CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Nine years later

Having set his laptop on his thighs, Isaiah Hale switched it on and quickly logged in. He had a few things to do before attending a pride celebration later on, but he’d received a notification on his phone that he didn’t want to ignore.

He brought up the web browser and selected one of the tabs he’d left open—the sign-in page for a website he’d recently become a member of. FindYourMate.com was a shifter-run site that aimed to pair up any who wished to enter an arranged mating. Its success rate was pretty high. Not many of its couples had later been forced to dissolve the mating.

After signing up, he’d had to complete an extremely thorough—not to mention invasive—questionnaire. What were his likes, goals, fears, hobbies, favorite books, moral beliefs, worst traits, sexual preferences? Did he have kinks? Did he want children? How was his relationship with his parents? What were his pet peeves?

On and on it went.

It hadn’t been easy to expose so much of himself that way. But, no matter how personal the questions, he’d had to answer honestly. Otherwise, he would have been matched up with people who didn’t fit him on every level.

Isaiah would have refused to complete it if there hadn’t been a guarantee of secrecy. Not even members who were sent his name by the site would receive copies of his responses, just as he wouldn’t receive copies of theirs.

It had taken him a long time to complete, but he’d managed to submit the filled-in questionnaire last night. An hour ago, the website had notified him via email that his account would now show a list of three potential matches. Isaiah was way too curious to hold off on checking them out.

Hence why he was right this moment signing in.

He clicked on the “Suggested Profiles” tab and took a surface look at the list. All three were female, his preferred physical type, and lived local. The latter was important to Isaiah, as a mating would go forward more quickly if there weren’t flights to schedule and all that shit.

Set on ensuring that shifters used the site only to arrange permanent matches, the founders had set rules. One, you could only contact one person from the list of potentials at a time. Two, you had to reach out to them via the site. Three, if there was an agreement to meet, it had to occur at the website’s headquarters and each person’s Alpha had to be present.

Basically, there was no chance for them to be alone, hookup, get to know each other, nothing. They either arranged a meeting and thereafter agreed to move forward with a mating … or they didn’t. If nothing came from reaching out to a potential from his list, he could then contact another.

Isaiah clicked on the first name on his list, bringing up her profile. It was basic, protecting her confidentiality. He skimmed through it quickly before moving onto the next, giving it the same cursory assessment.

Opening the third profile, Isaiah leaned toward the screen. She was beautiful for sure, but it wasn’t her pretty oval face that snared his attention. Or all that black hair with streaks of tawny gold. Or even her full and extremely bitable lower lip. It wasn’t even the striking amber shade of her thickly-lashed wide eyes. No, it was the shadows in those eyes.

He saw those same shadows in his own gaze whenever he looked in the mirror.

Isaiah read through the information provided …

Quinley Bevan. Healer. Crimson Pride member. Black-footed cat shifter.

The latter made Isaiah’s brows lift. Black-foots were … interesting, to say the least. They definitely wouldn’t be scared off by Isaiah’s kind.

Every good shifter mother warned their offspring not to fuck with a pallas cat. He personally didn’t think it fair that his breed had such an awful reputation. It wasn’t as if they went around stirring shit or looking for trouble—they were content to live and let live. But if you jacked them over, no, they wouldn’t let you live.

In their animal form, they weren’t much bigger than a domestic housecat. But they were exceptionally strong, utterly ferocious, and would fuck up your shit with a profound rage that was often described as demonic.

But no, a black-foot wasn’t likely to be bothered by a small thing like “demonic.” Little disturbed them in general.

Again, Isaiah looked at her picture. “Quinley,” he murmured, trying out the name; liking it.

He scanned more of her profile. She was twenty-five, so seven years younger than him. He didn’t see that affecting whether or not an imprint bond would form. There was an eight year age difference between his parents, and he’d seen bigger age gaps in other mated pairs.

Isaiah blinked in surprise as he read that she was a submissive shifter. He wasn’t sure why it took him aback that the site would think to pair him with one. Maybe because he hadn’t dated any in the past.

Not that he had anything against the idea of being with a submissive. It was just that you had to take more care with one. It was in their nature to soothe, nurture, please, and surrender control. Because they were so giving, it was easy for them to overdo it and let others take advantage. So yes, care had to be taken.

Isaiah hadn’t wanted to invest that much of himself in a relationship with anyone other than his mate, so he hadn’t dated submissives. But he wasn’t looking to date someone this time, was he? The woman he chose wouldbe his mate.

Isaiah wanted an equal, but that didn’t mean she had to be a dominant. In a mating, being equals meant each partner met the needs of the other. That could just as easily apply to a dominant/submissive pairing. He’d seen that in his parents.

His mother was a perfect example of how submissives were far from weak or needy. She was emotionally tougher and more strong-willed than many dominants he knew. Andaya Hale was nothing close to a pushover.

