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Isaiah blinked in surprise as he read that she was a submissive shifter. He wasn’t sure why it took him aback that the site would think to pair him with one. Maybe because he hadn’t dated any in the past.
Not that he had anything against the idea of being with a submissive. It was just that you had to take more care with one. It was in their nature to soothe, nurture, please, and surrender control. Because they were so giving, it was easy for them to overdo it and let others take advantage. So yes, care had to be taken.
Isaiah hadn’t wanted to invest that much of himself in a relationship with anyone other than his mate, so he hadn’t dated submissives. But he wasn’t looking to date someone this time, was he? The woman he chose would be his mate.
Isaiah wanted an equal, but that didn’t mean she had to be a dominant. In a mating, being equals meant each partner met the needs of the other. That could just as easily apply to a dominant/submissive pairing. He’d seen that in his parents.
His mother was a perfect example of how submissives were far from weak or needy. She was emotionally tougher and more strong-willed than many dominants he knew. Andaya Hale was nothing close to a pushover.
In the shifter world, “submissive” was not synonymous with “obedient” or “meek.” They often learned—and regularly employed without apology—sneaky techniques to get their own way and work around dominant characters. Then they’d later smile sweetly at you when you called them on it.
But they were vulnerable in that if they came up against a dominant shifter they had no way to physically win. So they’d often learn other ways to defend themselves or stop a fight before it began. Like shoot your kneecaps, for example.
There were dominants who, valuing only physical strength, might look down on submissives. It was foolish and narrow-minded. Submissives had their own power. They were often soothing and restful to be around due to their innate calming influence, which could be somewhat drugging for those who were stressed or anxious.
A hug from one could rejuvenate a person. They seemed to sense when you needed one, like they were more sensitive to other people’s emotions. And in a mating, they became almost freakily in tune with their partner.
The idea of having someone in his life and bed who would anticipate his wants and needs like that… it held more appeal than he would have expected.
He honed right in on those amber eyes again. Wondered what exactly put those shadows there. Wondered if Quinley’s personal situation was anything similar to his own.
Only one way to find out.
Isaiah clicked on the “Send Message” button and typed: Hey. I was sent your profile. You serious about the arranged mating?
It wasn’t a sweet and friendly greeting, no, but he wasn’t particularly sweet or friendly.
In less than a minute, a reply popped up: Hi. Yeah, I received yours, was just looking at it. Oh, completely serious. Like, nobody has ever been more serious about anything.
He felt his lips twitch. Fair enough, he typed. I gotta ask the obvious—why an arranged mating?
“Typing…” came up on the screen, so he drummed his fingers on the armrest as he waited for a response.
Soon enough, it came: I know I should say something like how I’m just ready to settle down an pop out babies and that I just don’t feel like waiting longer. I mean, it’s partially true.
What’s the full truth?
Long story cut short: my TM doesn’t believe he’s my TM, he claimed my Alphas’ daughter, and they’ll soon be running my pride together.
Isaiah winced. Yeah, being under the rule of your true mate and the female he’d chosen over you would suck large. Quinley would have to pledge her loyalty to them—to a male who’d committed the worst betrayal against her, and to the female who bore a mark that should have been Quinley’s. No, in her shoes, Isaiah would never be able to do it.
What about you? she asked. How come you’re choosing an arranged mating?
Isaiah rubbed at his jaw, not keen on talking about it; on talking about how he’d recognized his true mate at first sight when he came across her two years ago; about how everything in him had demanded that he approach her; about how he hadn’t gone to her because she’d been leaning into another man, who’d had his arm wrapped tight around her.
Isaiah’s gut clenched at the memory of how happy she’d looked. He’d eavesdropped on their conversation—it hadn’t been hard, thanks to shifter-enhanced hearing—and learned enough basic details about her to do a thorough background check.
A quick summary? Her name was Lucinda. She was human. And she’d been engaged for five years to a fellow human.
It wasn’t common for a shifter’s true mate to be human, but it wasn’t rare either. His cat had been pissed by her being engaged to another, but not discouraged. The animal had felt certain she’d toss aside the human male once she realized she was meant for them. Isaiah, however, hadn’t for a moment believed she’d end what appeared to be a solid, loving relationship for a perfect stranger.
So, instead of edge his way into her life, he had kept tabs on her from afar, always looking for some crack or weakness in her relationship—anything that would suggest it wouldn’t go the distance. On the contrary, Isaiah had learned that she was getting IVF treatment as she and her fiancé were planning to start a family.
Yeah, that had been as painful as any gut-shot.
Still, his cat had been hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Lucinda would one day be theirs. The animal had believed that, destined to be theirs, she’d somehow become detached from her fiancé at some point. Isaiah hadn’t felt quite as optimistic, but he had harbored some hope that his cat was right.
That hope recently died a swift death when Isaiah learned that the IVF treatment had worked. She was pregnant.
