Chapter 3

Chapter 3

This girl was amusing and a tragedy in the same breath. Though tragedy did often amuse me, so that made her perfect, really.

I simply could not begin to imagine growing up with zero knowledge of my heritage. I'd never realized that was a privileged stance before, but it hadn't occurred to me that there were shifters out there who never bothered to explain something as critical and inescapable as the class system to their children.

I frowned at the thought. To not even know if she was an Alpha, Beta, or Omega was perhaps more an advantage than a curse. Either she was going to go through life blissfully unaware and never have to be subjected to our rules and expectations within the shifter hierarchy, or she was going to end up in a horrifying situation where she found out the hard way where she stood in the world.

But I couldn't smell anything on her, other than the vague signatures of her multiple mates, so it was hard to discern what she might be. Not that that was unexpected. To have one mark usually served to hide a shifter's scent from others, but to have two—it would take something damn near fated to sort out her scent from the tobacco and rosemary and sage notes .

One of those signatures was all too familiar, which I should have taken as a sign to stay far, far away from her. And yet, like a moth to the flame, I was incapable of ignoring Lila when she was looking so cute and curious in the library. A girl with glasses, lost in a book, was the kind of bait that could entice me to walk right into an unburied bear trap.

Maybe that was a form of fate, too. The universe and the stars demanding I confront the past for such an appealing future.

I was getting ahead of myself. All I knew about her was that she was book smart and real world ignorant. I'd never even asked her what star she was born under to know if we were compatible. She could be an earth or a water sign for all I knew. Not that I'd had much luck with fire or air signs either. Up until now, I would have been perfectly content to never match with another person again. I couldn't explain what was drawing me to Lila.

Perhaps that was her appeal. She was a curious thing, and I never tired of having something new to engage my mind with. Especially not something I'd never encountered before. Would her predicament with her Alpha mates prove problematic, or would she let me get a closer look?

It was no matter. If she was going to work with me at the shop, it wouldn't take long to bond with her. I had plenty of ways to get the information I wanted. If anything, she needed my help, and I certainly wouldn't mind being an ally.

It's not like I had many friends these days. Not since last year's mistakes .

Who was I kidding? Friends were never my strong suit. Being outcast and solitary was the only social skill I had mastered. Contentment with being alone was my blessing and my curse.

I shook my head, banishing bad memories. I'd rather focus on this bit of serendipity and see where it goes.

As I headed off to Art History with Professor Abernathy, lost in thoughts of entrancing brown eyes behind large lenses, I couldn't help but notice the way my lips had tugged themselves into a grin at some point in my internal soliloquy. I covered the lower half of my face, self-conscious that such a feeling might be visible to those around me, and I dragged the smile downward until my face reflected my usual empty neutrality.

That was troubling.

Betraying emotion wasn't a good look for me. Not if I wanted to keep avoiding the attention of Alphas. I was solitary for a reason, and getting mixed up with another shifter whose status was unclear was reckless at best. The farther I walked from the library, the more clear my folly became.

Maybe I was already letting my guard down a bit too far around her. It would be foolish to assume she was safe based only on her air of innocence. She could be just as Alpha as the rest of them for all I knew. Why was I letting her in so easily?

Odd. That wasn't like me. Wanting to talk to anyone at all wasn't like me. Was this some sign I was getting lonely? This month wasn't one I typically worried about in that regard .

I couldn't say why I'd had the desire to approach her in the first place, but the urge had been overwhelming from the first day I'd sat behind her in Calculus.

She hadn't had the marks yet at that point, but I still hadn't picked up on a scent signature. If she had one at all, it was incredibly suppressed, and she hadn't lasted long before she was imprinted on by others. I never really got the opportunity to distinguish Lila from everyone else.

All I knew for sure was that she never reeked of sweaty meat.

Hmmm, I wonder…

Mother had just left me to a solo shift at Threads of the Magi when my curious and adorable classmate showed up at the store. The bell over the door jingled as she nudged her way inside. Her wide eyes were glazed with uncertainty, and her tentative movements dripped with nerves. She was dressed in what was probably her most formal clothing outside her school uniform, and I had to acknowledge that she was as fetching in an oversized sweater and black leggings as she was in a short skirt. Maybe even cuter. Comfort, glasses, and un-styled hair was an underrated look on a woman. The way soft wool hugged her curvy frame was playing to some portion of my brain that wanted to hug and cuddle, and I found myself wondering where such a thought came from .

An affectionate portion of my brain didn't exist, yet it sure seemed to want to when she was around.

"So you said I could maybe have a job? That wasn't a joke, was it?" She asked through a half laugh, half nervous shake.

"Do I strike you as practical joker?" I responded rather flatly, entirely on accident. I should have been better at playing along with social cues by now, but exhibiting ordinary emotion was a constant challenge. I cleared my throat and met her rich eyes of the most lovely cedar. It was so unlike what I was used to from others within our sphere. Just brown enough to appear ordinary to most humans, but with a hint of pink flecks that gave her away. My eyes had always been so blatantly inhuman in their complete absence of color, and I was jealous of those who could blend better than I could. Or at least those whose eyes could handle color contacts while intermingling with the natural world.

