Page 2 of Rock and a Hard Place

Honestly? I’d considered making a run for it. I still might. But the problem with that was, I didn’t knowhowto make a run for it. Especially since these people had found out my phone number, email address,andmy address despite my parents’ refusal to cooperate.

I didn’t know how they tracked me down…I don’t even post on social media…but I was sure that no matter where I ran, they’d find me and come for me. I’d just be postponing the inevitable. These people had a shit ton more money and resources than I did, and I knew it.

The only way for me to get out of this would be if I was already married. I’d toyed with the idea of paying someone to marry me by Monday but ruled that out when I realized that one, I didn’t have any candidates; two, I didn’t have much money, certainly not enough for something like that; and three, Monday was only four days away.

Levi put a fresh gin and tonic down in front of me, and I took a much too large swig. Welp, if I was going to be hungover in the morning—because I didn’t have the shifter resistance to hangovers either—I might as well keep going, right?

It wasn’t just that the people who’d ignored me my whole life because I couldn’t shift now demanded I do something to save their crummy species that had me down. Nope. The rest of my life was in shambles, too.

First, I’d gotten to work this morning to find out that my job was gone. Sure, they could call it a reshuffling as much as they wanted, but the only person being reshuffled was me. I bet Holly was ecstatic to get all my physio clients. She’d always been super competitive, even though there were plenty of patients to go around.

So I’d packed up my stuff and headed back home, only to get a call from my landlord saying I had to find a new place to live because he was selling the this one. I didn’t believe him. I’m sure he just wanted to put the place back on the market at the new inflated rent prices.

Not that losing my job and my home really made a difference when I was going to be shipped off to God-knows-where next Monday, but still. It was three life-changing events all together. It was actually a bit suspicious, and made me wonder if The White Claws, the snow leopard shifter group coming for me, had orchestrated everything to work in their favor.

With no job, no home, and a crushing amount of student debt, being whisked away to marry some rich guy on the other side of the world became much more appealing. And it would be—for most. But not me. I’d always had a fiercely independent streak and hated people telling me what to do. Nothing could be worse than some stupid shifter organization telling me who to marry and how many kids to have.

I brought the straw to my lips again, only to realize I’d finished yet another drink. Oh man, I was going to be so hungover tomorrow. But hey, call it my last hurrah before I got suckered into domestic life with the proverbial stranger in a strange land.

I didn’t realize another guy had sat down next to me until he ordered whiskey on the rocks, the low rumble of his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned my head to the rich, growly sound.

Holy fuck, so much muscle. He was massive, with broad shoulders, a huge chest, and thick arms that looked like he’d spent his entire life lifting weights at the gym. That said, I wasn’t sure if they made weights heavy enough for him.

His jawline was so sharp and perfect that it looked like it had been chiseled out of granite. And the artist must have been ultra generous the day he carved him because, damn! I was suddenly very hungry for a bite.

He moved, and there was a barely detectable shimmer. Oh. Glamour. This wasn’t his natural form. No wonder he was so damn perfect. He had magical help.

He downed his whiskey in one gulp before ordering another. I was pretty sure it was considered blasphemous to do that with whiskey, but he didn’t seem to care. Hey, would you look at that? Seemed like my sorry ass had company in the “drink your sorrows away” department.

For a moment, I wondered if the two of us could drown our sorrows in other ways. Together. Hell, it was probably one of my last nights of freedom. I wouldn’t mind spending it with someone like him. We could spend the next few days fucking like bunnies.

I wondered if I was ovulating. Could you imagine The White Claws’ surprise when my first kid came out not a snow leopard, but whatever the hell this hottie was? I should totally do it just to spite them. Nah, I wasn’t a heartless bitch. We’re talking about a kid here.

But I could most definitely get behind the idea of a night of exploring that massively muscled body. I started picturing running my palms over those broad shoulders, across his pecs, and down his (most likely) perfect abs, and…oh wow. I squeezed my thighs together at the sudden need that rushed between my legs at the thought of what was hidden in those pants. I wondered if it was as big as the rest of him.

My object of desire froze, empty whiskey tumbler still in his hand. He sniffed loudly, groaned, turned to me, and totally caught me sizing up the goods. I wasn’t even being discreet about it. I was straight-up ogling him like he was a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, and I was five days into a low-carb diet.

By the way he sniffed the air, his eyes closing briefly, he’d smelled my arousal. I still didn’t know what type of monster he was, but shifters had a great sense of smell and could scent lust.

I had the decency to look contrite. At least, I tried. I was much too tipsy at this point to really pull it off.

“You’re new here,” I said, slurring my words.

Oh. Forget tipsy. I was already full on smashed.

“Yeah. I usually go to the Howling Wolf.”

That was the other shifter pub, a few blocks over. I’d been there once or twice, but The Pint—short for The Pint of No Return—was my usual spot.

“Gunnar.” He stuck out his hand, and I reached over to shake it.

“Lillian.”

The moment we touched, it was like an electrical shock. I gasped and tried to pull away, but he held my hand firmly. I looked up into a pair of gorgeous greenish-gray eyes, wondering if he was feeling the same thing. Something swirled under the surface, but then he blinked and it disappeared. He released my hand.

“Shitty day?” I asked, eyeing his empty glass.

“You could say that.”

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