by Erin Havoc
Can’t wait to meet you.
Dorian
She’s online, so I wait, like a fiend, for her reply. Pacing inside the Center, I hope no visitors come up now. Surely I wouldn’t give them an inch of attention. Her reply comes swiftly.
Bella: I’ve heard of this new pasta restaurant downtown. Unless your bear isn’t really into pasta.
I grin like a fool. It’s so odd to talk to a beautiful woman who knows I’m a bear. A woman who’s not a shifter, and doesn’t mind I’m one.
Dorian: As I said, whatever you wish for. My bear will be happy enough to know I’ve found you.
Bella: You said you liked nature in your profile. What does that entice? I’ve never met a shifter before.
Bella: I mean, I’ve seen a bear-shifter once, but I never talked to him.
Dorian: You saw one? I’m surprised, we’re usually discreet. Even with the whole coming out thing, it’s for the best if we keep it between ourselves.
Dorian: And by liking nature, I mean I love to take my bear for a run in the forest.
Bella: Is that a thing? I’ve heard of people going into hiking trails trying to spot one. Is there a way to tell if a bear is a shifter or just an animal?
Bella: Also, the bear I saw shifted to save a woman from being ran-over by a car.
Dorian: Oh, it makes sense now. The difference between bears and shifters goes basically with the behavior. I still wouldn’t recommend you to approach a bear, in case it’s the natural one. They’re quite territorialists.
Bella: To be honest, I have never hiked or anything of this sort. If I were a bear, I’d be the one who would spend the year hibernating.
I snort and laughter explodes from me. I don’t know if it’s the knowledge that she’s my mate, but I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone. I want to know everything there is to know about Bella, every little thought, and every little event in her life. We’ve been matched even if she has never hiked a trail before, and I wonder why. I wonder what parts of her personality compliment mine.
Dorian: Hiking is awesome. I love being in the middle of a forest, bursting with animal sounds and the fluttering of leaves, and yet, be in peace like nothing else.
Bella: This sounds lovely. I have no experience, but I’d love to try it sometime.
Dorian: I’ll take you. We’ll start easy, do the main trail here in the National Park.
Bella: Oh yes! You’re a Ranger, right? You’re literally the protector of the woods.
I grin. I had never thought of it like so, and it sounds so much better than the actual job is.
Dorian: I love the title. What about you? What would be the title of your job?
Bella: Something boring. Software nerd. *laughing face*
The emoticon is just an emoticon but makes my heart skip a beat. Hell, I can’t wait to see her smile, make her laugh, and know I’m the one giving her happiness. Clicking on her profile, I check her pictures again. Would it be too forward to save them and make them my screen saver?
My bear votes a no. He wants to see her, to feast on her. My blood fizzles with lust for her beautiful curves.
When I get back to the messages, she’s sent me another one.
Bella: So we’ll meet at the restaurant at 8 on Friday. I’ll see you there.
I agree with it, though a little hurt. We’ve been having such a nice conversation, such a connection. I want more. But of course, she has more stuff to do with her life. It’s the middle of the day and she’s possibly working — as I should be.
Putting my phone in my back pocket, I walk back to the front of the Visitor’s Center in time to receive a small group of tourists. We’ve been bursting with activity these days and I have to keep a close eye on everything if I want everybody safe and sound — the forest included. With more people around, there’s the danger of forgotten trash or cigarette butts that commence fires. A couple of verbal threats when they arrive, and an hour of hiking the trails making sure everything is right, and it’s been working smoothly.
But my mind’s not worried about this today. Bella’s on the front lobe of my brain, taking all the space and all the attention. I wonder about her smell and the sound of her voice. Maybe I should call her later this week, think of an excuse, just to hear it. My imagination has proved itself rather plain when compared to reality.
Friday can’t come soon enough. My body buzzes with the expectation of smelling her, touching her smooth skin. Seeing her body with my own eyes, and taking her.
Mating her.
