Lowlander Silverback (Gorilla Shifter Royalty 1) by T. S. Joyce

bottom corner, Beaston had simply written, you are my friend , and he and Aviana had signed their names underneath.
    Kong’s throat tightened, and he tried to smile at Willa. He opened his mouth to pop off a witty retort, but none came.
    “Oh, hairy monkey,” Willa murmured, throwing her tiny arms around his middle and squeezing him with an amazing amount of gusto for one so small. “This place isn’t going to be the same without you.”
    “Willa, you’re killing me.”
    She whispered, “It’s okay to cry.”
    “No, I mean you’re squeezing the shit out of me.”
    “Oh. Bear muscles,” she explained, easing away and flexing. “As almost alpha, I don’t know my own strength.”
    Creed sighed behind her and chalked up his pool cue. “Willa, you are second , not almost alpha .”
    It’s all the same , Willa mouthed to Kong. She whipped her cell phone from her back pocket and nearly blinded him with the bejeweled case that protected it. She punched in a number and waited, hip cocked against the pool table as she bit her thumbnail. “Oh! It’s ringing.”
    The landline behind the bar was trilling at the same time Willa shoved the phone into his palm and whispered, “Good luck.”
    “What?” he barked out as panic dumped adrenaline into his veins. But Willa was already prancing off toward Kirk, flailing her feather boa gracefully.
    “Sammy’s,” Layla clipped out.
    “Uuuuh, hi.” He turned and shot her a glance behind the bar.
    “I’m busy. Someone is apparently having a going-away party I wasn’t invited to.” Her voice shook with anger and something else he didn’t understand. “Nothing like serving drinks at a farewell party for the man I love.”
    She made to slam the phone back onto the cradle nailed to the wall, but Kong said, “Wait.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead and checked that Kirk was busy. Willa had draped herself across him, and Jason was singing in an off-key opera voice. Matt was in the process of positioning himself in between Kirk and Kong, cutting off his guard’s line of site. Well played, Gray Backs. Kong turned and rolled his shoulders as he looked at the wall and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, you said that in the note. I got it by the way. Nicely done giving it to Mac instead of telling me in person.”
    “Because I can’t,” Kong murmured. “I can’t see you. I can’t talk to you. You think I want it like this? I fucking love you, Layla. I love you. I do. There it is.” He gritted his teeth and murmured, “I’ve never said that to anyone before, and look at where it’s getting me. I’m gutting us both.”
    When he ghosted a glance at the bar, Layla had her back to everyone, and her shoulders sagged. “How did everything get so fucked up?”
    That would be his fault. Or rather the animal inside of him. The birthmark. The traditions of his people. All of it was on him. Layla was perfect. A perfect rose in a summer garden, and he was the weed steeling her water, her life, clinging to her roots until she suffocated.
    “Do you know how hard it is to love a man I can’t touch?” she whispered brokenly.
    A soft growl rattled his throat, and he tossed a look to Kirk who was laughing with the Gray backs as Georgia sauntered over with a round of shots. She shoved two in Kirks fists as the rest of the crew lifted their tiny glasses and toasted him. It was now or never if he wanted to steel a moment with her. Rhett was back at the cabin, and Kirk was more relaxed in his guard duties, and if his slurring words were anything to go by, well on his way to three sheets to the wind.
    “Meet me in the office,” he murmured.
    “When?”
    “Now.” He hung up the glittering phone and set it on the green felt of the table.
    Willa gave him a wink when he muttered he was going to take a piss. Kirk didn’t even respond, so Kong weaved through the crowd and into the back hallway. Layla was already waiting, pacing when he stepped into the