by Zoe Chant
The snow leopard blinked down at it in surprise, exchanged another glance with Breck, and suddenly wheeled away, fleeing the pool deck on silent, padded feet.
That was my mate, he thought, feeling like there was no floor beneath his feet. He was excited and eager and anxious, and it felt like everything around him was resettling in some new shape.
That was my mate, Breck repeated to himself, his leopard purred, Ours! in pure delight.
Then he groaned and let his head fall into his hand. The rest of the staff was never going to let him live this down.
Chapter 7
Darla fled, but not back to the three-bedroom cottage she was sharing with her mother and her assistant.
She didn’t remember that she wouldn’t have clothing on until she was shifting at Liam’s door, and knocking frantically.
“Darla!” he said in alarm, opening the door. “What is it? What’s wrong? My bracelet went off like fireworks just a moment ago and turned gold, are you alright?”
He looked only at her face, nothing else. Darla pushed past him into the room, closed the door firmly behind her, and leaned back on it as if her legs had given out.
For a long moment, she said nothing, trying to catch her breath. It wasn’t the headlong flight that had weakened her knees, it was him.
The waiter in the crisp uniform had appeared by the pool as if Darla’s desire had summoned him. He was tall, and graceful, with golden-brown eyes and dark hair, and the way that he had looked at her…
“Here, honey, you’re shivering. I’ll bring you a bathrobe...”
Darla pitched forward into his arms, sobbing. She wasn’t worried about her nudity, not with him.
His arms folded around her and his hands rubbed her shaking shoulders.
Hands of a friend, not a lover.
When she could finally stand again, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood looking out over the porch while Liam went to get her a bathrobe.
“Tell me what happened,” he said kindly, wrapping her up in the soft terrycloth and drawing her to sit down on the couch beside him.
Darla curled miserably beside him, tucking her head onto his shoulder as he put an arm around her. “I met him,” she said into his shoulder. “I met my mate.”
Liam froze, then resumed patting her as if she was a restless animal.
In many ways she was a restless animal. Her snow leopard was intently focused on going back to the pool, now, and quickly. She didn’t understand why Darla had fled in the first place.
“Are you sure?” Liam asked quietly.
“So sure,” Darla sobbed. “It’s just like the stories. I knew, I just knew he was the one, and I… just can’t. Because...”
“You don’t have to marry me,” Liam said firmly. “I’d find another way to finance the retirement home.”
“You know I have to marry you,” Darla protested. “If I don’t, it will be Eugene. He’d challenge for my hand. And my mother would never accept less than a dragon shifter, otherwise. I’d be disowned, and she’d see that the retirement home was destroyed, out of spite if nothing else.”
“Is it possible your mate is a dragon shifter? The lifeguard here is a dragon,” Liam suggested, and for a brief moment hope bloomed in Darla’s chest.
But no… “He was... a waiter.” And he was a big cat, Darla was sure, not a dragon. Something about the way that he walked, and the gold in his brown eyes.
“Oh, not a waiter,” Liam said in mock horror. “Your mother barely accepted the director of a retirement home for her son-in-law. She certainly wouldn’t tolerate a waiter in the family.”
Even as Darla recognized that he was trying to tease, to lighten the situation, she burst into tears. “She wouldn’t!” she sobbed.
Liam held her and let her cry herself out. “What are you going to do?” he asked as she sat up and wiped her face on the arms of the robe.
“I’m going to be eating at the buffet on off hours a lot,” Darla snuffled. “Maybe I can pretend to be sick and get special permission to eat in the cottage.”
“That might get you out of a few meals,” Liam agreed. “But there are going to be formal dinners. You aren’t going to be able to avoid him forever.”
