by Hattie Hunt
Emma sighed. “His name is Jordan. He’s my best friend. Cheryl adopted him when he was 13, and then decided a few years later to arrange a marriage between me and him.”
Mason actually laughed.
Bitterness surged in her stomach.
“I didn’t realize arranged marriages existed outside of a medieval monarchy,” he said, twisting on the swing and letting it straighten in a rush.
“Welcome to the Elliot Clan. Cheryl, my mother, has this bigoted, old fashioned view of succession. Bears can only marry bears. They can date other shifters, but they have to be shifters.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. She took it a step further with me and my brothers. Since Joe and Brett made it clear early on that they would marry who they wanted, within reason, Cheryl decided that she would at least guarantee my future. She likes Jordan, and since we were already close, she thought it was easy, I guess.”
“And you didn’t tell her no, like your brothers did?”
Emma paused, surprised in looking back that she hadn’t put up more of a fight. Maybe Cheryl had played it that way on purpose. Back then, Emma really had been interested in Jordan.
Mason nodded and dragged his feet to slow his swing. “Ah.”
She didn’t like that response. “We did date for a little while, but it became clear pretty quickly that we weren’t mates. There would be no bond. If I attempted to share my soul with his, I would overwhelm his will. That is one reason why alphas marry alphas.”
He frowned and shook his head, digging his toes into the gravel and swinging in small circles.
Right. She was basically his first shifter friend. Kind of.
“Unfortunately, it was right around the time Brett brought Juliet home for the first time. She was a bear from a different, stronger clan. But she wasn’t a grizzly bear.”
“That seems a little… extreme. Aren’t they concerned with inbreeding?”
“You haven’t met Cheryl.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, she got a little intense after that. Joe was avoiding every match Cheryl tried to make for him. Jordan and I decided it was just easier to ride things out for a while. The way she was rolling, she just would have matched me up with someone else anyway.” Emma stopped spinning back and forth on the swing, looking at her feet. “Things hadn’t been going great with Cheryl and me for a while, and I was already considering challenging her for alpha. Neither Brett or Joe wanted to, and I was already at odds with her over the Jordan thing. Then, Brett got sick.”
Mason was shaking his head. “This really is complicated, isn’t it?”
Emma shrugged.
“You don’t have to tell me everything. You don’t owe me anything.”
She looked at him with a look that made Mason want to hug her close. He was starting to understand a lot. Namely, how completely ignorant he was of what being a shifter meant. Thirty years, ninety percent of which had been spent hiding his gift, and he hadn’t even gotten to know his porcupine well enough to decide if it was male or female. Well, to accept that his porcupine was male. Mason shook his head again, trying to flush out the wave of shame that crept up his spine. “I’m sorry, Emma. For being such an ignoramus.”
She snorted. “Oh, Mason. Don’t be sorry. Hell, it’s not like you could’ve known. You just moved here.” She spun sideways on the swing, so she could look at him. “I don’t mind telling you things. It’s whether or not you want to hear it.”
Did he want to know everything? He wasn’t sure he did. But as he sat there, looking at her, taking in the way her long, blonde hair fell, as it always seemed to, just perfectly over her left shoulder, he was almost ashamed for the one thing that kept flashing across his thoughts.
Emma and Jordan. Naked. Snuggled together on a rock in the woods. People who weren’t intimate didn’t do that kind of thing.
Mason pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was getting late. He had to work in the morning. He assumed Emma did too, probably earlier than he did given her position at the bakery. The incident in his parents’ kitchen suddenly seemed like ages ago, and things had shifted again between him and Emma. They weren’t snipping at one another with undercut phrasing. They were having a conversation.
The problem was, he was still trying to process. She was an alpha. Alpha. And here he was, no less than a juvenile porcupine shifter who probably had less control over his shift than most of the kids in the school. Emphasis on the juvenile bit. The only question he could seem to form in his mind was the most petty, immature thing he probably could have come up with.
“You okay, Mason?”
He looked up, realizing that he hadn’t responded to her last statement. But how was he going to respond? What were they doing? Were they acquaintances who had shared an experience and a couple of tiffs? Were they friends? Were they aiming for more than that? He sure as hell didn’t know. Mason took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to get anywhere unless he just came out and said it, petty, juvenile, or not.
Emma nodded, her expression open and inviting.
“The other night.” He tightened his grip on the chains of the swing, already hating how it was going sound. “You and Jordan were—”
“Mason, I told you—”
“Just let me get this out, okay? I already feel like a damn idiot.”
She held up a hand in surrender.
He cleared his throat. “You and Jordan were, well, quite cozy and very naked. You can’t really tell me there’s nothing going on between the two of you. Can you?”
Emma released an exasperated chuckled
That didn’t make Mason feel any better.
“He’s my best friend. Because of Cheryl, we’d just tried to kill each other, and we were having a moment. Why? Because I’d nearly killed him.”
What?
“And we were naked because we’re shifters.”
“Since when is being naked part of being a shifter?”
