Page 19 of Finding my Shifter Soulmate

"Oh please," the sparrow shifter responds, waving me off. "Call me Sayang."

I nod as Gede responds.

"Sabrina has unfortunately caught the attention of Rama, and since she's been thrown into our mess, I thought it woulddo her some good to see a friendly face. Since she's aware of our world there's no need to hide," he tells her.

The woman nods. "That man is a lunatic," she mutters.

When Gede is done explaining the problem, Sayang cups her hands around mine, looking straight into my eyes. "You've been through a terrible ordeal. Your mate will protect you above all else, so you have nothing to fear. You have the mighty Barong fighting for you now."

My mate? I shoot a surprised look at Gede, who shuffles his feet and backs up. "Okay, we should get going."

I wave goodbye as we descend the path, retracing our steps. The thought of "mate" is stuck in my head. I have a mate? Not a boyfriend. A mate. Is that what I want? I can't deny that Gede and I have an intense chemistry, and I could see it evolving, but I think I need more time to process it.

The sun is halfway through the sky when Gede shows me another house tucked into the thick growth. Another shifter—one who apparently turns into a crocodile—meets us at the door and offers us some delicious, sugar-soaked donuts that taste like heaven itself.

Then he invites us inside. His wife and daughters stand in the center of the room, ready to showcase their own abilities. They shift into tiny crocodiles, and we pet their scaly backs for a few minutes before leaving them alone to enjoy their dinner.

This life on the island is so peaceful and laid-back. And everyone has welcomed me so genuinely. I can't imagine being back in the real world, stuck into traffic, going through the same soul-crushing routine to get to the same, soulless job.

As we head back toward Gede's house, he leans over and kisses the top of my head, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders. We walk in a calm, comfortable silence, something I could never experience in the city. I'm suddenly dreading the day I have to leave. Maybe, I think to myself, maybe I don't have to go back.

Maybe I can stay here. Forever.

But I have a life back home, a job and bills to pay and responsibilities that keep me busy for fourteen-hour stretches every day, Monday through Saturday. Still, the thought nags at me as I walk side-by-side with my new protector. In just a couple of days, I've grown dependent on Gede's strength and stability, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

We come out the other side of the jungle growth and Gede’s home is back in sight. He walks beside me up the stairs and through the entryway. "Thank you," I murmur, sitting on the leather couch in the center of the room. "That was... enlightening."

He takes a seat beside me and props his elbow on the back of the sofa. "Tell me about your life back home. You have friends and family, a job?"

With a heavy sigh, I turn toward him. "Not much to tell, really. I work at an advertising agency in downtown Manhattan. Long days, commute from hell, coworkers that are as cold and indifferent as the partners they're paid to suck up to. Doesn't really make for good stories. But I've done all right for myself, or so I thought before I came here."

"Sounds like a grind," Gede says.

"Yeah, well, I was trying to get ahead. Or maybe I was just trying to keep myself busy, I don't know."

"You said your friend suggested you come here. Why?"

I look at him and the way he's watching me, and I contemplate how much I can tell him before it breaks the spell. After all, there's no way he would want to be with someone as damaged as me. If he knew, he would probably run as fast as he could in the other direction. But he was open and vulnerable with me when he told me about his parents and his wife and child. So I feel like I owe him the same candor.

"Well," I start, lowering my gaze to my lap. "I was in a bad situation before. Bad relationship, actually."

"Someone hurt you."

"Yes," I sigh. "Physically, emotionally—the list is longer than I care to recount. He fed into my self-doubt, made me question everything, even my sanity. I'd move the remote or some other tiny thing, and he would find some way to make it into an ordeal, turn it into something I did to irritate him. And by the end, it felt like I was doing a hundred things wrong, all the time. He'd scream, hit me, throw things, and gaslight me until I wondered if all of it was true."

"Why did you stay?" he asks quietly.

I lift a shoulder and wrap my arms around my body, feeling extremely exposed in front of him. "Depression and anxiety. The emotional toll it took, I felt... broken. Maybe I still do."

This is a conversation that should be saved for six months, or a year into the relationship, or maybe even longer, not spilled out during some vacation fling. But he shifts closer and gathersme into his arms, wrapping me in his comforting embrace. I relax against him, resting my forehead against the solid wall of his chest, taking long, deep breaths. It feels good to tell him, to tell anyone after all this time.

"Don't let that poison seep into your core, Sabrina," he tells me. "You are whole and strong, and you don't need anyone like that. You survived."

"Survived." The word sounds right, but also completely foreign to me. I never thought of it that way.

"Yes, survived. And now you've come here, of all places. Because fate is working, even if you don't see it yet."

"Fate," I repeat.

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