Page 68 of Heir

She just had lost her aunt, the only mother-figure she’d ever known, and besides her roommate, the only person in the world who gave a damn about her—until me, that is—and I knew a thing or two about losing a mother. About the devastating toll it took on your heart. How a loss like that rendered you empty and lost, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other and go on when the person who loved you with every ounce of their soul was gone. Because even though their spirit may still be loving and watching over you, when they’re gone, you feel that loss of love like your heart has been ripped clean from your chest. It’s an ache I’ll never forget, and one I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy.

It was pure torture watching her leave with Maxar and Drak earlier that day, but I knew that she wanted someone to stay behind with Mr. Fiddleman. So I put my own needs aside and thought about what my mate needed.

She was always on my mind. Always first on my mind. Ever since the lightning strike, I thought of nothing more than her—and food.

And she was worth the wait and effort.

Her fire and spirit. Her sass, and the fact that she swore like a sailor, just made me love her more.

I wanted nothing more than for her to accept me as her mate, but I wanted it to be on her own terms. I wanted her to want me. To want a mate. To want the Bond. So if I had to wait a week, a month, a year, or ten years, I would. I’d waited centuries for her already. What was a little longer until she was ready?

It’d been a while since I shifted and my bear ached to scratch up against a tree and really stretch. I closed Omaera’s bedroom door silently and crept out of the apartment, out of the building, and then practically sprinted to the nearest wooded area.

Rather than shift while dressed and tear the clothes I’d just acquired, I was mindful enough to undress properly, fold my clothes, and stash them in a bush before I dropped to all fours and shifted.

The stretch of my bones, muscles, and ligaments was always so pleasurable. It was like that first morning stretch, elongating stiff muscles and working them for the first time in a new day.

Once I was back in animal form, I stood up on hind legs and backed up against an enormous fir tree, where I rubbed my butt back and forth a dozen times or more, grunting and growling in pleasure.

Even though I’d gorged myself on Indian food earlier, I was hungry again. So I headed deeper into the trees in search of something. A rabbit or squirrel, perhaps. I’d dined on a house cat or two when desperate, but I tried not to eat domestic animals. But everything was asleep now.

My belly rumbled. I could leave the safety of the trees and venture into the city, like the bakery dumpster I had breakfast at. But then that increased the risk of someone seeing a bear and reporting it.

I’d have to shift back to human form if I wanted food.

I ignored my grumbling belly and wandered around the quiet, dark forest a little longer, just enjoying the fresh, peaty air and the way the dirt and pine needles felt like cushions beneath the pads of my paws.

Yes, a huge part of me ached to get back to Omaera, but I couldn’t ignore the bear side of me either. The side that needed wide open spaces and freedom. That needed soil between my toes and the stars above me.

Would she want to live in the city if we mated?

What about the other two bozos?

I still couldn’t believe this was my fate. To share a mate with two other men. And not even two other bears, not even two other shifters. But a lunatic fire mage, and a motherfucking vampire, of all people.

The gods were surely testing me. I could see no other explanation.

After an hour of just scratching up against trees, and wandering the woods, I shifted into human form once again, redressed, and headed back toward the hipster village Omaera chose to call home.

Delia’s neighborhood was so much nicer, but if this was what my mate wanted, then I’d deal with it.

A kebab shop was open late. So I grabbed three kebabs on my way back, but just as I reached Omaera’s building, the wind pulled an unfamiliar and alarming scent my way.

I sniffed harder.

Demon.

Setting the kebabs on a bench near the front door, I crouched down behind a big, flowering bush and waited.

The scent was still there—bergamot and hyacinth.

A growl rumbled through me as the essence grew stronger. Until, peering through the branches of the shrub, I saw a demon with long, black hair, stiletto boots, and red lips click-clacked her way down the sidewalk. She didn’t go to the front door, but rather, she stood below the balconies. Below Omaera’s fourth-floor balcony.

Her eyes remained laser-focused forward, almost like she was in a trance.

Who was she?

What was she doing?

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