “Did you hear that? Sounded like squeaking.”
Valentina clenched her hand around her fork. “Isaak, do not make me hurt you.”
Bree shot James a supportive smile, but the male pallas cat didn’t seem all that bothered by the Ivanovs. He was probably well-accustomed to them at this point.
“Perhaps we can help you, Breasha,” said Dimitri. “We will search woods near your house. If Paxton is there or has been there, we will find evidence of it. And if we find him, we will catch him.”
James sliced into his steak. “Kill him, you mean.”
Dimitri lifted his shoulders. “Is that not same?”
“No, not even close,” replied James. “You don’t free your captives. You eat them.”
“I freed you,” said Dimitri.
“No, I escaped. Then I blew up your cabin.”
Dimitri’s sigh was nostalgic. “It was very fine cabin. I miss it sometimes.”
“Back onto the previous subject,” began Alex, “do any of you know anyone who might be able to tell us where the Silva Clan hides?”
Sergei pursed his lips. “Perhaps. Leave it with us.” He looked at Valentina. “Mama plans to visit you soon.”
James’s head snapped up, and he frowned. “What?”
Pointedly ignoring James, Sergei spoke to Valentina again. “She says she wishes to see her great-grandchildren again.”
Valentina huffed. “Mila will not allow it unless Mama agrees to behave herself. Do not pretend you do not know what I mean. Mama cannot call twins by names she herself has chosen. She needs to use their given names.”
Isaak’s brows snapped together. “You cannot blame Mama for that. The babes should have Russian names.”
“But they do not,” said Valentina. “So unless Mama respects that and stops telling Dillon that all wolf shifters are cursed to spend afterlife alone, Mila will keep twins away from her.”
“Which would be for the best.” James sipped his wine. “They don’t need to be exposed to Skeletor’s brand of dysfunctional.”
Just like that, all three Ivanov male wolverines puffed up.
“You will show more respect to our mother,” snapped Dimitri.
James snorted. “I will show her shit.”
Isaak shot to his feet. “You do not deserve our sister. It is tragedy fate gave you to her. No woman should feel such shame and pain—”
Valentina slammed a fist on the table. “Must this happen every time we eat together? Can you not manage to be civil to my mate for just an hour?”
Isaak scowled. “Why would we be civil to psychopathic cat who forces our sister to live in America? You make no sense.”
“He does not force me to do anything,” Valentina said through her teeth. “Living here is my choice.”
“Bah,” said Isaak. “He has brainwashed you to believe it is your choice. Psychopaths do that. They trick mind. Do you know nothing of world you live in?”
“What I know is I will stab this fork in your eye if you do not cease with this game.”
James laid a hand on his mate’s fist. “It’s all right, sweetheart, don’t let them get to you. It’s not worth it.”
“There,” said Isaak. “Did you not hear soft tone of voice he used, Valentina? It is like hypnosis. Ted Bundy smiled liked that too, you know.”
Valentina slashed her hand in the air. “And I am now done.”
She and her brothers then began to argue in rapid-fire Russian.
Alex turned to Bree with an exasperated sigh and rested his arm on the back of her chair. “Now, aren’t you glad you came?”
Bree only chuckled. Yeah, actually, she was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sprawled on Alex’s sofa the following evening, Bree drummed her thumbs on her cell phone, determined to master the level on this annoyingly addictive game. “Private Number” began flashing on the screen. Since she was irked at having her game interrupted, Bree’s greeting was undeniably on the curt side. Maybe Alex’s rude nature was rubbing off on her.
“Hello, little cat.”
For a single moment, she froze. Her cat froze. Hell, time itself seemed to freeze. Then Bree knifed up, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. Her cat arched her back, hissing and spitting like a trapped feral animal.
“I don’t get a ‘hi’ from my own mate?” asked the caller. “That’s not nice.”