by Leigh, Ellis
The man in question looked my way, and our eyes locked. First impression—wolf shifter. Definitely wolf. Second? I was screwed.
Fate could be a cruel mistress—there were moments when she whispered and others when she screamed. This time? She smashed me over the head with what felt like a cast iron skillet.
Mate.
Without thinking, I jumped in front of Jericho, spreading my arms wide. “Don’t hurt him.”
The man—Ryder, though there was no way that was his real name—looked down at me in total confusion. “Who are you?”
Before I could answer, Jericho said, “But he used to buy your panties.”
What the… I spun, staring hard at the bear shifter. “Did you just say he bought Madeleine’s panties?”
By the way her face turned bright red, I guessed that was true. Huh. I never would have thought she had it in her to do something so…naughty. Had she not sold them to my mate, I might have congratulated her.
I still likely would. Tomorrow.
Jericho snarled, darting glances over my shoulder. “He did, and they’re no longer for sale.”
“Jericho, please.” Madeleine patted her mate on the chest. “I’m sure there’s a logical—and non-panty-related—reason he’s here.”
Yeah. That made sense. Sort of. I turned back around, looking Ryder-not-Ryder up and down. “Why are you here? Because her panties are off the market.”
Professor no-name shook his head, still staring at me as if I was a puzzle he wanted to figure out. “I did use to buy her—” he glanced up when Jericho growled “—merchandise. But I don’t think it was because of her.” He stepped closer, obviously sniffing. “I think it was because of you.”
“So you—my mate—bought her panties. Because of me.” I huffed, pacing in front of the Chance sisters and mates brigade. “Am I the only one seeing something wrong with this picture?”
“I’m still stuck on the fact that little Maddy sold her goodies to men.” Ginger tutted, shaking her head and grinning at her younger sister. “Well done, ya whore.”
“Shut it,” Madeleine said as Jericho snarled deeper. “It was to make extra money to fix up the house. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Oh, right. Matilda—the dilapidated home on the edge of town she’d bought in some misguided effort to stay connected to Jericho when he was refusing their mating bond. Who needed soap operas when I had so much local fodder?
Coco’s frown deepened. “What did you do with the panties?”
“Don’t ask.” I crossed my arms over my chest—my high beams had to be blazing considering it felt like a whole ten degrees outside—and cocked my head. “So, you bought another woman’s panties to help get your rocks off, and now…what? You needed another hit?”
Jericho might as well have been a broken record with how loudly he snarled. Again.
“No, not anymore,” Cardigan Guy said, glancing from me to Madeleine and back again. “I thought my obsession with the panties was because of her, but now that I see you…”
“Now that you see me…what? You realize the error of your ways?”
“No, I just think perhaps I was buying from the wrong girl.”
“I don’t sell my worn underwear—” I patted Madeleine’s arm “—not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“This whole situation is wrong,” Ginger said. “I’m still not understanding why you’re here.”
“I’m really not sure. Something called to me, and I had to come here. I keep trying to avoid it, but sometimes it gets too strong.”
“The fates called to you,” Coco said. “They knew your mate was here.”
“I don’t believe in mates.”
Everything went still, all six of the people beside me staring at the man as if he’d just vomited up a selkie coat. Equal parts horror-filled and intrigued. Didn’t believe in mates? That meant he didn’t believe in a connection between us. Didn’t feel the same draw and attraction I did. Likely didn’t have any intention of sticking around or trying to grow a relationship.
“So…you feel the pull but don’t believe in the mating bond?” Kingston sounded just as dubious as I felt.
Ryder shrugged. “I prefer logic to instinct, and my logic tells me you can’t form a deep connection with another person based solely on some fated mates hocus pocus.”
And just like that, my world went completely sideways. Again. Thanks, fate. “Well, isn’t that just peachy. I guess we’re done here, then.”
“Misty, wait.” Madeleine reached for me, but I was gone. Cooked. Fried. Tired and angry and over it.
“I’m going home.”
“But, Misty,” Coco called as I hurried down the alley toward the sidewalk. “He’s your mate.”
I didn’t have a lot to say to that. Just one word, really. “Unfortunately.”
2
Misty
The problem with renting a small house in the woods on the west side of Kinship Cove seemed to be that the setup of said house was not conducive to pacing. Sure, I had walked about ten miles through my living room and kitchen since I’d gotten home, but the path wasn’t exactly easy to navigate.
“Son of a biscuit muncher.” I grabbed my foot, rubbing my toes. The same ones I’d rubbed four times already for kicking the same table leg. Let no one ever be able to say I wasn’t persistent.
Sidelined by the pain in the toes I’d likely broken, I plopped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. My mate—the man fated to be mine forever—didn’t want me. He hadn’t even tried to stop me when I’d stormed off. Not that I would have stopped, but a little hey, wait might have been nice. No one had tried to stop me from leaving the restaurant earlier either. From the fireplace into the fire—from a family too large to pay attention to me to a man who would rather pay attention to someone else. Quite possibly, my friend Madeleine.
