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The little voice at the back of his head, his father’s voice, whispered that he’d just screw this up too, but as he clenched his hands into fists and hurried back to his place, he managed to block it out. Inside, Ivo showered, shaved, and even trimmed his hair to a reasonable length. He cleaned under and clipped his nails, spritzed himself with a cologne he rarely ever used, and then threw on what he considered his “fancy” shirt and pants combo—a charcoal gray button-up and some dark jeans. After giving himself a once-over in the mirror and deciding he looked somewhat acceptable, he made his way down to the gallery and knocked at the studio’s doorframe…
Only to find it empty.
His arms fell to his sides.
“Damn it.”
That night at her apartment, even though she’d looked wary of his presence, and probably rightfully so, Alani had seemed to light up when he mentioned her art. Ivo thought that if he could connect with her over her work, even if he didn’t get it or didn’t like it, maybe that’d be his way in. Sometimes he was a selfish guy, but for his fated mate, Ivo could make himself like anything—artsy fartsy or otherwise.
While his first instinct was to head upstairs and barricade himself in his apartment, then maybe wallow in defeat for a while with some TV and beer, Ivo decided otherwise. He moved into the studio, cautiously turning on the light and looking at all the art hanging on the wall.
Some pieces he thought were great, others he didn’t really get. He squinted as he studied the signatures on the corners of the hanging canvases, trying to figure out which ones might belong to Alani. Nothing looked anything like her name, however, and his inner bear didn’t stir until he wandered near a table full of pottery.
Frowning, he raised his hand and held it over the array of multi-colored pots, stopping when one, in particular, caught his attention. With his hand hovering over it, Ivo noted the tingling in his palm, like there was an electrical current shooting up from that one pot. He cocked his head to the side, knowing somehow that it belonged to Alani.
“Ivo.” He jumped at the sound of Tanith’s voice, whirling around on the spot to find her staring at him with her arms crossed from the doorway. “What are you doing?”
You’re not supposed to be in here. He could hear the words unsaid.
“I was looking for Alani, actually,” he admitted, seeing no reason to lie to the purple-haired artist. Although she wasn’t a shifter, she knew of their world and had an uncanny ability to see right through shifter lies. He’d always wondered if she and Ursalina had an ancestor in common or something.
Tanith’s frown deepened. “Look, I get that you have a thing for her—”
“I don’t—”
“It’s obvious,” she said, cutting him off. He looked away, displeased that he was so easy to read. “I can see it in the way you say her name, but I’m really not sure she’s digging you.”
“I know, I know,” he muttered as he ran a hand over his buzzed hair, sighing. “I fucked up with her a few times already, but I want to find a way to make it right.” She raised her eyebrows at him, openly skeptical, and Ivo cleared his throat. “Look, is there anything else you can tell me about her? Anything at all? I’m not trying to pester her, I just…”
She’s my fated mate. If Tanith was so good at reading people, couldn’t she take a hint? Ivo never chased women the way he chased Alani. He’d never felt the need to before.
Tanith exhaled deeply, hip cocked to the side against the doorframe as she studied him. “Okay, fine. You look just pitiful enough today to pull at my heartstrings.” When his narrowed eyes darted to hers, he realized she was just teasing, her plum lipsticked lips twisted into a smirk. “She’s here for school. That’s her focus. Her specialty is pottery, though I’ve seen her sketching and painting sometimes when she’s waiting for her stuff to heat or cool.”
“Huh.” So he had been right. The piece he’d been drawn to must have belonged to her. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” Tanith said, gesturing for him to get out. “Now come on. Electricity ain’t cheap.”
He shuffled out, shooting her a smile in passing, then headed for the stairway up to his apartment.
Pottery. Alani made pottery.
Ivo stopped at the top step when an idea hit him, one that might actually work. Gripping the railing, he nodded his head, a determined smile on his lips, and hurried the rest of the way home. He had some planning to do.
