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“If I want a hug, I’d rather it be from a person,” she teased. “You know, I was about your age when I got married and a hug sealed the deal. My Will gave the best hugs.”
“Hugs are the best.”
“They are. And when you find someone you’d be happy living in their embrace, snag them quick. Youth these days, always looking for something better.” And for humans, she was probably right. But I wasn’t looking for better. I already knew who I wanted—I just needed to find him.
“I plan to do just that, Mrs. Harrison.” I walked over to her, and she gave me the look, the one that said she was going to allow me to do this but she wasn’t pleased about it. “Tell me about Mr. Harrison.”
That had her chatting on and on, all about how they met, the over fifty years together, and how there wasn’t a second of the day she didn’t miss him. It was sweet and sad all wrapped into one. I knew that humans didn’t have fated mates, but it sure sounded like they had exactly that.
That conversation kept me going for the rest of my shift. If humans could find what they had without the help of fate, surely I could find it with fate by my side. And they were, right? If not, why would they have brought me this close?
I always thought I would scent my mate and it would be like in the movies. We’d run to meet each other, our arms open wide. And to me it would feel like we were in slow motion, hurtling toward our new lives together, joining in the middle and kissing each other until our knees buckled and proclaiming each other mates.
Was it ridiculous, childlike, and never going to happen? Of course, it was all those things and more, and I’d always known that subconsciously. But still, that was the vision I’d had, and now that I’d scented him, I realized just how beyond wrong I was.
He hadn’t even been there, just his scent, and it clung to the air, teasing me, tormenting me. It was too much and had my beast on the edge, and me acting full-on irrationally. It was so bad that I could see my irrationality as it was happening, but couldn’t stop myself. I needed to get to my mate. That was what drove every single decision I made all day.
When I left work, instead of going straight home, I drove around the city, stopping at different places along the way, hoping to catch his scent again. Anybody who had seen me probably thought I was up to some sort of criminal activity, stalking places or something, because no person just goes up into buildings and starts smelling around, then goes to another one to do the same. And yet, there I was doing exactly that.
And when that became fruitless, and the fifth person asked me if I could use some help, I got the message. It was time for me to go home. There would be another day or maybe another time today, but what I was doing? It wasn’t going to accomplish my goals, and if anything, was going to make me the town weirdo, making it more difficult for me in the long run.
This was a small town, and I needed to be careful.
I went home thinking, well, maybe being in my own space, as new as it was, would help. It didn’t. It only reminded me that I was alone—alone in a world where fate said I didn’t have to be alone, in a world where fate sent me a mate, alone in a world where I blew my chance at happiness by who knew—ten minutes, fifteen minutes, maybe an hour. It sucked.
Shucking my clothes and dumping them straight into the washer, I went out into the backyard, took my hooves, and ran into the woods. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but my beast ran with intention. He wasn’t looking for our mate—he wasn’t scenting around at all; that would make sense, though. This didn’t. Not at first anyway. He was running, running, running, almost as if he was trying to wear himself out. But when I tried to talk to him, he ignored me, pushing me down, acting like I wasn’t even there, rejecting me. In his way, he blamed me for all of this.
It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t his fault. It was timing. Stupid fucking timing. If only he could understand that.
We ended up in a patch of sun, the birds around us getting louder, more cheerful. Unlike the members of my birth pack, when I went into the woods, nature surrounded me, enveloped me, cherished me.
My foster parents? Yeah, when they took their fur, everything went dead silent. They were the predator, and the life of the forest sensed that and reacted accordingly.
They told me once I was like Snow White—that I would frolic in the woods on my own and have birds singing with me and mice dancing with me, and squirrels building flower chains for me. It wasn’t quite like that, but they did welcome me, and it staved off the loneliness for a time.
I lifted my head and my horn to the sun and I absorbed its rays. My beast had been right. We needed this. We needed to be surrounded by others who made me feel less alone. But it only worked for so long, and he started trotting back.
And honestly, it wasn’t a great idea to be out alone too much. My horn was useless, by all measures. It didn’t do anything for anyone. There was no magic to it. Sure, I could use it as a weapon when I was defending myself, but that didn’t stop certain subsets of people from believing that if they possessed it, they would have magic powers. Heck, one book even promised that it could help alphas keep their boners longer, which, given that there were little blue pills, I wasn’t sure why that was even a thing anymore.
But staying away from hunters, especially human hunters, was always a good idea. I didn’t sense that there were any nearby, but my ability to think coherently had been stripped from me the second I scented my mate, so it was best not to tempt things.
Once home, I took a shower, washing away the day, letting the warmth of the water beat upon my skin.
This wasn’t sustainable. I needed a plan, a solid plan, none of this wandering around and looking like I was about to cause a crime spree. But I didn’t have one, and so I did what every grown-ass human did— and after my shower, I called my mommy. My foster mom, anyway.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, honey.”
I had to give her credit. I never fit in with the pack. Never really fit in with them, but in her own way, she loved me. I hadn’t always seen it, but it was there, never wavering.
“Hey. I have a question for you about when you and Dad mated.” Maybe they could guide me through this clusterfuck.
“Is this a question just for me, or is this a question you want to share with both of us?”
I told her it was for both of them, and a few minutes later, he was on the phone with us as well.
“What’s this about, Son?” I did like it when he called me that. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that kind of guy, but I needed to hear it today, and he must’ve understood that on some level.
“I scented my mate.”
