Success. A new screen popped open. Name. Address. Age. At least I didn’t have to lie about my age, I was young for a shifter—only just nearing thirty. The next question had my finger hovering over the mouse, my mouth twisting as I flitted back and forth.
Are you open to interspecies matches?
Translation: would you mate with a human?
Not that this dating site was promising a mating, or anything quiet so … permanent. Maybe an ad in the paper would be a better idea?
A muffled snort inside my head, then, interspecies doesn’t just mean human.
Oh. Oh! My eyes widened as his meaning filtered through the fog of alcohol. Different shifters. I tried to imagine it. A dragon with a bear. Or a wolf. Stranger things had happened. Or, at least, I was guessing they had. My finger tapped softly on the mouse. I was open to new things. After all, I was trying this, wasn’t I? Anyway, the dominant gene always won with interspecies mating, so any child of mine would be a dragon.
Another couple of clicks, a little creative stretching of the truth, and the screen blinked at me, the success message plastered across the monitor in big, bold letters.
Doubt chose that exact moment to worm its way in, sneaking past my reckless defenses and setting up camp in my head. With a fucking foghorn. I was looking for a mate; would the kind of woman on one of these sites really be what I was looking for?
At least I’d know she wasn’t looking for love.
Sex? Yeah. But she wouldn’t be expecting a mating proposal.
Hitting the shutdown button, I resolutely poured myself a celebratory glass of brandy. I’d have to convince whomever I decided on that she wanted to stick around. I wasn’t physically repellant, or violently ugly—unless I’d been lied t
o my whole life. I sipped at the liquid, musing it over. I could probably be classed as attractive enough. I was a shifter, so I was strong and healthy. Nothing unusual. No genetic flaws or abnormalities to discover. Unless she was human, then the whole turning into a dragon thing… Yeah, that might come as a shock.
The last log crumbled into ash, the flames swallowing it whole as I gazed into the flickering depths. Women were confusing creatures. Emotional. You’d think having a sister would have deepened my understanding, but Astrid wasn’t exactly what you’d call … normal. She was a Seer. The Seer, and therefore a whole other level of confusing. She’d also been absent for most of my adult life, having run away at the age of sixteen. It was only recently that we’d been reunited, and that hadn’t gone … quite so well. I missed her, though I’d rather cut off my arm than tell her that.
She called me stubborn. Pig headed. Determined. Always wanting my own way. And she was right. When I really wanted something, nothing could stop me.
I would just apply the same logic to this as I did to everything else in my life.
And look where that got you….
I winced, taking another swallow to bolster my ego. Even my dragon judged me, and found me lacking. The cold crept back in, circling in my stomach like a lazy cat settling into it’s favorite place to nap. I’d messed up, made a few mistakes, and no one was going to let me forget it. Astrid had forgiven me, but she didn’t look at me the same way anymore. I’d burned a lot of bridges in my short time as Alpha. “I’m trying to make amends,” I whispered into the flames.
Are you?
His words rang true. Maybe I didn’t fucking want to.
Faye
Fixing my other arm by my side, I rang the doorbell, craning my head back to get another look at the huge house looming above me. It was definitely the right place. I’d double checked my directions, and the villagers down the way had confirmed that this was the home of the Alpha of the Jewelcrest Clan.
The wrinkled noses accompanying the confirmation hadn’t gone unnoticed. The Alpha wasn’t very well thought of by his people. Not really a surprise, and exactly why I was here.
Squaring my shoulders as the bell sounded long and loud behind the thick, wooden door, I pasted on a pleasant smile. I’d make my own decisions about this Bastian Jewelcrest.
A crash sounded behind the door, a muffled thud, followed by a loud curse.
My eyebrows crept up toward my hairline.
The door swung open, a tall, large body filling the opening and casting me in shadow. “What?”
I blinked, speech escaping me for the first time in my life.
The man faced me, his gaze zigzagging over my face and down my body in determined strokes that had his head moving with the effort. Skin tanned a deep bronze gleamed in the soft light filtering through from the house, dark hair curling over his brow and shading his eyes. Over six feet tall, thick muscles filled every possible inch of clothing, straining the seams as well as the doorway.
Fact: I’d known he was a shifter. Therefore, I’d assumed he’d be attractive. Fit. Muscly, even.
But they’d failed to mention he’d look like a fallen angel.