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POE

O f all the dreams I ever had about meeting my fated mate, never once did I dream it would be someone who hates me. Especially someone who hates me for something that isn’t even my fault and isn’t about me at all.

I was raised to look forward to being mated, and I spent untold hours dreaming about what it would be like to meet my one true love for the first time. When I reached maturity and still hadn’t found my mate, it still took years to accept it wasn’t going to happen for me.

To have this sprung on me now, only to discover my mate hates me so badly he can barely even look at me? To have a bond that practically screams DO NOT WANT? I wish I could go back to that younger version of myself—the one who imagined so many lovely mating scenarios—and shake him until his head pops off.

The angry, hurt part of me wants to walk away, to tell this guy to go fuck himself, but that’s not how any of this works. If I walk away now, all of these awful, unresolved desires itching under my skin will intensify for both of us until we’re driven insane with need.

I want desperately to fall to my knees for him, but I refuse to pleasure a man who can barely stand the thought of me. The untenable situation leaves me frozen, standing in his foyer, taunted by the kind of home I’d hoped to buy for myself one day. It’s open and airy, with a view of the Texas Hill Country any raven would give their tail feathers to have.

Despite the beige-colored walls, the living room has exquisite lighting and, most damning, built-in shelves— currently empty, natch —which would perfectly showcase the necessary trinkets of our lives together. I can see it so clearly, how I would fit into his life.

Pathetic .

I mean, it’s not like I expect him to instantly fall in love with me, but I’m tired of feeling like some gross specimen he has to endure.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, nearing me.

I flinch away from him and shake my head, walking out to the deck and the devastating vista of the big Texas sky over rolling evergreen hills.

“I don’t like you very much. And I don’t want to be here for a single second longer.”

Whipping off the baggy shirt I wore to hide my painful erection, I quickly slip out of my pajama bottoms and flip-flops. Underwear was absolutely out of the question when I got dressed, so with those pieces gone, I’m nude. Shooting him a fierce look over my shoulder, I face my uncertain future and shift. Wherever I’m meant to be, it’s clearly not here.

Talk about your Sophie’s choice. In my raven form, the physical need isn’t nearly as painful, which is a good thing. In its place, however, is an instinct so strong I’m finding it impossible to fight. I’ve spent the entire afternoon flying away from Thorin, only to find myself circling back to his place. It’s not even a conscious choice. I fly out over the lake, enjoy the view, then attempt to turn toward home and end up in his backyard.

After half a dozen attempts, I’m exhausted. Giving up, I land on the branch of a tree just beyond his deck. To give myself something to do, I search the area for the items I would need to build a comfortable nest. Luckily, the raccoons have managed to flip open the lid on his garbage can, and he uses the good cotton balls.

I’m not exactly thrilled with his choice of facial toner—it really is rather astringent—but at least I don’t have a bunch of twigs poking me in the ass. As I’m fussing with the final details—and yes, I found a tiny bit of quartz to jazz up the place—I’m overcome with the creeping feeling of being watched.

Hopping around, I startle to find Thorin’s wolf sitting peacefully on his deck. I turn away from him, ignoring all of that while I settle into a comfy spot. Asshole.

“I’m not a stalker,” I call out. “My internal GPS keeps sending me here. I’m too tired to keep trying, so I’m going to stay out here tonight.”

Goddess, this is so fucking embarrassing.

“And hope the owls don’t eat me,” I mutter under my breath.

The avian shifters in this community all get along, but any regular old owl will still eat my ass if given half a chance. Raptor bastards.

“It’s easier in our shifted form, isn’t it?” he says, moaning in dog.

I look over my shoulder, eyeballing his ears. I should notch the hell out of them for his stupidity.

“You did hear me say I have no control over where my wings take me, right? I am speaking at one of the frequencies dogs can hear, am I not?”

“I am not a dog.”

I spread my feathers, shaking them out. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m sorry .”

I glare at him over my shoulder. “Fuck off.”

I adjust my vantage point to watch the sunset, but the feathers at the back of my neck spike up at the sound of his paws on the ground. Peering over the edge of my humble—yet fashionable—abode, I find him walking toward me.

“I will notch your ears, wolf boy,” I caw. “Don’t test me.”

He stops at the base of the tree, looking straight up at me. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t realize shifting lessens the physical burden, so I’ve been miserable this entire afternoon. It wasn’t until my wolf took over and shifted for me that I got some relief.”

I let out a disgruntled screech. “ Relief . You jackass. Yay, my nuts don’t feel like they’re about to drag to the ground in this form. But the mating instinct won’t let me fly home. I want to sit amongst my shiny things—trinkets that I own, that I bought for myself—and curse the universe for thinking we should be mated. But I can’t even do that, can I? So, you’ll forgive me if I don’t give a shit about your discomfort.”

Thorin walks his paws up the side of the tree. “I was wrong, Poe. Even looking at you now, you are so much more beautiful than that stupid crow. I felt like a loser because she took advantage of how much I loved her. I promised myself no more avian shifters, no more sugar daddy bullshit.”

I hop to a lower branch, eyeing the perfect tips of his hairy ears. “Is that what you think this is? Do you seriously think I’m trying to take advantage of you? I know my shop is humble, but I am making a profit. I live above the store because it’s easy and allows me to reinvest in my business. I don’t need anything from you.” I huff. “Well, save for the one thing.”

Thorin paws at the bark. “Jolly said being mated was the best thing that ever happened to him, and I thought about that a lot as I was writhing in agony today.”

I laugh. “Serves you right.”