I can’t wait for it. Having her spread on my bed, surrendered to the pleasures I can give her. Even if I’m inexperienced, I’m sure I’ll know what to do when the time comes.
Because I was made for this. For her. Just as she was made for me.
5
BELLA
Such a fool.
I’ve been such a fool. When I accepted the job for beta-testing, I should have told them I wasn’t doing the date thing. Why did I accept it? I hate going out; I hate meeting people, and I certainly am not a fan of making small talk with an unknown man. I don’t flirt. Man, I don’t think I’ve ever flirted in my entire lifetime.
This is going to be a tragedy.
Would I like to meet a handsome, hot man that makes me feel loved and accepted, and who makes me laugh? Of course. I’m not insane.
Just realistic. Men like this? I’m unsure they exist. And if they do, they don’t come to girls like me. I do believe the shifters — I’ve seen one changing in front of me. I understand why they had to hide and why they’re usually so built. They exercise a lot, and they have the characteristics of their animal.
But the “shifters prefer curvy girls” part and the whole “being DNA-matched to an awesome man”? That’s a fairy tale. Or a huge marketing game. They’ve probably sent the same testing package to other curvy girls — maybe they find us via Facebook, maybe a complex browser cookie that learns the size of the clothes I buy online. It’s not impossible. They send us the stuff, pay some guys to make us feel happy and loved on a date, and as soon as they have our reviews, the guys kick us to the curb.
Damn, now that I think of it, it so sounds like a scam. They’re paying me to be deluded.
If I had thought of it twenty minutes ago, I might have given it all up. But I’m already inside the cab. And I’ve put too much effort into my makeup and hair to abandon it all now.
The restaurant is quite expensive, so I knew I needed heels and a dress. Vivian dropped by with one of hers — a pretty black tube that does not conceal the cellulitis in my thighs or the volume of my breasts. I glared at her but she just grinned as she kissed me good luck.
Now I’m stuck on a date with a bear shifter, in a dress I’d never wear and a pair of heels. Heels, I tell you.
It’s for the money. And for the sake of my curiosity.
Because Dorian can’t be real, can he? His pictures are photoshopped and I will use that moment to check that out.
This thing’s fake. There’s nothing to worry about.
Even if I felt kind of comfortable talking to him. Even if I liked to read him calling me “beautiful”...
No! No, no, no, quit that, Bella. You are not about to get your hopes up for some marketing trap. It’s like seeing a blond, skinny girl in a shampoo ad and expect to turn into her after using it. This is just, you know, the future of advertising. They use cookies to learn I’m a big girl and kind of lonely, and they’ll trap me into putting money into this app.
Focus on the job. And on the free dinner.
The restaurant is downtown, cradled in a block full of tiny cafés and cute boutiques. I’ve heard great things about it, but the moment I step out of the cab, I regret my choice. It’s high end, and the person who opens the door for me is in a tux, and a mustache curled at the ends. It couldn’t get fancier than this.
If I felt I was overdressed, I was grotesquely wrong. The place is not full, but whoever is sitting inside is dressed in long, glittering gowns or full tuxedo
s. My simple, short dress gets side-glances and my cheeks bloom with color. This is the very reason I don’t like going out. The fact society hates curvy women gets painfully obvious whenever I’m under people’s scrutiny.
Which is the reason I stay at home. It saves me the trouble.
I’m ten minutes early when I walk in, the maître waving me inside and asking me if I have a reservation. I don’t, in fact, and the need for it didn’t even cross my mind. He cocks a brow and gives me an annoyed glance when he asks me if I’m waiting for someone.
“Uhm…” Is the question relevant? Is he going to kick me out if I tell him I just want to treat myself? “I am.”
“If you give me their name, I can tell you if they have made a reservation.”
“Oh. It’s Dorian.” Do I need the last name? I hope not. It blanked out from my brain. And if I have to pick the phone up to check, the maître is going to think I’m a slut who doesn’t even know the last names of the men I sleep with. Dread already grazes its claws down my back.
