Page 2 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

A natural blonde with equally natural violet eyes that tip off my supernatural side?

“You’re…”

An opossum shifter who is beginning to think she should just go furry and flee?

“You’re…”

Not dead?

“Alive.”

Yup. Should’ve known it was that last one.

I shrug impishly. “Sorry.”

I have too much color in my cheeks to be a zombie, I guess. Either that or the poor attendant never expected the undead to apologize. Her eyes roll back in her head, her body collapsing in on itself before she ends up in a puddle on the floor, as unconscious as I was after the car backfired right behind me.

That’s my cue.

Forget the shoes. I have no idea where my phone is, and I’m only hoping that my driver’s license and debit card are still in my back pocket instead of in a bag set aside for my next of kin⁠—

Ah, hell. Mom. The first time, I got lucky. Dad answered the phone and, a full-blooded opossum shifter himself, he knew not to be worried when he got the call that I had ‘died’. Mom’s half opossum, half witch. She understands how sometimes our inner animal takes over, but she’d lectured me the second time on how dangerous it was to get caught out. Humans… it’s better if they don’t know that supernaturals exist all around them.

Plenty of prey shifters can live a normal life among their human neighbors. Raccoons, rabbits, rats… no problem. But us opossums? If she finds out that I got picked up again, I’ll never hear the end of it.

She wants me to return home. To Virginia, where most of our clan has a tendency to stick around. She wants me to find a nice male to settle down with, whether he’s my fated mate or not, and start popping out some opossum babies. And, no, Gus doesn’t count according to my mother…

Pass.

So maybe I don’t really know what I want to do with my life. I’ve been drifting along, taking whatever jobs I can find, determined not to return home until I’ve become someone to be proud of. Most prey shifters choose their mates instead of waiting for ‘the one’, but while I’m open to finding love, I’m not exactly looking. Not yet. I’m happy living in my studio apartment with the perfect roommate, and… I don’t know. It’s possible the lack of oxygen in the drawer did get to me, but I’m beginning to think Mom has a point.

A tiny one.

Like, maybe it’s time I give up trying to live as a human. I’m not a human. Not really. I’m a supe. I’m an opossum shifter.

And if I don’t get out of here real soon, I have a lot of explaining to do.

I stop to make sure that the poor attendant is as comfortable as I can make her, and that she didn’t faint on top of any of those sharp instruments she was carrying. Then, bending down, I slip the toe tag off, reading it. H. Morgan with the accurate date of birth. Great. They know who I am.

Peachy.

I slip the tag in my back pocket, muttering a soft curse when I pat them both, realizing they’re empty. Just like I thought. Everything I was walking around with when I dropped must be in a bag somewhere.

I don’t shift. It’s bad enough that they’ll have to explain a missing body. If I go furry and leave pieces of clothing all over the morgue, that will lead to even more questions.

They have my ID. The human police will show up at my apartment, and while I explained away my first two trips to the morgue as a result of a severe narcoleptic disorder, I don’t think they’ll buy it for a third time.

Honestly? I’m still not sure how I got away with it the first time.

Ah, well. Time to go, Honey. I spare a quick search around the pristine surroundings for my belongings, then decide it doesn’t matter. Clock’s ticking. I should probably hightail out of the morgue.

As I tiptoe toward the door, peeking through the small window, slipping out in my bare feet once I’m sure it’s clear, I can’t help but think I should probably think about leaving Glenville behind, too.

CHAPTER 1

MOONBURROW

Mother decided we needed a new burrow.