Jarvis

Chapter 1-2

“Pervert,” Jarvis retorted, but his own grin weakened the insult.

She snorted. “Dad made me go in when it came time to washing his privates, I promise.” She smirked. “I just loved watching Jimmy getting served his dish of paternal duty.”

“Mundo says you guys weren’t close to your father. It’s why he’s a pain in the ass with his kids. Never leaves them alone.” Much to their chagrin.

Cinda grimaced. “Yeah. That was pretty much one of the only times he’d interact with Mundo. When he started to stink. With me?” She jerked a shoulder. “He used to rag me on my homework. That was pretty much it. Rest of the time he was hardly there.”

“That’s highly common with fathers of the past, I guess.”

“Fathers all round, more like,” she retorted gruffly.

“That’s not fair,” he cautioned.

“Isn’t it? Fathers always seem to be absent.”

“That’s a very broad opinion.” He pursed his lips. “I can tell you haven’t visited Mundo in a while.”

She c****d a brow, a move that had him studying her even harder. There was a wound there, he realized. A deep, old wound that had never healed. That might never heal.

His Bear didn’t like that belief. He felt the beast rumble around inside him, discomforted immensely by her pain.

“If you did, you’d see the exact opposite. Like Mundo, most of the fathers are too involved in their children’s lives. Speak to any of the kids, they’d more than agree. And, each father has taken a liking to another child not of their blood.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s not just the fathers, actually. The mothers, too. Jessie, for example,” he stated, naming Cinda’s niece, Mundo’s only daughter. “She’s friends with Annette.” The MC’s First Lady, mate to Mars, the Prez. “Then Mischa, she’s Kiko, the VP’s, mate. She’s close to Annette and Mars’ daughter, Ava. Jayden--” her nephew,“--is very close to Mars, and the other spoiled brat of a twin, Kon, is my bud.”

“Like a collective parenthood?” she asked, bemused by the concept.

“Yeah. Annette says it’s because it takes a village to raise a child.”

Grinning, Cinda shook her head. “You’d never know she was a human from birth, wouldn’t you?” she teased.

Jarvis chuckled. “Right. She does have weird beliefs, but what the hell can I say?” He jerked a shoulder again. “Sadly for Mars, she’s usually right.”

Her smile died a little. “I’m glad they’re righting the wrongs our fathers dealt upon us.”

“Was it more than just negligence?” he asked softly, finding her choice of words very interesting.

He didn’t want to psychoanalyze her, that was the last thing she needed or he wanted, but sometimes it was hard not to read into people.

She stared at him. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m interested.”

She scoffed, “Since when were you interested in me? We rub each other up the wrong way, Jarvis. Always have, always will.”

“And I’ll ask you again, haven’t you figured out why yet?”

When she just frowned, still unaware, he changed the subject. “David is getting steadily worse. There’s nothing I can do for him. He won’t see the shelter’s doctors. He won’t talk to anyone.”

Her eyes softened, but the confusion was still there as she tried to figure out his cryptic remarks. “He’ll know when he’s ready to seek healing. An authority figure has abused his position of power. And that’s just on an external setting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, David will have known that his uncle was in a position of power at the Council. Families talk about things like that.”

It had been so long since he’d been a part of a family unit, outside of the ones he’d seen at the clubhouse, he asked, “They do? Doesn’t sound something a young kid would be interested in.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be. But humans are obsessed with power. Over dinner, his parents might have spoken about how well his uncle was doing, for example. He doesn’t have to be interested for that belief to resonate.”

“Makes sense, I guess. It’s hard for me sometimes.”

“What is?”

He grimaced. “Connecting with them. They’re so, very…”

“Human,” she interrupted with a teasing smile.

His grimaced deepened. “Exactly. The s**t that’s important to them has to be important to me, but those kinds of things are conditioned from birth. I’m always at a distinct disadvantage.”

“Makes sense, but at least you try. What I meant when I said what I did is simply that David knows his uncle is in a powerful position in local politics. Not only has the man abused his position in David’s family unit, but also the one of government. He knows there is nobody to trust.” She sighed, the sound soft and sad. “I’d take it as a great compliment that he comes to you.”

