2. Sydney
“ S orry about that.” Wren’s voice carries through the quiet kitchen, drawing my attention. Her face is slightly flushed as she fans herself, wandering over to where I sit at the kitchen island. Closing the cover of my book, I turn toward her.
“I get it.” I shrug, dragging my nail along a crack in the countertop. “He’s your soulmate. You probably can’t keep your hands off each other.”
A dry laugh slips out of me.
“You have no idea.” Wren sighs, eyes glossing over. A silly grin spreads across her lips as she leans her head on her hand.
“You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you? The man literally walked out the door a few seconds ago,” I tease, booping her on the nose. She swats my hand away, hopping out of her stool, rounding the island to the fridge.
“I think we need a girls’ day. I’ve missed so much of your life over the last six months!” she says as she reaches into the fridge.
“You really haven’t missed anything, Wren. My life is boring, but I do want to hear all about Kiernan.” I give her a saucy wink while she sets a carton of strawberries and a bottle of lime juice on the granite counter in front of me.
“Strawberry daiquiris?” She shimmies her shoulders, turning to grab the blender from the cupboard.
“Do you even have to ask?” I say, laughter filling my voice.
Fifteen minutes later, we stumble onto the back deck, hands filled with daiquiris, chips, and homemade salsa.
A glass-top table and wrought-iron chairs fill a section of the deck. Wren sets her loot on the table. Using her now empty hands, she cranks the patio umbrella out so we have some relief from the midday sun.
Even this far north in Minnesota, the sun can be intense in the early summer months.
I pull my chair into the shade, not wanting to expose my pale skin to the sun’s harsh rays. Turning my palm over, my eyes track the blue veins running under the skin. I notice how truly pale I am this summer. Proof that I’ve spent too much time at an unstable job that offers no real future.
Wren, on the other hand, has a healthy glow to her skin. She’s still pale, but not ghostly like me.
Her usual dark-brown hair is now highlighted with golds and caramels from the sun. Looks like living out here has been good for her.
“Have you heard from Mom and Dad recently?” Wren asks.
I take a gulp of my daiquiri and nod. “Yeah, Mom called me last week. Sounds like they’re living the life down in Florida. Dad’s been golfing every day, while Mom hangs out at the country club pool. ”
Wren smiles. “Must be nice. They deserve it, but I wish they’d come back and visit.”
We grew up in Minnesota, but our parents retired to Florida last year after spending the winters there for years. “It’s weird to not be able to stop by their house whenever I want and have Mom do my laundry.”
Wren’s laughter rings through the air, soon joined by my own.
“Mooch,” she teases.
“We should totally plan a trip to visit them. Kier could come, too,” I offer.
Uncontrollable giggles ripple from her mouth until tears stream down her cheeks.
My brows furrow, unsure what joke I missed. “What are you giggling about, you loon?”
She gasps for breath between laughs. “Could you imagine Kiernan on a plane?”
I picture the six-foot-five, broad shouldered grizzly bear shifter squeezing his massive body into the tiny middle seat of a commercial airliner and instantly burst out in laughter. “I bet his head would touch the ceiling the entire time.” My words come out as hiccups between each laugh.
“He’d probably take up a whole row of seats by himself.” Wren laughs at her mate’s expense. Good thing he’s not here.
Our laughter soon dries up and quiet falls between us as I take a sip from my daiquiri. The strawberry sweetness explodes on my taste buds. Mmm, my favorite. I set my glass on the table, watching a drop of condensation roll down. Catching it with my finger, I break the silence hanging in the air. “So, I think I want to quit my job.”
“What? Really? Did something happen?” Wren questions.
“Nothing happened. I just haven’t been happy for a while now. My boss has been putting the work of three people on me, but not paying me any more. He says he’ll hire more help, but never does.”
“I’m sorry, Sydney. I had no idea.” She reaches over, squeezing my forearm.
I flash her a weak smile. “I think I’ve let them walk all over me for long enough. This month away might be the push I need to find something else—something I actually enjoy.”
“Do you have any ideas?” she asks.
“I brought my watercolor stuff with me. I thought the scenery here might inspire me.” I shrug, thinking about how consumed I used to be with sketching and painting… before the diner took over my life.
“I love that idea,” Wren squeals. “You’re so talented, Syd. People would definitely pay for your art.”
“We’ll see,” I say, ducking my head down, cheeks flaring with heat. My art has always been just for me. Sure, I was featured in some art shows in high school, but I’ve never thought about making a living from my paintings. “But I want to hear more about this shifter situation. Who knew we had a shifter population right here in Minnesota?”
“Right? It’s fascinating. They’ve created a sanctuary here, where they can live a somewhat normal life away from prying eyes. ”
I nod as her face lights up when she talks about Cypress Valley.
