Page 3

Chapter 3

A Safe Place

VANESSA

“N ot that I mind you staying, but tell me again what’s wrong with your place?” Pinky asks as she throws an old quilt across her couch and tosses a pillow on top.

I flop onto the freshly made couch. “Nothing’s wrong with the apartment. It’s the wolf shifter who thinks I’m his mate I’m hiding from.”

Pinky drops next to me. “That sounds intriguing.”

After leaving the police station, I’d gone to the safest place I could think of. My best friend.

I fill her in while she nods sympathetically. It takes a lot to shake Pinky and my story only earns a raised brow. Pinky is as laid back as her lifestyle indicates. She lives on the beach above her surf shack and spends more time in the water than she does selling surfboards and lessons.

“And he knows where you live?” She stands up to open a window and settles on the ledge before lighting a joint.

I think about her question. “I suppose not.”

“You don’t sound confident.”

“I’m not,” I admit. “You know that feeling I get sometimes like someone’s watching me?” I’ve been friends with Pinky for eight years and there’s nothing we don’t share. When she nods, I continue, “Well, it stopped after I met him.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, but I think it stopped because of him. Because he was the one following me all these years. Now that he’s out in the open, the feeling’s gone.” I look at Pinky, half hopeful she’ll tell me I’m being ridiculous.

She takes a puff of her joint, her expression thoughtful as she blows the smoke out. “Could be. Especially if he really is your mate.”

“That’s not possible. I would’ve felt something, right? I would’ve known I had a mate out there somewhere.”

Pinky cracks a smile. “That’s not how it works. Evolution, as well as industrialization and a reliance on technology have dulled human instinct. Your instincts kick in once in a while, like the feeling you were getting when you were being followed, but until the mating bond is completed there’s no clanging alarm bell that goes crazy when your mate is nearby. With shifters, we feel it down to our souls.”

“He said something about that.” I remember how he landed on top of me and looked down at me in shock as I opened my eyes. “He could hear my thoughts. He said it was because we’re bonded.”

“It must’ve happened when he touched you.” Pinky flicks her ash out the window. “Sometimes that’s all it takes. Can you feel him? The bond should go both ways, but it might be fuzzy for you since you’re new to all this.”

I shake my head, then stop. Do I feel him? I cast around inside myself searching for… what? I don’t know. All I feel is sleepy. “I don’t think I can feel him. That’s a good thing, right? If I can’t feel him, then he can’t be my mate.”

She raises an eyebrow in response and I sigh, leaning back and rubbing my temples. I try to recall what I know about shifters, but it’s not much. Humans have been suspicious of shifters since our evolutionary paths diverged and have little to do with them.

Of course, as I grew, I formed my own opinions and while wary of one particular wolf shifter, I don’t dislike shifters in general. It would be rude. Like someone disliking me for having red hair. A person can’t help their birth circumstances.

“So… you think I really might be his mate?”

She studies me, then shrugs. “Probably. I’ve never known a shifter to be wrong about mating.” She tilts her head. “Except for the Lunatic King, but he was under an enchantment. Still is, I think.”

The story of the Lunatic King is one used to warn human children away from the vicious creatures. “Do you think the shifter tonight could be the King? Maybe he mistook me for his mate, like in the legend. That owl guy?—”

“Shifters have names,” Pinky interrupts testily.

“Sorry.” There’s nothing Pinky hates more than shifter generalization. “Thorny, I think is his name. He said the wolf who jumped on me was a member of the royal family.”

“You better hope he’s not the King. Legend has it he’s relentless when he pursues a new bride. There’s no chance of escape and he becomes violent when denied.”

I swallow to wet my suddenly parched throat. “What do I do?”

Pinky shakes her head. “Well, your acting career is over, that’s for sure.”

“What? Why?”

