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Chapter 12: Hunter

No fucking touching. What's so hard about that to remember? I knew it the moment I made contact with her that I was fucked. But I was so distracted by what I saw in the tree line that my sanity fled briefly. A moment too long, and I slipped. My tentative control fucking slipped.

Touch is very personal for shifters, especially between sexual partners and lovers. We like to rub our scent on each other, so all others know who we belong to and to not even think of touching what isn't theirs. With the soul of a beast at our core, we tend to be very possessive.

The moment she heated under my touch, I could smell her arousal. There was no way I could suppress my growl of approval. Even surrounded by flowers, I could still smell her distinct scent mixed with my own from when I rubbed against her yesterday.

It had made my inner beast extremely happy to smell the mixture of our scents, and it had drawn me right to her. I hadn't planned on talking to her, but she was in the damn Tsumugi rose section, and the stupid hose tripped me, knocking me into her. I was only trying to get a scent of her emotions. Those scents were weaker underneath her heavenly smell, and I had to get closer to discern them properly.

She was happy again, only sugary sweetness this time. No salt.

I could kiss and kill Daisy for her brash pushiness. Nymphs aren't always as observant of people. They are generally more concerned with plants and animals, as that's what their magic is connected to.

Daisy is only a half earth nymph, unable to use a glamour for very long. Thankfully, her non-human characteristics can be explained as tattoos or style choices. I doubt Lottie realized the flowers were actually growing from her hair or that the green tattoos shifted slightly on her skin when she got excited about her plants and flowers.

Still, I can't be angry with Daisy for pawning Lottie off on me. I was able to speak with her as a man rather than a wolf, and I was unable to answer her questions with more than just a growl or headshake. It's nice. It shouldn't be, but it fucking is.

I had to get away as fast as possible, but the beast inside nearly forced me to take her in my arms then and there and claim her as mine. I don't know what the fuck is going on with me lately, but it's causing me to lose focus.

I find Daisy hiding in the back, indeed distracted by the dry soil in an enormous potted plant with dozens of vines growing out of it and up the wall. I send her in Lottie's direction with instructions to help her finish her bouquet for my mom.

I can't go back to her, not now. My dick is so hard I have to readjust before making my way to my truck. My knot already swelling. Something it rarely does so fervently, no matter how horny I've been in the past. The scent of her arousal turned me hard in an instant, preparing to respond in kind and make use of her growing desire, and apparently wanting to do more than just satisfy her physically.

Normally I only feel the need to fuck and mate this strongly during a blood moon which only happens once every four years or so. Even though the lunar eclipse happening in less than two weeks is a blood moon, this is something else entirely.

If I hadn't left, I have no fucking idea what would have happened.

You probably would have bent her over and rutted her right there in the middle of the snapdragon garden. That's what would have happened, you fucking moron.

Her influence on me is greater than I thought it would be. She's just a human; how can she affect me like this? Only a possible mate should make me act like this. Pulling at that thing inside us that makes us more than human. Calling to my soul in a way that relays . . . rightness. There's that word again, the one Tobias used to describe Lottie. But she couldn't be a possible mate. As far as I know, mates have always been other non-humans, whether they be shifters or something else. I've never heard of a mate pull from a human. Is that even possible?

Fuck this is so messed up. I should call Fynn and ask him. He knows everything about this kind of shit. With his nose always buried in those books of his and his extensive personal collection of historical non-human records, maybe he'll know what this means—what this is. Until then, I'll just keep my distance. Better to not cross a line I can't come back from until I know I want to.

And no fucking touching.

Touching potential mates activates mate bonds and begins the process. If a mate bond were possible with a human, I can't touch Lottie until I know how it will affect us. I can't start something so precious and important with a woman who has no idea what it means. Can I? No, that would be wrong. Even though I want to touch every inch of her body so badly, my skin itches with irritation from not doing so immediately.

Is this how the mating pull works? Driving a male insane until he gives in and falls to his knees in subluxation just to get a taste? Would she even feel the other end of the pull as a human?

Fuck this is so confusing. I need answers now. Pulling out my phone, I text Fynn, asking if he's available to talk. He doesn't like when his reading and research are interrupted by ringing phones. I text and wait for his response.

My feet stop abruptly halfway to my truck in the parking lot, and I curse. I still have to go to dinner tonight with her there. For a brief moment, I contemplate calling my dad and having him cancel the whole thing or bailing at the last minute and ignoring their phone calls. But that's a dick move. Lottie doesn't deserve that.

She's right that my dad is just trying to help her acclimate. If I bail, it will just make things weirder and my family more suspicious. Ryder and my dad won't say anything, but I'll never hear the end of it from Ginger and Mom.

Looks like I'm going to dinner, whether it's a good idea or not. But first, I need to call Fynn.