“I can’t wait for you to meet all of them. And watching them shift into massive grizzly bears—girl, I hope you brought some extra panties!”
“Wren Fields, you horn dog!” I shriek, ending in a fit of giggles.
“Seriously, Syd. They’re all gorgeous! There’s gotta be something in the water up here.” Her laughter carries through the mountain air, mixing with the twittering of songbirds as they float through the sky above us.
Leaning back in my chair, my eyes catch on a pair of yellow warblers soaring up toward the glowing sun, tiny wings beating as fast as they can.
“How does that all work? You being human and Kier being a shifter?” Peeling my eyes away from the birds, I glance over at Wren. I’m not sure I really want to know about my sister’s sex life, but I’ll admit I am curious.
Wren hums, shoving a chip piled high with salsa into her mouth. She chews slowly with a look of contemplation before swallowing. “I don’t know how much you remember from our phone calls, but fated mates are pretty rare. If a shifter encounters their mate, the attraction is instant.” She snaps her fingers.
I nod. Wren takes a sip of her drink, washing down the chips and salsa, before speaking again.
“It’s hard to be separated from each other. Sometimes it can even be physically painful. Luckily, I haven’t had to experience that. Kier and I are never more than an hour away from one another. And when mates are together… it’s magical. Imagine a spark of pleasure with every simple touch, or an instant calm with the single brush of a finger.”
“Sounds amazing.” My cheeks heat, imagining having such a visceral reaction to another person. My dating history is bleak. None of them were anywhere close to magical .
She sighs. “Once a shifter meets his fated mate, the bond has to be cemented through knotting and a claiming bite.”
“Knotting? What the hell is that?” I ask.
Her cheeks flush bright pink, her eyes glued on the bowl of chips like it’s the most fascinating thing on the planet.
“Wren, what’s knotting?” I ask again.
Cerulean eyes, so similar to mine, finally slice up to me. She clears her throat. “The knot is the bottom portion of the male shifter’s penis. It’s a fleshy ring around the base, kind of like a donut made of skin, I guess. The tissue inflates during sex. It’s meant to be pushed inside a female, so that the sperm stays inside, increasing chances of pregnancy.” Wren rushes the words out, face flaming redder than I’ve ever seen. Holding my hand in front of my mouth, I stifle a laugh at my big sister’s embarrassment.
“Wren, we’re both adults.”
“I know,” she spits. “I just don’t like picturing my baby sister having sex.”
“Well, I’m still a virgin and will be for the foreseeable future, so no need to worry,” I say dryly. “Does it hurt when he… knots you?”
She shakes her head, getting a faraway look in her eyes. I swear a small moan slips out before she rolls her lips between her teeth. “Definitely not. I’ve never experienced pleasure of that magnitude before.”
I stifle another laugh as her eyes gloss over again. Note to self: knotting is a very good thing. “Enough about knotting. What’s involved with a claiming bite?”
Her hand shoots up to rub at the right side of her neck. When she pulls it away, I notice small silver scars forming top and bottom teeth punctures.
“A claiming bite is literally what it sounds like. The male shifter bites his mate, cementing their bond.”
“So Kier bit you?”
“Uh huh.” She takes a long sip from her drink.
“During sex?”
She nods. “I mean, I don’t know if it has to be during sex, but I’ve never orgasmed that hard in my life,” she says with a sly smile, clearly all of her previous embarrassment washed away by the alcohol in her daiquiri. “Once the bond is solidified, you can feel your mate’s emotions and moods.”
“Like telepathy?”
Her face scrunches in thought before her expression smooths out again. “I guess; we can’t read each other’s thoughts or anything like that. I can push my love for Kier down our bond. Or he can tell when I’m sad or scared, and I can sense his emotions, too. It’s hard to describe, but truly amazing to experience. I’ve never felt so close to someone before. Sometimes it’s like we’re one consciousness inhabiting two bodies.”
A small flame of jealousy flickers in my chest. I’m ecstatic for my sister, but what she’s describing is something I want for myself.
Pushing the ugly emotion aside, I ask, “Anything else I should know?”
“Mated males are very possessive of their mate. You saw a hint of that earlier. If you ask me, it’s kind of a turn on.” Her eyes glaze over as if she’s remembering something, a shiver rippling through her body.
“Okay, then,” I murmur, sliding the bowls of chips and salsa in front of me. Dunking a chip into the chunky dip, I cram it into my mouth with a moan.
Citrusy tomato coats my tongue, followed by a hint of cilantro and garlic. The crunch of the chip makes a perfect pairing.
“Mmm. This is amazing! Did you make it?”
Wren nods vigorously, stealing a chip from the bowl. “Yeah, Ty and I picked all the tomatoes fresh yesterday afternoon. We grew the cilantro and garlic, too. Most of the produce in Cypress Valley comes from the greenhouse near the main road.”
