by Sophie Stern
“Oh dragons,” she says. Callie’s hand flies to her mouth. “You found her, didn’t you?”
“What? No!”
“You did,” she gasps, coming closer and lowering her voice. “You found your mate.”
I don’t say anything, but I can feel my nostrils flaring: a dead giveaway. Am I really so obvious? And if I am, how am I going to talk to Amy when I finally get to meet her? Am I going to completely freak out and lose my shit?
“Tell me what happened,” Callie says. The coffee is long forgotten.
“I just…scented her,” I shrug. “And I knew.”
“That was it?” She asks. “You just knew?” I feel bad because I know Callie wants to find her mate, too. It’s lonely being single, but it’s even lonelier being a single shifter. There’s so much about ourselves we can’t share with the world. Even though most people know about shifters now, not everyone understands.
And those who don’t understand can be dangerous.
While being a wolf, especially in a pack, is pretty safe, there are people who would capture and enslave shifters. Poaching still happens, especially for larger shifters, like dragons. Just recently, a group of poachers sneaked onto Dragon Isle and tried to steal a bunch of children. It’s scary to think these sorts of things can happen in the modern world, but they do.
“I felt it in my heart,” I tell her. “I’ve never felt anything like it, Callie.”
“So there’s no mistaking it,” she says slowly. “When I find my mate, I’ll just know.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Case calls from the kitchen. Case’s mate is a wolf-shifter. He was actually the one who called Callie and me out for dating. He said if we weren’t mates, we were wasting our time and should just break up. Strange advice, but it worked for us. It freed us both up to keep looking, to keep searching, to keep trying.
“Shut up, Case. What do you know? You married a wolf.”
“Hey,” Case whines, peeking his head out of the kitchen and into the main dining area. “I like Sarah.”
“We all like Sarah,” I assure him.
“I’m just jealous,” Callie shrugs. “You all know this. I want to find someone. I want to find my someone.”
“It’ll happen,” I assure her.
“And when it happens, it happens like that,” Case snaps his fingers and goes back to finish cooking.
“Maybe,” Callie shrugs. She goes back to the coffee pot and pours me a mug.
“Thank you,” I accept the steaming cup of black coffee. I don’t add cream or sugar. I need to wake up and be alert today. I don’t need a sugar rush.
“So polite,” she mutters, and gets back to preparing the diner for the morning breakfast rush. Soon more people start pouring in and she’s busy: too busy to sit around and chat, but that’s fine. My food arrives and I scarf it down, but drink two more cups of coffee before it happens.
She walks in.
Amy walks in.
I don’t have to wait until lunchtime to see her because she’s here, in the flesh, and she’s incredible.
In the morning light, she’s even more beautiful than she was last night. She’s short and curvy with blonde hair that seems to glow in the sunshine. When she walks into the diner, the entire place goes silent and everyone turns to stare at her.
“Um, hi,” she says, after an awkward silence. Then she gives a little wave. A couple of shifters sniff the air and yeah, they all know she’s human. She’s human and she’s not from around here, and she’s super fucking hot. She’s wearing a v-neck shirt that shows off her ample cleavage and jeans that hug her hips perfectly.
If every single male wolf in here isn’t rock hard, I’ll be shocked.
“Is this a private event or something?” Amy speaks again, sounding a little nervous.
“No,” I call out. “Have a seat anywhere you like.”
I glare at the other diners. Amy is my mate and I’m going to win her over. I’m at least going to protect her. Even if everything goes horribly wrong and we end up not falling wonderfully, totally in love, I will protect her. I will make it my mission in life to protect her.
“Easy there, champ,” Clarissa walks by and lowers her voice. “You’re growling, buddy.”
Oh shit.
I was totally growling.
Out loud.
The other diners go back to eating and drinking and chatting, and Amy walks further into the diner. She seems to be looking for a place to sit, but every table is full and the counter is completely packed except for one stool: the one next to mine.
After a second, she notices this and walks over with a smile.
“Hey,” she says, sitting down. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”
“I do my best,” I say, suddenly completely nervous, suddenly completely overcome with emotion and feeling. This is the closest I’ve ever been to her and suddenly, all I want to do is give her a hug.
I want to hug my mate.
“I’m Amy,” she says.
“Adam.”
“Clarissa,” Clarissa says, dropping off a menu. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“How do you like it?”
“Black.”
“Oh really?” Clarissa says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You know, Adam here also takes his coffee black.”
“Yeah?” Amy turns to me and smiles. “Not too many people like it that way.”
“I know,” I say with a chuckle. “But if I wanted to drink a cup of sugar, I’d grab a soda.”
“Exactly,” Amy says. “Plus,” she whispers. “This way, I can at least pretend I’m being a little healthy, you know?”
“I agree.”
“So what’s good here?” Amy asks as Clarissa disappears to get the coffee.
“It’s all good,” I tell her truthfully. “The Hampton siblings run the diner and they’re incredible.”
