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Shifters are, well, basically were-whatever, as humans call them. So North is, by human terminology, half werewolf. Shifters, however, can turn whenever they want. They’re not bound by the cycles of the moon, and they’re not turned into what they are by biting, and they can’t bite someone else and make them transform. You’re either born a shifter or you’re not.
“And Raven, our chef de cuisine, is half gargoyle.”
I think my mouth drops open. I’ve never heard of a half gargoyle before. That has to be rare, right? I quickly school my face into a neutral expression. It explains why Raven’s skin seemed to turn gray as he was fighting those men just a few minutes ago, though. That must have been his gargoyle side coming out.
Honestly, I don’t know much about gargoyles, how they act, what their society is like. I thought they were rather solitary creatures.
“H-how does that work?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
Raven turns off the stove and looks over at me. In the morning sunlight, in just a tank top and gym shorts, I can see almost all of his body in a way I couldn’t last night. The blue-black hair, the swirling tattoos that climb up and over his limbs like vines, his gleaming eyes—no wonder he looks otherworldly to me, someone who’s fae and used to other supernatural creatures. I’ve never seen his like before.
Raven shifts, his skin turning gray, his broad, muscled form becoming even bigger, hulking, claws growing out, horns spiraling up out of his head, fangs jutting out from his lips.
Then he shifts back, and he looks like his human—well, close to human—self again.
“There,” he says, and I can see pink dusting his cheeks as he turns the stove on. He was embarrassed to transform for me? Or nervous? Maybe he thought I wouldn’t like it.
“Very impressive,” I tell him.
Raven’s blush deepens. Okay, I have to admit, that’s cute. And I’m thinking that a guy who can bench press three of me is cute, now that’s a cause for concern. I can’t get attached to these men, or attached to anyone. If you get attached, then you can get hurt and disappointed—or people can use that against you as a weakness. I can’t let that happen.
“What about you?” Cain asks.
“Me? Oh. I’m full fae.” I pause. “Or at least—I think I am. My parents were killed by vampires when I was a kid so I don’t know a lot of my family history.”
To try to protect ourselves, and to keep our population going in some way despite our small numbers, a lot of fae have married people from other races. We’re the most cross-bred, ah, to use a bit of an antiquated term, out of all the supernatural creatures. So it’s not all that surprising I’m dealing with three hybrids right now. I might also be a hybrid, but if I am it’s from pretty far back. I don’t have any special powers or traits.
“Vampires?” That distinctive growl is back in North’s voice. Now I know what it means. “Fuckers.”
“They’d wipe us all out if they had the chance,” Cain adds.
“Things have been different,” Raven points out. He slides some delicious-looking pancakes onto a plate, and I can smell bacon sizzling. Damn. I’m really getting pampered. “Ever since the king married… what’s her name. She’s part fae. He’s been trying to crack down on vampires attacking fae.”
Cain snorts. “I’ll believe it when I see it. What have vampires ever done to make us trust them? We’re supposed to think that everything is fine and dandy now?”
“Doesn’t matter.” North looks at me, then glances away, his voice low and gruff. “We’ll protect you. You don’t ever have to worry about vampires as long as you’re our mate.”
Raven sets a plate in front of me. It’s got pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Then there’s a bowl of fruit. My mouth falls open a little again. “Thank you.”
Raven blushes and mumbles, “Of course.” As if it’s natural that he’d do this for me.
“Are you related?” I ask. If they’re all half fae it could very well be that they share a parent who was just… friendly.
The three men all look at each other, and then Cain chuckles. “No, but I can see why you’d think that. We’ve been friends and working together for years. It made sense for us to stick together. Fae have to protect each other. It’s so much easier than being alone.”
That makes a lump form in my throat. I wouldn’t know about that. In my experience, being alone is the easier option. Even if that does mean I’ve had to look over my shoulder a lot. But would I not have to do that, with them? Could they really take care of me like they’re saying they would? Can I trust their word?
“None of us really had a clan or a pack,” Cain goes on. “Shifters are… well. Anyway. Demons are rather self-serving so I couldn’t expect much from that side of my family and gargoyles are rare so we all just decided why not? And we do have fun together.”
He winks at me, and I can feel my face heating up. I know exactly what kind of fun he’s talking about, after all.
I’m curious what Cain meant about shifters. They’re notoriously tight knit. Why wouldn’t they welcome a new member? Why wouldn’t North be raised by the shifter side of his family, the pack he was born into? Do they dislike the fae side of him?
“So what’s the deal with this mobster?” Cain asks.
I look over at North and Raven. North is tearing into his pancakes but he has one eye on me. Raven’s staring at me like he’s… like he’s staring at the stars. I’m not sure what to do with that.
I dig into my food to give myself some time. Fuck, this shit tastes delicious.