In the shifter world, “submissive” was not synonymous with “obedient” or “meek.” They often learned—and regularly employed without apology—sneaky techniques to get their own way and work around dominant characters. Then they’d later smile sweetly at you when you called them on it.

But they were vulnerable in that if they came up against a dominant shifter they had no way to physically win. So they’d often learn other ways to defend themselves or stop a fight before it began. Like shoot your kneecaps, for example.

There were dominants who, valuing only physical strength, might look down on submissives. It was foolish and narrow-minded. Submissives had their own power. They were often soothing and restful to be around due to their innate calming influence, which could be somewhat drugging for those who were stressed or anxious.

A hug from one could rejuvenate a person. They seemed to sense when you needed one, like they were more sensitive to other people’s emotions. And in a mating, they became almost freakily in tune with their partner.

The idea of having someone in his life and bed who would anticipate his wants and needs like that … it held more appeal than he would have expected.

He honed right in on those amber eyes again. Wondered what exactly put those shadows there. Wondered if Quinley’s personal situation was anything similar to his own.

Only one way to find out.

Isaiah clicked on the “Send Message” button and typed: Hey. I was sent your profile. You serious about the arranged mating?

It wasn’t a sweet and friendly greeting, no, but he wasn’t particularly sweet or friendly.

In less than a minute, a reply popped up: Hi. Yeah, I received yours, was just looking at it. Oh, completely serious. Like, nobody has ever been more serious about anything.

He felt his lips twitch. Fair enough, he typed. I gotta ask the obvious—why an arranged mating?

“Typing …” came up on the screen, so he drummed his fingers on the armrest as he waited for a response.

Soon enough, it came: I know I should say something like how I’m just ready to settle down an pop out babies and that I just don’t feel like waiting longer. I mean, it’s partially true.

What’s the full truth?

Long story cut short: my TM doesn’t believe he’s my TM, he claimed my Alphas’ daughter, and they’ll soon be running my pride together.

Isaiah winced. Yeah, being under the rule of your true mate and the female he’d chosen over you would suck large. Quinley would have to pledge her loyalty to them—to a male who’d committed the worst betrayal against her, and to the female who bore a mark that should have been Quinley’s. No, in her shoes, Isaiah would never be able to do it.

What about you?she asked. How come you’re choosing an arranged mating?

Isaiah rubbed at his jaw, not keen on talking about it; on talking about how he’d recognized his true mate at first sight when he came across her two years ago; about how everything in him had demanded that he approach her; about how he hadn’t gone to her because she’d been leaning into another man, who’d had his arm wrapped tight around her.

Isaiah’s gut clenched at the memory of how happy she’d looked. He’d eavesdropped on their conversation—it hadn’t been hard, thanks to shifter-enhanced hearing—and learned enough basic details about her to do a thorough background check.

A quick summary? Her name was Lucinda. She was human. And she’d been engaged for five years to a fellow human.

It wasn’t common for a shifter’s true mate to be human, but it wasn’t rare either. His cat had been pissed by her being engaged to another, but not discouraged. The animal had felt certain she’d toss aside the human male once she realized she was meant for them. Isaiah, however, hadn’t for a moment believed she’d end what appeared to be a solid, loving relationship for a perfect stranger.

So, instead of edge his way into her life, he had kept tabs on her from afar, always looking for some crack or weakness in her relationship—anything that would suggest it wouldn’t go the distance. On the contrary, Isaiah had learned that she was getting IVF treatment as she and her fiancé were planning to start a family.

Yeah, that had been as painful as any gut-shot.

Still, his cat had been hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Lucinda would one day be theirs. The animal had believed that, destined to be theirs, she’d somehow become detached from her fiancé at some point. Isaiah hadn’t felt quite as optimistic, but he had harbored some hope that his cat was right.

That hope recently died a swift death when Isaiah learned that the IVF treatment had worked. She was pregnant.

His ribs suddenly felt too tight, making it hurt for him to draw in a breath. Refocusing on his laptop, he finally responded, Long story cut short: my human TM is engaged to an equally human accountant and is carrying his baby.

Long moments of nothing went by, then … Whoa. Super sorry to hear that. Sucks that you had to learn she’s yours when the situation is so impossible.

Exactly. It seemed cruel that the universe had allowed him to find Lucinda when nothing could ever come of it. Is there any chance of your TM seeing the light and backing out of his mating?

No. Especially when he’s so set on leading a pride. It wouldn’t matter if he did back out anyway, I couldn’t accept him. Too much dark emotion there now, you know?

He did know. He really fucking did.

Isaiah was well-aware that it was irrational of him to feel betrayed by Lucinda. She didn’t even know him. But the emotion was there all the same.

