“I’m meeting someone, and I don’t want to be late.”

Pretty Boy. Although Dante had told himself that he didn’t particularly care about the whole thing, he couldn’t let his questions go. He wanted to know who this male was that had replaced him in her thoughts, wanted to know what he was to Jaime. Or, more specifically, his bruised ego wanted to know.

Ordinarily, Dante wasn’t much of a brooder—that was Trey’s department—but he didn’t like unanswered questions. He was very good at reading people and situations, had always had very good intuition. But for some reason, his intuition always failed him around Jaime. Sometimes he got the feeling that she was hiding something, that there was a lot more to her than what she allowed people to see, but his instincts didn’t go off around her like they usually would around someone with secrets.

It made no sense.

“A date?” he bit out. Before she could reply, he asked, “With the guy I saw you with at the diner?”

Wondering at the strain in his voice, Jaime started to say no, but again, he didn’t give her the chance to speak.

“Who is he?”

“Shawn’s a guy I work with.”

“Just a work colleague, nothing more? Because it sure looked like more.” She might have corrected him about the whole “date” thing if he wasn’t firing questions at her so abruptly. His accusatory tone had her totally confused. “I’m not sure I understand what this is all about.”

Dante wasn’t sure he understood either, but he couldn’t let it go yet. He wasn’t going to get a break from his ego until his questions were answered. “What pack is he from?”

“He’s not a shifter. He’s human.”

“Human?” he repeated disbelievingly. “What are you doing dating a human? Are you stupid?” Bristling at the way he was talking to her, she straightened her posture and folded her arms across her chest. The natural and very potent pull in his voice to give him the answers that he wanted sent tingles down her spine. Damn if she would let it faze or fluster her. “You do understand that this is none of your business, right?”

Dante wasn’t sure why those words bothered him as much as they did, but he couldn’t hold back a growl. His wolf growled angrily inside his head. “None of my business?” he echoed quietly as he invaded her personal space.

Jaime tensed. Although Dante was a very dominant, assertive wolf, he was quietly forceful.

He barely ever raised his voice, but he didn’t have to. Even back when he was in his teens, the change in his mood could alter the emotional temperature in a room and put the fear of God in whoever was in his sights. This was partly why he was such a good interrogator. From what she’d heard, there wasn’t anyone he had failed to break. In spite of all that—or maybe because of it—

people respected him. Or feared him, whichever. When he lowered his voice like this, well, that was always a bad thing. It meant he was totally and utterly pissed.

Fear didn’t overtake her, though. She knew that despite the strength and the power that ran through that very muscular body, he would never hurt her. He would never hurt any female. Her instinct was to snap at him, to return his attitude with her own, but that wasn’t how a submissive wolf would behave. So, although it killed her to do it, Jaime lowered her eyes and let the tension leave her body. That seemed to placate him, because although he growled again, it was a growl of approval. It shouldn’t have been like a zap to her clit, but shockingly, it was. Her body was so damn weird sometimes.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you the way I did,” he allowed. “But you must know why dating a human isn’t wise. You can’t seriously be thinking about having a relationship with him.” It was hard to think past the way his scent—an alluring blend of pine needles, cinnamon spice, and sandalwood—caressed her senses. Looking up, she replied, “Shawn knows the score.” He snickered. “He would say that, wouldn’t he.”

“He and I had a brief fling a long time ago and it ended fine.”

“Oh is that right?” Those quiet words dripped with a menace of which Dante didn’t understand the source. Nor did she, if her expression was anything to go by. “You need to break it off with him, Jaime, before things go tits up.”

See, this was the thing about Betas—they often took their role as “protector” a little too literally. Jaime didn’t need this big-brother behavior, and she especially didn’t want it from a guy who she could never see in a fraternal sense. “Seriously, Dante, you’re letting yourself get frazzled over nothing.”

“I mean it, Jaime. You need to break it off with him.”

Aw, the poor guy really thought she was going to comply. It was kind of cute. “Not going to happen, Popeye. Sorry.” Giving him a slight wave, she turned and strolled away.

“Jaime?” he called after her. “Jaime, don’t ignore me!”

Without breaking stride, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “It’s not that I’m ignoring you.

I’ve just lost interest in the conversation.”

He growled at the smart-ass comment. The female was too obstinate for her own good. His wolf was raging within him, wanting Dante to stop her from meeting this other male. In truth, Dante didn’t like it either. He gritted his teeth against the urge to march over there and grab her. He didn’t want her leaving pack territory knowing that she’d be out somewhere with Pretty Boy; he didn’t want the human touching her or kissing her. He wanted to hoist her over his shoulder and lock her in her room—or maybe his. That irrational response was exactly why he let her go.

His mind, however, didn’t let it go—not even when he was back in his office with paperwork in front of him needing his attention. His wolf was severely irate. Not that his wolf’s sense of possessiveness surprised Dante. His wolf had wanted her badly since she arrived, had felt slightly possessive of her on sight. What did surprise Dante was that he felt a sliver of possessiveness, too.

Being protective and controlling with Jaime were two things he could easily rationalize. Of course Dante was protective, since she was one of his wolves. Of course he was being a little too controlling with her—or, at least, attempting to—as that was who he was. But the hint of possessiveness that was suddenly making itself known…well that was new. He wasn’t, by nature, a possessive person. He’d never been much of a jealous person either, yet that very emotion was circulating through him, curdling in his stomach.