He used to buy her panties.
Ugh. Triple ugh. Ugh to the 415th power. Who would want to deal with that sort of nonsense? If I accepted this mating, he’d be around my work. Would I need to be worried about him thinking of Madeleine’s panties instead of mine? True, mine left a lot to be desired. Utilitarian white cotton was made for comfort, not visual effect. I could buy nice panties, though—sexy ones. Scraps of lace and satin that would likely ride up and make me uncomfortable. What would be the point if I wasn’t the person he wanted to see in them?
“In summation,” I said, talking to no one but beginning to hate the silence, “my mate did not try to stop me from leaving him behind the night we met.” I raised my arm and extended one finger. “Strike one. It has been determined that said mate was not there for me but for Madeleine. Or her panties. Whatever.” I extended another finger. “Strike two.”
“So, if he gets to three, is he out?”
I bolted upright, nearly jumping off the couch until I saw Madeleine standing in my hallway. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She took off her coat and laid it across the chair in the corner. “I knocked, but you might have been…”
“Talking to myself?”
“Yeah. That.” Her lips turned down, and she had trouble holding my gaze. This had to be hard on her, though it wasn’t exactly a picnic for me. Panty-incident aside, she was my best friend. The closest Chance sister to me. And this whole mate thing…it hurt. A lot.
But so did the thought of anything coming between us. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to you about what just happened. About Ryder.”
Yeah. That. “No way is that his name.”
“Right?” She leaned forward. “I’ve always called him Ryder-not-Ryder in my head.”
“Same.”
She smiled for a second, but it didn’t last. Not surprisingly. “I’m so sorry for this. If I’d have known…”
“You’d never have sold your panties to my mate?”
“Yeah. That.”
“Understood. Panties, though? Like…worn ones?”
Her cheeks turned bright red. “Yea
h, well…there was some decent money in it, and I was usually able to ship them, so nothing got personal. I used a fake name and info, kept everything super quiet, and earned a little extra money. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“But Ryder-not-Ryder showed up at the bakery.” Which meant… Oh. Ooohhhh. “You met him in person.”
If her expression turned any more uncomfortable, she might cause a portal to hell to open just to escape this conversation. “He was local and one of my first customers. I thought it’d be okay. Plus, he never gave me the creepy vibes of some of the guys I sold to. I mean, not as strong of a creepy vibe.”
“You’re selling worn underwear, but they’re creepy.”
“They’re buying worn underwear over the internet so…yeah. They are.”
“Touché.” I rolled back, staring up at the ceiling once more. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to him. I realize I might not be the best example of being forward and confrontational—”
“You’ve got that right.”
“—but I think this situation warrants it. He was really upset that you’d left so quickly.”
Hold up. “He was?”
“Yeah. I think he was trying to run after you, but Jericho and Kingston went all big-brother mode on him.”
I turned my head, almost smiling. “Did they beat him up for me?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure they scared him half to death with their threats.”
“Good.”
“Go to him.” She stood, grabbing her coat and giving me one more frown. “He’s staying at the hotel in town. Said he’d be in Room 315. Waiting for you.”
My mate was waiting for me. That thought made my heart jump a little. “Thanks. And, Madeleine?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s never talk about my mate and your panties again.”
“Deal.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving me alone in my house once more. Alone and quiet—too quiet. No one needed that much silence to get their thoughts in order, especially not after hearing their mate was likely waiting for them. He’d tried to follow me after I’d left the bakery. It wasn’t his fault a bear shifter and a dragon shifter had decided to give him a good scare. They’d scare me too, if I didn’t know they were both big softies for their mates.
Okay, that was a lie.
No one scared me.
Kingston and Jericho were totally teddy bears for their mates, though. That was the truth.
And maybe mine would be, too.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, I walked out of the elevator on the third floor of the hotel. The hall felt endless as I worked my way to the right door, my heart pounding and my hands sweating the entire way. Granny panties and sweaty palms…I was quite the catch. Of course, he had lied about his name and bought worn underwear off the internet. Not exactly a position to judge from.
When I reached the end of the endless hall—seriously, why so long?—I took a deep breath, gave the girls a little fluff, and issued myself a mental pep talk that involved not killing him or getting naked. The only two options in my mind. Once convinced neither would happen—yet—I knocked on the door to Room 315 and waited. And waited some more. And began to wonder if I’d heard Madeleine wrong. I had just raised my hand to knock again when the door swung wide…
And I died a little.
Ryder-not-Ryder stood in a pair of baggy gray sweats and…nothing else. His hair was wet and his glasses slightly fogged. I’d obviously caught him post-shower. Post-naked time—his, not mine. I couldn’t help but stare, to look him up and down and take it all in. Every single inch. My fox stood up and took notice too. She chattered in my head, sassy as ever and looking like a vixen on a mission. I swatted her back, though. He might be our mate, and he might have that whole sexy professor thing going on, but there would be no humping. I darted a glance at his bulge. Unable not to.
No humping…yet.
“Hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Misty. Fox shifter, bakery worker, and apparently, the best friend of the woman you used to buy worn panties from.”
He blinked. “I’m Clark. Please come in, Misty.”
I followed Clark—totally called the whole not-Ryder thing—inside and took a seat on the only chair in the room. No-humping rule firmly in place even if my inner fox was exceptionally unhappy about that. Hussy.
Clark tugged on a T-shirt and ran a hand through his hair before settling on the end of the bed. And then we sat. In silence. For some very long minutes. Awkward minutes. I didn't do well with those.
“So,” I finally said when I simply couldn’t take another second. “You like to buy worn panties.”
He coughed, his eyes growing large. “Uh…not really.”
“But you bought” —if he used a fake name, then so did Madeleine— “hers.”
“I did, yes. But more for research than physical stimulation.”
“Does that mean jacking off? Because I’m assuming your research involved spanking the monkey, which definitely falls under physical stimulation.”
A growl slipped past his lips, sending a chill up my spine and my inner fox to chattering, but he choked it off. Sadly. “Sorry about that.”
“About what? Your wolf responding to me talking about your masturbatory habits?”
“I’m not sure it has anything to do with my wolf.”
I sat back, my brow pulling tight. “No? Because my fox is responding to your animal side right now.”
Understatement. She was about ready to crawl out of my skin. But Clark didn’t seem as affected.
Or perhaps he didn’t find me as attractive as I found him.
Which would suck.
Clark frowned and pushed up his glasses. “I don’t allow the animal side of myself to overtake the more civilized side.”
I'd met a lot of shifters in my life—ones who embraced their animal sides a little too much and ones who tended to swing to the other side of the pendulum, ignoring their animal for their human side. It was quite obvious where Clark fell on the spectrum.
“Civilized.” The word tasted sour on my tongue, the meaning behind it making my stomach turn. “You feel your animal soul is uncivilized.”
“Of course.”
Asshole. “Okay. So…you do realize that I have an animal side as well, right? Because my fox is not uncivilized. She’s amazing. And she would never accept a mate who thinks less of her.”
“I’m sorry, Misty. I obviously hit on a sensitive subject for you. It wasn’t my intention to upset you. That’s not why I came to Kinship Cove or why I wanted to talk to you.”
“So then, why are you here?”
“I’ve felt a pull here for months. Especially after I started buying…”
“Panties.”
“Yes. After I started buying the products. I thought perhaps it was some sort of instinctual response to the seller of the product, but I’ve since changed my hypothesis.”
Who was this guy? “So, what are these changes?”
“I think I craved the products because there were hints of your essence on them.”
The hell? “I never touched her panties.”
“No, no. Not… I just meant because she spent time near you, I was able to discern your essence under hers.”
I’d heard of powerful noses, even knew a Bassett hound shifter once who could have put most other animals to shame with his sniffer, but that was a bit of a stretch. “So, your wolf recognized its mate’s scent underneath hers.”
“I think I should tell you up front—I don’t believe in mates.”
“Huh?”
“There’s no scientific evidence to back up the claim of some supernatural force pulling two people together. Shifters simply believe that legend and then happen to fall into it. And perhaps there is an attractant—I’ve certainly been drawn to this area for a few months. But that doesn’t mean we have a fated bond to last a lifetime. It could be something as simple as pheromon
es.”
My mate didn’t believe in mates. He didn’t want a shifter partner, let alone me. He didn’t want a mate at all. I didn’t know what to do with that information other than cry, which I certainly wasn’t about to do in front of him. But when I got home?
Hallmark movies, ice cream, and fuzzy pajama time. For real.
“So then, what are we doing here? If you don’t want a relationship with your mate, what do you want?”
“Intercourse.”
He did not… “You don’t want a mate, but you want to have sex?”
“Yes. I tend to develop erections around your scent, which seems to be a sign that my inner wolf is interested in you. I’d love to research this further if you’d be open to it.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “Research how?”
“A biweekly schedule for approved sexual activity would likely keep those urges at bay and still give both of us plenty of time to live our lives. I could research the connection and figure out the root cause, and you could work with me to prove the mate idea as false.”
It was pretty much Charlie Brown’s teacher’s voice in my head after one word. Three syllables that wouldn't stop playing in my head. “I'm sorry—did you say biweekly?”
The man pushed up his glasses, not even bothering to look chagrined. “Yes. I’m sorry—do you not understand? I know it can technically mean two things. For this case, I was considering the every-other scenario. A fortnight, if you know—”
“I know what it means, you jackass. What I don’t know is why I’m still sitting here.” I rose to my feet and stormed toward the door, looking to escape. To run home. I had ice cream there. And weapons. Because right then, I wasn't sure which I needed first. Bi-fucking-weekly, my ass.
Clark followed me, though. All the way out into the hallway. “What about our arrangement?”
The sex. Without the mating. Because he didn’t believe in that.
And I hated him a little bit for it.
“Why don’t you take these erections my scent evokes and go fuck yourself?” I turned, walking backward as I gave him my best smile. “Biweekly.”