It had to be worse for Quinley because, going by her remark that her true mate didn’t believe they were fated, she must have posited it to him only to be rejected.

Returning his attention to his laptop, he typed, I take it you’re not looking for a mate who’ll move to your territory? If he was reading the situation correctly, Quinley wanted to be away from her true mate, but Isaiah needed to be sure.

I’m looking to switch prides and start afresh, she replied. What about you?

I intend to remain part of my pride. My mate will need to transfer here. He paused, briefly hesitating before adding, My pride is made up of mostly pallas cats. Will that be an issue for you?

Nope.

Nope. Just nope. He liked that.

Would it be a problem for you or your pride mates that I’m a different breed of shifter? she asked.

Such bigotry had once existed in his pride, but it had smoothed out over time. His Alpha female was actually a devil shifter—the shifter equivalent of a Tasmanian devil. Havana would probably be intrigued to learn what Quinley was.

Generally speaking, though not very social, black-footed cat shifters were placid creatures. They were also incredible hunters—if they set their sights on something, it was a rare occasion that they didn’t catch it.

Even smaller than pallas cats, they looked much like a regular tabby. They were all about the simple things. Just wanted to eat, run, hunt, sleep, and eat some more.

Yes, they ate a lot. They would feast on anything—mammals, birds, insects, the living, the dead, the dying. As long as it was edible, they’d eat it. Hell, even if it wasn’t edible, they would still try to eat it.

Whether in human skin or animal fur, they didn’t seek trouble. But if pulled into a fight, they would battle fiercely and savagely until their opponent tired—which often occurred, because no other shifter was as high-energy as black-foots.

For Isaiah, their very existence flipped the finger at logic. Black-foots weren’t built to take a beating in their feline form. Anyone could see that. But, as if blessed by shifter gods or something, they never seemed to die.

You stabbed one in the heart? Awesome for you. But they’d live. You set one on fire? Brave of you. But they’d survive. You drowned one in acid? Highly sadistic—and messed up. But they’d still live to tell the tale.

They did not brook the grim reaper’s bullshit.

Or yours.

Maybe they’d kill you right there for making an attempt on their life. Or maybe they’d bide their time, sneak into your home one night and—in that very moment you woke up in bed, sensing you weren’t alone—slice your throat while looking you dead in the eye.

It all depended on their mood.

But pallas cats had a healthy respect for ruthlessness, so Isaiah wasn’t put off by any of it. None of his pride would be either.

No, we have no issue welcoming other breeds, he replied. And you’re a healer—healers are always welcome.

There had been two in their pride until recently. Sam, somewhat heartbroken after a relationship went sour, had gone to temporarily stay with family in another pride.

Another message appeared on the screen: Just to be clear, I’m not your typical healer. I can stop wounds bleeding, I can numb pain, I can speed along a person’s recovery if they’re injured, and I can give relief to those with chronic pain. But I can’t close and heal wounds.

Isaiah blinked. I don’t think I’ve met a healer who can aid with chronic pain. He’d heard that some shifters could, but he’d yet to come across one. Until now.

If you’ve got a bad back, I’m your girl. If you have a broken spine, I won’t be of as much use to you. But I will hold your hand and sing soothing lullabies.

Again, he felt his lips quirk. Before he had the chance to type a response, another message came through: Does your pride know you plan to enter an arranged mating?

Yes. He’d recently announced it.All were behind him. Have you shared your plan with your pride?

My family knows, that’s all for now.

He twisted his mouth, wondering if maybe she was keeping it mostly to herself because she worried someone would give her problems—perhaps even her true mate. Are they being supportive?

Yes, they think it’ll be best for me to leave, though they wish that wasn’t the case.

Is anyone going to give you any problems, try to throw up roadblocks, or outright contest?

No, why would they? If by ‘anyone’ you’re referring to my TM, I don’t anticipate that he’ll react one way or the other.

Good answer, because he didn’t want to have to deal with anyone meddling.

Is anyone protesting on your end?

No, they’ve made it clear they’re behind me if this is really what I want. He wouldn’t have been able to say the same eighteen months ago—there were some who, irrationally still blaming him for something he’d had no hand in, would sooner see him forever miserable. But they’d thankfully switched to another pride.

What about your cat? Quinley asked. How does he feel?

Angry, in sum. Angry at Lucinda for committing to another man. Angry at her fiancé for claiming and impregnating her. Angry at Isaiah for never approaching her and telling her she was their mate—the cat still so sure she’d have chosen them if only she knew.

Isaiah grimaced as he typed, I’ll be honest, he doesn’t care much one way or the other that I mean to take a mate. He wasn’t even paying attention to the online conversation Isaiah was currently having with Quinley. The cat had pulled away from the world. He’s still angry at the situation with my TM.

