Page 53 of Entering a New World

Okay, maybe not exactly like he’d kept an eye on me. Maybe more in an invisible protector kind of way than in a friendly wolf one.

On the other hand… his reaction had been weird. He’d run off as if Rhett had actually been in his wolf form and chased after him to hunt him down.

And the last thing he’d said. But he’s a sh…

A what?

It had to be a shifter, right? I mean, what else could it possibly be?

A man? Not likely. After all, I’d said he was my boyfriend.

A… lumberjack? He was definitely rocking the aesthetic with the flannel shirt over his white tee, but then again, that didn’t make sense either.

Nix must’ve meant, ‘But he’s a shifter.’

Which meant Nix knew about shifters.

And, contrary to me, he had a way to recognize them.

“Is he human?” I asked, pulling back a little to look Rhett in the eyes.

“He’s your friend, not mine. Shouldn’t you know that?” Rhett furrowed his brows.

Snorting, I waved a hand up and down my body. “Human. I can’t detect paranormals, and I didn’t think asking him was a smart thing to do.”

A fleeting smile tugged at Rhett’s lips as he inhaled deeply. He raised his brows, eyes closed in concentration. “Yeah. He’s human. I can’t smell anything paranormal about him.”

That answered at least one of my questions while simultaneously raising new ones.

“How do paranormals smell?”

Rhett pulled me close again, his thumb stroking my shoulder, and I found my body immediately reacting, melting against his side.

“That’s actually a good question and not one I can easily answer. With shifters, it’s easy—they have their animal’s scent woven into theirs. I’ve only ever met witches once, and they smelled a little like sulphur and herbs and… huh… I guess it’s more that I can scent the ingredients for their spells on them than them having a particular scent other than human.”

So, in theory, Nix could be a paranormal, just not a shifter.

Interesting.

“Do witches live here on the packlands?”

Rhett shook his head, casually grabbing one of the pastries. “Paranormals keep to themselves. Like, witches, wizards, and mages live in covens, and shifters live in packs. We don’t really mix. Hell, some packs don’t even like mingling different kinds of shifter species.”

That seemed… highly reclusive.

“Why not?”

Rhett shrugged. “It’s basically the shifter way of being racist. Some packs want to ‘keep their bloodline pure.’ Some think they’re better than others. Bunch of bullshit is what it is.”

“Guess no species is above being racist assholes.”

Rhett chuckled. “Pretty much this, yeah. Anyway… why did your friend take off like a bat from hell?”

I shrugged helplessly, not sure how much to reveal.

A part of me wanted to tell Rhett everything. Keeping something from him felt… wrong. Rubbing my chest, I tried chasing the nagging feeling away. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like I was keeping an affair from him or anything. I was merely respecting my friend’s privacy.

Was this a fated mate thing, too?

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