Chapter 10 #2
"Nah, it's fine." I grumble at him, the scent blockers aren't a bad idea, but that's not why I asked and I'm pretty sure Harvey knows it.
Still, he's right that I can already feel the effects of the pheromones fading.
Unbidden, a distant memory of some nameless doctor in those ubiquitous minty green surgical scrubs lecturing me about anesthesia bubbles to the surface.
Inhaling it means you get nearly instant onset, but it also means you breathe it out nearly as fast as it gets into your system.
"I just want to make sure it's out of our systems before we leave. We haven't talked about heats yet, so starting our first date with this nonsense wasn't on the itinerary."
"I'm not your pharmacist, Winifred, but I suspect you're already feeling more yourself.
And despite any rumors to the contrary, all of my businesses are entirely above board, we're handling the situation.
" He turns and gestures toward the toddler-sized air purifier he was wheeling toward the vestibule when he interrupted us.
"Mhm." I can't resist poking him to get a rise, even though he's clearly got the mess under control and I know he's legit one of the good ones. The man is a father in all but blood to Seb's mate, Rollie.
"Oh, I see how it is." Harvey shakes his head and gives me a rueful smile.
"Well, I'll reiterate that this is quite literally not my business, but if you want something that lasts longer talk to your brother.
Rollie's told me all about what that troublemaking mate of his used to get up to before they settled down together with my sweet little grand-pup. "
Harvey sounds so damn fond of my brother and his family I kind of want to hug him for caring.
For taking care of them both when Seb was doing his damnedest to self-destruct and nothing we said could get through to him.
Like hell am I going to ask my brother where he used to get his illicit drugs when he's finally managing to make recovery stick.
Although anything he got Rollie caught up in probably came from less dubiously legal channels. There are plenty of perfectly safe and legal synthetic heat inducers. Rollie is a boy scout and Seb has always been protective of his mate, even at his worst lows.
"Maybe I will," I muse. But I probably won't. It's not worth bringing up Seb's demons when they're finally resting.
"Talk to who about what? I thought your brother was mated to a bear shifter?" Gillian asks, biting her lip. Her eyes swirl with a new shade of orange. Is that uncertainty or confusion? I'm not sure yet. It's going to take time to learn how to read her, but I'm excited for the prospect.
"Sorry, different brother. Bram is mated to Ty, the alpha bear. Their cub was the one you, uh, met last night. Seb's mate is a raccoon shifter, but Harvey's eyes must be failing since he adopted Rollie as one of his own stray wolf pups."
"My eyes and nose work just fine," Harvey grumbles, he tips his head toward Gillian in a way that makes me wonder if there might be more to the story of how she came to live with her sister in the first place. "I can tell a pup in need no matter what form they're wearing."
“I’m just giving you grief, that’s what you get for being an honorary flock member,” I tease.
“See? Just like the pack.” Harvey shakes his head at me. “It’s like I always say, flock or pack or whatever else we call ourselves, whether we wear fur, fins, feathers or anything else, we’re all shifters and we all look out for each other here, Winifred”
I don’t have a snappy comeback for that.
It’s the truth that makes Harvey the beating heart of Four Corners.
He is one of the highest ranking elders who ensures Four Corners is a good place for every shifter.
He made sure Rollie, a young raccoon shifter with nowhere else to turn, got on his feet when he came to our community in need of a fresh start.
And Rollie is far from the only one he’s helped like that.
That ethos of shifters sticking together is what makes it impossible to imagine leaving this place. Even when I'm itching for new horizons, the need for change is almost as visceral as the way my skin prickles before a molt. Or the prodrome of my heats back when I still had them.
Ugh. And now I'm back to thinking about that. I don't need the high of a fake heat to have a good time with Gillian. I want a clear head for our next kiss.
"So, um, how many siblings do you have again?" Gillian asks.
"Five. My clutchmates, Bram and Seb, are my age.
Then there's Briony, she’s in university and she works here part-time.
You met the two youngest yesterday, along with most of Bram's kids.
Elric is in high school, they're the one who helped me wrangle the cubs.
Cory, well, he's the baby of the bunch," I shrug. "You said Trudy is your only sibling?"
“Yep, just the two of us, but True was a teenager when I was a toddler.” Gillian nods, the storm of colors that swirls over her visage makes me think I'm treading close to something tender by bringing up her family, so I let it drop.
"Cool. Um, sorry I got a bit carried away kissing you back there." I gesture toward the sidewalk.
Gillian waves away my apology. "I liked it. A lot. Glad we stopped when we did though." Her eyes dart around the room and I grimace at the reminder of how public our first kiss was.
"If you two are staying, stop blocking the doorway and find a table, " Harvey grumps with mock-sternness.
"Yeah, yeah, we're working on it. Thought you said this door is off limits until you get that air purifier running anyway?" I snark as I point at the hastily scrawled marker sign directing patrons to the rear entrance that's still sitting on top of the air purifier he's trying to wrangle past us.
"Kids these days have no respect." Harvey rolls his eyes at me even as I lean down to help him wheel the machine over the lip of the threshold and through the door to where it is needed. "Thanks, Winny. Pie's on the house for the trouble."
Harvey waves vaguely to indicate the lingering pheromones.
I duck back into the fresher air inside the dining room before I get another lungful.
This time, knowing what to expect, it doesn't hit as hard.
