Angel and Slate

by Carina Wilder

  “So, sin away, woman. Enjoy the adventure of it—you’ve never lacked impulsiveness; why start now?” Renée rose from her seat and headed for the door, a broad smile on her face. “I’m going to get back to the house, but I’ll check in on you tomorrow. Call Miri, woman.”

  “You know what? I think I might just.”

  When her friend had disappeared from view, Angel grabbed her phone and dialled, wondering if she was simply enacting the last desperate act of a total idiot. She did like to live spontaneously, but this was pushing it; a date—or a few dates—with a shifter would be unpredictable, to say the least.

  But hell, they’d be exciting, different and potentially so, so good. And a man of their ilk would certainly make an impression at Linda’s all-human wedding.

  Over the phone’s speaker, a series of rings startled her out of her brief daydream. There was no turning back now. As she pressed the cell to her head, she felt perspiration bead at the small of her back—a potentially good sign. Or a terrible one.

  “Hello?” said the pleasant voice on the other end after a moment.

  “Hi, my name is Angel, and I’m calling about…”

  “My dating service.”

  “You’re already finishing my sentences. That’s a good sign. You already know what I want, clearly.”

  “Sorry,” a chuckle. “What is it that you’re looking for?”

  “Well, to begin with, a male.”

  “That’s a good start. Anything else?”

  “Someone impressive.”

  “All my clients are impressive.”

  “Large?”

  “Check.”

  “Sexy.”

  “Yup.”

  “I should tell you—I’m not a shifter.”

  “That may or may not be an issue. Listen, normally I don’t do assessments like this over the phone. Could you come in and chat with me? Once I get a feel for you I can better figure out what sort of man might be a good match.”

  “Sure. Where’s your office?”

  “Right off Central Square downtown. I’ve got your number now, so I’ll text you a map. Come see me in an hour, if you would.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Angel found herself at a small kitchen table opposite Miri.

  The woman was truly lovely: a cougar shifter, dark haired, laid back, with the sort of face that always looked as though it was about to break into a friendly grin. She was the sort of person who exuded happiness, and Angel had a good feeling about her. If there was a wild cat skulking about inside her hostess, it was a tame one, and a fun one at that.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Miri said. “Your interests, hopes and dreams, that sort of thing.”

  “Let’s see,” her client began. Should she mention that she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship? Probably not. No doubt most of the men who came to Miri wanted serious women, not those looking for few dates leading to a quick wedding fling. Besides, things could potentially change, if she met the right guy. Maybe.

  And that was a big maybe.

  “I’m an artist, which is never all that appealing, since it’s a synonym for ‘poor.’ But it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do—create with my hands. So I’m not exactly well off financially, but I get by. I like the outdoors. I like traveling, seeing new things. And most of all, I like a challenge.”

  “Yes—artists generally do. You haven’t exactly chosen the easiest career path for yourself,” said Miri as she topped up her guest’s tea.

  “No, I suppose not. But it would be too hard for me to try and fit into something like a corporate environment. This way I have freedom, even if it comes with some serious lack of funds.”

  “Freedom is a loaded word, anyhow. Speaking of which, what’s your stance on men and relationships?”

  Angel hesitated before speaking. “Men and I have had a tumultuous relationship, let’s say. That’s why I came to you—it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, and I can’t say that I’ve ever had a very serious boyfriend.”

  “Never? How old are you, if I may ask?”

  “Twenty-nine. And I know it’s horrid, but I’ve never been involved with a guy for more than a couple of months.” It seemed that Miri was managing to draw honesty out of her without even trying.

  “Would you say that your lack of long term love affairs is more your doing, or your past boyfriends’?”

  Angel chuckled. “Mine, I suppose, if I’m going to be truthful about this. I guess I get bored easily. Or maybe I’m too independent. Or maybe I’m just completely freaking nuts.”

  “Or all of the above?” laughed Plenty of Shift’s owner. “Listen, I’m not judging you. But I should tell you that some shifters become…very devoted, shall we say. They’re not generally into the whole wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am mentality, as you’d know if you’d ever dated one.” Miri studied her guest, an inquisitive glint in her eye. “Some women—human, I mean—find them a novelty. A sort of exotic sexual treat. They want to see one naked up close, for instance. That’s why I don’t usually deal with humans. I don’t want my male clients to feel exploited for their delicious exteriors.”

  “Ah.”

  “You struck me as a little different, though,” said Miri, testing her new client. “I’m sure you’re not here looking for a quick roll on the asphalt with a hot man.”

  Angel suppressed an awkward smirk. Could the matchmaker tell that she was full of shit? She was just here to get a taste of the exotic, after all, and she wondered if she should just say it.

  Here’s the deal: I’m pretty sure I want a guy to fuck me blue for precisely two weeks, and then to take off and never contact me again.

  Hardly a selling point.

  “I…no, nothing like that,” she said.

