Page 22 of Bitten Shifter (The Bitten Chronicles #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

I sit through the psychologist’s session, keeping my face blank and my mouth tightly reined. This isn’t my chosen doctor. I didn’t hire her. She is the Ministry’s expert, and I’m fully aware her notes will end up in my file. So, I play along, answering her questions with upbeat, practised responses that sound perfectly adjusted and optimistic.

I lie through my teeth.

“Yes, large dogs make my heart race.”

“Yes, I feel mildly anxious to be around shifters.”

“Of course, I’m taking everything one day at a time.”

She laps it up. By the end, I escape her office with a professional smile, a vague recommendation for ‘a few more sessions,’ and her assurance that I’m ‘adjusting remarkably well.’”

Sure. Whatever gets me out of here.

On the way to my assigned room, pamphlets in hand, I spot a girl struggling with a large metal case. Sweat beads on her forehead, and her cheeks are flushed pink from the effort. She bites her lip, her palms bright red where they grip the handle.

“Hi,” I say, stepping around her. “Need a hand?”

She blinks up at me with wide blue eyes, pale blonde curls framing her face. When our eyes meet, she dips her head, letting her hair fall like a protective curtain.

“Oh, I’m all right,” she whispers.

“No, really, I can help. That looks heavy.”

Her gaze flicks up again, uncertain. “Really?”

“Of course! Let me grab one side. Between the two of us, we can manage. Where are we headed to?”

“Just down the hall.”

“No problem.”

She moves to the front handle but hesitates before turning her back to me. “Thank you. It’s a case from the shifter military—apparently, they used it for rockets, I think. But now…” She giggles nervously. “It’s just packed with my stuff. Mostly books. I couldn’t leave them behind. I’m a total bookaholic, and e-readers just don’t smell the same, you know? I’m not bothered about clothes that much, so I stuffed the case full of?—”

She keeps talking as we shuffle down the corridor, her end dipping precariously. I adjust to match her uneven grip, taking care not to lift too high as she struggles. I’m much stronger than I should be.

We finally reach her room, she opens the door, and I help manoeuvre the case inside. We set it down at the foot of her bed with a thud.

“Oh, look at my hands!” She rubs her red, sweaty palms on her jeans. “Thank you so much! That was so kind of you. I’m Alice.”

“Lovely to meet you, Alice. I’m Lark.”

“Lark,” she says, smiling brightly. “That’s such a pretty name. So, where are you from? I’m from a tiny coastal town. Our house is by the beach, and the view is so beautiful.”

“Um, I’m from the Human Sector.”

Alice doesn’t skip a beat. Her smile widens. “Really? That’s so interesting! I’ve never been, of course—protection and all that nonsense—but one day, when I’m older and fully shifted, I’d love to visit. Where would you recommend I go first?”

We chat about various places, and I mention sights I think she might enjoy. She even lights up at the idea of spying on vampires, though only from a safe distance.

“So, are you nervous about shifting?” she asks, bouncing on her toes. “I’m so excited! I’ve started meditating, but it’s so difficult. How do people sit there and think about nothing? And the meditation instructor on the app keeps smacking his lips. It’s so annoying!” She scrunches her nose in mock disgust, and I laugh.

“Yes, meditation isn’t for everyone.”

“What do you do for work?” she asks, tilting her head.

“I’m in IT.”

“Oh, cool! So you, like, build computers?”

“Sort of. I do some building, but mostly programming.”

“That’s amazing. I run a cupcake business. I make weird and unusual cupcakes. If you want a Sunday dinner cupcake, I’m your girl. I can create the entire thing in fondant. Look.” She takes out her phone and shows me pictures of intricately decorated cupcakes. They are amazing; some are shaped like flowers, others like miniature feasts, and more.

“Alice, these are incredible! You’re really talented.”

“Thanks!” She beams. “One thing shifters are great eaters, so it’s a match made in heaven.” She dashes to her metal case, flips it open, and pulls out a tin. Alice pops the lid to reveal a bouquet of cupcakes so lifelike they could be fresh flowers.

“Here, try one!” she offers.

“Thank you. I almost hate to ruin it—it’s so pretty.” Nonetheless, I take one and bite into it. The flavour is outstanding. “Alice, this is delicious.”

Her face lights up. “I’m so glad you like it! Here, take another one for later.” She presses a second cupcake into my hands, still smiling. “And thank you again for helping me.”

“Well, I’d better get going.”

“Oh, of course! I didn’t mean to keep you. But… we’ll chat later, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands together, practically bouncing in place. “See you soon!”

Riker is waiting outside Alice’s room, his expression turning melodramatic as I finish off the half-eaten cupcake.

“Seriously?” he says, feigning betrayal.

I grin, lick a stray crumb from my lip, and wave the second cupcake at him before stowing it in my room. “Not a chance.”

His grumbling protest follows us all the way to my next appointment, where an overly enthusiastic instructor hands me three massive tomes on shifter history and customs. Riker trails behind me as I trudge to the library.

The library is beautiful—towering shelves line the walls, and a fireplace is tucked into a cosy corner by the window. I settle into a chair and crack open the first book.

Fated mates. Fated mates… I dive into the index, flip to the page, and skim. According to shifter lore, fated mates are a rare gift from the gods, akin to human soulmates but with a deeper, primal bond. A fated mate can be anyone—human, shifter, vampire, or magic user. The connection is sacred, and shifters hold it in the highest esteem.

I pause at a section explaining that the animal within a shifter recognises its fated mate on sight, even if the mate does not have an animal. The text insists that with patience, work, and compassion, this bond can serve as the foundation for a loving, enduring partnership.

Sacred bonds, cosmic connections—sure. It all sounds like hokey pokey to me, but shifters swear by it. There’s even a legal clause stating that discovering a fated mate can annul existing marriages.

Convenient. I suspect Merrick planned to invoke that rule if he’d pursued me when I was human. But I was bitten, and the rules—and my life—changed dramatically.

I flip through the other books. They echo the same sentiments. Fated mates are rare, sacred, powerful, and life-changing. Blah, blah, blah.

“Are you all right?” Riker asks, breaking my focus.

I glance up. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking like he is itching to either run a marathon or punch someone.

“Do you need the toilet or something?” I ask with a cheeky grin.

He snorts. “No. I’m just bored. I was expecting more drama with your ex. It was… anticlimactic.” He shifts his weight yet again, clearly yearning for action.

I shut the book with a thud. “Do you want to spar?”

His eyes sharpen as he arches a brow. “Spar? With you?”

“Yes, with me. I could use a proper fight.”

He folds his arms, smirking. “Can you even fight?”

I gather the books, stack them neatly, and leave the library, heading for the barracks. “Thirty years of judo,” I say lightly.

He stumbles mid-stride, then recovers. “You have done thirty years of judo? You? ”

“I started in my teens,” I explain, adjusting the books under my arm. “It’s been the one constant in my life. I only stopped because… well, age. My joints didn’t appreciate me throwing people around like I used to.”

Riker gives me a long look, his expression turning into something close to admiration. “All right, Alpha’s mate. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I suppress a smile. “Careful what you wish for.”