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He typically got a good read on people at first glance.But his grandmother knew all his tricks.She stood up and poured herself some tea, looking surprisingly innocent.
“Okay,” he replied, wondering what her game was, but giving up for now, “I have to go, Nana.Come, give me a hug.”
Rami always hugged or kissed his Nana, hello and goodbye.Public displays of affection were just a part of his daily life.
“You look so like your grandfather Leon,” she sighed and shook her head, “He would want to see you settled down too, my sweet boy.We just want you to be happy.”
“I know, Nana,” he kissed her on the forehead, “but I can’t make cubs without a mate, and I am not in the market for one.I like my life as is.”
“All you do is work, Rami.That is no life.”
“It is, Nana.A good life.My job is dangerous.Why would I take a mate just to subject her to that kind of constant worry?”
“Okay, you be a good boy, Rami.Don’t forget to go to D’Angelo’s Bakery on your way in.Stay safe,” she nodded approvingly after he’d finished washing his dish, a wide smile on her face.
He frowned as he dried the dish and utensils, putting them away before taking his leave.He was no slouch.Nana was great to him, but he knew how to clean up after himself.The cooking and laundry, well that was her prerogative.She knew he would hire out the day she said no more.
Still, he worried about the older woman.She looked older and genuinely concerned about him all of a sudden.Was she ill?He fucking hoped not.Shifters did not get sick very often, but it still happened.He made a mental note to make sure she went to see her physician asap.
As for a mate, what could he say?He was a cop.The job was it for him.There was no way he would take a mate.He just couldn’t see bringing that kind of worry and pain into some poor female’s life.Especially when he wasn’t all in to begin with.How could he be when the job was his life?
That level of selfishness was not in him.Rami Llewellyn’s blood ran blue.Sure, he liked women.Loved them in fact.But he had a responsibility.He was married to the job.That was enough for him.
It had to be.
ChapterOne
Afew minutes later…
Rami parked his car.The four-door, average-looking sedan had all the usual modifications police vehicles received to perform optimally for long periods of time, and then some.He left it in a perfect spot that was damn near impossible to find in the city right on the corner of the shop.
D’Angelo’s Bakerywas just five streets over from his brownstone.In the opposite direction of his precinct.He was surprised Nana had mentioned it, since usually he’d just stop atRico Pan Bakeryon days, she did not pick up any goods.
D’Angelo’s was better, but it was farther too.Still, he knew the drive was worth it.They had the best bread and breakfast pastries he’d ever tasted.A few for the captain, some for the guys and gals, and maybe one or two for himself.Carb heaven guaranteed, and Rami was sure to have a good day.
His Lion chuffed happily.Even his inner beast enjoyed the scrumptious little delicacies.Feeling peckish, even after his rather large breakfast, Rami hurried indoors.
The sound of the brass bell ringing as he pushed the old-fashioned glass and wood door open was music to his ears.Rami sucked in the sweet scents of freshly made pastries, breads, and pies, and sighed.The bakery was a veritable cornerstone in the community, having been there for more than sixty-years now.
Rami himself had been a customer since before he could walk or talk.Nana started taking him after he cut his first tooth.There was nothing like a crispy Italian biscotti to help a young Shifter with teething woes.He must’ve gnawed on a dozen a day at one point or other.
Happy memories.
It was as much a part of his life as anything else in the close-knit neighborhood.Supernaturals tended to stick together, and the eight city-block area where he grew up had everything from Shifters to Vamps, Fae, Witches, and even a Chupacabra family who served as the local butcher.
Mr.D’Angelo was only half-Fairy.His father was a rareMoniciellofrom Naples to be exact, but he was neither trickster nor mischievous.A sweet, kind man, getting on in years, but a good soul, nonetheless.
Rami could tell.Call it a cop’s instinct.Mr.D’Angelo made more wedding, birthday, and anniversary cakes than any other spot in town.He knew the name of every person who walked into his store, and their families.Speaking of which, where was the old man?
It was a little late for the early morning rush, but the coffee smelled fresh, and he imagined the old man had already brewed four pots since he opened.Trays of baked goods were cooling on the racks behind the glass counters, and the room was filled with tempting scents driving his inner beast wild.
The place looked good.Too good, come to think of it.Like every inch had been lovingly polished and scrubbed.And recently, too.
Hmm.That was odd, thought Rami.Mr.D’Angelo was not usually this tidy.And he sure as fuck never had a potted plant in the bakery before.But there one stood.Directly in the corner.A tall Ficus tree in a wood-barrel pot.Upon closer inspection, Rami determined it was in fact real.
“Hello!Mr.D’Angelo?”Rami called out, leaning over the counter.
There was music playing in the back, where the ovens were located.Also new, he frowned.His senses went on high alert.Something very strange was going on here.
