Chapter 2
Ian
Julia is so fucking delectable, I want to lean over the counter and bite her soft, flushed cheek.
Behind her quirky little glasses, she has these sparkling brown eyes that eat into me, like she can see my inner thoughts.
Good thing, because I’m so unprepared for her that I can hardly put together a sentence.
I had no idea when I walked into this bookshop to get a baby gift for my new nephews and niece that I’d find my mate.
I’d actually been feeling pretty sorry for myself this morning after stopping by Conall and Meg’s to drop off a huckleberry pie I baked last night.
Meg’s belly is getting huge, and Conall is doting on her.
She’s knitting little rompers with tail holes in the back, and he’s baby-proofing the table-and-chair legs against needle-sharp baby teeth.
Their den is just glowing with love. Pretty soon they’re going to have a pack of pups running around.
I’m so happy for them, but I’m really goddamn jealous, too. I went home and ate the other whole pie by myself. Where’s my mate? Where’s my pack of pups? I’m five years older than him. I should have found my mate a decade ago.
My sire would say I’ve been looking for love in the wrong places. “Not going to find a lass in the deep wids, are yeh?” he likes to drawl in his rough Scottish brogue.
Even he wouldn’t expect to find her in a little bookshop in town, though. My issue isn’t that I haven’t been looking. I just haven’t been looking for a human.
Here she is, though. Right in front of me.
And she’s gorgeous. She’s got goddess-level curves and shiny, dark-brown hair with a few glittering, silver strands framing her face.
Her glossy, plump lips curve in a smile as she hands me my bag.
Everything about her is lickable. “Thanks for coming in. And for being so understanding.”
Our interaction is almost over. I panic and scramble for some way to prolong it. I can’t tell her that we’re mates right now. That would be weird. She’s on the clock.
But I can’t just walk away, either. I don’t know her last name or where she lives. I don’t know when I’ll see her again, and that’s completely unacceptable.
“Hey, um. Weird question. Would you maybe want to get a cup of coffee after your shift?” My voice quavers and cracks. Quavers.
She stiffens and glances over her shoulder. Probably looking for security. Shit.
“To chat about kids’ books,” I fudge. “I won’t take up too much of your time, but you seem really knowledgeable, and I want to be the bedtime-story uncle. Plus, I feel like I owe you a coffee for all your help. I don’t mind waiting. The café is right next door.”
Her whole body relaxes. “Oh. Gosh. That would be nice. My shift is over in fifteen.”
“I’ll see you then.” I retreat before she changes her mind.
The spot next door, Three Wishes Coffee House, is a mom-and-pop place run by a djinn and his human wife. It has a breezy, bohemian vibe with lots of indoor plants and pillows that I hope will soften the atmosphere for the absolutely insane conversation I’m about to have.
I’ve spent a lot of years imagining what I’d say to my fated mate when I finally found her, but I expected her to be a wulver like me! Now I have to break the news to a human. Does she know anything about wulver mating? Has she even seen a knot before?
Part of me hopes she has…and the other part is very hopeful that she hasn’t. I want to be her first. I want to be her everything.
I debate the drink order for a minute. It’s October first, and that means it’s technically hot-drink season, but this afternoon is sunny and could pass for summer.
I decide Julia would probably like something refreshing after a long workday, so I order us both iced lattes with a fifteen-minute delay and find a table tucked in a private corner to wait for her.
To pass the time, I flip through the baby books she recommended.
They’re incredible. They don’t have any text, but the stories are told through these black-and-white woodcuts.
They’re bold and graphic at first glance but incredibly detailed the more you look at them.
I’m not familiar with the Korean folktales they depict, but I can follow them easily via the artwork and get totally sucked into the stories, so much so that I don’t notice Julia come in until she walks up to my table.
“What do you think?”
I look up, and she’s standing in front of me, one hand clutched around the shoulder strap of her purse. Her apron and nametag are gone, so I can see the loose, pumpkin-colored top that skims her shape. Her cheeks are just as pink as they were in the bookstore, like a ripe peach.
Juicy, lickable, bitable… I really have to stop this train of thought.
“I love them. You nailed it,” I say honestly, scrambling to my feet so I can pull out a chair for her. “I already ordered us some drinks. Lattes. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s so nice of you.” She takes a seat shyly, looping her bag over the back of the chair. “I know they’re not exactly bedtime story material, but they’ll love them. My girls did when they were babies.”
She has kids. More than one kid. With someone else. Damn.
Okay, so she had children already. That’s fine. That’s not too unexpected given that neither of us are exactly young. I can stepdad with the best of them. And she’s still ripe. I can smell how fucking lush and fertile she is across the table.