“Every day,” he confirmed.

“Exactly. For so many years, too. That means a great deal. Kids like that, they tend to move around. He sticks close. Maybe because of this shelter. Maybe because of you. You’re a decent male, Jarvis. Always have been. He’ll respond to that. You’re the authority he always should have had, should have had to learn from, rather than having a son of a b***h like his uncle in his life.”

Despite himself, he was touched. Enough so that his voice creaked a little as he said, “Thank you. For saying that.”

Her smile was gentle. More gentle than he’d ever seen from her. “There’s no need to thank me. You’re the one doing the hard work. Which,” she said, then inhaled deeply, “is why I’m here. I want to help. By either publicizing this place for donations or simply to shine a light on it. Publicity is always good.”

“Is it?” He c****d a brow. “I’m not so sure.”

She studied him. “How do you fund this place? I’ve seen barely any kind of sponsored meals or galas or whatever to fund an operation of this magnitude.” She cast her gaze over him, then looked around the room. He watched her analytical glance take in the kitchens, all sparkly new and top of the line. He saw her take note of the food the kids were eating—good, wholesome dinners. Rich in macronutrients. “If you don’t run on sponsorships, then how?”

He pulled back again, leaning heavily against the rest as he murmured, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“It’s a side of you I hadn’t thought I’d ever see.”

“And that bothers you?”

“It bothers me that I read you so wrong.”

He shrugged. “We all make mistakes.”

“I made my name in journalism by not making mistakes. And I made it in a time where journalism was having a crisis. I can’t afford to make mistakes, yet I have with you.” She cut off that line of conversation by hazarding a guess, “You fund it, don’t you? Out of your own pocket?”

“Some of it,” he confided.

“Most of it,” she corrected.

“Justiss helps.”

“Justiss is the multimillionaire, isn’t he?” she asked softly. “I never knew him all that well.”

“Until he joined the Council, which is well before you left for Mississippi, he used to hang around in the background. He was always a bit of an outsider under the other presidents.”

She blinked at him, but her attention was wholly on him once more.

A fact both man and beast appreciated.

Intensely.

“Justiss played the stock markets and made himself a fortune.” Jarvis shrugged. “Along the way he helped me, too. I run this place. Use most of my funds to run it because it’s my pet project, but he helps. And Toni, his mate, is the doctor here. She donates her time and usually a lot of the medication too.”

“Pet project,” Cinda scoffed, picking up on that one remark and immediately dismissing it. “Like this could ever be considered a pet project.”

“I only have the time I don’t dedicate to the Council and the MC’s businesses to focus on this place. It’s not enough, not really. It’s a full-time job.”

For some reason, his words had her swallowing. Gulping down nerves, maybe? He had no idea why she’d be nervous until she whispered, “Let me help.”

He frowned. “Why? Why would you want to?”

“I don’t know. I just… I want to help. That was always my intention when I came here. Whether it was by helping raise money or even volunteering some time, I wanted to help.”

He took her in and wondered what had happened to the Cinda he’d always thought he’d known.

Of course, her presence here, that delicious scent she exuded by simply breathing, told him precisely how wrong that analysis had always been.

Birth control.

Goddess. They’d only realized how badly birth control could mess up the interaction between a male and his mate.

Pip had lived at the clubhouse as a club w***e for years, under Major’s nose, and he hadn’t realized she was his thanks to the medication she took for PCOS. Only when she’d left the clubhouse, unable to remain as a club w***e anymore when she herself felt the call of the mate bond to a male who seemingly didn’t share that call, and had taken herself off the medication thanks to no insurance to cover the costs of the meds, that her true scent had been allowed to blossom. Once Major had scented her, he’d known. And they’d mated.

How had this happened with Cinda?

She Bears never took birth control. It was unnecessary. It wasn’t like they could get pregnant with another male who wasn’t their mate. But birth control had to be the only explanation as to why the fact she was his had eluded him for so long.

“What is it?” she asked softly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He should tell her. He knew he should. But he wanted her to figure it out. For her to realize what he was to her. The call of the mate bond hadn’t just eluded him after all.

