She knew he meant it, the interfering bastard. Cup in hand, she pivoted to face him. Although he hadn’t taken more than two steps into the room, his large, powerful build practically dominated her kitchen, making Shaya feel cornered. Like a prey by a predator. Involuntarily, her eyes briefly darted to the door. Nick, still staring at her with an intensity that would unnerve any female, stepped in front of it as though to block her avenue of retreat. Wow, did he actually suspect she’d run like a frightened little fawn? He should. She was seriously considering it. “Who I’m with and what I do is none of your business.”

He took one slow step toward her. “You’ll always be my business, Shay. You’re my mate, you’re mine.”

Although his voice had been gentle, there was steel in his words. That steel only served to fuel her anger. But the anger wasn’t enough to drown out the lust heating her body. Hell, lust wasn’t a strong enough word. The closest word she could think of was desperation. Yes, she was absolutely desperate to jump on him and run her fingers through his short ash-blond hair; desperate to feed the need, feed the urges, and to answer that yearning for total completeness that she knew he could give her. She was actually shaking with it.

Shaya wished she could say that the only reason she wanted him was because he was her mate, but that would be a lie. No, this male who radiated authority was walking temptation with his powerful muscular build, sensual mouth, and penetrating dusky-green eyes that demanded total attention. Power hummed around him, and he exuded dark, primal, animal energy. Moreover, he was charged with a raw, magnetic sexuality. His natural dominance was like a magnet to her submissive side, and it promised to answer every craving she had. In other words, he was her personal wet dream…which meant it was vital that she got him out of her home.

Giving herself a mental slap, she returned her focus to the conversation. “Yours?” She snorted. “I don’t think so.”

Nick arched a brow. “I might not have claimed you, but you’re still mine.” His voice was soft and controlled, but even he heard the menace in it.

The possessiveness practically emanating from him pleased and seduced her wolf, just as his natural dominance that promised total safety did. But it wasn’t enough for Shaya—her submission wasn’t something he’d earned on any level. “I never had you down as the delusional type. Huh. I guess you never can tell. You can let yourself out.”

Her dismissal pissed Nick off, but he’d known this would happen. He’d anticipated her resistance and anticipated that she would be eager to get a few things off her chest before even considering leaving with him. He could sense that, despite how calm she looked, she was absolutely livid. “This is a nice place,” he said as he took a turn around the dining area that was attached to the kitchen. The house was warm, stylish, and bright. “How’ve you been?”

The genuine interest in his voice surprised Shaya, considering the impression he’d given her was that he saw her as nothing but an object to whom he had rights. Sipping her coffee, she watched through narrowed eyes as he strolled around like he owned the place. His casual body language displayed a quiet, relaxed confidence; there was no fidgeting, no wasted movements, no twitchy motions with Nick. Every single movement was sure, fluid, and deliberate. God help her, she found all that confidence and control sexy as shit.

It galled her that she was drawn to this person whom she would happily shoot right in the head. She forced a chirpy tone. “Great, thanks. I’ll feel even better once you’re gone.” Her wolf, on the other hand, didn’t like that idea. A little voice in Shaya’s head insisted that she didn’t either, but she ignored it.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a coffee?”

“No. You’re not a guest, you’re an intruder. Plus, there’s no point, since you’re leaving right this second. Have a safe journey.”

Nick grinned. He liked her sassy attitude. “Sure. I’ll leave. Get your stuff together.”

He’d clearly been held back a few grades if he thought that would ever happen. “Whoa there, did you not hear me before, Beavis?”

“Beavis? Are you saying I’m dumb?”

“It’s not your fault.”

Seeing the pain in her eyes that her aloof tone was trying to hide, he sighed. “Baby, I know I hurt you, so I don’t blame you for being severely pissed at me—”

“I’m not pissed at you—although I’ve visualized you sliding down a barbed-wire banister a couple of times.”

He winced. “That bad, huh?”

She nodded slowly, her voice hard. “That bad. But hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ll do that.”

Nick believed her. There was that temper he’d heard all about. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Once I get you back to California, we’ll—”

“I already told you, I’m not going back to the Phoenix Pack.”

“I didn’t come here to take you to the Phoenix Pack.”

Okay, he’d totally lost her. Something in his expression made her wary. “I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”

“I want you. All of you.”

The flash of determination in his eyes made her suck in a breath. No, he couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he might. “What does that mean?”

“I’m here to claim you.” The last thing he’d expected was for her to hurl a teaspoon at his forehead. Shit, that actually hurt.

“Claim me? Now there’s a f**king joke. I’d rather French kiss a goddamn barracuda than mate with you!”

Nick cursed in surprise as Shaya lifted one of the wooden breakfast stools and launched it at him. He barely ducked in time to dodge it. When he stood tall again, it was to see another stool coming at him. He caught that one, using it as a shield against the next stool. Then she was racing out of the room.

Before she could escape from the house, Nick dashed after her. But she didn’t open the front door. She reached behind the rack of coats in the hallway, pulled out a baseball bat, turned sharply, and swung it at his head. Motherfucker. He jumped backward, barely avoiding it. “Dammit, Shay!”

Where had his sweet mate gone? Having a bad temper was one thing, but the female in front of him was a merciless psycho. Proving that, she swung the bat again—this time at his abdomen. Although he jerked away, he only managed to dull the impact of her swing. It still connected hard with his abdomen, making him instinctively bend over as the breath whooshed out of him. That was when the bat came flying at his head again.