I Don’t Believe In Fated Mates! (Shifters of Cedar Run #2)

Chapter One

LANE

"The day I let a human, any human, onto pack lands is the day I dance the can-can in front of the entire pack, wearing a tutu." The growly voice is coming from the diner booth behind me.

There's a low, sexy timbre to the voice that sends a rush of heat washing over me.

"Ha! Be careful, Jesse. An Alpha's word is his bond. And I don't think a tutu would fit your furry behind." There was laughter in the voice of the man who answered him.

"No worries. It's never going to happen. I don't like humans," Jesse grumbles. "Why do you like humans, after everything they've done? After what they did to our grandfather?"

"Of course that was terrible. But it was decades ago. And our father got his revenge. He ate the bastard. Slowly." The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Noted: if you anger a wolf shifter, he will eat you slowly, and not in the good way.

Damn it, why did my mind have to go there? Why did the jerk in the booth behind me have to have such an arousing voice? Also, note to self: I really need to get out more. I truly can't remember when I had my last orgasm.

"Ever since the Shifter-Human Accord, it has been a death penalty offense for a human to hunt a shifter. And vice versa, of course," the other person continues. "There hasn't been a serious human-shifter incident in decades."

"Well, if that human sets foot on pack lands, we're going to have our first," Jesse growls.

"Maybe call Andrew to ask his advice?"

"No, I'm the Alpha now. Andrew made his choice. He's in Colorado playing happy families with his 'fated mate'." I don't have to look at him to hear the scorn that he's using for that phrase.

I duck my head and sip my hot chocolate. This does not bode well for me at all. Humans do not go onto pack lands very often, so odds are that he's talking about me.

I am broke AF, buried under several metric tons of student loan debt, and I was invited to Cedar Run, Arkansas, for what I thought would be my dream job interview today – first grade English, arts, and history teacher, for the Moonstone Pack.

And to make things worse, I spent most of my money on gas to get here. If I'm hired, I'll be living on pack lands. If I'm not hired, I'm sleeping in my car.

Then again, these days, humans and shifters are very slowly starting to interact more.

There have been several reports of humans accepting jobs in shifter territory nationwide.

Maybe…there's some other human that was planning to go onto the pack lands of some other pack, and that's what he's talking about?

There are three packs in this town alone. The Moonstone Pack, the Shadowpine Pack and the Frostbane Pack.

Please, let the sexy-voiced jerk be from either Shadowpine or Frostbane.

"We could have gotten a teacher from our pack," Jesse growls.

"With respect, Alpha, we couldn't. You never want our pack members to leave the pack lands, and there's no teaching program in town, so none of our pack members have a teaching degree, and this particular human was highly qualified.

" Ok, I think glumly, the odds that he's talking about any other human than me just shot up to ten zillion to one.

Jesse lets out a snarl. "Mother had no right to invite a human to interview for the job. If it were anyone else in our pack, I'd wear their hide for a jacket."

Even though this man is infuriating, there is something so primal about the way he growls out these words that my whole body is thrumming with arousal.

"Well, Jesse, our mother is the school superintendent, so…yeah. She'd be the one to do the hiring of schoolteachers. Maybe we should leave this to her, because school starts in two weeks and she's going to be pretty pissed off if you scare off our new teacher."

So, Jesse is here with his brother.

"Cole? Quit being reasonable or I'm going to kick your ass," Jesse snaps.

"You can try," Cole scoffs. "We all know I let you be Alpha because I hate politics. And everyone knows that I could take you."

Suddenly both men are snarling in a way that tells me they are seconds away from shifting. My heart thuds in my chest, and adrenaline zings through my veins. I'm about to be right next door to a shifter fight. This seems like a really good time to cash out and leave.

A fifty-something waitress hurries towards them as I quickly drain the last of my coffee.

"No fighting in here!" she yells at them. "The last time you two got furry in here, you destroyed three booths and five apple pies."

"Aww, Ethel, we had them rebuilt the same day and we paid for the pies," Cole protests.

"I don't care. Out!" She points dramatically at the door.

"Whatever. I don't have time for this anyway," Jesse grumbles, and I hear him stand up. "I'm going to find this skinbag Lane and hand him his ass. When I'm done with him he won't go near another shifter pack for the rest of his miserable life."

Oh, so now he thinks I'm a guy? I'd laugh - if he weren't about to mess with my livelihood.

But he is, and I'm not going to sit there and take it. I hate bullies.

I was bullied a lot when I was younger, growing up in foster homes, bouncing from school to school. I was chubby, I was a redhead, I was always the new kid, I was the first kid to have boobs and hips, you name it, I got grief for it.

By the time I was in high school, I vowed not to put up with it any more.

I started sticking up for myself, and for my best friend Alexis. I got in a few fights, and word got around that I wasn't a pushover. And I just started carrying myself with the attitude that I wasn't going to take any shiznit.

I'm not going to sit here and listen to this anymore.

I reach into my purse, grab a few bills, and throw them down on the table to cover my coffee and a tip.

Then I slide out of the booth and leap to my feet, spinning around.

The two men in the booth are also standing now. They're both well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, wearing t-shirts and jeans and work boots.

Both of them are drop-dead, heart-stoppingly gorgeous, but my eyes are drawn to the man who I instinctively know is Jesse.

He's got the kind of presence that makes the air feel charged. Power rolls off him in quiet waves, heat and danger wrapped in muscle and instinct. I want to run my fingers through his thick, silky brown hair. His strong jaw is cut and shadowed, his full lips made for sin.

I see him before he sees me, and my pulse shoots through the roof. I have to tip my head back to look at him. He's all lean muscle and raw, restless energy.

Knock it off, Lane. He's a bully and a jerk and you are not attracted to him! I scold myself.

Yeah, right. My hoo-ha apparently has not gotten the memo.

When his gaze lifts and locks on mine, it's like being hit with a live wire—every nerve goes bright. His eyes are dark pools, rimmed with gold.

For some reason his eyes widen as he stares at me. It's like – he recognizes me, and he's surprised to see me here. Weird. I'm from Indiana and we're in Arkansas, and we have never met.

I'd remember.

Well, whatever. Current mission: Put one arrogant human-hater in his place.

I manufacture a sarcastic smile. "Hello, I'm Lane. That's Skinbag Lane, to you. And I will be going to that interview on pack lands today, thank you very much. Just try and stop me, and I'll – I'll tell your mother what you just said about me."

I turn around and march past him, my whole body tingling, my knees weak.

Did I actually just threaten to tell his mommy on him? Could I have made a bigger fool of myself?

And worse, I'm now faced with two terrible options.

Either I won't get this job, and I'll be stranded in shifter territory in Arkansas, flat broke and out of gas, or…I will get the job, and I'll be trapped living in the same territory as Hottie McButtface, enduring daily humiliation as he laughs at me for threatening to tell his mommy on him.