5. Chapter Four

Tonight is the night I introduce myself to my Beloved. I’m nervous, excited, and scared. He is my one and only. If he denies me, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I need him in every way. I need him to breathe, to live, to exist at all. His blood must be Grandie blood. According to the witch, it’s the only blood she’d allow to be my beloved, but how did she know it would happen? Maybe she didn’t. Magic does a lot of things, but it can’t always predict the future. The future is unstable. It can change in an instant. Its why fortune tellers aren’t taken too seriously, but I believe there is truth to every fortune told.

Perhaps, I was cursed so I could understand that good people didn’t need to die, because if all the Grandie’s had, my Beloved wouldn’t have existed.

The thought turns a sharp knife into my heart, twisting until the muscle constricts and I can’t breathe. I don’t know him at all, but I can’t imagine a universe where he doesn’t exist. The thought alone is enough to wish for death.

It’s part of the reason why I followed him home. I wanted to make sure he got home safe, but immediately, my concern for my Beloved’s well-being was needed.

His house is falling into pieces. Is he safe here? It makes me wonder if he eats well, and if he is able to take care of himself without issue. He doesn’t need to worry anymore. I’m here now and I’ll make sure he is taken care of. He’ll never have to worry about anything again.

When he gets into his beat-up car, another thing I dislike because I want him safe— I follow him again.

I know he must think he is going crazy for seeing me and then I disappear, but I’m nervous. I don’t know what to say. How do I introduce myself?

“Hi, I’m a vampire and I was part of the coven who slaughtered your entire family?”

Yeah, that will go over really well.

He pulls into a gravel parking lot, the tires crunching against the annoying rocks. I stop running and hide behind a large truck, peeking behind the back to watch my gorgeous mate walk toward the entrance of the bar. The establishment seems okay. The building itself looks to be made of driftwood, giving it an old dive bar appearance. The sign above the door says, “Jumper’s” in neon lighting, and there is a bouncer at the door checking identification.

I have that. It’s one of the many things I’ve stayed up-to-date on as times changed. Not that I truly need it. I can mystify anyone I want to get anything I need, but I would rather do everything I can to fit in. Plus, I still don’t like messing with the human mind.

Checking my appearance in the reflection of the truck, I run my hands down my blazer to straighten it out, run my fingers through my hair to slick it back how I like, then take a deep breath. This is it. Tonight, I’ll get to know my mate. I should have kidnapped him from his work and taken him to my house. That would have been a lot easier. It’s how we did things all those years ago, but times have changed.

Apparently, kidnapping is wrong.

Pity.

I glance down at my shoes and growl in irritation. They are scuffed. What will my Beloved think of me looking like such a mess?

With my head high, I stroll to the main entrance, not bothering to take out my identification.

“License?” the burly man gripes, crossing his large, tattooed arms. He pets his beard as if it is an animal as he analyzes me. “Little overdressed for a place like this, friend.”

I snarl at the endearment, not liking the rude tone in his voice. Leaning in, I capture his gaze with mine, watching as he relaxes, the tightness between his eyes fading as he falls into my power.

“I don’t need to show you anything. I’m older than you could ever imagine. You’ll allow me in, won’t you?”

He nods with a smile, showing the broken front tooth he has. “I will. I hope you have a great time.”

“I will. Tonight will be a good night for me. And let me make one thing very clear—” I let my fangs drop and my eyes morph to crimson. Fear is the next thing I smell, which dampens the deliciousness of the trail my Beloved left behind of his scent. “I am not your fucking friend. I am your enemy. If this was another time, I’d drink every drop of your blood and wouldn’t give a damn about it after how you just greeted me.” He opens his mouth to scream, but I catch him. “Ah, ah, ah, stay quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to know how much of a coward you are, friend.”

“We don’t want that. I don’t even like this job. I want to work with kids. I want to be a party clown.”

My brows raise at the odd confession because he doesn’t seem like the type at all to want to be a clown. That’s the thing about mystifying people, I end up getting truths I don’t want to hear because then they want me to be their therapist, admitting all their feelings they keep locked away inside.

I have a hard enough time with my own feelings. I don’t need to worry about anyone else’s.

Besides my Beloved, of course.

I break the connection before he can say anything else, and he blinks away the confusion.

“Have a good time,” he states, forgetting everything that just happened.

“Thank you.” I give a bow of my head, entering the bar my Beloved has decided to spend his time at.

My shoes stick to the floor, and I try not to scoff, but I’m spoiled and like the finer things in life. Since my entire coven died and I was the only living member, all assets and money the coven had was mine. I’ve invested, but I have also taken some not-so-legal chances that have earned me enough to live without having to work again.

Well, live is a strong word.

I haven’t lived in years, but I have nice things.

I’ve learned material assets mean nothing when there is no one in your life to enjoy them with.

