by Ellie Pond
“You finish it.” She pushed the plate towards him. She wanted to pick the plate up and lick it. Or maybe him. Where had that come from? She’d had seltzer water, not wine.
He waited a beat but smiled and ate the last bite. He leaned away from the table. Crumbs stuck to the side of his beard. She reached out and brushed them off his face, and his hand caught hers. Her hand tingled just as it had while they were holding hands, sending shocks down her arm. He kissed her palm before releasing his hold. That little bit of a kiss made her throb. Not one part in particular, but everything wanted to quake. She wished for her notebook, to write down the details of her symptoms.
The twinkle in his eyes vanished. “You have your research. Does it worry you now that we’ve found each other?”
“I hadn't thought about ever having a mate. Does it bother you?” Lies. So many lies. After her undergraduate boyfriend found his mate, she’d obsessed about finding a mate for a while until she focused on the research of pheromones with Dr. Garb.
And tonight she thought about having a mate non-stop. While she was checking on the shifters from the cage match, while she was talking to the pregnant wolf, while she was dealing with Mrs. Rubin who needed a pep talk more than a doctor, she was processing it—him. Or not processing the whole mate thing. No doubt that’s what pulled the panic attack to the center of her evening. But she didn’t want to hand that over to him. She was around so many shifters, it made her a little inflexible. Elizabeth wasn’t fond of alphas’ I’ve got this attitude. As a grown bleepin’ adult, she took care of herself.
“You haven't thought about it? Really? With all the time that you spend researching fated mates, you didn’t consider you might find yours?” He leaned forward, closer to her.
This she could answer. “I’m human. Fated mates for humans are a rarity, so no, I can honestly say I didn’t think this would happen to me.” She leaned forward towards him too. After she finished moping about her first boyfriend, that was true, she didn’t think she’d fine a mate.
“Or me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, my parents were a love-friend match. They were good to each other, solid friends. To be honest, I’m not sure why they mated. But three and a half cubs later he . . . passed away.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Your mom was pregnant? Were you young?”
He nodded. “Ten.”
“That’s so young. You must have been so lost.”
“My uncle was there. And he and his wife became like second parents to all of us. My other uncle and his wife too, and his younger sister. There are a lot of Larsens in Western Pennsylvania.”
“Family’s important to you.”
He laughed. “Now, I guess? I lived in New York City for twenty years. I moved back a year and a half ago.”
She glanced at the empty plate and back to him. “And you never thought of mates before?”
“Sure. But not in a positive way.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
That made her chest burn. Okay, then.
“And that would be because . . .”
“I’m 40. That’s not old by any means. Especially for a shifter. I’ve done a lot. I used my wits and skills and made some cash. I’m difficult. I can hyper-focus on things to the detriment of everything else. I hurt feelings without knowing I’m doing it. ‘Pompous ass’ is the description that my cousins use, a lot. I’m not made out for a mate. Hell, I’m not made for a relationship. I wouldn’t trust me to dog-sit. I would get distracted and forget . . .”
“To feed it?”
“Perhaps we have something in common. I don’t do relationships—they end with females throwing things at me.”
“Yes.” She wished she had a glass of wine—she would raise a toast to him. She sighed a hollow sigh of relief.
“It sounds like you're not sure what you want to do. You really love the ship, but it might be better for you to do research on land. Where does that leave us?”
Did he just utter those words? “We’re both rational people. I have my research here. And you have your . . . well, family in Pennsylvania.”
“Right. Superb plan.” Tad uncrossed his arms—was that a growl? “We won’t mate.” He couldn’t have looked grumpier if he tried. “But I’d like to spend time with you.”
Elizabeth stared into his blue eyes that might as well have added, ‘And have you scream my name.’
* * *
Elizabeth scooped the food into plastic take-out containers and placed them, along with Anna’s food, into the bag. With the plan in place, she could focus on the things important to her: patients, her research to save the lives of shifters . . . perhaps she could find the time to focus on the captain’s work too.
Tad moved their dirty dishes around, clearing them to the empty tray stand next to the door. He returned to her. Her pulse went off again; his scent filled her. If he pushed her to the table and spread her legs open, she would let him.
This—this right here was why she didn’t want him. They had broken it down. Their mating was nonsensical. Not that he said that, but between the lines, that’s what she understood. Was that what she wanted? It wasn’t a question she was able to answer, at least not quickly. Her hand flew around the table while she stalled. She bit her lip as she turned towards him. She took his words for truth. He wanted her. And her body wanted him. But what made sense? If she left it up to her body, she knew what would happen.
“Ready, Elizabeth?” he said.
Not Dr. Cottage or Doc, but Elizabeth. Her legs shook as he stood behind her. He touched her elbow and sparks shot around her skin. She sighed and tensed at the same time. Tad held out her lab coat for her to put on. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and Tad fixed the collar around her neck. Her hair fell out of her forever messy bun, his face stone as the strands fell around her shoulders.
Tad stepped backwards, his hands at his sides in fists. She stared between his fists and his face. He blew a breath out, pinched shut his blue eyes, and then blinked at her. Energy poured off of him, sizzled in the air.
