Ria lay in bed that night and sighed. She’d been cosseted, petted, and smothered half to death by her family in the hours since her return home. Most days, it would’ve made her certifiable. Today, she’d needed that warm blanket of love.
Warmth. Heat.
Her body softened, remembering what it had felt like to lie curled up in Emmett’s lap. She’d never found herself in a man’s lap before. Most of the men who’d dared run the gauntlet of her family’s protectiveness to ask her out were nice boys from the neighborhood. She had nothing against them. But the thing was, she’d grown up with a father who was fierce in his care of his family, and an older brother who hadn’t deviated far from the paternal mold when it came to looking after those who were his own. They ate those nice boys for breakfast.
Ria dreamed of a man who’d occasionally chew them up instead!
Hugging her pillow, she smiled at her own thoughts. You’d think she didn’t like her family. That was far from the truth. But well, they were overwhelming. They kind of took over everything. How was she supposed to respect a man who let himself be taken over?
I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.
Emmett had said that right in front of her father.
Goose bumps broke out over her entire body. She wondered what those big, strong hands of his would feel like smoothing over her skin, all hot and—
Her phone beeped. She groaned when she saw the caller ID.
Tom.
Sighing, she went to answer, but the well-concealed devil in her made her turn off the cell instead. There was nothing wrong with Tom, except that he wanted to marry her. Her father liked Tom. Even Alex liked Tom. Ria had no problem with Tom. She just didn’t want to marry him. No, what she dreamed of was a love story like her grandmother’s—and Miaoling was the only one in the family who supported Ria’s resistance to the “Great Match.”
From Alex’s and Simon’s point of view, it truly was a great match. Like her, Tom was part Chinese. Like her, he’d grown up in the States, and had a very Western outlook on life, without having forgotten the other side of his heritage. Best of all, the Clarks and the Wembleys had been friends since before either Ria or Tom had been born.
It was all perfect.
Except Tom would never laugh with her over a secret joke as her grandfather had done with her grandmother. He’d never hold her with the furious tenderness with which Simon held Alex when he thought no one was looking. And he’d never pick a fight with her just so he’d get to make up, as Jet did with Amber.
Why couldn’t they see that she wanted the same thing? All her life she’d been content to let Jet and their younger brother, Ken, take the spotlight. Being the middle child was actually kind of nice—she got the best of both worlds, and her relationship with her siblings was airtight. But with her man, with her husband, she wanted to be number one.
“Go to sleep, Ria,” she muttered to herself, knowing she was obsessing because she was afraid of nightmares.
But when she did sleep, it wasn’t to fall into a nightmare . . . but into the powerful arms of a man who looked at her with eyes gone cat-green.
Emmett studied his face in the bathroom mirror the next morning and scowled. It was a wonder Ria hadn’t run screaming from him when he’d taken her into his arms. She was all soft and silky, a luscious armful. He, by comparison, looked like he’d had a few run-ins with both fists and walls. The fists were true, but like all changelings, he’d healed the damage fast. No, this was simply the face he’d been born with. It had never really bothered him before, but now he rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and decided he’d damn well better shave before he went to check up on Ria.
The shave and shower cleaned him up, but he was aware he still looked like a thug when he knocked on the door to her family home. He most definitely looked nothing like the pretty boy walking up the drive with a huge bouquet of roses.
Shit.
Why the hell hadn’t he thought to bring flowers?
“Hello,” the other man said in an Ivy League-educated voice. “I’m Tom.”
Emmett held out a hand. “Emmett.”
“Simon mentioned you on the phone,” Tom said with a friendly smile that failed to hide the calculation in his eyes. “You helped Ria last night.”
“You’re a friend of the family?” Emmett asked to see what Tom would say, just as the door opened.
“No, he’s my daughter’s fiancé,” Alex said, pulling Tom down for a kiss on the cheek.
Emmett glanced at Tom. “You don’t believe in rings?”
“It’s not official yet.” The other man was calm, confident, clearly sure of his suit.
Emmett didn’t smile, but the leopard snapped its teeth inside him. This human cub was about to learn that leopard males didn’t recognize any claim not acknowledged by the female. And Ria didn’t consider herself bound to this one. Even if he hadn’t overhead her conversation with her grandmother, nothing about her had spoken of a commitment to another. She didn’t carry Tom’s scent . . . and she hadn’t pushed Emmett away last night.
Saying nothing of that, he turned to face Alex. “Could I speak to Ria?”
“Why?” Alex’s eyes narrowed, even as she pulled Tom inside and put her hand on the opposite doorjamb as if to bar Emmett’s way.
“I need to see if she remembers anything else about her attacker.” Emmett’s leopard knew a worthy adversary when it saw one. Alex was one hell of a protective mama-bear. But Emmett had tangled with plenty like her in the pack. “It’ll help us make the streets safer for all daughters.” No, he wasn’t above using emotional blackmail to talk his way in.
Alex dropped her arm. “Hmm. Come in—but if you upset Ria, I’ll beat you up myself.”
“I’m not fragile, Mom.” A familiar voice, a familiar scent—soft, fresh, but with a lingering spice to it.
He drew the contradiction of it deep into his lungs, his leopard keeping careful watch as Ria hugged her mother, then took the flowers from Tom. No kiss. Good. His claws scratched inside his skin, wanting out, wanting to do damage. Pretty Tom with his slick hair and flawless skin irritated him.
“Emmett.” Ria looked to him, all big brown eyes and hair. “We can talk in the living room.”
As he nodded, Alex took the roses. “I’ll put these in water. Tom can sit with you for moral support.”
“On second thought,” Ria said, making Alex freeze, “I think I’d rather go out for a walk—I can show Emmett where I was ambushed. Grandmother wants to talk to Tom.”
Grinning inwardly at how neatly she’d cut off all options but the one she wanted, Emmett stepped out onto the drive and waited for her to join him. “You’ve done this before,” he said when she came up beside him and they headed off.
“You have to grow a fairly strong personality in my family,” she said, a smile flirting with her lips. “It’s a survival mechanism.” Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she passed over a folded piece of paper. “The account number.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at her features, frowning at the bruise she’d tried to hide under makeup. “Show me your hands.”
She turned them palm-sides-up. “Healing okay.”
“The bastard is in a coma,” he muttered, cupping her hands so he could inspect the damage. The leopard hated seeing her marked up. So did the man. “You know a Psy we could chat up?”
“Well,” she said when he forced himself to let her go, “my mother’s accountant is Psy but I don’t think Ms. Bhaskar is into interrogations.”
“Pity.”
“So, last night . . .”
“Can you talk about it?” He paused to look down into her face. “If it’s too hard, we can delay it for a few days.”