“Okay, you’re seriously a prude. We live in a shifter community, and if you’re going to tell me that we’re supposed to carry a bag around with us every time we shift so that we can be clothed immediately after—well.” Emma flapped a hand at him in exasperation.
Mason looked away. He couldn’t be the only one, could he?
Emma shook her head and her eyes softened. “Not that you can’t carry a bag if you want to. Don’t get me wrong.”
But he already had.
She rubbed her forehead.
Then, Mason made a decision. “Look. Emma.”
She looked up, putting her hand down.
He made himself meet her eyes—the eyes of an alpha. They gave off an amber glow. “This is probably going to sound stupid.”
She raised an eyebrow.
No, it was stupid. He could already feel his cheeks reddening. “Will you teach me? Show me how to be a real shifter?”
Emma clapped her hands together. “Thank you! That is what I’ve been trying to get at all night.”
Seriously?
She eyed him sideways. “But I have one condition.”
Did he want to hear it?
“Keep your quills to yourself.”
16
Mason had agreed to meet Emma the next day at Lou’s Coffee Shop. She insisted that it had a good corner where they could talk freely about all things shifter. It helped that Lou was a wolf.
Still, the second Emma stepped out of his car to pick hers up at Troutdale Springs, Mason couldn’t help wondering what he’d gotten himself into. With his insecurities about Emma’s relationship status—not that he should care about that in the first place—quelled for the moment, he was looking forward to spending time with her. He was not enjoying the prospect of the multitude new opportunities he would have to make an idiot of himself in front of her.
Mason had always been self-conscious, a side effect of being a nerd and hiding a porcupine-sized secret for most of his life. At one point or another, he had decided to own it, but ever
since he’d met Emma, he’d found himself more and more unsure of himself.
Now, as he sat at the most secluded table he could find at Lou’s, he studied the crowd. Only about half of the tables were full, but the constant influx of people in and out the front door was impressive. Especially pushing the dinner hour. Maybe caffeine didn’t affect shifters the way it did mundanes. Did they metabolize it faster? Mason wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, and when he did, he had never paid much attention to how long his buzz lasted.
He pulled out the little black notebook and set it on the table. As soon as he returned home the night before, he’d dug it out of his stockpile and started writing down questions he had for Emma. Now, he grabbed the pen from behind his ear, the one he had jury-rigged with a small magnet, so it would stay in place on top of the ear wires.
Mason felt naked without his leather satchel, but he hadn’t had a chance to repair the damage done to the strap by his damn porcupine, and Emma’s comments about carrying a bag around after shifting had stung a little. They probably weren’t going to shift tonight anyway. She was just showing him the lay of the land. He chewed on the end of the pen for a second, and then scribbled into the notebook.
Caffeine metabolization.
When he looked up again, Emma was standing over him, a large coffee in her hand.
Shit. He had meant to buy her drink. When had she even come in?
“Taking notes?”
Mason snapped the notebook closed and tucked it into his back pocket. “Observations.”
“Sure.” She slid into the chair across from him. “You don’t have a drink yet?”
“I was going to grab drinks for both of us.”
Emma looked guiltily down at her drink, then shrugged. “I’ll let you get the next one.”
Mason nodded and leaned back in his chair, cupping the back of his head in his hands. He would just wait to get a drink until she needed a refill. “So, where do we start?”
“Depends.” Emma wrapped her fingers around her steaming paper cup and leaned forward.
“On what?”
Emma chewed on her bottom lip, watching him. “You.”
“That’s not super helpful.” And made him strangely excited and terrified at the same time.
She smiled. “Promise not to take this the wrong way.”
Mason bristled and leaned over the table, pushing his elbows forward until they were almost touching hers. “You know, that almost guarantees someone is going to take it the wrong way.”
“Well, we’ll see how you do.”
A dark-haired woman with a nasty scar that trailed from her left eyebrow to her ear walked by, catching Emma’s eye and waving.
Emma waved back with a smile.
Hadn’t she said they were safe to talk here? “Was that a shifter or a mundane?”
“Really, don’t take this the wrong way.” She pushed her coffee to the side and mimicked Mason’s stance over the table. “You should be able to tell.”
“Really?” Great. Now he felt even dumber than before.
“For you to really understand what it means to be a shifter, you need to bond with your animal.”
“We’re bonded just fine.” Mostly.
“Okay. Is the barista a shifter or a mundane?”
Mason studied the woman, who was making an order up at the counter. He frowned. “I have no idea.”
“If you build a better relationship with your porcupine, he’ll be able to help you tell the difference. In a place like Troutdale, until you get to know the people here, that can be very helpful. Take, for instance, the day you came into the bakery.”
Mason grimaced, but didn’t say anything.
“You knew I was a shifter because Dexx told you as much. But he obviously didn’t mention Cyn or the fact she’s a mundane. Aside from the fact that you should never, under any circumstance, shift in the middle of town, you also should have been able to recognize she was not a shifter.”
“I can see your point.” Mason tried to keep his face neutral, but he was struggling inside. He and his porcupine had been together for how many years? How had he never made that kind of connection?
