Warrior: The Elect, Book 3 by Loribelle Hunt Page B

button. He didn’t want her, so he probably wouldn’t even be around. But if that were true, why wouldn’t he sign the freaking divorce papers? She’d sent them twice in the last six months. Both times they were returned in shreds. And she was honest enough to admit a part of her was relieved. They couldn’t go on as they had. She ignored the tiny hope that there might be a way to repair their relationship.
    The call box hissed. “Mallory Littman,” she said into it. “I have an appointment with Brax.”  
    They knew who she was. She wasn’t giving them more explanation than that. The voice on the other end surprised her, though. It was warm, welcoming and teasing, a familiar voice she was grateful to hear. She’d grown up in this compound, gotten married in it. Maybe she shouldn’t have stayed away so long.
    “Returning to the fold, Mallory? Come on up,” Gabe said.  
    Her moment of pleasure was gone with a snap. She pushed down a surge of acrimony as she drove through the gates. Returning to the fold? Not likely. She wasn’t one of them. Her father and brothers were Elect, but she wasn’t. If it were up to her she wouldn’t have to deal with any of them at all. So why hadn’t she left Tampa? Why did she stay within range of temptation? She tamped down that thought. She’d learned the hard way how to hide her emotions from the Elect. It was the only way to survive in their midst.  
    A guard was waiting for her on the circular drive in front of Brax’s house and she left the keys in the ignition when she stepped out. He’d park it close by while she dealt with those inside. She didn’t plan on being here long. This case was going nowhere and she knew it. It was aggravating, but when Braxton Lee decided to bury something, it stayed buried. And she didn’t really disagree with his actions. She didn’t want to expose her family any more than he wanted to expose the rest of the species.
    She didn’t wait for anyone to let her in, and it was like a time warp. Rocky Horror, here we come. Not one damned thing had changed about the gracious, spacious entryway. God, she’d loved this house. Loved living in it with Zach. Damn. It was time to leave Tampa. Time to leave Florida, and she knew it. He wasn’t coming around and she could get a job anywhere. She just needed that damned divorce. Why wouldn’t he give her that? He didn’t want anything to do with her so what would it hurt?  
    And please God, don’t let me run into him now. She was weak where he was concerned and she knew it. She’d tried in the beginning to get him back, allowing her brothers, who were worried about her mental state and what Zach might do to make it worse, to act as intermediaries. When that didn’t work, she’d tried on her own. Not that it had made a difference. He didn’t want her. He considered her inferior. Weak.  
    She trembled but straightened her spine. If he didn’t want her, he should let her go. Not that she’d take him back now anyway. There was just…too much bad history. Wasn’t there?
    She walked into the huge foyer, went straight to Brax’s office, and son of a bitch, Zach was there. Her body responded immediately and she knew herself for the liar she was.  
    Just the sight of him still made her clench with need. She shoved her hands into her loose work pants and dug her fingernails into her palms, but the pinch of pain didn’t reduce her arousal. She hoped her expression was calm enough and she ignored Zach, turning instead to Brax. He was in charge, after all.
    “Hello, Brax,” she said, genuinely happy to see him. Mason and Gabe were also in the room, and she nodded a greeting to them.
    He’d always been nice to her. He smiled back her like he hadn’t just seen her a couple days ago and came around his desk. Of course, at the time she’d been stitching up a scratch from a bullet graze that Esme had received when she and Brax had been attacked. His hands gripped her upper arms and he leaned down