by Sable Sylvan
“What’s wrong?” asked Crystal. “You have the frikkin’ balls to ask me what the frik is wrong? Maybe this’ll answer your question.” She pressed her phone’s home button, opened the image gallery, and turned the phone to Damien.
Damien took the phone from Crystal. What he saw was the exact thing he hoped he’d never see. Scandal in Seattle was the shifter celebrity gossip rag that was in every convenience store, grocery checkout aisle, and news stand in the city, and there would’ve been no way for Crystal to avoid seeing this cover if she tried. There they were on the cover; him, looking at her like he’d never looked at anyone before, and Crystal looking at him as if she had no idea he was a billionaire. It took all of Damien’s strength to hold himself back and stop himself from crunching her phone into dust.
“Crystal...I can explain,” said Damien.
“Explain what?” asked Crystal, pocketing her phone after taking it back from Damien. “How can you possibly explain the fact that you lied to me in order to get me to go on three dates with you? And how can you possibly apologize for breaking my heart?”
“Crystal...I just did what I thought I had to do,” said Damien.
“You did what you had to do to protect yourself,” said Crystal. “But the fact that you could even for a second assume that I was what, a gold digger? That’s what insults me, that’s what hurts me, more than any two-bit rag ever could. I can’t be with someone who can’t be honest with me, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find a girl that’ll want to be with a man who can’t even be honest to himself.”
Crystal turned to go up the stairs and Damien turned quickly to follow after her. Crystal went into the bedroom and didn’t even bother to close the door. She started to pack up her overnight bag, just shoving items in willy-nilly, while Damien stood over her. She could feel his hot breath against her. “Crystal. Baby. Talk to me,” ordered Damien. “You can’t just shut me out like this.”
“I can’t shut you out?” asked Crystal. “That’s rich, Damien, real rich. Richer than that fortune of yours you were so afraid I would steal. I’m going back to Seattle. By myself.”
“Do you have any idea how much that would cost?” asked Damien.
“I don’t care. I can’t stand being here, not for another second, not with you.”
“Fine, at least let me order you a cab,” said Damien.
“I’d rather walk to Seattle, in the rain, across broken glass and razorblades, than accept help from you,” said Crystal. “Believe it or not, I have money of my own to spend.” Crystal, with her duffel bag packed and slung around her shoulder along with her purse, walked downstairs, to the porch, and started down the dirt road leading to town.
Damien followed after her, the bear in him roaring and telling him to grab her, take her back, and make her listen to him, even if that meant swinging her over his shoulders and carrying her kicking and screaming back to his cabin, but Damien told his bear to shut up, even though the bear’s orders were tempting. “Crystal. You can’t be serious, you can’t make your way into town on your own, you’re going to get lost,” said Damien.
“As long as I stay on the one road leading into town, I think I should be fine,” said Crystal smarmily. She turned to the shifter that she could barely bring herself to look at. His face, build, and mate mark said “bear”, but inside her head, the only animal she could compare him to was a snake. “Believe it or not, Damien, I don’t need you. So go do whatever it is you like to do down here, and don’t worry, you won’t be seeing me at the ball. I’ll find someone else to cover my assignment. Make sure you send the editor a list of what you want in a date, I’m sure she’ll find you a reporter that’ll suit your needs.”
Crystal turned and kept walking, but Damien wasn’t so easily shaken off. “Please, if you’d just listen to me, for a second –” started Damien, but Crystal cut him off.
“If I start listening to you?” asked Crystal. “Did you hear a word I just said? What I hear is you talking. What I need to hear is you respecting my wishes, and hightailing it back to your mansion, and never calling or texting me again.”
“Is that what you really want?” asked Damien. “For me to just disappear from your life?”
“Yes, it is,” said Crystal, lying to herself, as well as the man she couldn’t believe she’d been dumb enough to fall in love with.
“Fine,” said Damien. “I’ll leave you alone, but you have to let me make sure you get home safely.”
