Page 19 of Wrong Number, Right Fox (Dial M For Mates #6)

GARNER

I couldn’t sleep. Not on my left side, right side, or on my back. There was no way I’d get on my belly because I’d never close my eyes in that position.

My fox was restless too, telling me to open the curtains so he could look at the moon. Being shifters, we had a special connection to that celestial body. In the wild, our lives were regulated by the lunar cycles.

I’d once made the mistake of telling my beast the moon had no light of its own, but it was reflected from the sun. He refused to speak to me for days, believing I was fibbing.

What is that noise?

Inside or out? Life was rarely 100% quiet for a shifter, and sometimes I longed for human hearing.

In the other room?

Joss’s clock . It was an antique that had belonged to his grandparents. It ding-donged at the hour, half-hour, and at the quarter past and to. Gods, it was annoying, but he said it chimed through his childhood, so it stayed in our house.

Wish I could muzzle it .

Me too .

But it wasn’t just the clock that made us both restless. Not knowing what it was or how I could resolve it, I lay sleepless, counting the hours until Joss woke.

I brought him breakfast in bed, and though he nibbled a piece of toast, he said he was too wound up to eat as he had to work on a project that was due in a week.

It was Sunday, so he was in the home office and I shuttled back and forth with drinks, hot and cold, and food.

“What are you staring at, Garner?”

Gods, I hadn’t realized I was, but my mate was gorgeous, wearing an old shirt of mine and shorts, his bare feet planted on the wooden floor. He was leaning against the desk, the laptop balanced on one hand.

“I’m not.” I was and not just because I was besotted with my mate.

“Stop it!”

“Sorry but?—”

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been like this all week, as though you’re walking on hot coals or you’re expecting something bad to happen.” He placed the computer on the desk. “Your brother isn’t about to burst through the cat door, is he?”

I growled, not a very fox-like sound, it was almost a warning but not to Joss. To whom? I hadn’t a clue.

“Booker’s away for the weekend.”

“You look as you do when you are in your fur, as though you’re about to pounce.”

Are you shining through my eyes?

No. But I want to kill something. Not our mate but anything that moves or comes close .

We were both agitated, and I couldn’t fathom the reason.

Joss was right. We’d been behaving like this for days.

But our den wasn’t at war, neither of us had dangerous occupations, and I was far removed from whomever had smuggled our shipments off the boats.

I lived a quiet life, except when my fox took down his prey.

Joss went to the window and peered outside. “Are we in some sort of danger? I can’t see anyone.”

He was so innocent. If another den declared war, my adorable, oh so innocent human would be the last to find out.

“It’s not Uncle Cyrus, is it?”

That was a joke around the office when Uncle’s assistant announced he wanted a meeting and everyone ducked, thinking he was on the warpath, when in reality, Uncle was a teddy bear, one with teeth.

“No. It’s more my fox than me.”

No, it’s both of us .

“Sorry, my beast called me out on the fib. It’s me too. I just feel very protective of you.”

We’d had this discussion previously when we were walking on the pavement, I was on the side closest to the road.

Joss complained, saying no one was going to lose control of their vehicle and run him over.

But there were always stories like that in the news where unsuspecting humans had been mowed down because a human put their foot on the gas rather than the brakes.

“Maybe it’s you that’s making your beast anxious.”

I considered that but dismissed it. “No.”

“Why don’t you take yourself off to den land and hunt.”

“No!” That came out too fast and much too loud. “We're staying with you.”

Joss walked across the room and into my arms. Having him so close should have made the world right again, but I was more agitated. I sniffed his hair, and beneath the superficial layer of shampoo, there was his scent. But there was nothing unusual about that.

Except, there was another aroma, a fleeting one that mimicked my mate’s.

“Joss, have you done anything different lately? Used a new bath wash or laundry detergent?”

My heart was beating so loudly it echoed in my ears and my fox told me to turn it down.

“No.” Joss pulled away and lifted my chin. His eyes searched mine, and he shivered because even without a mirror, I was aware my eyes had darkened.

“Garner, you’re scaring me.”

“Oh my love, I’m sorry. It’s the opposite. I'm ecstatic and so is my beast.”

He closed one eye and gave me a look. “Oh yeah, well, instead of terrifying me, perhaps you two asshats can share why you’re so damned happy.

Fuck, I’d made this about me, when I should have centered my mate. I dropped to one knee, and he made a face.

“Now, after we’ve dated and mated, you want to propose?”

“My darling, you smell differently.”

“What?” His screech hurt my ears.

Shit. “But in a good way.”

“Out with it. Why have you been acting like the ass end of a… a… I don’t know… a pig.

Pigs are very clean animals . My beast chimed in at the worst time.

“You’re pregnant.” I hadn’t intended to blurt it out, but I’d messed up so badly I had to tell him it was good news, the best.

“Pregnant? How?”

“I can give you a demonstration.”

My mate slapped my hand away. “I know how babies are made. But how do you know I’m pregnant?”

“Because of your scent.”

He plopped onto the couch, and I crouched before him.

“Your scent has another layer, a tiny sweet hint of an aroma, and this only happens when an omega is pregnant.”

“But you’re familiar with shifter omegas. Humans don’t go around sniffing one another to discover if someone is pregnant.”

And that was one advantage in being a shifter. We had heightened senses.

“Do you remember me telling you I recognized you as my mate the instant we met?”

He nodded.

“I scented you.” I tapped my nose. “My supersonic sense of smell would have discovered you in a crowd.”

“Awww.” He fell into me. “We’d have found one another, even if you consulted about the project with Harold, instead of me.”

“Ummm, aren’t you forgetting something?”

My mate giggled. “I’m getting to that.” He nuzzled my ear. “Pregnant? Are you sure? What if you’re wrong? Should I get a test from the pharmacy to be sure?”

“You can. I won’t be offended, but I’m certain.”

“Then I trust your supersonic nose. Is that why you and your fox were so growly and protective this last week?”

“I guess so.”

I’m proud of you, I told my fox.

Proud of you too, partner .

“You’re carrying something precious.” I patted Joss’s belly. “A baby we made together.” How cool was that?

Joss picked up the coffee I’d brought him earlier, sniffed it, and made a face. “There were signs. I’ve been off coffee for a few days, and I’ve fallen into bed earlier than usual which is why I’m behind on this project.”

He sat at the desk and tapped the keyboard.

“But while I’m doing this, tell me everything about humans impregnated with a baby from a shifter.”

“I don’t know much.” The den elders would have stories. “But the baby has a fifty percent chance of being a shifter.”

Joss shrugged. “Okay.”

I strode over to him and swiveled the chair to face me. “Don’t have more questions like will our little one shift in front of human visitors?”

He tapped my nose. “Shifters have existed for centuries without humans being aware of them. That was what you told me. Or Harold did. One of the two.”

“Okay.”

“That wouldn’t have been possible if every shifter kid blabbed about the animals, so shifters must have some method of keeping the secret.”

Huh. I’d never thought of it like that.

“We do.” The universe had made sure of it.

“Cool. If our child is a shifter, I’ll have years to prepare.”

“Maybe we’ll have more than one.” I’d always wanted to be a dad and wished both my fathers were around to enjoy being grandparents.

“Wait, do foxes have litters?”

“In the wild they have four or five little ones.”

Horror was etched on Joss’s face. “Maybe we need a bigger house.”