Chapter 1
There’s just something unsettling about this man.
Maelin
The second I find my sister, Morana, again, I am going to kill her. What part of asking her to come with me to this con and be my handler—the person who accompanies a fursuit wearer in order to keep them safe —did she not understand?
Panting in a backroom that Zakery shoved us into, I stare down at my pale pink and white paws pressed to my knees and fight to catch my breath. “Th-thank…you.”
“Oh, don’t mention it.” Zakery tilts his body into my limited field of view and smiles gently up at me. The long strands of his short dark hair fall over his right eyebrow as he angles his head. “Do you need help taking your head off so you can breathe better? Or…is that a morbid offer? I know some furries refuse to de-suit in front of people.”
Heat rushes to my face—or possibly that’s just the dehydration catching up to me.
My sister is the worst handler ever , vanishing on me with my water bottle. For all she knows, I could be dead somewhere, shoved into a corner, a heaping pile of pink fur carcass, never to be seen again.
I stammer, “O-oh. I’m not. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being a furry, of course. Some of the furries I’ve met here today have been the nicest people ever . It’s just… I’m not exactly… I don’t mind if…”
My mind goes blank.
(Possibly because a very attractive man around my age is offering to help me de-suit .)
Zakery’s chilling gray eyes pierce through my soul. “You’re not a furry? You’re just wearing one of the most detailed, and—frankly—most adorable fursuits I’ve ever seen on this side of the world?” He glides his hand down the soft fur of my arm, and my actual flesh prickles beneath the thick fabric. “This is high quality. Definitely made-to-order. Baselines are usually…around six thousand, I’d say. But the detail work…” He examines the frills of the dress I made for my lil fox fursona, because I did not want to prance about in a naked animal costume. “Ten thousand, minimum, is my guess.” He glances toward my eyes again, amused. “While we’re discussing avid furry culture, where’s your handler, princess?”
My heart thumps in response to the nickname. Until I remember… I also made my fursona a little tiara. To go with her dress. When I commit to something, I commit to something. Finally leveling my breath, I fold my fuzzy arms across my fuzzy chest and huff. “She abandoned me. Saw someone selling something shiny and got distracted like a crow.” It occurs to me that I’m in a storage space the size of a closet piled high with boxes, talking to Zakery Bachelor about furries . “Why do you know how much a fursuit costs?”
He lifts a nonchalant shoulder. “You pick things up when you come to cons as much as I do. Anyway…” He points. “Do you need help with the head? I don’t want you fainting on me.”
“Right. Yes.” I turn my back to him. “There’s a metal clasp that connects the head to the body…somewhere back there.”
His fingers fiddle for a moment. “Got it.”
Fresh air greets me as he lifts the polyurethane foam off, blessing me with the ability to fill my lungs. Even as the brighter light burns my eyes, there is nothing quite so sweet as cool air racing across my neck. “Thank you so, so…” I turn.
Wide eyes locked on me, Zakery murmurs, “Whoa.”
“…much.”
“Albinism?” he asks.
I lift a hand to my long, straight white hair. “Um.”
“Wow.” Awestruck, he steps in, only my pink fox head between us as he leans down to look me in the eyes. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like…beach glass. So green.”
Warmth spreads easily to my very pale cheeks.
His attention flicks to them, then he puts distance between us. “Pardon the curiosity. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“N-no. It’s fine.” I can feel my hair sticking to my forehead. Am I really that sweaty? In front of a man who looks and acts like a prince ? Please, no. “It’s not every day most people see someone with albinism.”
“No, no. It’s not that. I’m surrounded by albinos on the regular. I’m just not surrounded by any…” He lifts my fox head. “…in fursuits.”
A tiny laugh escapes me. “R-right. That’s the only abnormality.”
“Completely.” His gentle smile tames, falling some. “Speaking of abnormalities , I hope my security took care of that guy and cleaned up my table.”
I lift my paws to my face and whimper. “Your table… I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for anything I ruined. I-it might take me a few paychecks, though.” I spent my entire savings on this suit… “My sister, you see, we live together, and she brings in most of the money cleaning for this rich—” B-word. “—um, lady . I only have a few clients that I mend, tend, wash, and fold for, then I take care of the house. I only get two dollars a load, and well.” I laugh, shaking my head against my paws. “You know how expensive it is to live in the town your family runs, I’m sure.”
He hums. “I, actually, only know the cost of fursuits.”
I peek over my paws, find him smiling languidly at me, joking. I blink at him. That’s the second sassy thing he’s said in a matter of minutes. I would not have expected the most princely of the four elite Bachelor brothers to be so…friendly. Or sarcastic.
