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“I believe this change has occurred to help us produce the next generations. To ensure the continuation of our kind. If we’re able to bond with humans and not just create half-breeds through copulation, we may be able to restrengthen our people.”

What he’s saying doesn’t make sense to me, especially since non-humans have been “copulating” with humans for centuries. We’ve always mixed with them, and there have always been half-breed children as a result. Where do you think people with webbed toes came from? Mere’s mixing with humans. But I don’t interrupt. I listen intently, just as Fynn expects, and he continues.

“Every time a non-human has crossed with a human, the resulting offspring are half-breeds, a weakened version of the full-blooded non-human. However, if a mate bond is formed between a non-human and a human descendant of a non-human, I believe the resulting child willnotbe a half-breed or weakened by the human blood. Something to do with the mixing of essence, soul, and blood.”

“Wait,” I interrupt, knowing he hates it when people interrupt his speeches, but I need clarification. “So, you’re saying if Lottie and I were to complete a mate bond, our children would be full-blooded shifters? Not a half-human half-shifter like before?”

Fynn looks at me like I’m a complete moron because he just explained it, but I need it spelled out in layman’s terms.

“Yes. That’s what I just said.” A small frown creases his brow as he looks at me.

Fynn is one of the smartest meres I know, but sometimes he’s too smart for his own good. Missing obvious social cues and forgetting not everyone’s brain thinks like his.

“Now, I can’t confirm this hypothesis without testing if, of course, but from the accounts I’ve managed to find, that seems to be the result.”

The thought is shocking. Once, we lived out in the open among the humans, and our numbers were great, our kind just as prominent. Now, we’re a fraction of a percentage of what we used to be. To be able to replenish our race would be astronomical. So much so that it could mean that, at some point in the future, we could live out in the open once more. Maybe not in my lifetime, but perhaps in my children’s, considering how long we live. We’re patient and don’t mind playing the long game.

Before I can ask another question, the bell over the door jingles, and out of habit, I look up to see who entered. First is the woman I can’t get off my mind, who pulls me to her and smells like desire incarnate, igniting my blood with fiery lust. The one and only Lottie. The second is the male I wish to never see again who douses my internal fire with icy hatred. Vincent.

Chapter 19 – Lottie

Walking into Dottie’s, I almost trip on the threshold. Staring right at me is Hunter and his gaze is as sharp as a predator seeking out its prey. The heat simmering there blisters me from the inside out, and I almost melt into a puddle. My nipples tighten, and a needy throb pulses between my legs. This man does things to me that I didn’t think were possible outside sappy love ballads and country songs.

The moment I enter the door with Ginger and the man who was polite enough to open it for us, that heat fizzles and cools to barely an ember.

Did I do something wrong? Is there something on my face?

I start to reach up to check my face but notice Hunter’s line of sight isn’t focused on me. Following his narrowed gaze, it lands on the man behind me. He’s smirking and smoothly steps around me and Ginger heading for Hunter and the other man sitting at his table.

Ginger grips my elbow and steers me toward an empty table far from Hunter’s, I make sure to sit at just the right angle that I can still see his profile.

It’s been three days since I kissed him on the couch at the cabin. I have no idea what possessed me to act on my desires, but I did. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to kiss him so I leaneddown and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek thinking that would be acceptable. Innocent enough as a thank you for carrying me home and taking care of me. I didn’t mean for it to escalate, but I am so happy it did. I thought he was happy about it, too, even though he broke it off and left abruptly.

I can only hope I didn’t scare him off with my brash actions. Ever since the first moment I met him I’ve been drawn to him and even though getting involved with a local probably isn’t the best idea, it also sounds like a wonderful idea. Every time I imagine it my panties get damp, my heart races, and my breasts ache. You’d think I hadn’t had sex in ten years with the way my body reacts to Hunter and just the thought of being with him.

The man who entered behind us sits across from Hunter, and he doesn’t look too happy about it. Neither does the man he sat next to. They obviously know each other, but like the pervy man who hit on me in the street last week, they don’t seem to like each other very much.

Ginger’s trying to draw my attention away from Hunter and the other men, but I don’t hear her, I’m too focused on watching Hunter to see if he will look at me again. Give me a sign of how he feels. He’s too fixated on the new man at his table that I don’t see much directed at me.

“Lottie!” Ginger scolds, pulling my attention back to her.

“What?” I laugh out at her big sister tone.

Ginger is fast becoming a good friend, and I know when the time comes for me to leave, it will be hard to tell her goodbye—even harder to say it to Hunter.

Maybe I won’t have to.

This is my life now. There’s no one controlling where I go or when. If I wanted to, I could stay. Right? Would I be accepted here as a permanent resident? My only family is my mother, and I wouldn’t mind her never knowing where I live. Maybe, just maybe . . .

“Stop staring at my brother. It’s weird.”

“I’m not staring.” I was totally staring. But quickly return my attention back to Ginger sitting in the booth across from me.

“Oh, sure, okay.” She rolls her eyes comically as she speaks. “So, what would you call that doe-eyed sparkle look you’re giving him?”

She crosses her arms on the table and cocks her head at me. The long waves of her auburn hair shifting over one shoulder at the sarcastic movement.

Scoffing I blush a little but try to give her a comeback as sassy as her question.