Page 5 of Two Wrong Turns

In our community, fated mates were everything. It was what our entire family system was built around. Fate would bless each of us with someone meant to be ours, making sure every event aligned until we found one another.

Our community was big enough to provide enough matches, and occasionally there would be other shifters who would make their way into our borders. If Fate didn’t intervene soon, we’d have to expand in another generation or two. Maybe I could reach out to other pack leads to see about setting up some time for different single shifters to mingle and hopefully find a mate.

I trusted Fate, but maybe we could push her along a bit.

My own mate hadn’t appeared yet, even though I was well past the age where I should have been settled and popping out little bears to take on my lineage. Thankfully, my parents weren’t pressuring me too much to find someone. They understood it was just how these things went.

“I’m sure she has plenty of pie for you. And sure, you can come with me. I don’t mind the company.”

Plus, maybe having him with me would keep the others from talking about me so bluntly. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been told my mood would ‘even out’ once I got mated. They spoke as if I were turning people away left and right, rather than praying to the Goddess to deliver my mate as soon as possible.

We left the ridge and headed back into town. I parked next to an old truck I didn’t recognize and climbed out of my cruiser.

I was about to tease Robbie about his pie addiction, even though mine was just as bad, when a scent on the wind stole the breath from my lungs. My heart seized, and my bear came to the front of my mind.

“Mate,” he growled.

Chapter 3

Barrett

Lindsea’s wordsstayed on my mind while I ate my meal. It made little sense to me how a place like this could function without any outside input. My curiosity had me wanting to ask questions until the puzzle pieces fit.

I knew from experience that might not be the best idea. People didn’t take well to strangers questioning their lifestyles.

Midway through my second slice of pie, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Chills moved down my spine, and I felt the urge to bare my throat for someone to feast on.

Fuck me. What the hell was in this pie?

Had I taken something so strong I couldn’t think straight?

As I tried to get Lindsea’s attention, the bell above the door chimed. My head whipped toward it before I could even really register what the sound meant.

A large man stood in the doorway. Black hair cropped short sat atop his head. He had soft blue eyes, which were surveying the room as if he were looking for danger.

And that body.

I wanted to bite my fist because it should have been illegal to look that good. He was massive. Like break me with his pinky big. I wanted to cuddle in his chest and let him swallow me up.

Never in my life had I reacted to someone this strongly. I really needed to know what the hell was in that fucking pie.

The man’s gaze moved to me and the world stilled. It was as if time both slowed and sped up all at once.

I heard a rumble of sound, then he was marching across the room toward me. When he reached my stool, he pressed against me. I felt something very hard pressed against my hip from where I’d half turned.

“Who are you?”

“Barrett,” I said softly. “Barrett Griffin.”

He hummed. “Barrett.”

I shivered at the sound, my cock tenting my pants like I’d gone back to puberty or something. It took everything I had to not whimper and beg him to do whatever he wanted with me.

Because I had no doubt he wanted to do something with me. Or to me. I didn’t really care anymore. All I needed was whatever he’d give me.

“Where did you come from, Barrett?”

At his question, I realized the entire diner had gone still. The quiet shook a bit of the stupor I’d fallen into.

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