“Sorry,” he says, when I don’t know how to reply. “You’re right. It’s not entirely cheap to live in Sunset. I don’t have exact costs because my brother Viktor handles all of the specifics. His little fiancée makes these truly phenomenal murderboards in order to delineate how things need to fit in the community, which people with which skills need to take priority on our waiting list, how much cost of living should be… It’s lovely.”
“Murderboards?” I ask.
“Like in films. With red yarn and tacks. Except all digital. In Canva. They are works of art.”
“Oh.” What an interesting way to handle all of the Bachelors’ assets. “I wasn’t aware Viktor Bachelor had a fiancée.”
“Yes, well.” Zakery leans back against the wall by the door. “He’s private, but also it just happened, some odd few days ago, right over top of my adding the finishing touches to Sunny Con. Made it easy to do whatever I wanted.”
Wow. I am…learning all kinds of things today. “You planned this convention?”
“I didn’t feel like traveling this year, but people expect me to make appearances, so…” His smile…is almost…unsettling. “I said let the little rugrats come to me.”
Um.
I don’t know how to reply to that either. It feels like I’m stuck in a closet with royalty. And this fursuit is still very heavy and very hot. Backing up, I attempt to mimic Zakery’s position against a wall, but I forgot about the stacks of boxes. Knocking directly into them, I gasp, going stiff, when the tower wobbles and cascades. Decorations—ribbons, streamers, drapery—flutter around me, landing on top of my head and rolling toward Zakery’s feet.
Rigid, I look past the cloth runner on top of my head at him.
He puffs half a laugh, covering it with one hand while tucking my fox head under his other arm.
“I’m so sorry…” I whisper. “I’m…a klutz.” Depth perception and I are not friends. Another reason I needed Morana to not be a total moron and abandon me today. I never would have careened into Zakery’s table with her around, doing her job. She could have distracted Harry and spared me the humiliation. Since she’s my twin sister, whom Harry’s met numerous times at the family things I dragged him to, I knew there would be risk that he’d recognize her, but I also knew that it would be very normal for her to be at a con in the town where we live and he’d not be the type to place the random furry as with her . He’s always been bad at putting two and two together.
The point is: I wouldn’t be in a closet with my pitiful object permanence surrounded by a horrific mess if my only sister loved me.
“Klutzes…” Zakery strides forward, toeing effortlessly around the disarray. “…are…” He stops, reaching to remove the runner on my head. “…cute.” He lets the fabric flutter to the ground beside me as his cold, cold hand cups my chin.
My stomach bottoms out.
He examines my eyes, deeply, putting me on horrific edge—yet I can’t look away any better than I can think. Swearing softly, he murmurs, “You really are beautiful.”
Is he—
He can’t be.
But this definitely feels like…
Is he coming onto me?
“I—I—”
His head tilts, questioning, curious .
I blurt, “I’ve just been through a horrible, horrible breakup. After one year of crushing so, so, so hard and then six years together—the last three of which we were engaged for! I’m not… I’m flattered…but…I’m not—”
“No guy truly interested in marrying a girl is engaged to her for three years,” he says, seemingly missing my point. Unless, of course, I missed his, and he wasn’t coming onto me, so I had no reason to try and turn him down.
Haha.
Oops…
“We were saving up,” I croak, feeble. “For our wedding.”
“You do that before you get engaged. Engagement is a promise that you’re serious. You get engaged when you’re ready to get married and only have to plan the wedding, not save for it. You should only get engaged when you already have the budget.”
“I pressured him. I was the one who wanted to get married before…” I still can’t look away. I am stuck, frozen, staring into icy gray eyes as clear and chilled as window frost. I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I don’t owe him these explanations. And, yet, I echo a fragile, “Before we…”
Something violent cracks the ice. “Sounds like he pressured you, princess. I’m very sorry.”
My head shakes. “No…it’s… I’m a lot to handle. I know that. I blame him for some things, especially this .” I toss my paws out over the rest of my costume. “But…I did… I really did…love him.”
Zakery’s hand drops from my chin, falls along the thick fur of my suit, and stops at my chest, pointing. “This?” Interest ignites, covering the violence from before. “What, pray tell, does this have to do with the story of your ex?”
I swallow. Hard. And the terrible need for validation from someone other than my—previously stated— moronic sister possesses me. “My ex…is the guy who was chasing me.”
A laugh bursts from Zakery’s lips. He claps his hand to his mouth, quelling it, but the residue lingers in his voice when he speaks. “My goodness. So…” He fights himself. “…mission accomplished? You won him back? Was that…” He squeezes his eyes shut. He is shaking. “Was that the goal?”