Or maybe it's already dissipated a bit. Either way, I can think clearly enough to know we should stick around until any lingering traces are out of our systems. I don't want to leave any room for doubts that Gillian truly wants whatever we agree to do next.
I leave Harvey to tack up his sign and fiddle with the beeping control panel on the air filter.
When I turn to face Gillian back in the little nook where folks can wait for to-go orders, she's taken off her winter jacket to reveal a soft looking sweater that has me almost jealous of the way it hugs her curves.
It startles me to realize that with her hood off I'm seeing her hair dry for the first time.
Slicked wet to her head it's darker, blending in with the crowd and hiding her vibrance.
It's a damned shame that I didn't notice how red it is before. The bright color of a sweet treasure catching my raven's eyes among all the blended earthy hues of forest foliage. Her hair forms a ruddy halo of soft waves around her face that I can't wait to run my fingers through.
She's so damn cute as she watches me, willing me to take the lead. I offer her my hand and she twines our fingers together, reminding me of how easily her octopus arms coiled around herself in the tub.
I'm once again tempted to lead her right back out the door to the nearest scrap of privacy I can find to finish what we just started.
I want to feel those soft suckers that I got the barest hint of with our first handshake all over my skin, not just the barest brush on my fingers.
And I know that if I delay that moment a bit longer, it will be all the sweeter for it.
I lift her hand to my lips to kiss the back of it before I present her with the choice.
"Dessert first?" I gesture toward the display cases full of homemade pies that don't make my mouth water nearly as much as she does.
I watch as she scans the options, and my reward is the swirl of teal I'm quickly connecting with longing when she notices the winter orange and meringue pie's perfectly toasted peaks in the bottom corner.
"Yes," she agrees, licking her lips. I want to trace the same path with my tongue. Later. I squeeze her hand and she smiles at me. "Pie sounds perfect."
Harvey steps back inside with perfect timing for me to tease him a tiny bit more.
I turn back toward him. "Looks like we're staying for that pie you promised me. We'll take one slice of the orange meringue and a slice of blueberry."
I glance sidelong at Gillian to gauge her reaction. Mostly because I'd be bristling at anyone who pulled that sort of alpha-hole nonsense with me. Except she told me she likes when I take charge.
Her reactions, first startled, and then a pleased flush to her cheeks as she grinned over my choice, bear out the truth of her words.
Probably helps that I know that's the flavor she wanted to order.
It's not like it takes a mind reader to notice the way her eyes lingered on the perfectly toasted meringue.
Add to that how the glimmering traces of her chromatophores that shine just at the edge between my human and avian sight flashed the same shade of teal as when she was begging for her kiss a moment ago and I basically just paid attention. Still, seeing her all smiles is nice.
Harvey harrumphs at me. "Didn't say I was waiting tables today, did I, Winifred?"
"Whatever happened to the pack's famous hospitality?" I mock-lament. "We're family, Harvey, as you just reminded me. You're my sweet darling youngest nibling's grandpappy." I wink at him.
"Sure, if you want to invoke your place in my pack, then help yourself to a seat and expect to wait while we take care of the paying customers." Harvey huffs and puffs and can't quite hide his amusement, he’s such a softy.
"We're not in any rush," I say.
"Kids these days have no respect." He winks at me, then flashing a charming grin at Gillian, he adds, "Don't let our Winifred boss you around too much, dear, she's prickliest with the ones she loves.
" He calls my order over to Rose as she steps behind the service counter.
"There, two slices of pie coming right up, sit. "
He waves us to a table near the dessert display. We sit and it's nice to be able to give up any pretense that I'm not staring at Gillian. She keeps smiling over at me, catching my eye and grinning like the kids do when I take them out for ice cream as a treat in the summer.
I’m glad she’s happy, my inner raven is absolutely preening with pride at taking care of our mate so well. But for someone who’s so easy to read and who thrives on praise, it seems strange that she acts like she isn’t used to being seen.
I reach for her hands across the table. "You good with me ordering?"
"Very good, yeah," She smiles wide, eyes crinkling as she grasps my hand in both of hers.
Her fingers curl around mine again. It's like a reflex for her to latch onto me like that.
I think I could learn to love that about her.
The way she just expects me to be strong enough to be her anchor.
It's been ages since anyone gave me this unquestioning assumption of capability.
It's refreshing. I just hope she doesn't pull back once I share the extent of my limitations.
I want to believe my shoulder and the less apparent scars from my accident won't change the way she's watching me with too many shades of teal and purple to name forming a swirling overlay to my avian sight.
Even if it does, I'm going to listen to my raven's wisdom and focus on what's in front of me today.
We can scatter berries in the hopes of tomorrow's bountiful foraging, but we can't make them sprout or grow faster than the seasons.
For today, I've got all evening to learn more of Gillian’s colors and what they mean.
I get to know her more, and the more I learn the more I can be sure that what I demand from her matches what she wants to give me.
One of these days, if we keep doing this, she'll figure out she only has to flash that pretty pleading color for me to offer her the world.
That will be the day she realizes she was the one holding my metaphorical jesses from the start.
The true seat of power and control between us.
Hopefully that won't change the way she's gazing at me like I might be magic. By then, I might even have enough confidence in my ability to be a good mate to her that it won't matter. Mate. There’s that word again, somehow, gazing into Gillian’s eyes, it’s not so scary.