“Really?” asked Crystal, putting her hands on her hips and looking over Damien. “You’re in no position to be calling the shots anymore, Damien...if that even is your real name.” Crystal walked down the dirt road, and Damien gave up, for the first time in his long search for a fated mate. Chasing after her wasn’t going to get her back, no matter what his bear told him, so he watched from afar as the woman he loved walked into town and out of his life.
Back in town, Crystal opened her cab app to order a cab. She barely had any service. The app finally opened, and her stomach fell as she realized she’d have to find another way out of Port Jameson, because the app didn’t service the Port Jameson area yet. She looked up buses out of Port Jameson, and there weren’t any that were running that Saturday. She couldn’t afford to stay the night, because she had work in the morning. The last thing she wanted to do was go back up the hill to Damien.
The Port Jameson streets were pretty empty but she saw a black car approach her. She watched as the car parked in front of her and the passenger side window was lowered. “Looking for a ride, miss?” asked the driver.
“You a cabbie?” asked Crystal.
“You could call this a cab,” said the driver with a smile. “Niles’ the name, driving’s the game. Tell you what. Nice girl like you, call this number on my card, you can verify it’s a legitimate cab.” He passed her his card.
The name was familiar but Crystal couldn’t place it as she was so distraught. Crystal called the number on the card. “Hello? Port Jameson Livery?” she asked.
“Yes, honey, how can I help?” asked the secretary on the other end.
“I’m confirming you have a driver named Niles who drives a black car,” said Crystal.
The secretary confirmed Niles’s identity as well as his license plate and appearance. “Alright, thanks,” said Crystal. “How much is it to Seattle?”
“Five hundred dollars one way,” said the secretary. “We take credit, don’t worry.”
Crystal’s stomach fell more. “Alright, thanks.” She hung up the phone.
“So what’ll it be?” asked Niles.
“I’m going to Seattle,” said Crystal. “I can pay now or when we get there.”
“Payment’s on delivery,” joked Niles. “Hop in.”
Crystal got in the car. It was a nicer car than she’d expect to find in Port Jameson. She gave Niles her exact address and Niles put the radio on, to a soft alt-rock station, and while Niles hummed along, she texted with Tangie, who agreed to meet her at her apartment for drinks, before she took a nap.
Crystal woke up about four hours later, shaken softly by the cabbie. “Miss, we’re at your destination,” said Niles.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I fell asleep,” said Crystal.
“Hey, it’s your ride,” said Niles. “Do you need help with your bags?”
“No, I’m fine,” said Crystal, rummaging through her bag for her credit card.
“There’s no need for that,” said Niles.
“What do you mean? The lady on the phone said the ride would be five hundred dollars,” said Crystal.
“Mandy? Oh, she was supposed to say that,” said Niles. “Truth is, your ride was arranged and paid for by uh...an anonymous benefactor.”
“Damien?” asked Crystal.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that Mr. Dixon paid my company, or, uh, whether or not he owns it...” said Niles. “But I can say that whoever paid for your ride must’ve cared an awful lot about you getting to Seattle safely, given that they picked the mo
st expensive bulletproof car in the fleet, as well as a driver with extensive military training.”
“Of course,” said Crystal. “Well, you can let my anonymous benefactor know that I got here in one piece. Do I get to tip you or?”
“Trust me, it’s been more than taken care of,” said Niles with a laugh. “But you might want to be the one that calls your uh, anonymous benefactor, to give him the good news yourself.”
“Is everyone from Port Jameson a frikkin’ matchmaker? Thanks Niles, I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again,” said Crystal
“You crazy kids’ll figure it out,” said Niles, pulling Crystal in to give her a big hug, before grabbing her bag and carrying it upstairs for her. “I know how your uh, ‘friend’, can be, but trust me, he means well.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Crystal. “I’ll think about calling him.”
“That’s all I need, for you to think on it,” said Niles. “Bye, kid, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
Crystal headed in to her apartment and dropped her stuff off. She texted Tangie to let her know she’d gotten to Seattle in one piece, and then, finally, was able to take a long shower and think about the bomb that had been dropped on her. Damien Michaels was really Damien Dixon, billionaire, but even though she was a Seattle journalist, Crystal had been more focused on hard-hitting exposes than documenting every last move of Seattle’s most eligible bachelor bears, so she knew next to nothing, other than that, given his name, Damien was probably a member of the Asher-Dixon Clan, the biggest lumber bear clan in the country, if not the world.