“Absolutely not!” I snap. “After six years together, he told me he was a wolfkin .”
Zakery…begins choking on his subdued laughter.
“I had no idea what to make of that . He said he was leaving me because I didn’t understand him, and he needed a pack .”
Zakery is crying.
“I was like what? I didn’t know what was happening, but you know—obviously—since I’m a perfectly normal girl, and he’s an idiot who never blocked me on anything, I stalked his Leopard page. Saw that he was involved with some—some influencer? I guess? She wears ears online and posts videos that, quite bluntly, make me uncomfortable. They are the love child of ASMR and some kinda fetish. I do not know.”
Steadily, Zakery loses it.
I cannot stop myself. Everything is just pouring out. “I saw that they were planning to come here months ago when it was announced, so I did what any normal girl would do and made a fursuit, intending to hunt down something like closure, because—you know— what? What do you mean you’re wolfkin now? This whole entire thing feels like a joke !” I might be yelling. “A wolfkin and a furry walk into a bar. One of them says ow !” My lungs fill, nostrils flaring.
Zakery has keeled over, doing very much in the way of cackling. Whipping upright after a few more moments, eyes damp, he says, “Wow. That was…” His lips press together, doing very little in the way of tamping down his smile. “…something. You made this, huh?” His fingers flutter through the puffs of my skirt, tossing the flouncy material. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you. Yeah, I’m actually supremely pissed that it’s some of my best work.”
“Supremely pissed,” he murmurs, gently, “that you are capable of creating something that costs a baseline of six thousand dollars… The mindset of the middle class baffles me.”
My brain takes a moment to ponder that line. “I…don’t think I’m going to be taking up making fursuits for a living?”
“Why not? Furries are great. Better than laundering, to be sure.”
“I can’t argue. I’ve gotten so many hugs today. I think my emotional health is thriving, but…still. The stigma. The part where I’d have to call my mother and answer the so what are you up to, still live in that compound? question with yeah, no, yeah, I’m still doing great here, just making fursuits .”
Muting yet another laugh, Zakery asks, “Compound?”
Oh, crap. I said that aloud to one of the Bachelors… “Oh. Sorry. Um. Y-yeah. My mom, she…she’s positive that Morana—my twin sister—and I have moved into a cult? The process for applying to live here is…”
“Rigorous?”
“Yeah. Very.”
“It’s why our crime rate for local misconduct is zero percent.”
I nod. “And why everything is so beautiful and well taken care of. I honestly still can’t believe we were approved. We used to live just outside Washington, DC. Neither my sister nor I liked the city. Falling asleep to sirens, never feeling safe… We wanted to live somewhere we could consider raising families, especially since…since I thought I was going to marry Harry soon.”
Zakery’s mouth falls open. “Ha-rry?”
“My ex. The…” My eyes roll. “… wolfkin who was chasing us. His name’s Harry.”
Zakery turns away from me, barks a laugh, then absolutely descends into a fit. “His name is Harry ? And he identifies with wolves , which are hairy ? No. No. Stop. I can’t.”
Clearly.
“That’s priceless . You’re so right. Your life is a joke.”
I am not smiling.
He is wiping tears from his eyes. “Gracious. I like you, princess. You’re fun. What’s your name?”
“Maelin.”
“Maelin?” Realization lights, and he nods. “Ah, yes. Maelin and Morana. Twin sister matching M names. That makes sense.” He looks at my face as he battles to contain himself, failing pitifully. “Oh, princess, don’t look so glum. You dodged a… silver bullet. I don’t think hairy Harry would have passed the assessments to live here.”
“I still loved him. A lot. For years.”
“Yes, his loss, isn’t it? He threw away a beautiful, talented, loving woman for…” His lips roll into his mouth. “What did you say before? A pack ? A pack of what? Friends? Animals? Other lunatics who would chase someone in a fursuit through a convention hall?” He cusses. “I hope there’s only one of those kinds of people in my general vicinity.”
Dry, I say, “Thank you very much for helping me, Mr. Bachelor. If you wouldn’t mind helping me back into my fursuit head, I think I’ll hope that security got my ex taken care of so I can find my sister in peace.”
He twists the fox head away from me before I can paw at it. “Ah, ah. A moment more, if you’d be so kind.”
I do not wish to be kind. But I awkwardly fold my furry arms and huff anyway. “What? You have another one-liner you want to throw at me and add to the joke that is my life?”
“Please.” He lays his free hand against his chest. “My sincerest apologies. I don’t mean to insult you. It’s simply the most outrageous story I’ve heard in a long time. Anyone would be hard pressed to keep a straight face.”