“Really? They’re siblings? That’s so cool.” Amy seems genuinely impressed.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” I ask her, desperate to know more about her, but still trying to play it cool. Every instinct is telling me to grab her and kiss her, to bite her, to mark her, but I can’t.
I have to be cool or I’m going to ruin this.
“Nope,” she shakes her head and opens the menu. “I always thought it would be great. I have a cousin and we’re really close, but that’s it.”
“Hey, that’s pretty nice you have a cool cousin,” I tell her. “That’s practically like having a brother or sister, right?” Even though I’m an only child, too, I was part of the pack growing up, which is basically like having dozens of brothers and sisters. There were always plenty of other cubs around to play and fight with.
“Yeah, she’s amazing. She moved to Honeypot, so I don’t get to see her too often, but I’m supposed to visit her today or tomorrow.”
Honeypot, Colorado is a shifter town. It’s a lot like Wolfe City except that it has more bears and cats than wolves. Most of the wolves live here, in Wolfe City. There’s nothing that says you have to live among your own kind, but as shifters, we tend to naturally gravitate toward others who are like us. We have similar behaviors and patterns and likes and dislikes, so it just makes sense.
Is Amy’s cousin a shifter?
Is there a way I can ask delicately?
“Oh really?” I ask as Clarissa drops off Amy’s coffee. Callie comes over, too, so they’re both standing in front of her.
“I’m not ready to order just yet,” Amy looks up at the sisters, who are smiling at her.
“No problem,” Callie says with a smile. “Would you like a recommendation?”
“Hmm,” Amy glances over the menu really quickly, and then her eyes dart to me. “What do you think?” She asks.
“I think you should go with the Classic Breakfast Combo,” I tell her. “It’s got eggs, pancakes, bacon. It’s got everything a growing girl needs.”
“I’m not exactly growing anymore,” Amy closes th
e menu and hands it to Callie. “But I will take the Classic Breakfast Combo, please.”
“How do you want your eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
“Coming right up.”
The two sisters disappear and I’m left with Amy. She sips her coffee and sighs in contentment.
“This is so good,” she tells me. “I didn’t sleep very well. I need a little pick-me-up before I’m ready to deal with my day.”
“Where are you staying?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
“The Wolfe City Motel,” she says. “I’m supposed to go visit Hope – that’s my cousin – but my car broke down.”
“Do you need help getting it fixed? There’s a great repair shop in town.”
“Yeah, Heather told me. Apparently her husband is quite the genius with cars.”
“Herb’s the best,” I tell her, but I want to find out what she knows about shifters, so I try to move the conversation back to her cousin. “So what brought your cousin to Honeypot?” I ask her.
“She needed a job,” Amy sips her coffee and looks at me shyly. Her smile is so perfect it could light the darkest of nights. “And happened to fall in love with her new boss. The rest is history.”
So her cousin is mated to a shifter.
Makes sense.
I’m curious how much Amy knows about shifters. Does she know we exist? Does she know we aren’t dangerous? Does she know we have life mates?
Just then, Callie reappears with Amy’s breakfast and sets down a plate full of delicious-looking food. In response, Amy’s stomach growls loudly and we all laugh.
“It looks amazing,” Amy says, reaching for a fork. Then she takes her first bite and groans in pleasure. The sound shoots straight to my dick, which is instantly hard. I adjust the way I’m sitting so I can be discreet, but Callie just chuckles. She can obviously scent my arousal: another one of those fun shifter-talents we all share.
“Enjoy,” Callie says. Then she disappears, leaving Amy and me to finish eating in peace.
Chapter 5
Amy
Adam is nice.
Really nice.
And kind.
And handsome.
Fuck, he’s so handsome.
It’s been a long time since I talked with a guy who didn’t seem to want anything from me. It’s been a long time since someone made me feel special, yet somehow, that’s exactly what this stranger is doing. I feel this weird connection between us, like I already know him. It’s some strange sort of déjà vu and I’m not sure what to do about it, so I just accept it.
I’m tired of fighting, of struggling. I’m tired of feeling alone and broken and desperate. He makes me feel different. He makes me feel good. Even though it’s selfish, I want that. I want to feel good, even if it’s only for a little while, even if it’s just for breakfast.
By the time I finish my meal, it’s after ten in the morning, which means I’ve been in the diner for two hours. Most of the other patrons have already cleared out.
“I need to go,” I tell Adam honestly.
“I’ll walk you.”
“I need to pay first.”
“I already took care of it.”
“What?” I ask, surprised. “When?”
He just shrugs and offers me his arm. Once again, I’m not sure what to do, so I just take it and allow him to lead me out the door. It’s a strange feeling, being cared for. It’s weird, but I kind of like it.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him when we’re outside.
“I wanted to.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That’s really super nice of you and completely unexpected, to be honest.”
He looks at me quizzically for a second.
“People aren’t very nice to you, are they?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem really surprised anytime someone is kind to you, as if you’ve never experienced this before.”
“You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“No, Adam. People aren’t very nice to me,” I tell him with a shrug. We start walking toward my motel and I start talking because I feel comfortable with him, safe with him. I like being around him and the way he makes me feel, and I want to tell him more about myself.
