Page 390 of Hate Mates

Full Moon Rain by Miya Kressin

ONE

Benjamin

“It’s raining, cats and dogs! Humans, too,” the radio announcer exclaims with far more excitement than I want to hear this early in the morning. It’s bad enough being awake before the sun is fully up, and rain was not in my agenda for today. A full moon rain means being stuck inside or at least having to fully cover myself head to toe to avoid getting splashed. Neither of those are great for my image or my job.

The third son of the city’s richest councilman means that my job is to look pretty, walk the line of being seen by the media and court eligible women, but I’m only allowed to make headlines for planned encounters that my family’s PR team has designed. Nothing truly candid. Nothing unscripted. Not even a kiss.

My ex-fiancée, Melara, couldn’t take it. I’m not sure she thought I cared about her as more than socially appropriate arm candy who would make a good business alliance when we married. She was right, of course, but it was more than that. I know I’ll never marry for love. It’s not possible for me, or rather it is as likely I can marry for love as I can walk out into today’s rainstorm without protection.

My family members are shifters. One drop of the full moon rain, and I’ll start transforming into my other self. Unknown to the city council, my great-grandfather infiltrated their xenophobic ranks, working diligently to hide his shifter status as he went from being an elected representative on a committee no one else wanted to work on, to the council’s records keeper, and then all the way up to being the head of the city council. My grandfather inherited his position and still holds it. If we are discovered, we’ll lose our mansion, our status, Father’s businesses and contacts, plus our access to the city’s resources.

In exchange, I can never be with my mate. Her parents realized what she and I were to each other long before we did. We were just kids at preschool together. That meant they also realized I had to be a shifter. According to my father, hers bumped into him on the street and said, “I know what you are.”

That’s all it took.

One call, and everyone over the age of five was sent to a shifter protection center. The nearest one is four hours from us and doesn’t allow anyone under the age of twenty-five to visit. Not that Poppy would be able to see them, not if she ever wanted to leave. The only chance is if a councilmember took her as a guest while vouching for her. I feel guilty about what was done to her family, but I was not even five at the time. I didn’t have anything to do with it. It was 19 years ago.

She hates my family, deservedly, and mine hates her for the fact that she could topple our dynasty. Hating the idea of her is easy. Hating her in practice? It’s not like we travel in the same social circles to ever encounter one another. I hate the idea of a mate I can’t have. Of the risk she poses to my family.

“Benjamin, are you up yet? Your valet is running behind from the rain but will be here shortly. I came to make sure you are dressed presentably. George is bringing the car around, and your brunch with Starla has been moved to the mezzaninelevel at the Arts Center so that you’ll still be able to make an appearance but have no…worries.” Mother rambles in one long breath, and while to any outsider she would sound calm—or rather, aloof—I can hear the faint tremble of trepidation there.

“I’m up, sort of.” I push myself up on one elbow and start the process of getting out of bed with zero desire to do so. “Am I still…?” My voice trails off without finishing the question, and it’s as much sleepiness as it is the entire lack of desire to ask the question aloud.

Mother cracks open the door—I only notice because of the bright sunlight from the hall’s skylight—and I look over at her shadowy outline in front of the light. “Yes. Your grandfather has requested the ring be brought from the vault. Five carats of emeralds and diamonds arranged in a star setting. She’ll be a good bride. The wedding photos will be exquisite.”

Star’s family is fully human, and with my being only half-shifter blooded, it’s likely our children would be unable to shift. My father’s secret would be safe. It doesn’t hurt that her family is the majority shareholder for a transport company we’d love to gain access to.

I’ll play my part.

“Benjamin, you are doing the right thing.” She reaches up and pats her hair, fixing some errant strand. “There are pastries and coffee in the sunroom if you’d like to break the night’s fast before you leave. I know waiting to eat makes you cranky. Leo was in there when I left to check on you.”

My older brother—second oldest— is heir to the family business. Clay, the eldest of our bunch, will eventually take over our government responsibilities. Me? I’m to make them look good. The good-natured playboy and socialite who was just wild enough in his early twenties to cause his parents some grey hair and will marry well to increase their investment portfolio and further secure the Devona bloodline. My younger sisters havemuch the same future awaiting, but they aren’t allowed out to play like I am. I’ll take the wins I’m allowed to have.

“Starmakes me cranky,” I say while sitting up and pulling on a pair of shorts from where I dropped them last night. “She’s pretty, connected, and comes from an acceptable family. She’s just also conceited, bitchy, and high maintenance.” She also has tried to break my family’s number one rule: my pants stay on until the marriage certificate is signed.

There’s a problem with being a shifter, particularly a cat shifter: my dick has barbs just like my cat form’s. Star got a bit handsy one night over my pants and now thinks I’m pierced. It was the first thing that popped into my mind to save the situation.

“You can change your mind, Ben. There will be other women.” She comes in and sorts through my closet before setting out a pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a sweater. “Please come down respectable. Caroline has friends over.”

Teasing, I pull the shirt on over my gym shorts as I say, “I could marry one of them.”

Mother throws a hat at me from the rack. “Cute. Have a good time on your date, darling.”

My driver pullsinto the parking ramp of the Community Center for the Arts and is out with a towel to wipe off the car before I have finished unbuckling. Glistening rivulets of rainwater slide off the well-waxed exterior, shining against the black in the overhead lights. George has been with my family as long as I can remember, and he’s never let a single drop of the rain can land on me. “Here you go, sir. I will park the car and await word that you are finished with your appointment.”

I smile and shake his hand. “Bacon burger eggrolls and a lemonade?”

He fights back a smile, his wrinkles deepening until he looks as if he has a Shar Pei ancestor somewhere in his bloodline. “I wouldn’t say ‘no.’”

“I’ll have an order sent out for you. Thank you, George.”

This floor of the parking ramp only leads to the Café de l’Illusion, a burger bar slash world fusion restaurant that confuses everything except my tastebuds. Veronique stands at a podium just inside the frosted glass sliding doors, fresh flowers surrounding her with caged birds singing from gilded perches throughout the foyer. Sister to the head of my family’s PR agent, her restaurant has been a frequent location for my brothers and I to bring our dates.

“Mr. Devona, welcome back to Café de l’Illusion. Your guest has already arrived and chose one of the terrace tables.” Glassed in, the formerly open-air patio is lovely in a snowstorm or a sunny day. It’s not what I would have chosen on a rainy one like today, but it is the best place for a socialite to be seen and photographed. “If you would prefer something?—”

I cut her off with a shake of my head and a smile. “No, thank you. It’ll be fine. If you could please have Nat send out a double order of those bacon burger eggrolls and that rose water lemonade that George likes?”

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