~

Although I had resigned myself to attending dinner tonight, I was taken off guard once more when my father called and asked if I would give Lottie a ride. You know, since I'm so close and she doesn't know where she's going. It's only polite .

I make sure to wear thick jeans to help restrain the inevitable hard-on I'm no doubt going to have at some point tonight, pairing it with a black button-down shirt, cuffing the sleeves, and popping open the top button to be more comfortable.

Sadly, my call to Fynn resulted in few answers regarding my predicament. He didn't have any immediate information on hand. Recalling hearing something about a non-human feeling the mate pull to a human, but he has to check his records to be sure. Never one to jump to a conclusion without all the data first. Once he knows more, he'll call to tell me. Until then, I just have to hold my shit together. I can't make any assumptions or take any actions with Lottie until I know more.

Telling her what I am and the world I come from is a big step, and I need to ensure she is what I believe she is before sharing such private and guarded information. It's not just me that could be affected by such a revelation.

It's not unusual for non-humans to marry and have children with humans but a mate bond isn't something I've heard of others having with a human. It's very sacred and strong. Not what you would consider rare among non-humans, but it also doesn't happen for everyone. To find a mate is an incredible thing and can't be ignored. At least not for long. If a mate pull is ignored for too long, it disintegrates, and you may never find one again. Although possible, it is very improbable.

At half past four, I leave my house to get Lottie. Ryder leaves at the same time, heading to our parents' house early. He hates being late. We live together in the large house I own. It might not be normal for siblings to live together among humans at our age, but in shifter families and communities, it's very common, especially since Ryder is my beta.

It's typical for the beta to live with the alpha even if they aren't related. Makes it easier to communicate and handle situations that may arise. We don't just deal with our own pack and town. If needed, we could be called upon by other alphas for assistance, and being close to my beta just cuts down on the hassle.

He doesn't give me words of encouragement or assurance, just a simple "see you there," and he's gone in his truck down the driveway without a backward glance.

I make the short drive to Lottie's— my cabin. When did I start thinking of it as hers? This is already not a good start to the night.

I park my truck and get out, walking sluggishly to the front door, dreading this night and her mood. I did ditch her at Daisy's earlier. Hopefully, she's not upset about that.

Raising my fist, I stop just inches from knocking on the door. Lottie's voice drifts through the open window, and I hear my sweet nightingale singing again. This time, it's something more upbeat and newer. I've heard this song before but can't place it. I'm sure they've played it at Blue Moon , or maybe it's one of the songs Ginger blares on her radio as she drives through town.

I stand frozen, listening to her move about the cabin and sing the poppy song a cappella. I can feel her joy, and it echoes through my heart, lifting the weight of dread that sat on it. I feel lighter and more optimistic about the evening now.

When my fist finally falls and I knock on the door, Lottie's singing immediately stops. Not ten seconds later, the door swings open, and there she stands. The calm her singing just created is washed away by burning lust, and I'm glad I situated myself in my jeans before arriving.

Long, lean, tan, bare legs pull my eyes from her face, unable to look at anything else. She's wearing some sort of skirt or dress that hits her mid-thigh. The hem is flowy and has some sort of floral pattern on it. I don't really know. My attention is still on her thighs, which are now pressing together. And there's that scent of arousal again.

Fuck, it smells amazing. Sweet, heady, and floral. I want to taste it. Taste her.

I just barely suppress another growl and forcibly remove my eyes from her legs, roaming up her body over the dark maroon deep V-neck sweater she's wearing, and stop and stare when I reach her eyes. It's better than staring at her bare legs, but not by much. Her denim blue eyes are large and round, and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. She's nervous as well as excited.

"Hi," she says, breaking the silence between us with her soft voice.

What is it about her voice? What is it about her?

"Hello, nightingale," I say dreamily in response. Clearing my throat to regain my composure. "You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you. Why do you call me nightingale?"

"Because of your singing. It was beautiful, like a nightingale. You're going to have a hard time avoiding karaoke if you sing like that."

She blushes but also averts her eyes. Her scent shifts as a dash of fear enters the mix, souring her sweetness. Why is she so afraid to sing in front of others? She's obviously good at it. I would sit and listen to her sing anything for as long as she would let me.

"Well, as long as you don't tell anyone, I think I can manage."

I will gladly keep it our little secret if she doesn't want me to tell anyone. I like being the only one to hear her sing. I like that that part of her is just for me.

I mimic zipping my lips and locking them. That appeases her, and the fear evaporates from her scent. Good.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask, the ease of our interactions growing with every conversation we have that I don't run away from.

"Yes. Let me just grab the flowers. Oh! I also bought some wine."