My sister wasn’t. She kept a very straight face as she curled my sobbing body up in her arms and gritted out how she was going to kill Harry. I certainly hope she didn’t vanish on me today to find a knife…however, that would make it easier for me to forgive her for disappearing on me. “I’m well aware it’s insane, and Harry’s probably on something that he didn’t tell me about, but still . It’s not polite to laugh when someone tells you that the past six years of their life just flushed down the toilet in a most unbelievable way. I loved Harry before he tossed me out of his life without ever even giving me a chance to understand him. That’s the most painful thing. I still love him. It hurts. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know where this has come from. I don’t know why he discovered something new about himself and immediately decided I wouldn’t get it …when I’ve spent years trying to get a deeper understanding of him because I’ve loved him that much. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself now. Just… Look at me.” I spread my fuzzy, sweating paws. “I went this far, desperate to see if I could find what I was missing from afar by seeing him with his new girl in this new life, and I got chased through a convention for it. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to get closure. I don’t know if I want him to regret losing me, or if I just want to forget everything I guess we never had…”
“Forgive me,” Zakery says. “I’m not the most…adept…at feelings. I’m rather self-centered, all things considered, so it’s hard for me to walk a mile in someone else’s padded furry feet. From where I’m standing, though, you are a gem, and if Harry didn’t give you a chance to show how perfectly precious you are when he made life-changing decisions, he’s an idiot. Or, assuming substances spurred this change, he was stupid enough to start. Any way you look at it, he’s dumb, and you’re spared. Those facts trump feelings in my brain. Because, princess, feelings will fade. But you? You will begin again.”
Beginning again sounds so impossible right now when I feel so raw. So… stupid . Because if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t think Harry’s on something.
I think I excused a lot of his selfishness. Now that he’s found someone better than me—because she’s popular, and a beautiful trophy, and draws eyes that aren’t just curious because she’s bleached from head to toe—I’m useless to him.
Harry has always loved control and being the center of attention.
Good or bad attention doesn’t matter. He just needs it.
He needs to be in a spotlight so large it may as well be the sun.
In contrast, I can’t even go out in the sunlight for long without risking skin cancer or feeling like my eyes are on fire.
Being with someone who makes a living keeping house and doing laundry isn’t what he’s ever wanted. Being with someone who, in many instances, was considered a freak —not a catch—isn’t what he’s ever wanted.
And to think for years I thought he took the attention off me for my sake. To protect me from everyone whose gaze was a little too demanding…
Zakery presents a black card, and I blink, coming out of my thoughts to ask, “What’s this?”
“Oops. Do I need to start over?” he asks.
I flush. “Sorry. Were you talking this whole time?”
He nods. “A little bit, yeah. It’s fine. Don’t worry. I rambled a lot when all I really need to say is: come be my muse, Maelin.”
“Huh?”
“You are ravishing. I want to paint you. I want to theme a new comic series around the fantasy you evoke in my brain. It’ll take your mind off people better left alone in the woods…and I’ll also pay well.”
My stomach constricts. “S-sir, I’m very much not interested in selling myself l-like that, for any price.”
“I’m not asking for nude modeling. Although, you should know, it’s very much not as scandalous as it sounds, and I’ve grown almost entirely desensitized to nudity.” Darkness billows through his icy eyes. “Let’s just say my parents started me very…very… very early in anatomy classes.”
I shudder. “I’m really…um… flattered that you’re…interested? But I’m awkward, and clumsy, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. I wouldn’t be very good at any kind of modeling.”
“Hm. Pity.” He pops my foam head back on to free both his hands, hooks a finger in the fabric of one of my paws, and tucks his card in against my palm. “If you change your mind—” He glides behind my back, light catching the silver buttons of his high-necked black shirt. “—call me.” He fastens my fursuit head in place. “Also, just so you know…I’d start you at fifty an hour. What did you say you made per load of laundry again? Two dollars, was it? Loads take about an hour to cycle, don’t they? Hm. Things to think on.”
This feels an awful lot like coercion. Skin crawling, I say, “Thank you very much for the offer. I’ll consider it.” Actually, I’ve considered it. Absolutely I will not become the plaything of a man with money. I am near positive my mom would prefer I make fursuits for a living instead. “Would you mind getting the door?”
Grace incarnate, he sweeps past, opens the door, and bows as I squeeze my way out. “Good luck, Maelin,” he says before the bombardment of chatter and music in the convention hall can overtake me completely. “I really hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Like a wraith, when I turn back to thank him again, he’s gone.