“Are my ears bleeding?” asked Farrell. “I feel like they should be bleeding.”
Well there was a fuck of a lot of noise. The cat hissed, snarled, and yowled. The devil barked, growled, and screeched. To add to that, their pride mates—particularly Aspen and Bailey—loudly egged the devil on.
The feline repeatedly tried grabbing her opponent by the throat and grappling her to the ground. But the devil was constantly moving and jerking, making herself a difficult target and coming at the cat from other angles. In sum, she ran rings around the feline.
Although Tate could see that his mate was in no danger of being overpowered by Ashlynn’s cat, he wanted nothing more than to put an end to the whole thing. It went against every protective streak he had to just stand there while she was dueling, bleeding, and injured. His cat was much calmer about it; he respected his mate’s right to defend herself.
Tate flinched as a particularly sharp pain rushed up their bond, courtesy of a harsh bite to the flank from Ashlynn’s feline. “Bitch.”
“It’s almost over,” said Luke. “The cat’s got very little ‘go’ left in her. She’s losing, and she knows it.”
That wasn’t stopping the cat from attacking. Again and again, she and the devil lunged, pounced, and tore strips out of each other. The air was heavy with the cloying scents of blood, pain, and anger.
He could feel that his mate was beginning to tire. To look at her, though, you’d never think it. She seemed hyped-up on sheer rage.
A well-aimed swipe from the devil knocked the cat down. Slow to right herself, the feline backed off, panting heavily … as if needing a moment to orientate herself. She was a fucking mess. Her body was covered in vicious wounds. Many patches of her fur were dark and matted with blood. And her face, fuck, it sported so many grotesque bite wounds that it was hard to look at her.
It was a wonder she could see clearly through the blood all over her face. She had to be in some serious pain. Pride, apparently, wouldn’t let her admit defeat.
The devil had almost as many injuries, and a lot of them were deep and ugly. Blood stained her muzzle and matted her coat, but she stood tall, braced to fight on.
“It’s over, Ashlynn,” said Tate. Her cat wouldn’t understand the words, but Ashlynn would hear them. “Submit,” he advised.
Instead, she weakly bared a fang at him—which earned her a snarl from the devil.
“Ashlynn, the only reason she hasn’t burst open your goddamn skull with those jaws is that she’s too mean to give you a way out. She wants you to have to skulk out of here on your own two feet, embarrassed and defeated. It’s no skin off her nose if you want to keep this up. But you’re not going to win, and she’s not going to kill you. Cut your losses and submit now.”
A low growl came from the cat, but then bones began to snap and pop as she shifted.
The devil let out a put-out sound, apparently disappointed that the battle was now over. She also then shifted.
Her breaths coming in short, soft pants, Havana stood upright. Her wounds protested the movement, but she made sure that her pain didn’t show on her face.
Ashlynn had done some damage. The skank wasn’t smirking anymore, though. Especially now that scratches crisscrossed over dozens of swelling bites on her face. The rest of her looked no better.
Trembling and breathing heavily, Ashlynn stared at Havana, looking somewhat dazed. That she’d been defeated? That the devil had so badly wounded her?
Havana shrugged one shoulder. “Told you it’d hurt.”
Tate descended the porch steps and moved to Havana’s side, but his eyes were on Ashlynn. “You challenged my mate.”
The skank sneered. “You can’t discipline me for it,” she said, her voice edged with pain. “I don’t answer to you anymore. I’m a lone shifter now.”
“Which also means my healer isn’t compelled to tend to your injuries.”
Ashlynn’s face went slack.
“You’re banished from here,” Tate declared, all Alpha. “Grab your shit and go. You don’t return. Ever. Not even to visit your family. If you want to see them, you invite them to wherever you’re staying. But you don’t come back here.”
She let out a derisive snort. “Like I’d even want to.” She stiffly pulled on her clothes and, without a single look at anyone, hobbled across the lawn and through the crowd.
Tate looked at Farrell. “Follow her. Make sure she retrieves her stuff and leaves immediately.”
The Head Enforcer nodded and trailed after the feline. A few words from Luke had the crowd dispersing.
Tate turned to Havana, his jaw tight. He looked eager to hold her, but he settled for cupping one side of her face. “Your devil really is a bloodthirsty little thing.”
Her devil preened at that. “Was that ever in doubt?”
“No. But it’s one thing to know it. It’s another thing to witness it.”
One of the pride’s healers, Helena, approached. “Let’s get you fixed up.” She rested her hand on Havana’s arm, and the healer’s energy poured into her. Wounds closed over, bruises faded, and the fractures in her ribs healed.
Havana smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” said Helena before striding away.
Havana blew out a breath and turned back to Tate. “I kind of need to clean up. Then I want pancakes.”
He slid an arm around her shoulders. “I can make that happen.”
As they all began to make their way back to the porch, Havana noticed that Bailey hadn’t moved and was staring into space. Havana let out a sharp whistle. “Yo, mamba, you okay?”
Her eyes coming back into focus, Bailey nodded. “Yeah, I was just wondering … why do people say ‘unsolved mysteries?’ I mean, obviously they’re unsolved, or they wouldn’t be mysteries. Don’t you think it’s weird?”
Havana blinked. “Put that way, yeah, it’s weird.”
The rest of the day was pretty eventful, but not in a negative way. Members of the pride turned up in clumps to swear fealty to Havana and congratulate both her and Tate on their mating—even Eva, Aimee, and Priscilla. Havana had thought Ashlynn’s mother might appeal her daughter’s banishment, but Priscilla didn’t even bring it up. Either she knew it would be pointless or she felt that it would be better if Ashlynn didn’t return here.
Later that night, when Havana and Tate were finally alone, they each grabbed a beer and headed to the patio deck. It was a little cool out, so she snuggled into him on the rattan sofa. “It’s nice having a backyard. I haven’t had one since I lived with Corbin.”
Tate took a swig from his bottle. “Did you talk to him about reducing the number of hours you work at the center?”
“Yep. He was already expecting it, because he knows how many responsibilities come with being an Alpha. And he knows the girls will be working the same hours as me from now on, what with them being my bodyguards and all. It doesn’t leave him in the lurch. It means he can hire more loners or give other employees extra hours.”
“Hmm,” said Tate, a little gruff.
She sighed. “You can’t possibly still be sulking.”
He frowned, affronted. “I’m not sulking, I’m just annoyed.” He knocked back some beer. “You should have told me.”