Chapter 8: Hunter

I really need to stop thinking about Lottie living in my cabin, sleeping in my bed, on the sheets I've slept on many times, curled under my grandmother's quilt. Lottie is what we call a no-go zone. Getting involved with a female like her is just asking for trouble. Nope. I'm far better off keeping my distance and leaving her alone.

As I confirmed with Ginger in a very loud argument last night, she's already paid for the cabin for three months. There's not much I can do about that now. I could kick her out and refund her money; I have the right, but I don't want to. She seemed to want to be there so badly and didn't appear to be causing any problems. What's a few months?

The fact that she'd been there without my knowledge or any gossip reaching me proves that she wants peace and solitude in a location like Snowberry offers.

Lottie Pickle may spell trouble for me personally but for the town? She's harmless. That doesn't mean I'm not going to keep tabs on her. You know, for safety purposes. Not because I want to know more about her and possibly hear her captivating voice again. Not at all.

Halfway through my work morning, I realize I need something stronger than the bland brew from the break room coffee pot to get me through the day. As well as something to distract me from the desire to ask Ginger more about the allusive Ms. Pickle.

What a strange last name. How does a person end up with the surname Pickle? Were her ancestors pickle makers? It's not a common or even typical last name. I bet I could easily find information on her with such an uncommon last name. I wouldn't even need Ginger to do a simple Google search.

No. I shake the intrusive thoughts out of my head, shaking Lottie out of my daydreams even as I search the street and sidewalks for golden hair, striking blue eyes, and a whiff of her gardenia scent. Telling myself I'm just surveying the streets and nothing more.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

The Ugly Mug comes into view, and I quicken my pace, jogging the last few feet and rounding the corner to the door. You would think fewer people would be in a coffee shop this late in the morning, but you would be wrong. The coffee shop is just as busy now as it would be at eight in the morning. That is to say, about half a dozen people are sitting and drinking hot and cold beverages. It's a small town, so busy is relative.

I grab one of my usual mugs off the rack on the wall. A large, wide-rimmed cup, the exterior painted to resemble a pastel watercolor rainbow with a gold handle big enough to comfortably fit my larger hands. As a shifter and an alpha at that, I'm a little larger than the average male. So, I don't care that it's colorful and "girly." It gets the job done, and it's grown on me.

Tobias grins when I place the mug on the counter. He knows what it means when I choose this cup. I need coffee and a lot of it.

"That kind of day, huh?" he asks, ringing me up for whatever he thinks I need to drink today. I trust him to choose for me and don't question it. The only time I ever choose my own order is when I'm trying to remain on schedule and need to get in and out. Then, I stick to my go-to espresso—quick and efficient.

"Yeah. Too many new visitors in town so close to the eclipse."

Not for the first time, my thoughts venture to the elf wandering around town doing who knows what. So far, he hasn't stepped out of line, but it's barely been a couple days since his arrival. If I give it time, he'll slip up, and I'll be there to personally escort him out of town when he does.

"Ah, yes. I met our new resident this morning."

My heart drops to my stomach, thinking he's talking about the elf. But when I see his mischievous smile, I realize there's no way that who he's talking about. Which means he's referring to…

"Lottie was here?"

His grin grows wider. The bastard knew I already met her and wanted me to admit it. He is way too good at reading people and knowing things he shouldn't.

"Yup. She picked the pink T-rex mug. I like her. Her colors were vibrant and happy. She's going to fit in perfectly here."

Fairies see emotions as colors around an individual, like an aura. Tobias being a rather old fairy who's been around the world a time or two is very good at reading people. To hear hers is so bright doesn't surprise me. But I shouldn't care what color her emotions are; she's just another visitor in town and nothing more. How she's feeling should play no part in my day.

And yet here I am, with warm tingles spreading through my gut. I'm pleased to hear she's in a good mood, and I wonder if our interaction last night had anything to do with it.

Damn it, Hunter, get your shit together. She's just a girl, nothing special. Get over it. You shouldn't care whether or not you have anything to do with her happiness.

I put on an air of indifference and pay for my coffee, feigning disinterest. "Oh, is that so?"

"Absolutely. There's something about her that conveys. . . rightness."