She got out of the shower and toweled off, before heading to her room to change into pajamas. As she changed, she noticed her laptop, on the desk where she left it, and once she got changed, she walked over, opened the lid, and went to a search engine to type in the name that had been blasted in her head nonstop since she first read it on the image: Damien Dixon. She typed in the whole name, but before she clicked the search button, she held back. This wasn’t something she could undo: if she clicked that button, she’d learn everything there was to learn about Damien, but was that something she wanted to do? Would that change everything about the image she had in her head of the man that she’d fallen in love with over the last few weeks?
Love. There was the word she didn’t dare think about, the word that had her heart in knots. Love. The feeling she had for Damien. There was no denying it. That was something that wouldn’t change, no matter what she did. All that looking up Damien would do was make her forever regret that she had looked into him at all.
Tangie came over with ice cream, a bottle of peach gelato liquor, and a bottle of cherry seltzer, so they could make cheap and easy cocktails while they put on a cheesy goofball comedy, nothing serious, and absolutely nothing with even a hint of romance. It took a while before Crystal finally opened up.
“Tangie...thanks for texting me,” said Crystal.
“Really?” said Tangie. “You’re not mad that I ruined it?”
“You didn’t ruin jackshit,” said Crystal. “If Damien had just been honest with me, I wouldn’t be upset right now. But no, instead, he had to do something stupid, he had to lie. There’s a lot I can tolerate. You know that. But lying...that’s not one of them.”
“Do you think this really counts as a lie?” asked Tangie.
“Come on, Tangie, whose side are you supposed to be on?” asked Crystal, tossing a pillow at her best friend.
Tangie hugged the pillow to her chest. “Oh, I’m on yours, sugar, but...I think that maybe, the kind of help I can give you isn’t the kind you wanna hear.”
“Tangie. You know me, and you know the two things I hate are lies and bullshit,” said Crystal. “So don’t bullshit me. Be honest, tell me what you really think.”
“Well because you asked...you better brace yourself for a truth bomb, honey,” said Tangie. “I think Damien made the biggest mistake of his life by lying to you, but you’re making the biggest mistake of your life by not talking to him about this. Your celebrity boyfriend lied to you about his money. But really, it wasn’t that big of a lie. At this stage of a relationship, would a guy tell you how much he makes and what his net worth is? No. Probably not. And you could’ve learned all this about Damien if you had just looked him up online, and you didn’t, and hey, girl, that’s your right, but, you can’t get mad that he had a reasonable expectation regarding his privacy, and that he was enjoying your company.”
“Why didn’t he trust me enough to just tell me?” asked Crystal.
“Because you two crazy kids have only known each other for what, a month?” said Tangie. “That’s nowhere near enough time to gauge whether or not you can really trust someone. He’s a frikkin’ billionaire, Crystal. A celebrity billionaire, with rock hard abs, from an old money shifter family. You can bet your bottom dollar that some uncle and some lawyer sat him down as soon as he started producing testosterone and let him know that he better not squander the family fortune on the first beautiful thing to cross his eye.”
“He really is from a whole other world, isn’t he,” said Crystal, lying back on the couch. “Ugh. I don’t think that billionaires and I match...or shifters either, for that matter.”
“What, the chemistry’s not there? Sex isn’t hot enough?” teased Tangie.
“No, the sex was great,” admitted Crystal. “You ever bone a shifter?”
“Of course, I do very well with shifters,” bragged Tangie. “They’re a lot of fun.”
“You know what’s weird about doing it with shifters?” said Crystal. “That thing that happens to their chest.”
“What thing?” asked Tangie.
“You know, that glowing thing, with their chest,” said Crystal. “After you both come, their mate mark, it glows. It’s weird but cool. The fact the mate mark changes based on who they’re attracted to...that’s cool too.”