  “Good. Because I can tell you that shifters have a habit of sinking their teeth into you, figuratively and sometimes literally. They’re addictive, and once you get a taste of one, it can be very hard to let him go. Even if you think, right now, that you don’t want to be in it for the long haul, you might very well find that you change your mind—and your heart. So you need to be serious, or prepared to become serious.”

  The more Angel spoke with Miri, the more intrigued she was becoming with her extraordinary world. The idea of a man who could transform into a wild creature was more than mere fantasy—it made her head swim in the most delectable way. But more than that, the sort of experience that Miri was describing was so much deeper, more exciting than anything she’d ever had with a human. It seemed as though the bond with a shifter got deep under the skin, inside a person’s very being.

  And all of a sudden she wanted to know what that felt like.

  Maybe, after all, the reason she’d never found the right match for herself was that the right man was out there, somewhere, spending half his life in a wolf’s body, or a lion’s, or a bear’s.

  “I’m interested in substance,” she blurted out. “A man who’s responsible and has it all together.”

  As the words exited her mouth, she surprised even herself. That morning she would never have uttered them; it almost sounded like something Linda would have said. What the hell was happening to her?

  “Listen,” said Miri, “I’ve got two men coming in tomorrow. My usual process is to have the female client hide in my office over there—” She gestured towards a large mirror in the living room, mounted a few feet from an open door that led into an office. “But I think in this case I’ll set up a camera for a video feed and stream the interviews to you.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because you smell too human,” Miri replied, straight-faced.

  “And that’s bad because…?”

  “Not bad. But it’s a giveaway. The men walk in here not knowing what to expect. If they smell a human they’ll develop a preconceived notion about who and what you are. Sometimes it takes a few minutes to talk a shifter into accepting those who aren’t like them
. I’d rather they come at this with an open mind, as you have. Tell me: do you have a computer?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Good. You can watch from home tomorrow. It’s time that I made my business a little more high tech, anyhow. I’ve been resisting the modern age for too long, and my significant other recently insisted that a webcam was a good idea. He’s probably right.”

  “Tomorrow it is,” said Angel. “I look forward to spying from the comfort of my kitchen.”

  “Be prepared for an experience,” Miri replied, shooting her a sly glance. “Shifters have been known to send the strongest of women into paroxysms of leg-crossing.”

  “You’re saying they’ll make me want to strip nude and dance under the moonlight.”

  “I’m saying that, yes—and the sunlight. You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see them. And if and when you meet one, it’ll be all you can do not to ravage him.”

  “Miri,” said Angel as she rose to her feet, “I hope you’re right.”

  “Oh, I know I’m right. I just hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”

  Chapter 3

  It seemed impossible that a woman should be able to get the shakes from something as simple as sitting at a desk, staring at what should have been an innocuous computer screen. But that’s precisely what happened to Angel the next day as she waited in her kitchen, as promised, for two p.m. to roll around. She knew rationally that the men wouldn’t be able to see her, and that she had nothing to fear. They would be in Miri’s apartment miles away, just as she’d been the previous day.

  But that didn’t stop the butterflies from flying erratically and violently through her stomach, seemingly waging some sort of war against her internal organs.

  She was beginning to feel a little like a client at an auction, about to size up a couple of prize bulls with the intention of taking one home. But these were no bulls; they were potential lovers. Fuck buddies. Pelvic associates, as Renée referred to casual sexual partners. Miri had let her know that morning that the two men she’d be interviewing were Slate, a grizzly shifter, and Kai, a wolf shifter. And Angel knew what that meant: they would be extraordinary. Big, beautiful, and well endowed…not that it mattered, of course. But it couldn’t hurt. Oh, wait—yes, it could. But in such a good way.

  And she was a little curious. Shifters were legends in the bedroom as well as elsewhere, and Angel found herself wondering exactly what it took to seduce one. Perfume that smelled like trout? Chew toys that squeaked?

  Her eyes went to her watch for a moment as she waited, the view only that of Miri’s empty couch. 1:58. The first man would enter in two minutes.

  She rose, hoping that time would somehow fly by more quickly if she made herself busy. And so she tidied the kitchen a little, grabbed a glass of water and drank it slowly while wishing to God that it were actually vodka. Leaning against the counter, she let her eyes wander out to the view of the expansive back field beyond the house. And for a moment, she wished herself out there, walking in the tall grass instead of inside, in this quiet prison that was holding her hostage as she waited.

  “Slate.”

  It was Miri’s voice. Angel turned to the screen, springing forward to pull up a chair to the small desk in the kitchen’s corner. She’d showered minutes earlier and was dressed in nothing but a terrycloth robe, which she instinctively pulled shut around her neck. Just in case.

  A man came into the picture and turned to face the camera. He was huge: tall, broad, and dressed in a sweater that fit so well that Angel could see each curve of steel-hard muscle that made up his chest, shoulders and arms. His face was a little blurry, but as far as she could tell, gorgeous—and would only become more so if the picture cleared up.

  He was all that she could have hoped for, and then some.

  “Well, I’ll be a pelvic associate to this one any day of the year,” she muttered, sitting back and letting her bathrobe go. Suddenly she didn’t much care if it fell open. “Hello, sexy grizzly man.”