He whimpers, and it is the most pathetic sound I’ve ever heard.

Not that I care .

“It did serve me right, Poe. I’ve spent the entire afternoon thinking about how the universe gifted me with a gorgeous mate, someone bright and funny, a perfect counterbalance to my darker impulses. Someone who I doubt has ever tried to take advantage of anyone.”

I shake out my feathers, avian speak for no shit.

“I’m going to need a little time with the love part. I promise, I’m not some heartless bastard. I’m just…” His words trail off as he drops all four paws to the ground again.

When he doesn’t complete the sentence, I hop back to my nest and drop a Q-tip on his head. “You’re just what ?”

He looks off to the side. “I’m just heartbroken.”

Ah, fuck him. I could have stayed mad at a heartless bastard, but a heartbroken bastard? Talk about unfairly tugging at my emotions.

“So, what? You still love her?”

“No,” he barks, sitting on his haunches. “That died the moment I understood exactly who she was. I’m not heartbroken over her , I’m heartbroken because my dreams about what love could be were smashed to pieces. I’m heartbroken that the city I used to love is now tainted with her memories. I’m heartbroken because I had to move thousands of miles away to get the stink of failure off me.”

Empathy swamps me as I hear the pain in his voice. Goddess, I’m such a pushover.

Fine.

If he can be vulnerable, so can I .

“I’ve spent years trying to act like I’m okay with not being mated,” I admit. “You have to understand, though, in my family, it’s a big thing. And not in a shitty ‘you’re less of a shifter if you don’t mate’ kind of way. It’s our biggest source of joy to see each other so happy. If I’m brokenhearted about anything, it’s because I never got to share in that joy with my family. Even though I’m mated now, I’m still unable to participate in the joy. I can’t even celebrate our mating, and it’s the worst feeling in the world.”

“Goddess,” he growls. “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you sleep out here and wait for an owl to come and eat your ass. Get inside,” he demands, turning toward the door.

“Are you seriously trying to boss me around?” I ask, swooping down from the branch to join him on the back porch. “Because I am not putting up with your alpha dog bullshit.”

We both shift into our nude human forms, and I flick his ear—a warning—before crossing my arms. Thorin, however, reaches out and I raise my brow, pulling my chin back. He persists, cupping my jaw, stroking it with his thumb.

For the first time, I feel warmth, and something like affection, flow through our bond.

“I would never try to boss you around. And we don’t stand on alpha bullshit in my pack.”

We stand there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. The mating instinct is so goddamn strong in this form that I can barely hold my ground. I have never wanted anyone more than I want this man at this moment.

Jackass.

It was hard to read his expressions as the wolf, but as a human, Thorin’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotions, swinging between sad and frustrated and horny.

“I would like to start over again,” he says, breaking our stalemate. “If we can.”

My first reaction is to tell him, in ways both painful and inventive, to go fuck himself, but that just reminds me how much I need him to fuck me and knot me and make my belly swell with his seed.

His eyes widen, and I’m pretty sure he can tell how I’m feeling.

Fine.

I guess we’re starting over.

Rolling my eyes, I stick out my hand. “Hi, my name is Poe Ravenswood because my mother is a hopeless romantic.”

His grip on my hand is warm and sure, just like it was on my cock the first—second?—time we fucked. “Hi, Poe. My name is Thorin Wolfsbane because my father wanted to make sure his son had a good, strong name.”

“What does Thorin mean?” I ask, distracted by the memory of him jacking me off while knotting me.

Goddess, I need his fucking knot. Right. Now .

He shifts on his bare feet and looks out over the setting sun. “Thunder. ”

I can’t help the snort-giggle that rises up out of me, and Thorin’s eyes light up at the sound.

“Did you just snort?”

“Maybe. What of it?”

He steps into my space and grips my hips. “It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. Though, are you making fun of my name?”

I shiver. “No way. Having slept with you, I find it an apt description of the way you fuck.”

A growl starts up from the middle of his chest before pitching up into a needy whine. I stroke the back of my hand over his furred belly.

“How about this? I promise not to decorate your house in sparkly bits—not yet, anyway—and you promise to stop being a scared little bitch. Then we go into this beautiful house of yours and do whatever comes naturally.”

He chuckles, then pulls me in against his body, hugging me tight as darkness descends.

I whimper as his desire floods our connection. “Careful with the goods, they’re awfully swollen.”

“Why don’t we take care of that?” he asks, his voice deepening.

Trying not to look as desperate as I feel, I yelp as he sweeps me up into his arms. Just being held by him relieves some of the want-want-want, need-need-need pressure.

He carries me through his house, practically running, and within seconds we’re upstairs in his room and tumbling onto the bed, a mass of knees and elbows and lips. Pulling me to the center of the bed, he pants as he cages me in, looking down with so much intensity in his glowing yellow-green eyes I can barely breathe.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, lowering his body to mine, aligning our shafts.

I sigh into the weight on top of me, and we begin to move in time, groaning with the warm velvet slide of our cocks. Sweet fucking relief.

We kiss deeply, grunting into each other’s mouths as liquid heat blooms between us, both of us coming at the same time, our libidos on a hair trigger. One orgasm isn’t nearly enough, so we continue rocking against each other, desperate.

Half a dozen strokes later, Thorin arches his back, throwing his head back, howling as more of his cum pools on my belly. A few seconds later, another orgasm barrels through me like a cosmic event. The birth of a star, the implosion of a sun, something with a lot of heat and a lot of force.

With a deep rumbling in his chest, he scoops the cum off my chest, then flips me violently. Perfectly.