“Huh,” said Tangie. “Crystal...did you take sex ed?”
“Of course,” said Crystal.
“Okay, but, did you pass sex ed?” asked Tangie.
“Yeah, but ours didn’t cover shifter stuff,” admitted Crystal. “I’m not from a shifter town.”
“Honey...it shows,” said Tangie. “You might wanna stay lying down for this. Mate marks don’t change. That’s sort of why they’re called mate marks, because it’s the mark a shifter has that lets them know who their fated mate is. And that glowing? It’s not exactly normal. It’s what happens when a shifter first has sex with their fated mate. After they both come, the mark glows, confirming that the connection’s been made.”
“Tangie, you’re full of shit,” said Crystal with a laugh. She looked at her friend who didn’t reply and who didn’t have a hint of a smile on her face. “Tangie...wait, are you serious?”
“Serious as pneumonia,” said Tangie. “Crystal...you’re Damien’s fated mate.”
“No frikkin’ way, he would’ve told me,” said Crystal.
“Did he have a chance to?” asked Tangie.
“No, to be fair, we just had sex, fell asleep, and I woke up to your texts, and then went downstairs and...damn it,” said Crystal. “Tangie, when you’re right you’re right.”
“You need to talk to this boy and hash it out,” said Tangie, cleaning up the sofa area. “Don’t let the best thing that ever happened to you walk out of your life. Text him back in the morning, when you’ve had a good night sleep, a cup of coffee, and a loaded bagel. Figure this out. I trust you two can.”
“Alright, Tangie,” said Crystal as she helped Tangie clean up the area in front of the TV. “Thanks for everything.”
After Tangie left, Crystal stopped herself from texting or calling Damien. She wanted to get this figured out, but it was late, and Tangie was right. She needed to just sleep and call Damien in the morning. Crystal hit the hay, but all through her sleep, images of the night she’d shared with Damien flew threw her head, especially the image of his mate mark, glowing bright like a beacon in the darkness.
C
hapter Eight
Crystal scheduled a time to talk with Damien Michaels—no, Damien Dixon, mostly due to prodding from Tangie. Crystal and Damien kept things short over text, and she set a time to meet him, at night that Wednesday, in a coffee shop near her apartment. Before she left her apartment, Crystal had to take a few minutes to herself to think. She’d turned on the TV after work to try and relax, after taking a shower hadn’t helped, and the junk television programs hadn’t helped her at all. Her stomach was doing flips, and she couldn’t figure out why. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t the one who had frikkin’ lied for three weeks about their identity. That was all on Damien...
...And that was precisely the line of thinking Tangie had told her she needed to stop using in approaching this situation. What was the frikkin’ point of meeting up with Damien if she was just going to be upset? If she already had her mind made up? Crystal took some deep breaths and looked at her phone. She’d have to leave soon to go to the coffee shop, and even if she didn’t want to go, it’d be rude to cancel literally minutes before they were supposed to meet, and her parents didn’t raise someone who was rude to others. She packed up her things in her purse and put on a jacket, grabbed her umbrella, and walked through the rainy Seattle streets to the small twenty-four seven coffee shop.
She opened the door. Damien was already there, as she’d seen from the streets. And he saw her. He waved. She closed her umbrella and walked over.
“Hey,” said Damien. “Look, I...”
“No,” said Crystal. “I just. I need a minute. I need a cup of tea, and I need to just...sit here for a minute. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Damien.
A waitress came over and took Crystal’s order, coming back in a few minutes with a plain mug of hot water, a generic black tea bag, a few sugar packets, a spoon, and a lemon. Crystal put the bag in the water and stirred in the sugar before adding the lemon, and she held the mug in her hands and looked outside at the small park across the street from the coffee shop. Damien looked out the window with her, and Crystal couldn’t avoid seeing his reflection on the glass. Damien was wearing a suit, like the one he’d worn when he took her to the opera, but a bit fancier, with cuff-links, a proper tie, and a well-tailored shirt with a pocket square in his suit pocket, with a designer watch.