It would be impossible to eat at the restaurant, to be served by her mate, to not watch him, not want him. She gnawed on her lip at the idea of it, her treacherous imagination supplying the idea of him feeding her food, of licking…
She drew in a shuddering breath and wiped her face again, nearly scraping herself with the hateful bracelet encircling her wrist. She paused to inspect it, frowning over the cosmetic changes. It had definitely shifted in color, from a cool silver, to a light gold. It felt hot against her skin. Were the markings different? She didn’t know how to read dragonrunes, so she wasn’t sure.
“Did you talk to him?” Liam asked gently. “What’s his name?”
Darla shook her head. “I don’t know. I just… I ran. I had to. It was… so much.”
“You should talk to him,” Liam said. “It’s not fair to just avoid him.”
Darla looked at him and made a face. “None of this is fair,” she said sourly.
Chapter 8
Breck arrived at the staff meeting several minutes late.
A cold shower had not been optional, but it had not done anything to calm the roiling confusion in his chest, or the desire that his leopard was feeding him.
Scarlet gave him a piercing look, probably taking in his damp hair with the kind of assumption that Breck knew he deserved. He attempted to grin at her like he usually would and guessed by her puzzled expression that it failed.
“Nice of you to join us,” Tex hissed near his ear as he took the last seat. “Was it worth Scarlet’s wrath?”
Behind them, Travis leaned forward. “Watch it,” he said quietly. “Scarlet is going to be pissed if you start drama with the bridesmaids.”
Breck was momentarily distracted by the accusation. “I don’t start drama,” he insisted.
“Start drama with. Sleep your way through. Whatever. If Scarlet catches you risking this contract, she will make a suit from your hide and wear it to the wedding.”
A sharp glance back from Scarlet made Travis sit back and all three of them pretended to pay attention to Lydia’s report on the spa supplies.
Was the snow leopard a bridesmaid? Breck wondered. The big cat had to be some member in the core wedding party or immediate family, because those were the only guests right now.
It was odd to see a shifter wearing jewelry in animal form, if not unheard of. And he’d never seen any jewelry do anything like that.
And why had they run away?
Breck could think of many possible reasons, but none of them made sense.
Travis leaned forward between Tex and Breck. Tex was playing a tic-tac-toe game with himself in the nap of his cowboy hat.
“You’ll want to listen to this bit,” Travis said knowingly.
Jenny was standing up. “So, as you know, we’ve been battling with the owner of the island, Beehag, and his lawyer for nearly a year now about the sale of the island and the fate of the resort. The lease contract that Scarlet has is one of the most complicated pieces of legalese I’ve ever seen, and it references several older documents, including the ones that covered the transfer of the property to Beehag senior on the disappearance — and presumed death — of the original owner of this half of the island, Aaric Lyons.”
If Breck had not been looking past Scarlet to see Jenny, he would not have noticed the subtle flinch the resort owner gave at the name.
“Lyons left very specific instructions that the resort was to be continued in the event of his death, and also that his progeny would have first right of refusal on all property sales… including subsequent sales. At the time, Beehag senior’s offer to buy this half of the island and continue to administrate the property was accepted by the Lyons family. But if we can find anyone remaining in the Lyons line, they get the chance to buy the pr
operty at appraised value before Beehag the lesser can sell it to any of these nasty characters he’s been scraping the barrel to find.”
“I thought the family of the original resort owner was all dead!” Bastian said.
“Possibly not all of them,” Jenny said with a grin. “The last of the line was a kid named Grant Lyons. He was jailed for manslaughter when he was 18, about fifteen years ago, and he vanished directly following his sentence. I’ve found some intel that he might have changed his name and moved to America. It’s a cold trail, but I know some good people. If we can find him, we may be able to persuade him to buy the property. Possibly he would be willing to hold it in trust for us if we could raise the money. At the worst, he could not be a more miserable landlord than our current one.”
The room rose in a murmur of speculation that trailed off as everyone looked eagerly at Scarlet.