"I guess not." She said with a hint of relaxation. How unexpected that I might relax her. "So what do you need me to do? Is there a uniform?"

I shook my head. "The only uniform is being presentable, so I can't see you having much issue with your personal wardrobe. I've yet to see you be inappropriate." Instantly my mind ran with that statement in a direction I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared for, and just as quickly, I squashed the imagery.

Where did that come from? Have I EVER had such a lewd thought about a woman?

I adjusted my glasses. "Your current look is fine, but you're also welcome to choose an outfit from our inventory should you see something you like. Consider it a sign-on bonus. As we sell clothing, it's actually quite helpful to have an active model wearing the designs, demonstrating how attractive it can be on a real, humanoid form."

She glanced at the sales floor, her eyes moving subtly from one rack to the next, then she dipped her chin and looked at herself. "I don't know if any of these styles suit my body type."

I tilted my head to the side in confusion. I was fairly certain I had plenty of clothing in her size, and I could see at least four different dresses, blouses, and pant combinations that would complement the contour of her wide hips and soft waist line exquisitely. Perhaps the current selection simply wasn't to her taste. It didn't matter how well suited the clothing was for her shapes if she didn't like how she looked in it. If I'd learned anything from long arguments with mother in my early apprenticeship, it was that fashion was entirely a sport of opinion. "If that's how you feel, then I'll be happy to work with you to improve the inventory. It's best to be at least a bit hip and modern." Maybe I would discover a new style working with her. I could learn a lot from a feminine perspective.

Lila laughed, and it was a soothing sound. "‘Hip'? You sound like an old man."

Oh no. Did that make me sound elderly? Devil have mercy, why was interacting with people my age so difficult? What was I supposed to say? My parents always said ‘hip' to describe the clothing we sold, but I was out of touch with my classmates and how they might describe the same thing. The folly of being too introverted, I suppose. I wanted to ask what it was that the youths would say, as my grandmother had often asked me when she was struggling to connect with young customers, but it fortunately occurred to me before I said it that such a statement would reflect even more poorly. I was going to ruin this friendship before it began if I couldn't get this down.

I noticed my jaw had locked and my teeth were clenched. I concentrated on relaxing the muscles before I attempted to come off as normal again. "An inside joke. My parents always say that. I'm only twenty-four." That felt smooth. Acceptable. It was much easier to interact with her in the library when she was simply asking questions about magic-kind. History and lore were my expertise, while social faux pas was not.

"You're older than me." She said with surprise. "It seems like most of my classmates are people who went to college straight after high school, so I've been a bit self-conscious about being older than everyone else, even though I'm only twenty-two."

Interesting. Twenty-two was a very appropriate age.

For… what exactly? Why does her age in relation to mine matter? My head was in so many strange places today.

"I should have done the same, but my grandmother fell ill in my last year of high school, so I was working here full time until she recovered. After I'd been running the family business successfully for a few years, I no longer planned to go to college at all, considering my career path was well established, and I was quite good at it. But my parents insisted I get an education before I take over. It would be disgraceful for the son of the Arya line to be uneducated, I was told." I pursed my lips, uncertain why I was telling her all this. And yet, I felt compelled to continue. "I started at Graves last year and switched to working part time here. I'll admit it hasn't been the worst decision." Not now that I've met you anyway . I shook my head, like the physical action would throw out that intrusive thought. "But sometimes I still struggle with relating to your average person my age."

Lila's smile lit up the room, and it seemed I'd gotten that answer correct. "You're about as cool as I am, I'm gathering." She approached and stood beside me at the register. Her demeanor was impressively disarming. "So how can I help? I've worked in retail, but it wasn't for very long. Most of my job history was as an assistant at an observatory."

Interesting . "It's nothing difficult. Considering we share a calculus class, I assume it's safe to say you can handle basic math." I nodded toward the old fashioned and straightforward cash register, then tipped my head, signaling for her to follow me around the counter. "The layout will change occasionally as we introduce new designs for different seasons, but in the general day-to-day, all you'll need to do is straighten out and refold clothing, or reorder some hangers as customers disrupt the space. Otherwise, it'll just be dusting, wiping down surfaces, and simple manual labor."

"Seems easy enough." She followed along as effortlessly as I'd expect.

I tipped my chin next towards the backroom, as our small boutique didn't require much more of a tour than a basic glance. She'd shopped here before anyway, so she already had a feel for it.

"And back here we have over stock, among other things." She followed me into our small staff area, containing both storage and the workshop. It took little more than a two second survey of the space to notice the obvious. The employee bathroom, the safe, the boxes of fabric, buttons, zippers, and other such materials, the shelves of completed, ready-to-wear merchandise, and the wall of raw sketches. Though I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up as her gaze landed on the sewing area.

"Wait, do you…" She paused, like she was trying to decide if her question was valid or offensive. Then she concluded with, "Does your family make all of the merchandise?"

I blinked a few times, trying to parse the meaning behind what must have been a rhetorical question. "Yes, of course we do." I didn't understand what she was asking at all. Where else would we get our clothing? What was the ordinary expectation? Had I missed something? "Some of the designs are my mother's, some are my father's, and some are mine. We have a range of tried and true classics, but even those are modified and customized on some level to react to current trends and market demands."