Much as the animal felt betrayed by her commitment to another man and wouldn’t accept her now that she carried said man’s child, the cat wasn’t ready to let her go.

Isaiah’s recent attempts at dating had therefore amounted to nothing. The cat ignored the females Isaiah dated. He didn’t see them, didn’t want them, didn’t like them on principle … because they quite simply weren’t Lucinda.

It was why Isaiah had finally given serious thought to an arranged mating—something his father had initially suggested back before Lucinda was even pregnant.

If Isaiah claimed and branded a female, his cat would have no choice but to acknowledge her. He wouldn’t ignore her the way he did those who Isaiah had dated. The feline would view her as his, protect her, engage with her. And just maybe stop obsessing over what had happened with Lucinda.

Isaiah couldn’t see any other way of forcing his cat to let her go.

Not that that was the only reason Isaiah had chosen the arranged mating route. For him, there was plenty of appeal in it. But only if he could find someone on the same page as him.

He didn’t want to mate someone who was only looking to form alliances or solidify a place for herself in his pride. He wanted a woman who was looking to build a future with him. Hence why joining the website had seemed the best idea. It would pair him up with someone who shared his wants and goals.

He knew there were some in his circle who, despite supporting his choice, were skeptical that it would work out. But his parents’ mating had been arranged, and they were still tight all these years later.

His father Koen had explained that, though his inner animal hadn’t emotionally connected to Isaiah’s mother initially, it had thought of Andaya as under its protection once she was branded. The cat had acknowledged that she belonged to him and, like Koen himself, eventually bonded to her enough that an imprint connection had formed between them.

A shifter could form a metaphysical bond with someone who wasn’t their true mate. Imprinting wasn’t a process that was well-understood. It could happen to couples fast or slowly. It might spark to life even if they didn’t harbor deep feelings for each other. It also might not happen at all, and it could even reverse itself if things went tits up.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he saw that he had another message from Quinley: It’s understandable that your cat would disengage, though it can’t be fun for you.

No, it wasn’t. What about your cat? Is she on the same page as you here?

She wants a mate, but I think it’s more about filling a void than anything else.

Isaiah knew a thing or two about voids. His cat’s void was one huge gaping hole that might never be filled. Isaiah … he couldn’t say if he’d ever manage to fill his own. His soul would never be bound to its other half; would always be incomplete. And it would also carry the open wound of being kept apart from his true mate.

But then … Quinley was in the same boat, wasn’t she? They would have this in common. He liked the idea of that; of being understood.

Much as his head was kind of a mess, he did believe he’d be the best mate that he could be. He’d give it his everything, determined that imprinting would begin. He’d be loyal. Protective. Fully committed to the female he took as his mate, even as he might not be particularly possessive unless, or until, they bonded.

And as he looked again at the profile picture on his screen, he thought that maybe, just maybe, Quinley could be that female. The shadows in her eyes made him feel a sort of kinship with her, as did many of her answers and comments.

She ticked his boxes. She could relate to his anger. She knew his pain.

More, as a black-foot, she wouldn’t feel neglected by how much of his time and attention was taken up with his enforcer duties and acting as bodyguard to his Alpha male. Quinley’s kind weren’t asocial, but they liked to have plenty of alone-time.

And … he was interested. More than he’d expected to be. So much so that he liked the thought of meeting her.

If nothing came of it, well, nothing came of it. He’d contact another of his recommended matches.

Have you talked to any other shifter males on here? he asked, wondering if maybe she’d met up with others but it hadn’t worked out.

No. I only logged in to find a list of potentials twenty minutes ago. I probably wouldn’t have messaged you, though.

He felt his brow pinch. Why not?

You’re tall. I’m kind of… height challenged.

There was no stopping his lips from winging up. He’d noticed by the details on her profile that she was only five foot six—a good eight inches shorter than him. A height difference means nothing when you’re horizontal.

Hmm, valid point, I guess. I’m assuming, then, that you don’t care about my not being tall.

Itmatters nothing to me. All I need to know at this point is that you wouldn’t back out if things did move ahead. He didn’t want to waste time.

There’d be no backing out.

Then I’d like to take the next step and set up a meet for us and our Alphas. You up for that? Isaiah tapped his fingers on the edge of the laptop as he waited for a response, not liking how much a “no” would bother him.

Sure. Do you have a preferred time or date?

A breath eased out of him. You choose. I can do it as soon as tomorrow, which I’d prefer if it’s possible. I’m not interested in this being dragged out.

Me neither. I’ll talk to my Alphas and then get back to you.

Speak to you soon.

Isaiah logged out of the site, switched off his laptop, and did a long stretch. He’d taken the first step toward officially moving on with his life, and it felt good. Better than good.

Hopefully, he’d hear from Quinley again at some point today. The faster things moved, the better. Until then, he had errands to run and a party to attend.