Chapter 13 #2
Lifting a second finger, Noa went on, “And number two, true mates are super rare, supposedly. Basically, when you find your true mate, the magic kicks you straight into the compelling, no need for sex with intent or a rogue bite, it just happens. You’re inexplicably drawn to the person, you want to do things for them to make their life easier.
And I’ve heard you’re plagued with unending horniness. ”
Fern snorted. “Take a look at this. Do you want it shorter?” She handed Noa a mirror and spun her in the chair.
“It’s perfect. But I’m not done here, so let me keep talking.”
“By all means. You want bangs or something?”
“No! Just sweep up around me while I talk at you.”
“Consider it done.”
Fern learned a true mate was next to impossible to ignore, not that anyone ever wanted to anyway. When true mates wanted to move into the second phase of the mating process, they started their own version of the compelling: the super compelling.
“So, it’s a sex frenzy?” Fern checked, tapping out her dustpan into the trash.
“Yep. I’ve heard most of them move from that right into the full mate bond ’cause it’s not feasible to stay in the super compelling for more than a few hours.”
“Psh. I’d thrive in it.”
“You say that now...” Noa laughed, standing from the chair and following Fern to the register.
“Oh my god.” She clapped a hand to her mouth, sure she was right even before she asked, muffled, “Are Liv and Ben true mates?”
“Yep.”
“That’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard.” And now that she knew of it, like the shifting, she wanted it too. She’d just have to think about it a bunch and wait it out. It would happen if it was meant to. Like managing the Big Chop—she manifested that shit.
After work, Fern went pink on her bottom layer, a vibrant shade that reminded her of azaleas and matched her cat-eye nails.
Then she closed up the salon, grabbed a wrap from Reads he’d plopped her right in it.
Hope swelled in her as he chatted about how he’d made all the chips already and had them racked in his studio with the air conditioner cranked so they’d dry quickly.
Soon, he could fire them, but for now, he suggested she come by to do some test glazes on some pre-fired pieces in his studio.
“I’ve never made anything with clay, would you teach me to throw?” she asked before sucking down her second hit.
He joined her on his end, lighting his bong at the same time, and she wished she was beside him on the daybed again.
“How about this, you come over tomorrow after work, and we’ll make some samples for Ren to check out?”
“And you’ll teach me to make a vase?”
Repositioning his phone, so it felt like he stared directly into her soul, Elliott offered, “If you stay for dinner, I’ll teach you to throw.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We’ll make a night of it.”
“The whole night?” she choked out, glad she’d had the impulse to ask but petrified of his answer.
Fabric rustled as he answered, voice low, “If you’re so inclined.”
“The inclination is there.”
Grinning, Fern laid out her pajamas and neatened until she and Elliott wrapped up and said goodnight.
Seeking distraction, she started a new audiobook in the shower, an erotica featuring a wine sommelier, a hockey-playing dryad, and his sentient stick.
The romance hit fine, and the love was as believable as it was meant to be, but those smutty scenes weren’t hitting the spot.
.. and they were sort of the point of that book.
With her sheet pulled haphazardly across her body, Fern lay in bed scrolling her favorite site for recommendations.
She might have to pick up a shifter romance next. .. to fill her newly developed need.
Into the search bar she typed, “shifter books with fated mates.” Then she tapped at the beginning and added the word “bear.”