I sit down at the bar, hoping the seat is clean.

A bartender wipes the spot down in front of me. He’s wearing a black shirt and matching pants, nothing special, but it’s his golden eyes that have me on alert.

Wolf shifter.

Not a werewolf. The two are very different. Werewolves tend to be more violent than actual wolf shifters, but I won’t ever discount what a pack of wolves can do to their prey. They are strong and determined.

By the smell of it, this wolf shifter is a loner. He doesn’t smell of a pack.

He grabs the counter and leans in, giving me a few sniffs just like a dog would do. I hate their sense of smell. It’s irritating.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” I whisper, leaning in to meet him. “This is my home too.”

“No judgements. I just haven’t smelt a vam—” he catches himself, looking around to make sure no one heard him. “I haven’t smelt one of your kind in a long time. I’ve been the only one like… us,” he says carefully. “For years.”

“I don’t get out much, I’m afraid, but someone has brought me into town.”

The bartender grins. “Oh yeah?” He places a glass down in front of me. “Who is the unlucky soul tonight?”

I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. He’s my Beloved.”

The wolf’s eyes widen. “No fucking way. You’ve met your fated mate?” He pours me two fingers’ worth of very good scotch. “On me. To celebrate.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid I haven’t met him yet. I’m nervous.” I rub my hands on my thighs. “And I’ve only made matters worse for myself. I’ve been following him, and he has seen me, but then I disappear, so he probably thinks he is imagining things.” I won’t drink the scotch, but I’ll pretend to. I truly can’t stomach anything besides Grandie blood.

The wolf laughs. “I didn’t know vam— you— could be so nervous. You lot are always so confident.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time, I’m afraid.” Great, now I’m confessing my feelings. “I do not have a coven. I’m… out of practice. One could say.”

He leans his elbows on the filthy bar top. “Who is the guy? Maybe I can help. I know most of everyone here.”

I don’t need to turn around to show the wolf where he is. “To my right, the adorable man with big messy curly hair with the two women.”

The wolf lifts his golden eyes and scans the place before stopping, giving me a tilted smile as if he knows something I don’t.

“What is it? Tell me,” I beg, gripping the glass so hard it breaks, and scotch spills everywhere. “Damn it.”

The wolf drops a dry towel and cleans it up fast, wiping the shards into the trashcan as he lifts it to the counter.

“So, the two women are Ashley and Morgan. They are best friends.”

“I don’t care about them. Who is he?”

“You’re going to want to. Ashley is his boss at Paws and Purrs, the pet store/resort in town. They are pretty good friends. Ollie, your Beloved, is the manager there.”

“Ollie,” I repeat, loving how his name sounds on my tongue. “Ollie,” I say it again, that familiar warmth spreading through my system. “Is it short for something?” I ask the shifter.

“Oliver. I don’t know much about him. He actually doesn’t come here often. I’m surprised to see him. He sticks to himself. I’ve never seen him with anyone other than Ashley, but it seems Ash, Morgan, and Ollie will be thick as thieves by the looks of it. He’s a nice guy, a bit shy, a loner typically. He is cute, though. I’ve never really noticed before.”

I growl at the wolf, my talons digging into the counter, scraping grooves into the rancid, beer-soaked top. “He’s mine and I’ll fucking kill you if you touch him.”

The wolf smirks, golden eyes shimmering with mischief as he dries a glass. “Calm down. I’m only kidding and wanted to get a rise out of you. So, go introduce yourself. Buy him a drink. Lure him into the back and fuck him. I’m sure he’ll feel the mate bond too.”

Just the thought of slipping inside him has my cock hardening. I want nothing more than to claim him and have him smell of me, but it won’t be that easy.

I’m the source of the hard life he has had to live. Forgiveness is a wish I plan to whisper every day in order to earn his love.

“You must be dying of thirst if you’ve known he is your mate. You can’t have any other blood now, right?” he says low so no one else can hear, but I can.

If he only knew the truth in that statement.

I nod. “I am, but I won’t force him to give me anything.”

“Well, he loves ginger ale and apple whiskey together. I suggest buying him a drink. Take it from there.”

I nod, blood rushing to my ears. “Yeah, okay. Please, do.”

The wolf slaps his hands on the counter and grins, the sharp canines peeking through. “I love playing matchmaker. Okay, here we go.” He tosses a glass in the air, catches it, and begins creating Ollie’s drink. It doesn’t take long since there are only two ingredients.

Fuck, this is it.

“What’s your name? Since you’re helping me.”

“I’m Deacon.” He holds out his hand.

I grab it and give it a firm shake. “Ambrose.”

“Good to meet you. Now, I think it’s time to meet your Beloved, don’t you?”

“I do.”

I’m more scared than I was the day the witch cursed me for all eternity. He is my cure.

To everything.