“If you’re famous, he’ll be able to find you, right? The paparazzi will tell him your every move just to stir up juicy gossip.” Pinky draws on her joint before butting it into an ashtray balanced on the windowsill. “You’ll have to go into hiding. Maybe seek asylum with the lionesses in the desert. They’ll keep the Lunatic King from getting to you.”

My head is spinning, but that’s not a new feeling when I’m around Pinky. The smoke from her joint is blowing back through the window at me and sometimes following her conversational tangents can be a chore. She’s an amazing best friend, but she lives in a fantasy world of her own design. In her head, I’m probably already packing up and moving to the desert.

I burst her planning bubble. “I’m not giving up on my dream. I’m not even close to famous enough to garner the kind of attention you’re talking about, and I don’t think the shifter who’s after me is the Lunatic King. Thorny would’ve said at the police station.”

“Maybe he’s one of the King’s brothers,” Pinky suggests.

“He has brothers?” I’m embarrassed by my lack of wolf shifter knowledge. I should really pay more attention to politics.

She hops off the windowsill and closes the shutters. “Four of ‘em. All were involved in the Human-Shifter war 700 years ago and later, after the war, in creating the accords, so if he is one of the brothers, he’s ancient.”

“I don’t think I can deal with that kind of an age gap,” I say faintly, laying back on the couch and covering my face with my hands. From between my fingers, I mumble, “I’m going to hang out here for a few days until things cool off, then I’ll go scope out my apartment. If he’s there, I’ll break my lease and move to the desert. If he’s gone, I’ll chalk this whole episode up to a case of mistaken identity.”

“Nighty night,” Pinky says, blowing a kiss before turning out the light and climbing into her bed, which is across from the couch in her bachelor apartment over the dilapidated surf shop she owns.

I roll over and try to sleep, but the events of my day replay in my head. I focus on the shifter… on Keenan. When he was in wolf form and I was underneath him in Yannis’s dining room, the moment our eyes met, something passed between us, something I’ve never experienced before.

I told Pinky I didn’t feel anything, but it’s not true. Something changed inside me, like my entire being took one step to the left and now I’m out of phase.

Groaning, I roll over. I’ve been watching too much Star Trek if I’m thinking in terms of phase shifts.

Eventually, sleep comes, but I’m barely out when a racket wakes me. At first, I think I’m still in the police station, listening to the same chaotic noise.

“VANESSA!” A deep male voice invades the apartment.

I sit up, blinking in the gloom.

“I think your shifter found you.” Pinky’s sleepy voice comes from across the room. “You gonna answer the door?”

“No?” I say, cringing when he bangs on the shack, making it shudder under the force.

“I don’t think he’s going away.”

Damn it, she’s right. From everything I’ve seen of this shifter so far, he does seem rather persistent. Perhaps if I go outside and explain to him that he’s mistaken me for someone else, he’ll go away.

I stand and pull my gold satin dress over my underwear and bra, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. Who am I kidding? It’s unsalvageable.

Though I’m somewhat frightened of the shifter, I’m also getting annoyed. Thanks to him, I’ll have to replace one of the few proper ‘Hollywood’ dresses I own and I’m pretty sure I won’t get paid for the murder-mystery job even though I played my part perfectly. I should march outside and demand the shifter pay up for the damages he inflicted. $500 for the dress and $300 for the acting gig.

Stiffening my spine, I take the spiral staircase down to the main floor, gripping the railing to steady myself when he rattles the shack again.

I pull the door open just as his fist descends to strike the wood. Ducking quickly, I narrowly avoid a punch to the face.

He stares at me and I stare back at him.

That feeling of something changing inside me happens again, except stronger. I resist the urge to rub my chest over my heart.

“Vanessa,” he says, his voice lowering to a soft growl.

It sends a shiver down my spine. “Keenan?” I reply.

His warm golden eyes widen and his lips soften under his mustache and beard, tilting at the corner.

“And Thorny Grey-Owl.” The owl shifter pushes past us both, entering the surf shop. “Excellent. Now that we’ve all met, let’s discuss the next steps in your mating ritual.”