It’s not often that I like talking about myself. Scratch that: I never like talking about myself. With him, though, it seems natural. With Adam, I want to tell him everything there is to know about me and I want him to tell me about himself, too.
I want him to open up to me and I want to get to know him.
Why do I feel this way?
It was never like this with Jeremy. It was always about him. Always. Our relationship was always about what made him feel good, about what worked for him. This usually ended up with me disappointing him and letting him down and never being good enough.
Somehow, though, I get the feeling this wouldn’t be a problem with Adam.
Something tells me Adam would be happy with me as long as I tried my best.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “We’ve only just met, but I can already tell you’re an incredible person, Amy. You don’t deserve to have people treat you poorly. You deserve the very best.”
I let his words sink in for a second. I deserve the best. That’s what he said. Is it true? And have I ever felt that way before? When I’m with Adam, I feel like I really do. I feel like I deserve to be treated well and with respect. Other people haven’t treated me that way. They’ve always treated me like I wasn’t important, but I have to wonder if that’s just because I let them.
Maybe I should have stood up for myself a long time ago.
Scratch that: I definitely should have stood up for myself a long time ago.
“You know,” I tell Adam as we near the motel. “I should have been stronger. People have treated me like crap a lot in my life, but I’ve also put up with it more than I should. I’ve played the meek little mouse, always being polite and never wanting to rock the boat, but that time is over.”
“Seems like quite the change,” he murmurs, but I don’t get the feeling that he’s judging me.
“Something happened last week,” I tell him. “I had a boyfriend. We worked together and he threw me under the bus. He made some mistakes in his work and blamed me. Upper management took his side because he’s worked there longer.”
“That’s terrible,” Adam says, but it comes out as sort of a growl, and I shoot my eyes to him. Instantly, his face goes blank, but I could have sworn he was baring his teeth. What the hell?
“It was not fun,” I say.
“No,” Adam stops and puts his hands on my shoulders. He turns me so I’m facing him. Then he looks at me intently. “It’s terrible,” he says. “Not bad or awful. Terrible. You understand this, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It completely sucks.”
“They shouldn’t have treated you this way,” he says.
“I should be tougher,” I tell Adam. I truly believe this. I should be stronger, braver. I shouldn’t have let it bother me so much. I shouldn’t have let them get under my skin. There are so many ways I could have reacted that didn’t involve running away. I should have stayed and fought, even though deep down, I know that leaving was the best choice.
Jeremy wasn’t right for me.
Staying at my job wasn’t right for me.
“You’re perfect the way you are,” Adam whispers. His voice is more tender than it should be. I look up at him and I’m surprised to see he’s tearing up. Are those tears for me? The sight of Adam with tears in his eyes makes mine own eyes feel watery. I don’t think anyone has ever cried for me before. I don’t think anyone has felt deeply for me before. They certainly haven’t cared about my pain. Not like this.
“No one has ever said that about me before,” I tell him honestly.
“I’m telling you now, and I’ll tell you every day until you believe it.”
“Who are you?” I ask. “And how did you happen to wande
r into my life? It’s almost like…” Like fate, I want to say. Like destiny. It’s almost like I’ve had the worst damn week of my life and the world decided to throw me a bone.
Only in this case, the bone is a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman from Wolfe City, Colorado who probably has a girlfriend. He probably has several. I’ve been around people long enough to know that guys like Adam don’t stay single for long.
“It’s almost like what?” He asks, stepping closer. He’s in my space. He’s in my personal space. He’s so close that our chests are almost touching. If I breathe in deeply, if I just take a big, huge breath, my breasts will push against him. We’re that close, and for just a second, I think about stepping forward.
I open my mouth.
I could say anything right now.
There are a million things I could say, but none of them would be true. None of them would be honest. Isn’t that what I want? I’ve left my hometown. I’ve left Missouri and I’ve come to Colorado for a fresh start. With this fresh start comes a lot of responsibility. I have to decide what kind of person I’m going to be, what kind of person I’m going to become.
Do I want to be the kind of person who doubts herself?
Do I want to be the kind of person who can’t admit when I want something?
Do I want to be the kind of person who is too scared to say what she means?
Do I want to be afraid?
Basically, I have to decide if I’m going to be the same person I was in Holbrook. That girl had a terrible time. She was always stressed and worried. She was always trying to impress people. She was always struggling at work. She had a bad boyfriend who didn’t really like her and she had low self-esteem.
Is that who I want to be?
No.
No, it’s not.
I don’t want to be that girl anymore.
I don’t want to be scared or sniveling.
I don’t want to be shy or afraid.
I don’t want to be worried.
I want to be brave.
Amy, new Amy, is bold. New Amy is brave. New Amy is the type of woman who goes after what she truly wants, who fights for what she truly wants. New Amy is the type of woman who isn’t scared to say what she thinks. New Amy is the type of woman who stands up for what she believes in. New Amy is brave.