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Behind the couch, to the left of the door, is a small kitchen with a little bar that serves as a table, fridge, stove, and enough room to put a small eating area. I open the fridge and am pleasantly surprised at the good condition. The cupboard space is limited, but with the huge kitchen downstairs, I don’t mind it.
There are three doors off the kitchen, and I open the first, discovering the bedroom. This will be Stephanie’s room. It’s small but cozy. The next door is a small bathroom with a shower, sink, and toilet. The third door is mine. I fall doubly in love. It’s as big as the living room and kitchen combined. This room has a bathroom attached with a shower-tub combo.
When Stephanie insisted I take the larger room, I protested. But she persisted because I paid the majority of the money. I eventually caved. Now I am glad I did—it feels like mine.
The upstairs is in better shape than the bakery, probably because it was added later. It used to be a little diner but hasn’t been in operation for years and has sat empty. I hope to bring it back to life. I can’t wait to smell the baking bread and cakes.
I am not a professional baker. I didn’t have any training for it—I taught myself. I have to admit, I’m pretty damn good at it. I’ve worked for many different bakeries. After I proved myself, I eventually worked up to be the head baker at the last one. I want to build a life here. I want to give Stephanie some peace.
I didn’t admit it to Ryker since it’s supposed to be kept secret from humans, but I know what a mate is. I know he has to be a shifter or a vampire. I vaguely remember Stephanie telling me vampires have a ring around their eyes when they find their mate.
Ryker is a vampire.
You would think that should freak me out—I am human.
It would if my best friend wasn’t a bear shifter. She was kidnapped months ago and held in a cage. She was forced to participate in some hunter's sick games. They chased her through the woods daily for two months. My best friend had to run for her life with a souped-up dog collar on her neck, hiding from the sick fucks. She survived on dog food and sheer determination.
I thought she was dead. I thought I lost her. I searched for her. I practically lived with her family as they worried themselves sick. I have known she was a bear shifter for five out of the six years I have known her. She has told me many things I probably shouldn’t know. But she trusts me, so her family trusts me.
I sit heavily on the bed, the tears shining in my eyes.
I would do anything for her. Even move to the same area she was taken from.
I didn’t understand why she would want to be here, but she claimed she needed to do it to move on and get closure. As I said, I will do whatever she needs to smile again and chase the shadows from her eyes.
Her disappearance and eventual return snapped me out of the spiral of shit that I allowed my family to heap on me. I refused to do it anymore. They have no idea where I moved.
I don’t plan on telling them.
Hopefully, all we have to worry about are shifters and vampires, not my family.
They are scarier to me than any of the supernatural.
Chapter Two
Logan
Ilean back on my heels and take off my shirt. I use it to wipe the sweat from my face and chest and then tuck it in my back pocket. I grab my hammer again and continue to pound the nails into the wood.
A month ago, I started a construction business with my two brothers. I love building something useful or beautiful from nothing. We started small, such as fixing holes in walls, broken doors, and walls that needed to be replaced, and then moved on to more time-consuming work. Our current client hired us to build a large wrap-around deck with an awning. This was after we made her a huge garage and greenhouse. Toward the end of the summer, we will be overhauling a couple of houses and building from the ground up.
Slow and steady.
It’s not that we aren’t talented enough; it’s difficult for people to trust. We want to build that trust and have a lasting business in our new home.
I glance at my brothers at the other end of the porch. They are talking quietly while they work. I get a pain in my chest seeing how close they are; their relationship seems to come easily. I can’t help feeling sad that I no longer have that with them. It’s not their fault. I have shut down in many ways.
We reconnected two months ago after a time in my life that I try every day to shove deep inside. I’m a bit broken inside, and they have tried to break through. When they couldn’t, they decided to stay here with me and continue to make an attempt.
As children, we were as close as possible; we shared everything. We knew everything there was to know about each other. We loved deeply and showed our affection openly. As lion shifters, we thrive on physical touch. A hand on the shoulder, a hug, a nudge, or resting our heads together. While in our animal form, we play and run together as much as possible. No words can describe the freedom and peace that come with running free with family as lions.
That was before.
Before my time held in a cage for six months, stripped of everything except the longing for freedom.
My lion is pissed at my need to lick my wounds still. A shifter’s relationship with our animal varies and is personal. Some shifters talk about them as separate entities; others believe they are one. I have always felt like we are a team: separate at times, but ultimately, we have the same emotions and needs. But now, my animal is angry at me, ready for me to move on and live as we used to. I probably need to listen to him.
We communicate in pictures and feelings. He doesn’t have a different voice than mine, but he can push the emotion he is feeling into my head.