Pip had known Major was hers, regardless of the meds. Had Cinda known and simply evaded it?

When his Bear growled, a deep bellow that the man longed to release, he knew that was exactly what Cinda had done.

There was no other reason to go on birth control. Not unless she’d known, had always known, that he was her mate.

Rage washed through him, followed by a hurt so deep it was worse than any blow he’d ever known in a fight. Goddess, it was worse than the time he’d been sprayed by bullets on a field trip into another gang’s territory.

“How long have you known?” he asked softly, but his words were more a hiss than anything else.

“What do you mean?” she asked warily.

“Why are you back in Houston?” Jarvis asked, changing the subject. He wanted answers, and if he pushed too hard in one direction, she’d run off.

He could already sense her nervousness and could see in her body language she was prepared to rush off. She’d come to him but that didn’t mean he could shackle her here until he got all the answers he needed. Screw that. Deserved.

She didn’t mimic his pose. She hadn’t relaxed into the seat even though they’d been having a conversation. She was sitting upright, her elbows on the table as she leaned toward him. Perfect for immediately jumping into action and running away from him.

Again.

She frowned at him. “I was reassigned.”

“To Houston?”

“Yeah.”

“That was lucky, wasn’t it? Coming back to your home turf?”

She firmed her jaw. He could see the muscles tense and clench as she stated, “I might have put in a request for a transfer.”

The confession didn’t ease his anger. “Finally decide you were ready to meet your mate, did you?” he asked in a far softer tone than he’d realized he was capable of.

She immediately flinched and he knew he’d hit home.

“Why, Cinda? Why?” He shook his head at her. “Why would you do this to us?”

“You haven’t suffered,” she told him angrily. “You’re not the one who…”

When she broke off, he leaned forward, copying her posture. It was interesting that she chose that second to back away. “Who, what? Tell me, Cinda. Explain why you’ve avoided this. Us.”

She gulped. “I was too young. You were too young.”

His eyes flared wide at the bullshit excuse. He slapped his hand against the table, so hard that the sound rang around the room and his palm stung in response.

When the chatter of a two hundred teenagers came to an abrupt halt in response to his move, he sucked in a breath, seeking control. The last thing these kids needed was to see him out of control, to believe that he wasn’t the source of safety he’d always tried to project onto them.

“Lies,” he hissed before he turned to the crowd and forced a smile. “It’s okay,” he called out. “Enjoy your dinner.”

He knew the kids carried on watching them and he felt their eyes crawl over them as they slowly but steadily went back to their earlier conversations.

In the time it took for that to happen, Cinda had started to tremble; a fine quiver overtaking her limbs, and he watched, unfeeling, as she unraveled before him.

“I wasn’t ready to mate,” she whispered, closing her eyes as though that harsh truth was more than she could stand.

Goddess, she thought it was hard for her to say aloud. How the f**k did she think it felt for him to hear it?

“But you’re ready now?” he snarled at her, uncaring that she flinched. His Bear didn’t approve of his line of questioning. All the Bear wanted was to wrap her in his arms, take her to the nearest flat surface that was in complete privacy, and Claim her as his.

The Bear didn’t want to talk. He wanted action.

Pity for the Bear that at that moment all the man wanted was answers.

And until he had them all, until he knew exactly what in the hell kind of game she was playing, there would be no Claiming.

For years his brother Chris had fought the mate bond. As had his mate, Mars’s daughter, Ava. For weeks, Mundo and his mate, Christie, had had to withhold the mate bond. As had Jessie and Spyder.

And so too had Cinda, it would seem.

He’d known her for nearly forty years. She’d lied to him for forty years.

Four wasted decades of loneliness, and all because she hadn’t felt she was ready to mate.

If the tables had turned and she’d suddenly decided she was ready, then there was no way he was going to make it easy on her.

If it made him a bastard, then that was her fault. Not his.

A rejection spanning nearly half a century was the reason for that, and she’d just have to accept the consequences for her stupid, stupid decision to avoid him and their mate bond.