Keenan follows Thorny in, a warning in his voice as he says, “Thorny. Drop it.”

I close the door. “Mating ritual?” I glance at Keenan who gives me a wink and a smile. Not just a smile, but a slow sexy one that sets flight to the butterflies in my stomach. I’ve never been into beards, but this guy… he might change my mind.

I jump as Thorny slams his briefcase on top of the counter, rattling the lineup of Hula dancer’s Pinky’s got glued across the top of her cash register. “The King sent me with your official mating paperwork including a pre-nuptial agreement and a settlement offer to the bride’s family for their loss.”

“Their loss?” I ask alarmed. “What loss?”

“Thorny!” Keenan snarls and I take a quick step away from him.

“What is my family supposed to be losing?” Then I remember that this is a simple case of mistaken identity, and I am in fact no one’s mate, no matter how sexy the potential groom-to-be is. “I don’t have much family, but it doesn’t matter, I’m not marring anyone.”

“Mating, dear, not marrying,” Thorny clarifies. “Unless you wish to be married as well, like his Royal Highness, Rush Wolven-North, and his bride Magdalene Rage Witch. A ceremony can be arranged at your convenience and in the place of your choosing, though of course, it will have to be both human and shifter friendly.”

“I… what?” I can’t seem to wrap my head around this situation. I feel like I’ve been unwillingly strapped into an amusement park ride and the carnies are refusing to let me off.

“You’ve met a Rage Witch?” Pinky’s curious voice filters down to us as she sleepily descends the stairs in her Pikachu onesie. “Those are like, really rare, aren’t they?”

“Indeed,” Thorny says, sticking his hand out. “Thorny Gray-Owl at your service, ma’am.”

“Pinky Dragonshore,” she says on a yawn, pumping his hand up and down. “What’re you guys doing in my shop?”

Keenan sniffs the air, a low rumbling growl starting in his throat, his Adam’s apple vibrating as he tenses. Gooseflesh ripples up my arms and I glance around trying to pinpoint what’s setting him off.

“Whoa, down boy,” Pinky says testily. “I like these pajamas.”

“There’s an unknown shifter here,” he snarls, shifting from human to wolf so fast if I’d blinked, I’d have missed it.

As his proportions morph and stretch, I’m thrust backwards into Thorny, who says, “Shit,” before shifting into an owl and flying toward the stairs, clearly intent on getting upstairs in the quickest way possible.

Keenan leaps in front of me, shoving me backwards into the shop door and covering me with his furry body as he bares his teeth at Pinky and lets out a hair-raising growl.

“Damn it,” Pinky mutters. “Fine, let’s play, wolf.”

POOF.

In an instant, Pinky’s pajamas fly apart as she shifts from her human form to her dragon form. A window smashes and a display case crashes into a wall as her giant pink body, long neck and massive head fill the tiny shop.

Keenan’s body is pressed into mine where I’m shoved against the door. I can barely breathe as Pinky roars her annoyance, lowering her head to stare at us. Well, not at me, but at Keenan who’s trying his best to look fierce while the end of Pinky’s fluffy magenta tail waves in his face.

I reach around and twist the doorknob behind me, tumbling outside as it opens. I’m not hurt though as Keenan does a majestic flip out the door and somehow manages to land underneath me as we sprawl in the sand.

Pinky’s giant face blinks at us from the doorway and a second later she shifts to her human form, snatching up a beach towel from a rack and wrapping it around herself.

Pointing at Keenan, she snaps, “You owe me 60 bucks. I loved those pajamas!” She sniffs her disgust. “Vanessa, the couch is yours, but you need to get rid of the mongrel first.” She slams the door.

I glare at the white wolf who picks himself up off the ground and shakes, sending sand in every direction. “You are a very bad dog,” I say sharply, hands on my hips. “Now turn human so we can deal with this mating nonsense.”