"Really? So you can sew?" Her eyes were saucers as she moved her surprise from the sewing room and back to me.

"My family owns a clothing boutique." I repeated this clear and definitive statement, not sure where I'd gone wrong. "Do humans own clothing stores without having the ability to provide and modify the merchandise?" A cultural difference. That was the only explanation for her confusion. I'd admit I'd not been outside Graves in many, many years, so perchance I wasn't the most worldly. Lila hadn't struck me as particularly more travelled and cultured though. In a way, we might be on similar levels of sheltered existence. It was difficult to travel when your family owned a local business, and any vacation in my youth had been to meet with suppliers .

"I don't think it's a human versus magic thing." She rubbed her neck sheepishly. "A lot of our stores just buy their clothing from distributors and sell whatever is fashionable or inexpensive."

"How impersonal." I immediately chose to forget that human world fun fact as soon as I'd learned it. Such depressing information wouldn't serve me, and I'd rather not waste the space in my mind bank with something like that. Instead, I chose to segue this into something more interesting. "Do you know how to sew, Lila?"

She scrunched up her button nose. "Kind of. My mom taught me the basics of the basics, but I don't know if I'm good for much more than re-attaching a button."

I crossed my arms and tipped my chin in acknowledgement. "We can fix that."

I was about to return to the front room to resume my usual shift, when she turned to look at the closed doorway just beside the rear exit.

"Where does that lead?" Her tone implied that there was something ominous about the door, and her dramatics were adorable.

"My apartment." I tipped my head to the side slightly. "My parents live in the suburbs, but I took over the second floor of the shop to shorten my commute. Would you like a tour of my room as well?"

"N-no, of course not." Her cheeks lit up with a warm red, as beautiful as freshly spilled blood. "We should probably go check on the storefront and make sure there aren't any customers waiting," She said in what I assumed was an attempt to change the subject .

She was quite cute, indeed. I wouldn't admit that her reactions had my own heart racing a few extra beats per minute. Whatever she was picturing as a result of touring my room, I probably would be best to not ponder on any further. After all, I still didn't know what she was, and I couldn't let her drag me into her pace. She was charming, and I was interested in knowing more, but she was also a dangerous unknown right now for someone like myself. It might be best I start trying to get some answers out of her sooner than later if my physical reaction to her presence continued to be so strong.

We returned to the front of the shop, where I let her shadow me for a few simple transactions as customers came in and purchased their goods. A young woman bought a lovely dress that my father had designed, a man picked out a birthstone necklace for his girlfriend with a little help from my extensive knowledge of Zodiac based gems. When the store had been empty for long enough, Lila finally breached the subject I knew she'd been waiting to talk about.

"So you've lived in Graves your whole life?" She started organizing the selection of earrings like a nervous tick.

"My whole life." I confirmed.

"So you can just tell when someone isn't human? Just by looking at them?"

Oh? Was she starting to figure out that she wasn't human? Or was that ignorance all an act, and she'd been simply trying to disguise as one? Maybe I'd misread, and she was worried I'd figured her out rather than deeply in denial .

"It's in the eyes, mostly." I adjusted my glasses. "But it can also be discerned via scent, mannerisms, occasional slips from human idiosyncrasies, or accidental partial shifts while excited. Particularly in the case of young shifters, it's not uncommon that a fang might appear in a moment of arousal, or eyes might turn to slits while surprised. Though non-shifters, like ogres or golems or mermaids, typically hide using enchanted accessories or cloaks. But even with magical enchantment, it's fairly obvious who is who if you're observant enough." I started with the generic answer. I was going to feel her out a bit more before I explained her tell.

"You do have unusual eyes." She pondered on that for a moment.

It seemed that it never even occurred to her to look into her own reflection and better examine her rose glittered irises. Maybe she believed those gorgeous sparkles were ordinary. Or maybe she didn't look at her own reflection closely enough to notice. I couldn't say which, but both were oddly tragic.

"As do you." I offered, rather bluntly.

"Not really." She shook her head. "Maybe by shifter standards, but for a human, brown is pretty common and boring."

By the devil, woman . I knew she wasn't an idiot, but she was painfully oblivious. "There are a few other tells that have nothing to do with mannerisms." I supplied next. "As we noted earlier, scent can tell you a lot. Not to mention—" The door chimed, and I cut myself off before I could finish that thought. My sigh was purely internal, while my face wore a perfect smile, as I turned to greet the new customer .

Lila was just as quick to revert to a flawless customer service front. She was a natural at hiding in plain sight.

I finished helping the young human woman who was looking for a new coat, mildly annoyed at the interruption. I had to accept that this wasn't the time to be discussing such sensitive information anyway. It would be nice to get Lila more fully alone, in a setting where no one would interrupt us, but to ask such a thing was much too forward at this point.

When yet another handful of customers entered the shop, some human, some beast, we both agreed to continue at a later time with a silent nod.

That was fine. There was no rush. Maybe I just had to talk her into an overnight shift on one of these full moons.