Havana held back a snort and gave her a bright smile. “Then it would seem that things will work out for you just fine.”
“I want your assurance that you’ll keep your distance from Tate. He and I need time to find our way back to each other. I don’t want you or anyone else getting in the way of that.”
Havana supposed she should be flattered that the woman felt so threatened by her. “Well, I can’t give you what you want, seeing as he and I are working alongside each other to tackle the auction situation.”
“But, other than that, you can keep your distance. So I’d like your assurance that you’ll do exactly that.”
Havana twisted her mouth. “Maybe if you hadn’t spent the night sending me death glares, I’d be inclined to give you what you want. In the name of sisterhood and all. Then again, maybe not, because I simply don’t like you. Personally, I think Tate had a lucky escape when you left him.”
Ashlynn’s face went hard as stone. “Careful how you speak to me. I am not someone you want to fuck with. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of all these people.”
“Embarrass me?”
“I have no issue with throwing down right here, right now.”
Havana smiled, and her devil would have grinned wickedly if she could’ve. “What a coincidence. Neither do I.”
Elle clamped her hand around Tate’s arm and said, “No, you have to stay out of it.”
Tate’s mouth tightened. Every cell of his body demanded he stop the brawl before it could start. He didn’t want Ashlynn even so much as breathing Havana’s air, let alone touching her. “I’m Ashlynn’s Alpha, this place belongs to our pride—”
“And a single word from you would make Ashlynn back off, yes, but you’ll make Havana look weak if you intervene.”
Yeah, so Elle kept saying each time he made a move to wade in. She wasn’t wrong. Although Tate didn’t want to undermine Havana’s strength, he also didn’t want to see her hurt. Ashlynn could be a vicious little scrapper, and she liked to sharpen her claws on people’s faces. He liked Havana’s face just as it was.
Deke and Isaiah, who were waiting for the slightest signal from Tate to leap into the fray, looked just as eager to do so.
“I have every right to intervene,” Tate persisted. “Havana’s under my protection, and the person confronting her is one of my cats.”
“Which doesn’t change that your interference would reflect badly on Havana.”
“Still, it might be best if he does step in, Elle,” Luke interjected. “Ashlynn’s a tough fighter, and she can be—”
Havana slammed her palm into Ashlynn’s chest so hard it sent her flying backwards. Ashlynn crashed into the brick wall, causing some of the sports paraphernalia to fall to the floor with her.
Everyone stilled, including Tate’s cat. Because Havana had done that with a single shove. And she hadn’t used herculean effort. She’d done it with a casual strength and such lightning-fast speed that all Tate could do was stare. It was one thing to know that devils were phenomenally strong. It was a whole other thing to see them demonstrate that power.
Ashlynn righted herself, her face a mask of sheer rage. “Bitch.” Throwing out alpha vibes in an effort to oppress Havana—which was fucking cheating, really—Ashlynn charged at her. Tate’s stomach went hard, and his inner cat let out an enraged growl.
Havana grabbed the nearest chair and held it with all four legs directly pointed at Ashlynn—who, in her fury, stupidly fucking crashed into it.
She stumbled back with a loud wince of pain that morphed into a long hiss. “Fucking fight me!” Ashlynn demanded, planting her feet.
Shrugging, Havana lay the chair down flat on the floor, the legs facing her this time.
Ashlynn lunged. She didn’t get far. Because Havana slammed her heel on one leg of the chair, making the top of it rear up and catch Ashlynn right on the chin.
Looking dazed, Ashlynn spat out blood. She glared at Havana, her nostrils flaring. “You’ll regret that.” She shifted. Her feline launched out of the puddle of clothes and hurled herself at Havana. Which might have been a good move … except that, in the meantime, Aspen had handed Havana a stool leg—he hadn’t even noticed the bearcat break a stool.
Havana swung the wooden leg and whacked the feline like she was no more than a fucking baseball—and she did it with such force that the cat flew backwards and smacked into the wall hard enough to make Tate wince. The cat landed limply on the floor, out cold. And Havana, well, she dipped her hand into the complimentary bowl of pretzels that sat on a nearby table and tossed one into her mouth, casual as you please.
Nobody moved, no doubt as shocked as Tate. It was not often you saw a pallas cat get their ass handed to them. He couldn’t even say that Havana had really fought Ashlynn. His little devil had done no more than toy with her, and she’d done it with no emotion. It was an insult. A message that Havana found her nothing more than a pest. Tate blew out a breath because, yeah, Havana’s mercilessness went right to his cock. His inner cat fucking loved it.
The fact that she’d done this right in front of Ashlynn’s pride mates, not giving a damn that they might retaliate, wouldn’t anger the Olympus cats. No, like Tate, they respected that level of strength and fearlessness. Well, except for maybe Ashlynn’s friends, who’d now recovered from their shock.
Gaping, Eva glared at Havana. “Fucking whore.” Eva made a move toward her, her claws out. But then a black mamba dropped from the ceiling and wrapped tight around Eva’s throat. Hissing, the mamba bit her face. Eva screamed and staggered.
A furious Aimee didn’t take more than one aggressive step in Havana’s direction before Aspen effortlessly tackled her to the floor and smacked a three-legged stool over her head, knocking the feline unconscious.
Havana crossed to Ashlynn’s cat and carefully lifted her. Tate thought she might throw her at the table or something, but she didn’t. She nodded at Aspen, who then grabbed a chair while Havana climbed the steps that led to the stage. Once the bearcat had positioned the chair in the center of the platform, Havana laid the pallas cat on the wooden seat. Bailey, who’d at some point shifted back to her human form and slipped on her dress, skipped over and tucked a colorful cocktail umbrella into the thick fur on the cat’s neck.
Havana nodded, seemingly pleased. The three females then strolled off the stage. And Tate got it. Havana wanted Ashlynn to wake and find herself right there like that where everyone—including many of her pride mates—could see her. The feline would never live it down. Especially since people quickly began snapping pictures with their cell phones.
“Now that is cold,” said Luke, his tone one of approval.
It was, and Tate couldn’t help the grin that curved his mouth. His cat was pretty much head over heels for the delightfully vicious devil at this moment.
The bartender, Gerard, plonked three shots of tequila on the bar. “Drink up, girls. They’re on the house.” Yeah, he wasn’t a fan of Ashlynn.
Tate made a beeline for Havana, who pinned him with a look that said he was supposed to be keeping his distance, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to slink away. He needed to check that she was okay.