While he enjoyed going for a run with his cousins in their fur, he had thought long and hard about what it meant not sharing that in the same way with Justin. That’s when Scott realized that everything else about their relationship was good enough that it didn’t matter.
As for whether a shifter and a non-shifter could still be fated mates, the “zing” seemed to settle the debate, and Dr. Jeffries hadn’t seen it as an issue. Scott preferred to believe that it depended on their hearts, not the ability to shift, and took courage from the many non-shifter couples who stayed together for a lifetime.
Justin is a paranormal. Our mate bond might be a little different than two shifters, but can be just as real.
The episode he was watching ended, and Scott finished his drink. He carried his glass to the kitchen before turning off the lights and heading into the bedroom. Scott changed into flannel sleep pants, since the nights were much cooler now, and slipped between the covers.
His hand fell to his cock, which was already hard in anticipation. Scott didn’t believe that “distance made the heart grow fonder” long-term, but it certainly did whet the appetite in the short run to want what he couldn’t immediately have in person.
Fortunately, imagination supplied what Scott needed. He slicked his palm and started a slow rhythm as he pictured spending the night with Justin. Thinking about the feel of his boyfriend’s touch, his scent, and the sound of his voice got him to the edge quickly.
He came faster than he expected, with a release that seemed to rise from his toes, leaving him breathless.
Hard to believe the real thing is even better,Scott thought as he reached for a tissue to wipe off and sank it into the wastebasket near the bed.
Is he jerking off thinking about me while I’m gone? I hope so. I’ve got some ideas of things we can try when I’m there the next time.
Scott felt the urge to claim his fated mate with a bite like a persistent itch under his skin, but he hadn’t wanted to rush Justin.
Soon. Very soon. We’ll seal the deal.
Scott sleptthrough his first alarm.
“Shit,” he muttered when he looked at the clock. A surge of adrenaline chased away sleep as he quickly tugged the sheets and comforter into place, stripped off his shirt and flannel pants and shoved them under his pillow, and headed for the bathroom.
The hot water and a quick towel-down brought him to full consciousness, and Scott dressed quickly, wanting to have a chance to eat something for breakfast before the video meeting with his editor.
He shaved, although with winter coming on, Scott planned to grow a beard for the cold months. A collared button shirt over jeans would be professional enough for his meeting. Freelance outdoors writers were rarely expected to show up in a suit and tie, which suited him just fine.
Having established clients and steady referrals for new business made the idea of moving to Fox Hollow doable. Justin’s business tied him to the area, but Scott could relocate pretty easily, and he had already started brainstorming ways the two of them might team up to offer new combinations of seminars and aerial tours.
One thing at a time,he reminded himself as he logged into his meeting with the editor, Sam Freemen.
“Scott, good morning. Hope you’re doing well.” Sam Freeman was the editor of theMountain and Forest Journaland often helped Scott connect with other publications and sites for his articles when they weren’t a fit for the journal.
“The coffee is still hitting my system, but the first signs are promising,” Scott joked, without admitting that he was still waiting for the initial three cups of java to hit.
“Good,” Sam replied. “Where would we be without coffee?”
Asleep, Scott thought, but didn’t say so out loud.
“Have you had a chance to look over the outlines I sent for the web articles and podcasts?” Scott asked. “I’m excited about how the pieces started to come together. From the background research I’ve done, several of the locations I suggested haven’t come up in recent coverage, so they should be fresh for readers and listeners.”
“You always do a good job coming up with topics,” Sam replied. “Yes, I did read over everything. The old ski resort and defunct amusement parks are a perfect hook for the journal. And like I said in my email, Dr. Foster is interested in the mine piece and wanted to talk through how you’d deal with the politics of the old mine as he moves forward with that idea. There’s some sensitivity about the history and the revitalization efforts.”
“Did something come up about the articles? Someone raise a concern?” Scott had worked with academic and industry publications long enough to know they had their own strange politics.
“You can get more specifics from Dr. Foster, but market changes and new techniques have raised the possibility of reopening the big iron mine,” Sam said. “You can certainly talk about the history. Iron from that mine was used in plenty of historic projects in the United States over the years. You just need to be careful not to bring up old information that might jeopardize new deals or set the mines in a bad light.”
“They’ll want me to avoid delving into the involvement of the Mob back in the day, and speculation that they never completely lost their involvement?” Scott had grown pretty good at guessing editorial concerns over the years. He didn’t even mention creatures and Mafia witches.
“I know historians love that sort of thing, and if the site was completely abandoned and had no future prospects and no legalowner, old scandals might add spice,” Sam said. “But it’s a viable property with an active owner, and the clickbait isn’t worth the legal exposure for the university. Dr. Foster was pretty clear on that.”
Scott tried not to bristle at the term “clickbait,” even though he knew Sam meant it as shorthand for a salacious hook.
“After a century, some of that history is old news and no longer relevant,” Sam replied. “Whatever connections the original mine owners might have had to organized crime one hundred years ago don’t matter now.”
“I’m not trying to cause any trouble or get anyone sued. I’m just looking for a good draw,” Scott replied, knowing he had lost the argument.