I so shouldn’t be doing this.
Relief washes over me when I notice he doesn’t need any other information when he rakes an overly long forefinger down his reservation book and taps on one name.
“Yes, Dorian Brenner.” He doesn’t look up when he steps away from the counter and walks into the restaurant with long strides. “Follow me, miss.”
I press my lips together. Lucky me, Dorian thought of it. He must be interested in getting my approval for the app, I’m sure. It’s a good thing I’ve arrived earlier, so I can sit, get my nerves to calm down, and plan what’s about to happen.
Going out is already way out of my comfort zone. A date? With a hot guy? Vivian was right when she congratulated me. Even if she laughed at me when I told her I thought it was all a marketing strategy.
The black dress I’m wearing is sensible, though more on the short side. It hugs my curves to the middle of my thighs and I find myself tugging at it here and there, but it’s nothing scandalous. The glances in my direction are already making me nauseous though. I’m anxious about sitting down, hide for a moment, and relax when we climb to the second floor and arrive at a table in the corner, facing the windows into the street below.
Dorian’s here.
He’s… not photoshopped.
My body jerks and freezes at the same moment. Dorian’s eyes meet mine and he shoots to his feet. I avoid his gaze as I approach the chair and my legs forget what they’re supposed to do for a moment. I stumble, gasping. Adrenaline shoots through my veins and I sway, looking for balance. I can’t believe I’m toppling off in front of him… Dorian reaches out for me and holds me steadily.
Bumping face-first into his hard chest, I groan. Rough fingers curl around my elbows, tightly, fiercely. I restore my balance and murmur, “Sorry.” Then I lift my eyes to him.
Is time stopping? God, time’s stopping. What in the world is this witchcraft?
His fierce, dark eyes are fastened on me, staring into mine as if he can see straight inside my soul. And they have a certain glitter to them that tells me he likes what he sees. His short-cropped hair and broad shoulders still make him look military, but I can see a smile trembling on his lips.
“Hey,” he stutters after a moment, his hands still holding me. Still singeing my skin so deliciously. His touch sends strange shivers down my back, a wave of desire curling inside my being.
“Hey,” I answer and finally pull back. How long has passed? I must have looked quite the fool staring into his face without making a single move. “Hi, I — I am Bella.”
Congratulations, genius. You’ve set a date with the man, of course it is you! Brain, do me a favor, and get back to work!
He lets me go, though he seems to regret it. A hand of his shoots up to his hair as he smiles. It’s beautiful, bright, and open.
“I’m Dorian.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Silence stretches between us, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. I’m still taking my time looking at him, up and down. He’s in a button-down shirt and jeans, and though he looks out of place in such a fancy restaurant, he doesn’t seem to care. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, in a casual look that only improves his overall hotness.
The man is ripped. Wow.
“Have a seat.” He maneuvers around me to pull the chair back. He motions for it and I sit down, cocking a brow. That’s a first. As in my entire life. Dorian strides back to his chair and sits across from me, his eyes immediately meeting mine. “It really is you.”
I blink. Did he think I was a scam too? “Yeah. Did you think I was a fake?” A side of my lip pulls up. “I mean, if I was going to be a fake, maybe I’d find some better pictures. A model, perhaps.”
His mouth hangs half-open as he studies me, his eyes wide as if he wants to memorize every detail. My face heats up. “For all I know, you could be a model all right.” His voice drops one octave lower. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. I’m not surprised you’re my mate.”
Mate.
A tingle at the base of my spine tells me I’m going to need alcohol to hear more about that. Turning to catch a waiter’s eye, I wiggle my fingers at him. He comes to us with a vague expression.
“Are you ready to order, miss?”
The menu is forgotten in front of me as I intertwine my fingers together, pressing them. “What do you have that has alcohol in it?”
He blinks twice before offering me a different menu. “This is our wine list, miss.”
Wine is so not going to cut it. I leaf through the menu without paying much attention. “Do you have whiskey? Maybe tequila?”