Her voice bounces with enthusiasm as she talks about her work here. An accomplished smile lingers on her lips even when she stops talking.
“You’ve really found your place, haven’t you?” I murmur, eyes trailing over her features.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “It’s amazing here, Syd. I hope you love it as much as I do.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon chit-chatting about anything and everything. My body is lighter just from an afternoon with my sister. The tension in my muscles melts away with each story Wren tells me about the last six months. My laughter and smiles come freely, warming my body like the glorious rays of the summer sun.
She tells me about her friend, Tyler, who I’ll meet tomorrow. He sounds like an absolute riot and someone I could see myself befriending, too.
Once the sun sinks lower on the horizon, I pull out my sketchpad and watercolors. Wren ends our girls’ day to get started on dinner preparations.
The most breathtaking shades of orange and purple fill the sky. Trees tower around me, their leaves creating a vibrant green backdrop for a beautiful sunset. My hand races across the page, pencil grasped tightly as I try to capture the magic of the summer sunset.
Kiernan stands at the grill, beer bottle in hand as he flips venison steaks with tongs. The smoky scent of the grill fills my lungs, reminding me so much of summers when Wren and I were kids. Our dad used to grill almost every night after he got home from work.
I can still hear the soft rasp of Warren Zevon singing about Werewolves of London while my dad swayed in front of the grill. Wren and I ran around the backyard until our mom called us onto the deck to eat. The memory curls around me like a hug, warmth seeping into my skin.
“I didn’t know you were an artist.” Kiernan’s rumbling voice interrupts my daydream as he looks over my shoulder at the paper. Shaking my head, I pull myself out of the past.
“I’m not,” I mutter. “It’s just a hobby.”
Switching to my brush, I swirl the bristles in water before dragging them through the orange paint. I stroke the brush across my page; the color seeps and spreads, soaking into the paper.
That’s the thrill of watercolors—they have a mind of their own. You can place the color, but it takes on a life of its own depending on how you use the water.
Kier hums behind me. “You’re pretty good, though.”
“Thanks,” I say, a small smile twitching across my lips at his compliment.
Maybe Wren is right; maybe people would pay for my paintings. I’ve always been too busy working, covering for worthless coworkers, or too tired to paint. Not to mention there isn’t much inspiration in my shoebox apartment in the city.
The forest scenery really is exquisite. Some people never see trees this tall or sunsets this golden in their entire lives.
I set my painting to the side when Wren joins us, carrying a tray of roasted potatoes and a simple green salad. Kiernan brings a plate piled high with grilled steaks over, too.
“Everything smells amazing,” I say, filling my plate with salad and steak. “Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
Kiernan gives me a gentle smile, twining his fingers with Wren’s, settling their joined hands on his thigh.
“You’re welcome anytime, Syd,” Wren chimes. “Tomorrow, you can come to the greenhouse with me and meet Ty and Reese.”
A chuckle breaks from Kiernan’s mouth. “You sure you want her to meet Reese?” His brows rise on his forehead.
“Why not? Mr. Grumpy Alpha could use more women in his life. Maybe he’ll be less irritable with some feminine energy around,” Wren quips, shoving a forkful of salad into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk as she chews.
“What’s so bad about Reese?” I ask, blonde brows pulling together when I look between Wren and Kiernan.
Both give me a smug smile, but Kier is the one who speaks. “You’ll see, Syd.”
F reshly showered, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, I close my eyes and snuggle down against the soft Sherpa blanket. My tired body is engulfed by the plush gray fabric of the couch.
The chirping of crickets fills the cool summer air. A perfect lullaby to send me to dreamland after a long day of driving.
A slight breeze coasts through the open windows. Perfect sleeping weather.
“Fuck, Kier,” Wren’s wanton moan rings through the quiet living room. “Yes. Harder.”
“ Really , Wren?” I groan. Flipping to my side, I bend the pillow around my head, trying to block out my sister’s loud moans of pleasure. Jesus. If that’s what sex with a shifter is like, I’ll admit, I’m jealous… even though I have nothing to compare it to.
With the pillow pressed against each ear, I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for sleep to come.
“Oh, my god! Yes!” Wren’s cries fill the air, my pillow doing virtually nothing to stop the noise. Ugh.
In the distance, the headboard slams against the wall, mattress springs squeaking with each thrust.
Sitting up, the blanket falls to my lap as I glare down the hallway toward their closed bedroom door. Who knew my introverted sister was so loud in bed?
“No one should have to hear what their sibling’s sex noises sound like,” I whisper to myself.
Kiernan’s roar joins Wren’s crescendoing moans—and then silence. Blissful silence. They must have fucked themselves to sleep.
“Finally,” I mutter.
Flopping to my back, I let the crickets sing me to sleep, hoping my sister and her mate don’t start fucking again.