If Jenny was expecting surprise or warm approval for this revelation, she was disappointed. Scarlet rose to her feet and faced the room with an utterly expressionless face. “Thank you,” she said, neutrally. “See what you can find out. Chef, I’d like your report from the kitchen.”
The start of Chef’s report was drowned in whispers and quiet conjecture until Scarlet loudly cleared her throat and the room went quiet again.
After the meeting had finally been adjourned, Breck remained sitting and let everyone else filter out.
The quiet room did nothing to his peace of mind.
He’d met his mate… and he had no idea who they were. He didn’t even know if the snow leopard was a man or a woman.
He only knew that he’d never rest without them again. This wasn’t a hunger of his body, but of his heart, and he had no idea what to do with it.
Chapter 9
A beautiful Latina woman greeted Darla cheerfully at the entrance to a beautifully mosaic-covered building and drew her into the cozy spa as Jubilee looked around critically.
“You must be the happy bride!”
Darla, stomach already churning with nerves, only nodded. She was half of that, at least. “I’m Darla,” she said politely.
“I’m Lydia,” the woman introduced herself. “This is Laura. My staff and I will be happy to supply any beauty services you may need while you’re here.”
Jubilee sniffed, clearly finding the spa barely acceptable.
Alison, Liam’s plump mother, on the other hand, was looking around in awe, and seemed impressed by the range of services listed by the door. “This is all so lovely!”
Jubilee ignored Alison, as she had for much of the time since their arrival; she clearly considered Liam’s mother a charity case, and had as little to do with her as she could politely manage. To Lydia, she said, “We’re going to want to do a complete facial and deep condition, of course, and we’ll want to preview her hair styling and makeup so we can select the right accessories. I’ve brought several references showing exactly what we’ll want.” She handed Lydia a folder of photos. She didn’t hand over the velvet-lined jewelry case she was carrying.
“Certainly,” Lydia said with a warm smile. She glanced through the photos and nodded. “We can definitely do this. You’ll look like an angel! Let’s get the deep conditioning started. We can do a massage while that’s setting if you’d like; you’re carrying a lot of tension in those shoulders, and no wonder! You must be so excited!”
Lydia was so kind and gracious, it was hard not to relax as she settled Darla into a chair by the sink and began brushing out her wavy hair.
The smiling woman with dark skin who had been introduced as Laura offered Jubilee and Alison mani-pedis, and Darla was glad when her mother accepted for both of them… and even more glad when they were given seats far enough away that they wouldn’t easily be a part of the same conversation.
“How are you liking Shifting Sands so far?” Lydia asked as she gently brushed.
“It’s lovely,” Darla said honestly. “Really, it’s gorgeous here. And everyone has been so kind.”
They chatted idly about the food and the beach until Darla couldn’t keep back the real question that was bubbling up in her chest, even if she wasn’t sure how to ask it. “There’s a waiter,” she said, as quietly as she could, as Lydia leaned her head back in the sink and started running water. “I was wondering who… it’s just… I was…” There was no safe way to finish the sentence.
“Oh, you must mean Breck,” Lydia guessed with a laugh. “Tall, dark hair, brown eyes, devastatingly handsome and knows it?”
Breck, Darla thought. She’d never heard the name before, but it was suddenly perfect. Breck.
Lydia continued as she turned off the water and began rubbing something that smelled delicious into Darla’s wet hair. “He’s our head waiter, and don’t take him too seriously. He will flirt with anyone, but he doesn’t really mean it.”
“Anyone?” Darla repeated, not sure what to make of the emphasis she used.
“He’s bisexual,” Lydia said casually.
Darla blinked, glad that Lydia had a quiet voice, and that her mother was loudly explaining the various spa services to Alison, as if she would obviously need Jubilee’s help to understand something of this class.
“Bisexual as in…” Darla had to clarify.
“He sleeps with both women and men.” Lydia’s fingers never stopped in their gentle scalp massage. “Does that bother you?” Her voice was too kind to be challenging.