“Oh, I’ll have some whiskey if you have it, friend,” Dorian says across from me in that grave voice of his. I don’t look at him — I can feel his eyes on me, my skin crawling with goosebumps as if he is trailing a finger down my arm.
The waiter blinks back at me. “No whiskey. We have a large selection of wine. A cabernet sauvignon is well recommended with cheeses.”
“Oh, um…” My cheeks warm as I turn to the wine list. It’s quite long. “I’ll take a look at it, then. Thanks.”
The waiter nods and steps back, staying just out of my periphery. My nerves are crawling back, making my heart beat faster. A side of me expected Dorian not even to show up. And show up earlier? I didn’t even have the time to prepare myself.
And he’s real!
I mean, he still can be just someone being paid to do it. Time will tell. If I’m smart enough, I’ll keep my heart away from harm and I’ll enjoy my time off. So I pick the menu up to read through it too.
Dorian shifts his weight in front of me. He reaches for his menu, but he doesn’t seem to care for it either. After a moment, he leans forward. “Did I scare you? With the ‘mate’ thing?”
I blush, and that’s pretty much the answer he needs. Biting my lower lip, I clear my throat. “I don’t know what you meant by that.”
A rumble comes from across me. My gaze shoots up to find Dorian’s eyes widening and shifting, a heat I’ve never expected dancing in them. “A hundred percent compatibility. A mate is a perfect match. The one we shifters wait for our entire lives.”
His gaze is so intense it sends liquid fire racing down my body. I curl my toes inside my shoes, feeling my nipples puckering. What kind of reaction is this? He hasn’t touched me, hasn’t done anything sexual to me, and yet… Yet my body calls for him. Craves him.
A man I’m seeing for the first time. A man talking about fated mates and sticking together for the rest of our lives.
“Are you saying — “ I force myself to meet his gaze and immediately regret it. “Are you saying you’ve been waiting for me?”
Dorian reaches out, the tips of his fingers brushing against mine. The non-touch sends a jolt of electricity up my arm, and my muscles tense, but I don’t pull back. It’s beautiful, vibrating up my skin until every hair on my body stands on end.
“I have. For all my l
ife.”
Every what-if. Every doubt. Every fear.
They just vanish.
There’s so much truth in his eyes I can’t doubt it. He believes this. He’s telling me what he thinks is the truth. If this exists or not, if it’s a strategy or not, this man across from me is feeling the same intense connection I am feeling.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I had no idea this was even possible. I mean, up to some days ago I had no idea you could… date humans.”
He nods once. “We can. We’ve been doing this for a while. It doesn’t matter if humans or shifters. A mate’s a mate. You could be an alien for all I care, and I’d still want to find you.”
His fingers curl around my hand. I let him, savoring the warmth and roughness of his palm against mine. “So it didn’t matter how I look, you would want to be with me.”
Dorian’s brows furrow. “It wouldn’t have mattered. But I have been lucky. You are stunning.”
I shift in my seat, tugging the dress down. His words, so open and full of candor, make me self-conscious. I’ve never heard this before. Any of this. “That’s all so new to me. I’ve never been very comfortable in dates.”
“It’s only because you haven’t dated me,” he offers with a large smile.
I can’t help it but laugh. “How smug.”
He shakes his head. “Not smug. I haven’t dated much, even if I’m forty. But I know I have been waiting for the right one. I’m glad you’ve finally shown up.” He grins, and I just grin back.
Like two fools in love. Even if we’ve just met.
“So,” he starts, not letting go of my hand. “Is it ‘Bella’ for ‘Isabella’?”
I wince. “Yeah, but I prefer Bella. ‘Isabella’ reminds me of my mom and how nothing I ever do is good enough for her.”
Biting my lip, I hold any other words back. That’s why I shouldn’t be allowed on dates. It’s so comfortable around him that I spat a piece of my soul. He doesn’t need to hear my problems. My anxieties.