“She’s a shifter, by the way. Her name is Faith. She’s a wolf, and is married to Chuck, who is the high alpha.”
“Chuck is who offered me the job at Svelte.”
“So, you’ve met him. That’s good. We don’t have to add that to our list, at least.”
“You have a list?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t.”
The notebook in his pocket became suddenly uncomfortable under his right butt cheek. “It’s a small one.”
Emma rolled her eyes and took a long gulp of her coffee. Mason could see the steam rolling off it and wondered how she didn’t burn the inside of her mouth. That question would not, however, be added to the list.
“Anyway.” Emma spun the cup in a spiral from the lid, like she was mixing whatever was inside. “We’ll work on that part later. Given your history, it’s probably better to work with your spirit animal behind closed doors, at least for now.”
“Not fair.”
Emma cocked her chin to the side, eyes narrowed.
“Fine. So, what are you teaching me tonight, then?”
Downing the rest of her coffee, Emma stood up. “We’re going for a sightseeing tour. Come on.”
Mason followed her up to the counter where she ordered an English toffee mocha with an extra shot. He followed with an order of hot chocolate with whipped cream. Drinks in hand, Emma led the way out of the coffee shop.
“First rule of thumb.” Emma pointed to her right with her coffee. “You know the arch down the road there?”
Mason leaned to the side to peer down the street as if he could see the arched sign that went over Main Street a few blocks away. He couldn’t, of course, even with his glasses, so he pulled back and nodded instead.
She ignored his gesture. “That’s the start of old town. Anything further, assume you’re no longer in shifter territory. We’re all settled mostly in the historic district. Most people who live down here have been here for decades, so even if they don’t know about us, they’re used to the unusual things that tend to happen in our community. We’re safer here, but not so much so that you can just shift whenever you want.”
Mason nodded, realizing immediately the flaw in his plan to drink hot chocolate. “Can you hold this?” He handed the drink off to Emma and pulled the notebook out of his pocket. Flipping it open, he scribbled:
west bad, east good
Emma peered at his notes upside down. “Very scientific.”
Mason shrugged. “I only need enough to remind me. I don’t have to write it down word for word.”
“You shouldn’t have to write it down at all.”
“People remember things differently. So, sue me.”
Emma handed him back his hot chocolate as he repositioned the pen on the ear wire of his glasses. She raised an eyebrow at him as he did, but chose not to say anything about the pen contraption. Instead, she said, “Just don’t write down anything incriminating.”
“It’s not like I’m making a list of who’s who.” At least, now he wasn’t going to. Mason slipped the notebook back into his pocket and sipped his hot chocolate. He burnt his tongue. Glancing at Emma, he expected her to have experienced the same amount of heat, but she swallowed without a hitch. “How do you not burn the shit out of your tongue?”
“I’m not a wuss.”
“You’re unnatural.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, quill boy.”
Mason couldn’t think of anything clever for grizzly, so he let it slide, making a mental note to come up with something for her next time. He really hoped quill boy didn’t become the standard. Ignoring her quip, Mason pointed across the street. “That’s Joe and Ripley’s bar, right?”
“Of course Dexx told you about that one.”
“I get the feeling you aren’t a fan of him.”
Emma rolled her eyes and turned her back to the bar, walking in the opposite direction. “If you want to talk about unnatural, talk about him.”
Mason wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she meant by that.
They passed the hour walking around downtown. Emma pointed out which businesses were run by or at least were shifter friendly while Mason scribbled the names of them into a vague list. He marked places like the bakery, where there was a mix of mundane and paranormal staff, with a capital, underlined M. Someone would have to try hard to find anything incriminating about that.
Eventually, he gave up on trying to drink his hot chocolate and take notes, irritated with himself at asking Emma to hold it every time he had to write something down. He hadn’t even drunk half of it when he tried to throw it away. Emma intercepted the cup, swiping it out of his fingers.
“You can’t waste one of Lou’s drinks. Are you crazy?”
“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
“Would you throw away one of my cookies?”
“I won’t now.” Not that he’d ever intended to.
“Good.”
Emma popped the lid off her coffee and dumped the remaining hot chocolate inside and swirled the drinks together.
He caught a whiff of her lavender scent as she moved, and Mason considered the fact that the accenting sweetness might not be only from working in a bakery. The woman could down her sugar.
She pointed across the street. “Whiskey Wine and Soap is where you go if you ever get hurt.”
That…was weird.
“Normally, I’d say stay away because it’s run by a witch, but I can vouch for her. She saved my brother.”
Mason heard the words, but her tone was still edged as if she wasn’t quite sure of the pitch she was selling.
“So,” he said, as they circled back around to the coffee shop. “Is there going to be a quiz at the end of this?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He really, kind of would, but he didn’t rise to her goading. The ease of conversation they had shared during the field day had returned, and he was glad that for the moment they were back on friendly terms. Emma even seemed to be having fun showing him around. And if he let himself admit it, bitter as he was about needing a teacher, he was enjoying his time, too. Though, most of that had to do with the fact that he was following around a beautiful woman who just happened to smell like lavender and sweets. And who had a good sense of humor.
