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Oliver found himself getting nervous. It wasn’t because of his friends. He trusted them with his life. It was the same peculiar sensation he felt when he met Lillian. Anxiety was normal in shifters in the same way it was normal in humans. But the alpha had never felt more than was necessary. This made him feel alien.
He swallowed hard and just blurted it all out.
“I met my mate last night. I was walking through the party, and I felt it. Like a lightning strike. I saw her, and I just knew."
Oliver and Ronnetta remained silent as he gazed down at his coffee. He could feel their eyes on him like penetrative probes.
He went on, watching the cream blend swirl of his mug.
“But she’s a human. We walked around for a while, and we … made love a few times. Then, another shifter tried to intervene. A bear shifter who knew her from the city and the gallery where she displays some of her work. There was a lot going on.”
“What the hell?” Quintin clapped his hands together, his eyes nearly bulging out of their eye sockets. “We need to celebrate! Why didn’t you tell me that immediately?”
Before Quintin could go off like a firework, Oliver raised a hand in the air. Ronnetta placed her hand over her husband’s, her brows knitted tightly together.
“I sense a but coming," she said.
“She's a human," he said, biting out the word. “And an artist. She lives in the city. Plus, there’s a stalker after her. That's way too much to deal with."
“And what do you have going on?" Quintin questioned with a raised brow. “Are you telling me that you’re too busy for your mate?"
Ronnetta thinned her lips at her husband while Oliver stood.
“Hush, honey. Give Ollie some space,” she said, then turned back to the alpha with a compassionate but knowing look. “Now tell us the real reason why you’re reluctant to go after this woman."
Oliver scowled, then shook his head.
“Did you not hear me? I said that she was human. That's immensely problematic."
“How so?” Ronnetta asked earnestly. "She will have to adjust to a few things. That’s for sure, and so will you. Hell, even us shifters have to adjust to one another.”
He wiggled his nose. His friends were overly romantic individuals. He knew they wanted the best for him, but it just didn’t make sense.
“A human who is an artist. She thinks for herself. It will be difficult to get her to understand our ways."
Quintin couldn’t contain himself. He was like a golden retriever, hyper in his endless optimism.
“Oliver, are you kidding me? Bring this woman over here, claim her, make her yours. You are an alpha. She is going to be impressed, I promise you.”
Oliver grunted and rolled his eyes, downing the rest of the coffee. He could feel it riling him up, drowning out the post-full-moon-bliss.
Plus, there was a part of him aching over the distance he put between himself and Lillian.
“I appreciate the optimism, Quintin. I really do. It just doesn’t make sense to me. It could never work.”
Quintin and Ronnetta exchanged a look. Oliver had an idea of what they were communicating about, but he really didn't want to hear it.
“All right, well, let’s get the kids and have breakfast. You must be famished,” Ronnetta said.
Quintin laughed then Ronnetta gave him a light push on his shoulder. Quintin left the kitchen on his way to search for the kids, probably playing hide and seek in the many rooms of the house.
“I get it, Oliver,” Ronnetta said as they set the table. “Try to keep an open mind. You could be missing something really spectacular."
Oliver didn't want to blow her off, but he’d really had enough of talking about it. They thought the world of him, as he did them, but it just wasn’t going to happen. The universe had somehow made a huge mistake.
“I get it. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving."
They didn't bring the subject back up again for the rest of the day. But Oliver could feel Lillian afloat in his mind like a lantern smoldering in a dark room.