She stood still. “Are you okay?” she said, not looking away from him.
“Yes.” He reached out his hand for hers and took the bag from the table. “You’re taking this back to Nurse Smithfield?” His voice approached normal. “Let me walk it back with you.”
“I kind of have to.” She waved the cruise ship badge that hung around her neck, next to her locket.
“Right.” He held the door open for her, and they made their way back down the corridor.
As they walked past Violet’s office, a screech bounced down the hallway. She glanced up at Tad.
“You’re sure that’s normal?”
“No, not like that. And that’s not Violet’s voice.” They stopped in front of Violet’s door.
A loud, pained moan erupted out of the room into the hallway. A horrible sound.
“I’ll call security.” She mirrored the worried look on Tad’s face. The sound intensified.
Tad put the food bag down as Elizabeth dialed her phone. He opened the unlocked door. Wafts of incense hit her as Tad pushed the door open.
Elizabeth rushed into the dark room behind Tad, the phone call forgotten. A wisp of light glowed from the hallway, the room unnaturally dark.
Moaning came from the middle of the room.
“Here, Elizabeth. It’s a young woman with long dark hair. She’s lying on an orange circle on the floor . . . follow my voice.”
Elizabeth switched on the light from her phone, but the phone blinked off.
“Here,” Tad called. She felt her way over to him. He grasped her hand as she bumped into him, then let go of it.
“You can see?”
“Yes. She’s holding her wrists. Violet is the ship’s witch?”
“Visionary.”
“Right—witch.”
“I still can’t see anything. It must be Samantha.” Elizabeth kneeled down next to where she could hear the moaning coming from.
/> “I’m looking for a pulse,” Tad said.
She reached her hand out, and it brushed his arm. A spark zapped her hand, throwing her across the room. The pain burst through her hand. Elizabeth touched her skin, but there was no damage, and the pain left as fast as it had come. But the spark had lit up the scene to her. Tad sat on the floor next to Sam, taking her pulse.
“Are you okay?” Tad was at her side.
“Yes. It hurt, but I’m fine now.” She unconsciously rubbed her hand, although the pain was gone.
The door to the hall slammed shut—something that Elizabeth had been trying to do with Dark Wing doors for two years—and the lights flicked on. Violet raged near the door, her silk robe cinched around her waist, her kitten-heeled slippers in her hand and her hair tousled.
“What is going on in here?” Violet’s hands fisted on her hips.
Elizabeth sank down to her knees where Sam was curled around herself. Violet glared at Sam on the floor.
“Oh, you stupid, impatient girl. Well, don’t just stand there, wolf. Pick her up.”
Tad checked back with Elizabeth, who nodded.
He scooped Sam up as if she weighed nothing at all. Elizabeth marched towards the hall, expecting Tad to follow. But when she turned around, he was standing in the middle of the room, looking between herself and Violet. Violet motioned at the door on the side of the cabin.
“Doctor, what she needs, you can’t give her. I will call for you if I think you can help. Which is doubtful.”
Tad questioned Elizabeth with a glance but didn’t move. Violet was known around the ship for being gruff. Elizabeth crossed the room to take Sam’s pulse.
“Don’t touch her!” Violet yelled. “Haven’t you been shocked enough for one day? Bring her in here, mutt.”
Mutt? Tad glared at Violet, but they both followed her into Violet’s bedroom chamber. Elizabeth had been in Violet’s cabin only once before but had never been in her bedroom—the complete opposite of the stark main room. Layers of colorful embroidered duvets covered the bed. Unlike the rest of the ship, flowing sheer drapes hung on the back wall, pooling on the floor. Tad laid Sam down on the bed. Elizabeth and he stood there for a minute as Violet left the room. She came back with several small bottles.
“You’re still here? Well, thank you for moving her, now get out!” Violet measured liquid out of the bottles with an eye dropper. When she turned around, she only glared. Tad found Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her out of the room.
He didn’t stop moving until they hit the hallway. He examined her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, then nodded and picked up the bag of leftovers waiting for them by the corridor wall. With quick steps, he paraded them down the hallway.
“Whoa.” She stopped hard. “What the heck happened back there?”
“Not here.” Tad looked around the hallway as if he expected someone to jump out.
“Okay.” They walked along in silence to the infirmary. Anna sat at her desk. Katie hummed in one of the exam rooms.
“I . . . we brought you dinner.”
“Thank you, thank you both.” Anna peered into the bag that Tad handed her. “I’m almost done.”
“No, you’re done. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Anna took the bag with a smirk. She grabbed her purse and headed out the door. “Don’t stay up too late.” Anna’s laughter echoed as the door bounced shut.
“Okay, I want answers.”
Tad looked down the hallway. “Not here. My cousin is still here. And is the other nurse a shifter too?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Not here.”
“Okay.” She swiveled and proceeded out the door with Tad close behind, Tad’s hand in hers. What possessed her to take him to her cabin? It was the next closest thing to privacy that she had after her office, other than her little hovel, but she didn’t need to show him that. She stopped at the door.
“Your quarters?” He motioned to the label next to the door, declaring it her room.