“No,” Darla said honestly. She knew that it existed, along with a range of other sexualities, it just surprised her that Lydia talked about it as if it wasn’t a secret.
“He’s a sweetheart,” Lydia said fondly. “And so funny! I cannot wait until that man truly falls in love, because when he does…”
Laura, who had been giving Jubilee her manicure, chose that moment to walk past the sink to get some supplies from the shelf next to them. “Breck? Settle down? Is it possible?”
“Bisexuals can be monogamous,” Lydia said with a chuckle. “And I think that big heart of his deserves someone who can love him back just as much.”
To Darla’s mortification, the conversation had gotten loud. Loud enough to carry through the room.
“Oh, I saw that waiter, flirting with a man this morning,” her mother interjected with disgust from across the room. “Has he been bothering you, sweetheart? If he’s made an unwelcome advance on you, I’ll have that deviant canned. I won’t have some sex freak making you uncomfortable.”
There was an awkward moment of silence following her mother’s judgmental tirade. Darla, her head back in the sink, could see the flush in Lydia’s face and down her neck. She wasn’t sure if the woman was angry or just embarrassed for her mother’s shallowness.
Laura cleared her throat uncomfortably.
But before anyone else could speak, Alison spoke sharply. “Well, Jubilee, you certainly won’t have to worry about any advances with that ugly attitude. Laura, honey, I think my cuticles are soaked enough now.”
Someone gave a strangled giggle, but Darla couldn’t tell who. She wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t herself.
Laura noisily found the supplies she’d come for and returned across the room as Lydia turned the water in the sink back up to full and began vigorously massaging Darla’s scalp.
Darla could feel her heart pounding in her throat, and tears gathered in her eyes that had nothing to do with Lydia’s work. She’d held out some hope that the waiter — her mate! — Breck — would miraculously prove to be someone who could step into Liam’s shoes for the wedding steamrolling down on her and whisk her away to a fairy tale ending.
That hope was ashes in her chest now. If her mother would have disliked him as a lowly waiter before, she would certainly never accept an openly bisexual son-in-law. And even if she had somehow been able to get past that, now he had indirectly humiliated her, and humiliation was the kind of thing that Jubilee Grant never forgot or let go of.
Chapter 10
Breck straightened his tie, staring at his mute
d reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator.
His mate was probably out there now, being seated at the restaurant.
So go, his leopard urged. Go find them.
Breck hesitated. His mate.
Why had they run away?
Maybe they didn’t want to be found.
“If you’re done admiring yourself, are you ready for tonight’s menu?” Chef was standing with his thick arms crossed.
Breck gave him a sideways smile that must have been a better attempt than his earlier grin at Scarlet. “It’s all about appearances,” he said with at least a hint of his usual flippancy as he gave his tie one last tweak.
Chef harrumphed. “Baked chicken breasts stuffed with fresh spinach and gruyere cheese, with an olive reduction beside baby red potatoes and peas. The other choice is a homemade vegan pasta with a sweet pepper and truffle sauce.”
Breck cataloged the information away without writing anything down. His memory was not eidetic, but he was extremely good at remembering details and never needed to write down orders. “Got it.”
“Not too many people tonight,” Chef said, turning back to the ovens with his nose testing the air. “You should get out of here early.”
Breck hung one of the crisp white napkins over his arm, sucked in his breath, and went to see if his mate was among the diners already seated.
But no one there gave him the lodestone pull that the snow leopard had earlier. Breck swallowed his disappointment and went to do his job.
A few giggling girls wearing bridesmaids sashes reassured him that putting his flirtation on autopilot wasn’t failing, and a table full of grandmothers gossiping like hens made bawdy counter-offers and winked at him. Finally, he moved to top off the water at the last table, where a young man sat alone near the deck railing at a table set for four.
He was stunningly good-looking, straight from the pages of a cologne ad, with dark hair and features that hinted at Asian ancestry.