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CHAPTER

ONE

Sascha

It’s been twenty seconds since Sascha opened PROWLR, the shifter dating app, and he already wants to give up, climb under the bedcovers, and never emerge. He wouldn’t need an app if he didn’t live in Bliss Township, a Michigan dust speck with a population of six hundred. Feels more like six when you’re the only gay shifter on this side of the Mackinac Bridge.

Despite his best efforts, PROWLR has remained a curse he can’t break. Whether he’s looking for a hookup or simply a few hours in the company of someone who understands him, the app is the only reliable method Sascha has for finding other queer shifters. Most of the time, he’s stuck driving for at least an hour to meet complete strangers in a desperate bid for intimacy.

Heaving an anguished sigh, Sascha throws his phone across his queen-sized mattress and flops onto his pillow hoard. Without them, he’d feel too alone in this bed. Why have such a big space when he can’t bring outsiders onto the pack lands? Instead of hanging out in the comfort of his own bedroom, Sascha has been stuck fucking on old couches andfloor futons. Once, he drove hours to celebrate Pride at a gay club in Detroit, where he very glamorously sucked a guy off in a bathroom stall. Never again.

Not even five minutes after deciding to give up for the night, Sascha’s phone spits out the PROWLR notification sound. A message! Sascha hates himself for how quickly he snatches up the device.

He uses his thumbprint to unlock his phone, bracing for a dick pic. That’s usually how it goes. Sometimes it’s fun to weigh the distance he’d have to travel against how attractive he finds the guy’s cock, but right now, all Sascha wants is some normal company. It’s fortuitous, then, when the message loads and Sascha sees… words. Nary a dick in sight.

Not only did this guy ask how Sascha’s night is going without being a sex pest, but his location is a mere fifteen miles away.

Sascha says, “Holyshit,” under his breath. Living in a compound of cougar shifters, nearly all with excellent hearing, means Sascha rarely gets privacy. He’s gotten in the habit of keeping noise to a minimum, even while alone in his room. His younger twin cousins have rooms flanking either side of Sascha’s, and they love to pound on his door and heckle him.

Once he’s sure neither Jakob nor Garrett are going to interrupt, Sascha shoves his phone right up to his nose and clicks the guy’s profile. He needs to do some research.

The username is simply:New 2 Town. Sascha checks his bio questionnaire first. Twenty-eight years old, four older than Sascha. Bisexual, FTM trans, he/him pronouns. His profile picture is a dramatically lit selfie showing off a mess of dark curls, the lower locks bleached to a brassy blond. There’s a smattering of large brown freckles embracing the bridge of his nose, one of which has strayed to become a beauty mark on the very corner of his bottom lip. The black-on-black punk outfit isn’t Sascha’s usual type, but the longerhe spends studying this guy’s seafoam-green irises, the hotter he gets.

Closing the profile pic, Sascha returns to the message.

New 2 Town

Hey, what’s up?

Sascha fires off a generic ‘Not much, you?’ response, which he immediately regrets because it makes him sound horribly boring and uninvested. Double-texting is typically a no-no, but he justifies it to himself just this once.

Sascha

How long have you been in Bliss?

New 2 Town responds immediately.

New 2 Town

Just over a week. Trying to settle in.

Sascha

I’ve lived here my whole life. Maybe I could show you around?

New 2 Town

Really? That’d be cool. I’m free all night, if you’re interested in meeting up.

Sascha practically bounces to his closet to put on something that isn’t baggy gym shorts. Halfway through getting dressed, a notif pops up on the phone’s dark screen.

New 2 Town

Are you a shifter?

Sascha

Yeah, I’m a cougar.