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Spencer's girlfriend (“we're not mated yet, Len,” he says) is working the late shift. Like her sweetie, she doesn't care who she's feeding as long as she gets her tips and nobody plays grab-ass with her while she’s working.
Those are fair goals which work out for me when I'm hungry.
“Hey, sugar, what’s got you down here all alone tonight?”
“Can’t sleep, too much on my mind. How’s life?”
She casually flashed me her left hand, a modest diamond sparkling on her ring finger. “Spence proposed.”
“Like, a human proposal?” I'd forgotten that Emily was an attack survivor, not born into the pack. “That's really cool of him.” Surprising, too, but I'm not about to tell her that.
“I know. I had finally gotten over it all and would go through the mating ritual instead, but he said he wanted to wait. Then, instead of putting a down payment on a new truck, he said we should use the money to pay for a human wedding, to honor my humanity.”
“Shit. That is cool.”
“How about you? You smell different. Who's the guy?”
“Partner. Work, not life.”
“But he's part of you. What the hell kind of work is that?”
Having the bad timing to took a sip of the whiskey she'd set in front of me when she arrived, I choked and sputtered, my nose stinging from the amber stuff. “It's just a metaphysical mark,” I gasped, “to protect me while I work for him.”
She gave me a heavy dose of side-eye as she examined her order pad. “Sure, and what would you like tonight?”
“What, no specials then?”
“You’re either getting the shrimp po’boy or the crispy fried catfish, because that’s all you ever get, but if you want to hear the specials, I’ll give ’em to ya.”
“When you’re right, you’re right. How about both?” My stomach grumbled in agreement. “Suddenly I feel like I’ve never eaten before in my life.”
“Pedro,” she called. “One crunchy little swimmers on a raft, and a smelly pussy on a pillow. Bag it and tag it.”
“Seriously?” I snickered.
But Em gave me a hard glance.
“How about you tell me you haven’t shifted lately, and I pretend I believe you?”
I sobered quickly. “Honest, no fur for me.” She continued her stare until I added, “Some fur-adjacent stuff happening lately, though. I tried to hunt two poachers tonight. I didn't like what I was thinking and feeling. But it wasn't about food, just—”
“The hunt.”
“But honestly, I haven’t met my wolf. I don’t think I ever will.”
She leaned over the counter and stared into my eyes from only inches away, her blue eyes softening into their wolfish gray. “Like you said, there’s no fur. But I can see the changes in you, and there is absolutely a beast in there. Get this job over with and get you some distance from whoever you’re working with. I don’t like how scared you smell.”
I looked down at my hands. Everything she said was true.
“You heard about Peta,” she said softly.
I sucked on my lips and nodded.
“Marvin said it was your fault. That you were on pack lands, and startled Peta.”
I looked her square in the eyes. “That’s not what happened. I—”
Em held up her hand. “I’m more inclined to believe you than Marvin, but you’ve placed me in a difficult position here.”