  Miri came into the shot a moment later, seating herself on a chair separate from the couch. “Have a seat,” she said.

  But Slate’s eyes remained fixed, apparently, on the camera that was sending the video feed Angel’s way. “Is that a…?” he began before sitting down.

  “It’s so that she can see you,” said Miri.

  “So she’s watching right now?”

  “Yes, in real time.”

  Slate looked uneasy at the thought, though Angel couldn’t imagine why. He was divine, handsome and strong, and she couldn’t fathom such a creature feeling insecure.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try to ignore it. I’m not so good with cameras.”

  “Ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable,” said Miri. “But I’ll tell you—she doesn’t bite.”

  “I’m not so worried about her biting me,” he replied. Good, thought Angel. Because I want to bite my way up and down those thighs. Not to mention what I want to do to the massive bulge in the front of those pants…

  “It’s just strange to be watched,” he said.

  “You’re a private sort of person, right?”

  “Pretty private, yeah.” And a man of few words, Angel pondered. That wasn’t necessarily a negative; she really wasn’t in this for the scintillating conversation. His pecs, on the other hand…

  “And,” Miri continued. “You’re a grizzly shifter. So, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m in construction. I build houses, mostly, though my big plan in the long run is to build my own.”

  “With your bare hands?” Miri laughed. He looked as though he might just be able to manage it.

  “I suppose I could. But no—I usually stick with power tools. Is this important?” He still looked nervous and out of place. This was a man who wasn’t exactly accustomed to having tea in fine bone china cups while sitting on ladies’ couches. Angel had the impression that he’d be far happier outdoors than in.

  “No, probably not so important. So let’s get to the good stuff. Tell me something interesting about yourself.”

  “Well, I work hard—which isn’t so interesting. My life is split between my work hours and my daughter.”

  Daughter? That was…interesting. It might affect Angel’s plans—persuading a father to come to a wedding might be somewhat harder than finding an unattached bachelor for the job. But then, maybe a father would love an excuse to escape his duties for a few hours.

  “You have a child? How old is she?”

  “Seven. Her mother died a few years ago, so we’re on our own. And before you proceed—if that’s an issue, I understand. But we’re a complete set, and not to be split up by anyone.”

  “I understand,” said Miri. “So what does this mean for your dating life?”

  “It means that I don’t have as much time as some men. It also means that I understand responsibility and how to look after people. I’m protective. And I don’t have time for games or for being jerked around. I’m a straight shooter, and I expect the same from any woman I date.”

  Angel found herself regretful that she hadn’t told Miri her true intentions. She wasn’t looking for a mate for life, and maybe by even considering Slate, she was fucking him around. But something about him called out to her; the guy needed to have some damn fun, if nothing else.

  “Am I to think you don’t like having fun?” It was like Miri was reading her mind, asking all the right questions.

  For the first time, a dimple appeared on Slate’s left cheek; a hint at the faintest glimmer of a grin. “I love having fun,” he said. “It’s been a while is all. I’ve all but forgotten how.”

  “Well, maybe the right woman could give you a refresher course.”

  A smile flashed across Angel’s face. The idea of reminding Slate how to have a good time—whatever that entailed—was awfully appealing. He looked a little as though he might be in dire need of a woman who was willing to explore his body with her mouth.

  He needed to loosen up
; he gave the impression he’d forgotten how to be anything but a father and a work horse. And she found herself wondering about his grizzly side. Gruff, serious and no doubt determined, like the man himself. She wanted to see it, to experience the other side of the coin.

  “How do you feel about dating a human?”

  “I’d like that, I guess. They’re less volatile—usually. And my daughter’s mother was human. So it wouldn’t be an entirely new experience.”

  “Good. I think you two could get along very well.”

  Slate’s eyes went to the camera again and Angel noticed the left side of his mouth rising. A quiet, crooked smile that made the place between her legs throb. Wow. How did he do that?

  “Yes, Slate,” she said from her remote location. “I’m watching you. And you are one tasty piece of man.”

  * * *

  Kai entered the room a few minutes after Slate had left. The second of the two candidates was tall and slender, less hulking than Slate but nevertheless powerful. He was a wolf shifter through and through, his eyes piercing and keen.

  “I teach,” he said when Miri asked about his profession. “High school Phys Ed.”

  “I see,” she replied. “I’m not surprised; you look like an athlete. So you’re used to corralling people and barking orders at teenagers. That can’t be easy.”

  “It’s easier than some things.” His words held a good deal of meaning, though he didn’t expand.

  “How do you feel about your Alpha?” Miri asked the question point blank, unflinching. By now she was beyond tired of the Wolf Pack’s recent shenanigans and had little sympathy for anyone who supported them.

  “The Alpha—Char—is not popular. But no one’s been able to overthrow him yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “It’s only a matter of time,” Kai said quietly. “I’d say that tolerance has reached a minimum.”

  “And would you ever lead a mutiny against him?”

  “It’s hard to say. And besides, I should never admit such a thing. I’d be a fool to do so.”