He says that last word as if he has thought it over thoroughly and settled with rightness. I can see his eyes shifting around me no doubt seeing flashing colors around me displaying my erratic emotions. Since I don't even know what I'm truly feeling right now, I'm sure my colors are a kaleidoscope, ever-changing from one to another.

My brows pinch together in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Many things."

He says nothing more but keeps a tight smile on his lips, which I know means there is more, but he can't say what. Some fairies, especially the older ones, tend to have special abilities like a sixth sense. Tobias can just tell these things about others but doesn't always know the why. I've asked him to explain in the past, but he says it's more of a feeling, a knowing that someone is good or bad, lying or telling the truth, or in this case, "right." He doesn't know facts or specifics, so I don't ask for further clarification.

Nodding, I slacken my features to hopefully hide my irritation with his vague words. And maybe calm my emotions so as not to blind him with my flashing colors.

When my cup is set on the pick-up counter, I eagerly scoop it up and gulp down a large swallow. The coffee is hot and strong but laced with a subtle sweetness. I have no clue what it is, but I drink it, and it settles my rattled nerves, at least for a few minutes.

As I stand looking out the window drinking my coffee, I spot the cause of my inner maelstrom casually strolling down the sidewalk, smirking at every person he passes. He doesn't seem to be doing anything unscrupulous at the moment. But I frown when his sights lock on to someone down the street, and his stride picks up pace. Craning my head, I try to see around the parked cars to the person who's grabbed his attention so thoroughly.

My blood boils when I realize who the golden-haired woman practically skipping down the street carrying some sort of case is. Lottie Pickle.

Fucking hell.

I don't immediately bolt out of the coffee shop and stalk over to them. There's nothing that says he can't look at a woman walking down the street. She's not even a citizen of Snowberry, just a visiting human. She is of no importance to him or me, but I have to hold back my growl when I spot him intercept her path.

Why do I want to protect her as if she is one of my pack? She's an outsider, a stranger, a human . I shouldn't care either way if he speaks to her. And yet, the last half of my coffee is gone in two gulps, and I walk out the door in their direction before I even know I'm moving. Tobias' quiet laughter trailing behind me.

Lottie's face comes into focus the closer I get, and I realize her smile is forced and doesn't reach her cobalt eyes. Her posture isn't any better. She's closed off and leaning away from him. She doesn't want to speak with him, and he's pushing himself on her.

She's dressed in skintight, high-waisted jeans with delicate tears in the thighs, exposing slivers of tanned skin. Skin is also visible across her ribs where her jeans end and her cropped little black sweater begins. Tanned skin taunts me with its golden glow, beseeching me to touch and taste.

As soon as I'm close enough, her gardenia scent washes over me, and unbidden, my cock twitches in my slacks. I ignore the irrational appendage and focus on her other scents. Her emotions. The sweet floral of her scent tainted by bitter irritation.

You would think he was touching her and forcing her physically with the fire that ignites in my gut. I want to sink my fangs into his throat and rip. I clench my jaw to keep from doing just that. He still hasn't done anything wrong. My hands ball into fists, and I feel the prick of my nails becoming claws in my palms.

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself before I speak. Loud and clear directly behind the elf.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I growl out in an aggressively polite tone.

The elf spins to face me, not having noticed my abrupt approach. A disingenuous smile crossing his thin lips.

"Mr. Mayor, so good to see you again. What are you doing wandering the streets in the middle of the day? Don't you have other more important mayoral things to be doing?"

He rolls his hand in a flippant gesture of indifference. I really want to ring this male's neck and rip his head from his body. But I can't, not yet anyway. If he touches Lottie, however, I may not be able to stop myself with how my inner beast is responding to her.

Shifting in the middle of town would be irresponsible and reckless. That doesn't seem to matter right now, and I really need to get my shit together. This is fucking ridiculous. I'm acting like an uncontrollable pup eager to wag my tail and roll over for this woman and strike down any male who dares get close to her.

Mustering all the self-control I've deliberately acquired over the years, I check my anger and urges. Settling for restrained displeasure in my tone when I speak.

"Checking on the well-being of my residents is very important to me."

He licks his lips and smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets and casually leaning back on his heels. The action only fueling my hatred for this elf and diminishing my dwindling patience with his arrogance.

"Oh, I bet her well-being is important to you."