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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 and floor 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, “Holy shit ,” 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 longer he 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.

Unnerved by the question—shouldn’t that be obvious?—Sascha hops back to the guy’s profile .

New 2 Town hasn’t filled out the Species category. Usually, that’s where a shifter would put their animal affinity, but there are human chasers who use PROWLR, too, and normally leave that spot blank.

Unless…

It’s accurate to say PROWLR was designed for shifters, but recently, there’s been another group making their own space on the app. Most of the time, though, they have the good sense not to approach shifters.

Sascha’s fingers shake as he types.

Sascha

What are you?

Waiting the handful of minutes it takes New 2 Town to respond is agonizing, and when the message finally arrives, Sascha’s heart drops into his stomach.

New 2 Town

I’m a werecreature. Ursine.

Numb, Sascha pops ‘ursine’ into a search engine and pales at the definition. Switching to images, Sascha stares at the page of very big and very, very big bears.

New 2 Town

I should’ve led with that. Sorry. I’ll understand if you don’t want to meet up anymore.

Sascha bites his lip, deliberating. He wants to meet up, but…

If Sascha gets caught hanging out with a werecreature, his dad, lead alpha of the Madison cougar shifter pack, is guaranteed to take a massive chunk out of his hide.

That’s just association. If Sascha were to get caught having sex with a werecreature, Samuel Madison might actually kill his only child .

To say shifters and werecreatures don’t get along would be an understatement. Shifters are born sophisticated, magic-infused beings, always in control of their shifts, and when shifted they retain intelligence and self-control despite their fully animal appearances.

Werecreatures… aren’t. Don’t. Victims of the werevirus become tied to the fickle moon, forced to shift into violent beasts that barely resemble their animal affinities.

It’s theorized that the werevirus has existed for a long time, but about forty years ago, the number of infections exploded globally.

No one knows why, only that it threw the balance between humans and shifters into full chaos.

The effects of the werevirus degraded the lines separating shifters from the much greater human population, turning infected humans into warped mimics.

Methods of managing the spread have been developed since, but by the time education became widely available, the damage had already been done.

His whole life, Sascha has been taught that werecreatures make a mockery of the shifter lifestyle and sully their reputation. They’re dangerous plague-bringers, like rats ferrying parasites onto foreign lands. A were-bear— ursine —could easily kill Sascha, even as an alpha cougar.

And yet…

Sascha

No, it’s fine. I’ll get a hotel room so we can shower after.

New 2 Town

Okay. Cool. My name’s Avery, btw.

It’s not until Sascha is finished dressing that he realizes the implication of his words and how they could come across.

Is this meet-up just going to be hanging out in the hotel room, or did he just signal intention to have sex?

All he’d meant was that showering after they were in proximity reduced their chances of getting caught, but it’d be awkward if Avery took his words as innuendo and Sascha showed up unprepared.

Should he bring condoms, just in case? Alcohol, maybe? Reason tells him he could simply ask, but Sascha would wither away from the humiliation.

So, he makes an online reservation at the nearest hotel that is the least likely to have bedbugs and sends Avery the address and information on check-in.

Then he sits on his bed and has a panic attack, because what the fuck is he doing?

Every time Sascha thinks of turning his car around, he looks at the phone mount on his dashboard.

It’s a critical strategy because without Avery’s picture up on his unlocked screen, he might never make it to the hotel.

When his resolve starts to wobble, Sascha’s gaze shifts to Avery’s flat, seaglass stare, smudged eye makeup and model-worthy pout so void of feeling Sascha wants— needs —to know what Avery looks like in motion.

Behind those closed lips, are his teeth crooked or straight? Does that freckled nose wrinkle when he smiles? Does he laugh easily, or is prying free the slightest chuckle a hard-won victory?

Fucking hell, Sascha hasn’t even heard his voice yet and he’s already worthless for this guy. Maybe that’s why he stops by the gas station to pick up condoms and wine coolers on his way to the hotel. Just in case.

When Sascha pulls into the parking lot, his hands are almost as sweaty as the cold surface of the wine coolers, condensation dampening the bag and withering the box of condoms. He parks, takes a moment to brace himself, then grabs the slippery plastic handles in his too-warm fingers and marches bravely forward to the hotel entrance.

He continues through the doors, still bravely, until his eyes do a reflexive sweep of the lobby, and one dark figure stops him dead in his tracks.

Avery is shorter than Sascha envisioned. His build is slender, black cutoff shorts revealing muscular calves. The overstuffed chair he’s propped his butt against is behind a column that casts shadow over the man’s face, but Sascha couldn’t mistake those wild bicolored curls.

As if sensing Sascha’s stare, Avery turns his head, then pushes off the chair. One step and the overly bright lights scouring the lobby carve his blue-green eyes into fluorescent relief.

Sascha swallows hard, takes a step toward him, then pauses to shake his head.

Best he get the room key first, so he tries to look casual as he approaches the desk, even though his heart is doing flips inside his chest. Fortunately, the bored concierge is human.

He’s not sure what he’d do if there were shifters around to witness him going into a hotel room with a werecreature.