I realize she’s staring at me, and I haven’t said anything. Thankfully, I’m saved by the barista who shows up with our drinks.
Julia grabs the sugar bowl and puts a couple heaping spoonfuls in her latte, the ice in the tall glass chiming musically as she stirs it in. My mate likes her coffee sweet.
“Want some?” she asks, pushing the bowl toward me.
“Ah, no thanks. Wulvers don’t have big sweet tooths.”
Her eyebrows jump above the rims of her glasses. “Wulver…that’s what you are? Sorry if that’s a rude question, but I was wondering.”
I chuckle at her over the rim of my cup. “Let me guess. You thought maybe Vulpine. We get that a lot because of the ginger thing. Not all wulvers are gingers, but my brothers and I take after our dad. You can tell the difference by the tip of our tails. Vulpines have a white tuft. We don’t.”
“Yeah, I thought maybe fox or werewolf,” she admits. “There’s a full moon tonight.”
“Werewolf?!” I guffaw. “You shouldn’t let a changed werewolf take you on a coffee date. That’s not safe.”
Her face falls. Shit. What did I say?
“Date?” she asks hesitantly, eyes darting to the baby books spread out across the tabletop. “I thought…”
I’m fumbling this so hard. “No. Right. It was a figure of speech. I didn’t mean—”
“Of course not,” she cuts in quickly, her cheeks reddening even further. “You wouldn’t want that with someone like me. I was just caught off guard by the phrasing, sorry. So, um, bedtime books for Uncle Ian.”
I frown as she rattles off some book suggestions. What does she mean, I wouldn’t want a date with someone like her?
“You can probably get most of them at the library. It’s a little sacrilegious to say that since I work in a bookstore, but you never know what kids are going to like. So my recommendation is to check them out from the library first, and then buy their favorites after you’ve read them together.”
“Good advice, thanks.” I sip my drink, trying to work up the courage to break the whole we’re-fated-mates news. Why am I being such a coward?
“Do you want me to write down the titles?” she asks, already rummaging in her bag for a pen.
That’s when I have a stroke of genius. “Why don’t you text them to me? That way I won’t lose them.”
“Oh. Sure. That’s smart.” She hands me her phone, and I put in my number, full name, address, and birth date in her contacts. I snap a selfie and add it to the profile before giving the phone back. She’s cracking up, her bubbly giggle fizzing through me.
“What?” I give her my most innocent look. “I don’t want you to forget who I am.”
“Trust me, I won’t.” She types furiously with her thumbs for a long minute, and then my phone vibrates in my pocket. “There. Sent.”
I have her number! Feels like I caught the big fish.
It really is time to tell her.
“Thanks, I’ll look at the list later,” I say stupidly. Just tell her now. I slug down the rest of my iced coffee to bolster my courage and give myself a cold snout. The lancing pain makes me want to howl.
“Brain freeze?” Julia asks sympathetically as I wince and vigorously rub the spot between my eyes. “Ouch. You know, my husband doesn’t get them. I’ve always been jealous of him.”
I cough so hard, the latte almost comes up again. “Husband?” I croak.
She nods. Doesn’t say anything more. But a glance at her left hand confirms it. She has a wedding band on.
Fuck. She’s fucking married. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“How long have you been together?” I finally get it together enough to ask. My mind is reeling.
“Twenty-five years, give or take. Gosh, that makes me sound old, doesn’t it?”
It makes her sound taken. It makes her sound out of reach. But how was I supposed to find her earlier if she’s been with this guy since I was ten years old?
She pushes her chair back a few inches even though she hasn’t even finished her drink. “Listen, Ian. This has been lovely, but I should get going.”
“No, wait.” Without thinking, I reach across the table and put my hand atop hers.
The feeling of her skin against mine is electric.
It zaps my brain and my balls and my heart all at the same time.
She must feel it, too, because she yanks her hand back, her eyes widening.
“Please, I need to tell you something. It’s weird and awkward and I’m sorry, but if you’ll just listen for a minute, I’ll explain everything. ”
She swings her purse around to her front as if she’s going to leave, but then she sits back in her seat, wary gaze fixed on me. She wraps her arms around her bag like it’s a security blanket. “All right. You have one minute.”
Okay. One minute. I can do this. The words tumble out of me. “Um, the short version is that wulvers have fated mates, and I’m pretty sure you’re mine.”
“I’m…what?”
I’m all in now. There’s no going back. “My fated mate. My soulmate. Whatever you want to call it. You’re the one who’s meant for me.”