“Just an FYI for you,” he said to Ulrich, giving Dez one of his famous smirks. “Dee’s been known to wrestle a gator back home in Tennessee when she’s bored, so you may want to keep that in mind before you really piss her off, Dog Fancy.”

Ulrich stared at Mace for a good minute before he asked, “Who are you again?”

Knowing that not much else could insult her husband, Dez threw her head back and laughed.

Dee-Ann marched down the hallway toward the elevator. Not a lot pissed her off. Unlike the rest of the women in her family, she didn’t get angry at every little thing. What was the point? But Ulrich Van Holtz was wearing on her damn nerves.

“You!”

Dee froze when something hard and heavy hit her in the back of the head. Fangs out, she spun around but immediately stopped when she realized it was her cousin’s pregnant female. It wasn’t the whole kid-glove thing because Jessie Ann was pregnant that kept Dee from slapping the little bitch, it was because wild dogs were known to be highly unstable when pregnant. Defensive, highly emotional, and apparently quick to throw things. And the She-dogs standing behind Jessie looked like they weren’t about to get involved unless Dee made the first move. Normally, something Dee-Ann wouldn’t give a second thought about. But Smitty had made his demands real clear. No picking on the dogs . . . no matter how much they may be asking for it.

And the good Lord knew that Jessie Ann was asking for it.

“This is your fault,” Jessie Ann went on, sounding hysterical over a helpless poodle. Did she adopt Blayne, too? How many mutts did the woman need in her life anyway? “Because of you Blayne is trapped in scary bear territory. Because of you.”

“You need to stay out of this, Jessie Ann.”

“It’s Jessica, bitch!” Jessie snarled as she stomped forward, her belly leading the way and her She-dogs watching her, knowing that Dee wouldn’t do anything to harm her cousin’s future child.

Thankfully, though, Sissy Mae and Ronnie Lee jumped in front of Jessie Ann, hands on the She-dog’s shoulders.

“Jessie Ann, I thought we talked about this,” Ronnie pleaded.

Jessie pointed an accusing finger at Dee. “You! You microchipped her like a . . . a . . .”

“Like the rescue mutt she is?”

Sissy and Ronnie Lee looked at Dee, their eyes wide, and Jessie shoved the pair out of her way, descending on Dee. But before claws, fangs, or fists could connect Smitty was there, grabbing his mate under the arms and carrying her off.

“We’ll discuss this later, cousin,” he tossed over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom with his cursing, spitting mate.

“What?” Dee snapped when she realized Sissy and Ronnie were still staring at her, looking surprisingly disgustedfor two females whose whole life goal at one time seemed to be the torturing of Jessie Ann Ward.

“I know that tone isn’t directed at me, cousin,” Sissy stated, one brow raised. And Dee took it as the challenge it was, stepping forward, but Ronnie Lee quickly got between them.

“No, no, y’all. Not here.”

Sissy crossed her arms over her chest. “You better figure out how to fix this, Dee-Ann. Or I’m going to get real fuckin’ cranky. That little wolfdog has a lot of friends, and I happen to be one of them.”

Great. Someone else blaming her for this mess.

Deciding she was tired of playing nice about all this, Dee headed toward the elevator.

CHAPTER 23

“Are you awake?” Blayne’s eyes opened wide to find a descendent of violent barbarians hanging over her. “Well?”

“I’m awake . . . now.”

“Good.” He kissed her, and Blayne automatically reached for him, her arms slipping around his neck. But before she could get comfortable, he pulled away. “I didn’t want to get up before you did.”

Why did they have to get up at all? Oh. That’s right. Because she’d just spent the entire night fucking the most OCD hockey player ever.

Bo sat on the edge of the bed, scratching his head and yawning. “We slept late.”

Hearing someone moving around in the living room, Blayne grabbed Bo’s jersey off the floor and tugged it on before glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “You consider seven a.m. as sleeping late?”

“Yes.”

Deciding not to worry too much about the man’s issues with time, Blayne raised her arms high in the air and took one of her nice long stretches. She was canine after all.

Her muscles were deliciously sore and now that she was up, Blayne felt a rush of energy hit her system. She wanted to run, to play, to . . .

She stared at Bo’s back. It was huge. Wide, muscular, and smooth. Like a giant target calling her name.

Grinning and using all the strength and power in her body, Blayne launched herself at The Marauder.

Bo felt something tap his back and he opened his eyes to find arms and legs wrapped around him.

“Yes?”

“I have way too much energy and no way to work it off!”

Bo realized that Blayne wasn’t simply hanging off him, she was attempting to Blayne-handle him into submission.

“Well.” He grabbed both her hands in one of his. “I have some ideas on how we can work that extra energy off.”

“You want to go running with me?”

“Or,” he tried, “we can get back in bed and fu—”

The bedroom door flew open. “Morning, Marines!”