She spins, her short hair fanning out in an arc as she jogs into the small kitchen, returning with a bottle of red wine in her hands.

"It was the best they had at the grocery store, so I hope it's okay."

I'm no wine connoisseur, but I recall having a conversation with Ginger regarding a bottle of wine at the store that was priced at five hundred dollars and that I swore would never sell. No one in town is that fancy or willing to spend their money on such a splurge. But Lottie doesn't seem to be affected by it all.

"The one that cost five hundred dollars?" I ask, just to confirm.

"I know," she starts with a frown. "I would have gotten something better, but it was the best I could do on short notice. I hope they like it."

She thinks a five hundred bottle of wine isn't acceptable? My parents and Ginger will be more than pleased to partake in the wine. Her lack of concern for its price, however, is concerning to me.

For the first time, I take a moment to truly look at Lottie, ignoring her enticing smell and hypnotic eyes and noticing the purse with the LV logo on its side. I don't know what brand it is but even I can tell those letters translate into multiple zeros on the price tag. Not to mention the quality of her clothing, which looks brand new, lacking the normal wear and tear of well-used clothes. Yet the Nissan sitting in the drive has seen better days, not fitting in with her put-together attire and high-dollar wine purchase.

She's told me as Hunter the wolf, or Sinatra as she named me , about her past, family, and reason for being here, but it never sounded like she was rich. Her easygoing attitude and lack of snobby superiority add to her personable nature. One thing that I've noticed through my dealing with the wealthy is that they don't tend to possess it. What she told me was vague, though. Never mentioning what her job was or what happened to spur her on this journey into self-discovery.

A hundred questions are poised on my tongue, but I can't manage to say anything other than, "I'm sure they'll love it."

Hopefully reassuring her that her willingness to spend so much on a gift for my family will be well received and appreciated.

Lottie smiles and tucks the bottle of wine under her arm, turning to the small dining table where a large bouquet in a yellow vase sits. It's large but tasteful. Lottie must have had to twist Daisy's arm to get her to hold back like this.

Before she can lose her hold on both the vase and bottle, I step into the cabin to help her. Instantly, my senses are overwhelmed with Lottie. Her smell, heat, and very being have taken over every inch of the space. I don't completely hate it.

Grabbing the vase, I make sure not to touch her hands. I can only imagine my reaction to touching her skin after what happened in the gardens.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I hope you're not mad at me for leaving you with Daisy earlier. I got a call and had to leave to take care of some business," I lie, hoping she believes me.

Lottie just smiles and shrugs it off. "It's okay. Daisy helped me finish. I understand. You must be busy as mayor."

"It can get . . . consuming at times."

Lottie leads us out of the cabin, pulling out the carved feather keychain from her purse to lock the door. I follow behind her, exiting and waiting for her on the porch as she locks the cabin securely.

I stare at the keychain in her hand, and she notices.

"I heard you made this," she says, dangling the wood feather from her fingertips, which took me hours to carve.

I nod, shifting my weight on my feet. I want to get in the car and get this night over with, but at the same time, I hope it'll never end.

"Yeah. It's a hobby. Something to do when I have free time. I also made those rocking chairs." I motion with my head indicating the chairs, not wanting to risk dropping her thoughtful gift by releasing my two-handed hold on it.

"Really?" Her surprise lifts her eyebrows almost to her hairline.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No. It's actually quite impressive. I just didn't know you made larger things."

Her cheeks turn a ruddy pink that goes well with her maroon sweater, making me want to press my nose into her neck and inhale her skin and that pink tint. Gripping the glass vase a little too tightly, I refrain from doing anything so rash.

She's only human; she wouldn't understand my need to smell her and rub my scent all over her, I remind myself. Just be cool until you hear from Fynn.

"It just depends on my mood. Sometimes, focusing all my concentration on something small and detailed helps me shut out everything else. Quiets my mind in a way."

"I know what you mean. It's like when I'm playing my guitar. It takes me out of my own head for a while."

Her pink lips turn up, and her tender smile is so small but sparking so much inside me. I stand there like a complete idiot, staring at her and her mouth until she rolls her lips between her teeth, smothering a mischievous grin at me.

Without a word, she turns and finally steps off the porch, heading for my truck. I follow like a trained pup, without question, opening the passenger door and holding it, waiting for her to slide in. I desperately want to reach out and offer her my hand, but I am unable to risk skin-to-skin contact.

The height doesn't seem to bother her, and she climbs into my truck with ease, tucking her skirt under her thigh and running her fingers along her pebbling skin. My eyes trail the same path as her fingers, mindlessly handing her the flower vase. It takes a hesitant moment for me to be able to detach my hungry gaze from her flesh before closing the door, trapping her and her scent in my vehicle. Which I know will linger long after tonight.

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