She nodded, swiped her badge, and opened the door. This was a giant mistake. The room was too small; he was too large. She expected—or perhaps hoped—his hands would be on her the minute the door closed behind them. Instead, he sank into her desk chair.
12
Mutt
How do you tell your mate that you’re a mutt?
Not that it was something most would understand. In fact, he had never heard the term ‘mutt’ before. But it was logical. When a witch and shifter mated, the offspring were shifters.
Things were different for him. He wasn’t a witch, but he knew things he shouldn’t be able to. Like being able to identify a witch—that wasn’t normal. And the magical energy—that’s what had thrown his mate across the room. The hit he absorbed for her would have killed her or any shifter who tried to be her insulator. Luckily, Elizabeth had only gotten an insignificant amount off of him, not the full blast from Sam. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be standing over him staring now, waiting for him to say something. He’d absorbed most of the charge, but not all. Hell, the average shifter couldn’t see magical energy, but he could.
He needed to get rid of the energy pulsing around his skin. And he needed to hurry. The charge jumped around his fingers. He watched the purple wisps bounce, invisible to her. Tad stared at his hands; he turned them forwards and back. The energy jumped around his skin, leaving a blue and green aura. He’d never questioned why he didn’t have magic, but now the question pulsed.
A thud startled Tad, and a zap of energy flew across the room. A book flew off of Elizabeth’s dresser and vibrated open. Violet stood in the hallway, her hair gathered at the top of her head. Her robe now closed, she wore ruby red fur slippers. Her violet eyes flashed between Elizabeth and Tad.
His mate stood next to him. “Violet. Can I help you?”
“No.” She scuffed her way to Tad in her slippers. Out of her robe she pulled a metal and glass orb. She held it flat in her hand. “I need to get back to Sam. It would be an excellent thing if you didn’t blow the ship up.” She pushed the globe into his face. “Well, go on, take it. Before you blow up all the wonderful doctor’s books.”
Tad took it from her hand with extreme caution. He held it between his right thumb and index finger. The energy encased it. “What do I do?”
“You can start by holding it in your palm.”
Tad let it rest in the palm of his right hand.
“Now hold your other hand over the top of it.”
Tad did. “What now?”
“Open it.”
Tad attempted to twist the top of the orb.
“No. Not with your hand. With your mind. Tell it to open.”
Tad focused in on the orb. It didn’t move.
“You’re not trying hard enough—mutt.”
He grunted at the word. The orb cracked into two pieces in his hands. The aura still swirled all around.
“Good. Now send the energy into the orb and seal it.”
Tad pushed the foreign energy out of his body, and the orb’s halves re-joined. The crystal portion of the orb now glowed orange. He slumped over.
“Nicely done . . . Theodore.” Violet plucked the orb from Tad’s palm.
“Wait. What are you going to do with that . . . thing?” Elizabeth pointed to the orb.
Violet looked between the couple. “This thing is a battery. And I will use it when needed. In reality, it belongs to Tad there, but since he hasn’t developed his talents, he doesn’t need it. Now, I should give you something so that you won’t remember anything.” She directed her comment to Elizabeth. “But seeing as you’re about to mate a . . . well, there isn’t a politically correct term. There aren’t many shifters like your mate. Perhaps half a dozen, his siblings included. And your mate doesn’t seem too fond of the title ‘mutt,’ so you’ll have to come up with something else.” While she was answering Elizabeth’s question, Violet stared at Tad. “Sam is okay, but I still want to get back to her.” Violet pulled the door
shut behind her.
Tad tilted his head to face Elizabeth. She was blurry—sweat ran down his face.
“Oh, Tad. Are you okay? You look like crap.”
“You have the nicest bedside manner,” he scoffed and sank to the chair.
“I know. Here. Lie down.” Elizabeth helped him slide from the desk chair onto her bed.
Her shampoo of cherry and lime lingered on her pillow. He buried his head in it. No sign of meatloaf. His head extra heavy, he closed his eyes; his fingers tingled.
Had he fallen asleep? A cold washcloth caressed his face. Tad leaned into the cloth. With the heat coming off him, there must have been steam rising from the sheets.
Fitful dreams of people he didn’t know strained his rest. He saw memories of his youth. Flashes of sorrow and happiness. Happiness that filled his chest with an odd tightness. He dreamt of his brother and his three younger sisters. The happiness of being with his family, he understood. The other emotion confounded him. The dream changed from play to holding his second sister’s hand at his father’s funeral. The shocked look on his mother’s face, her belly round with his youngest sister. A funeral without a body. Because his dad had gone wolf: wandered off after being cursed and left nothing to bury.
Tad’s family meant everything to him. Enough that he turned away from his business when called home. Yes, the challenge had dried up and the repetition of daily meetings bored him. His chest hurt. His breath was shallow.
“Are you awake?”
He opened his eyes. Dreams mulled at the edges of his consciousness. The light swirled around her head. He blinked.
Elizabeth held the cloth to his forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, but you’re burning up.” He tried to push himself off of the bed, but her slender hand on his chest kept him from lifting himself. He pushed against it for a second time. “Tad, rest.” Only the desk light in the room illuminated his mate from behind. A halo of white spread as it whispered around Elizabeth.