Dinner in the Woods

Grey dropped on to the bench along the wooded path. Silence greeted him. He’d not slept well since the night at the bar. Her scent refused to leave him. It was as though she’d wrapped herself around him and entwined his soul with hers.

“Right, since when does a human consider a shifter soul mate material? Fuck, I couldn’t determine who she was from all the blasted perfume moving around as the women crowded the stage asking for more songs.” Grey slumped against the bench. Closing his eyes, he inhaled.

Odors wafted through his nostrils igniting images and memories. Recently dirt dug filled the first flash. Construction on his new home in Anchorage came to mind. Digging for the basement and foundation was nearing completion.

The second reminded him of his shopping trip two days prior. The gal at the perfume counter flirted worse than a she wolf in double heat. Her zealous fawning over him and the obnoxious mixture of cloying fragrances had sent his stomach into fits. He’d smiled nicely and backed away shaking his head as he repeated no thank you twice. Why department stores insisted on crowding clothing next to the cosmetics and toiletries counters made no sense to him.

The third cuddled up to him like an old friend. Familiar and yet new. Behind his closed eyes, he flashed back to the Karaoke night. He’d known every woman in the crowd wanted him even if they were with someone. Thank gods and goddesses his geneticist had figured out that male wolves went through their own heats. His pheromones were leaking out faster than he could breathe. Not that he wanted endless orgies. Been there done that and had given away his surplus t-shirt souvenirs along with his own semi-worn dreams of sex without connection. Frack, his male id and ego refused to understand his rational human side at times. Ah well, he’d keenly noticed the middle-aged woman working her way toward the kitchen door as he sang. He’d caught bits and pieces of her smells as she watched him.

Inhaling again, Grey lurched forward. Her scent smacked against his psyche and whispered sweet promises of passion as it twirled around him. Lord, if his cock got any harder, he’d split his zipper. Cupping his hands over his nose, he tried short breaths, hoping to clear his head. No luck, he only intensified her marking him.

A distance behind him, he heard rustles. Rising slowly, he peered through the small opening in the bushes near another section of the path. An auburn haired woman sat on a colored quilt rolling a ball back and forth to a toddler who couldn’t be much more than three years old. The child counted to five, clapped her hands and laughed as she returned the ball back to her mother. Their basket and food left over items sat on one corner of the blanket. Grey kept quiet while he watched.

Michelle swallowed hard. Her three-year-old daughter, Tessa, looked like her father. Anyone who knew him would know whose sperm created her. Damn him for fucking and not looking back. Double damn him for not taking care to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. Blast his unholy soul to - - -Michelle flinched. Someone or something watched her. Glancing side to side, she saw nothing. Slightly cocking her head, she reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. No one could tell she listened and surveyed like a cat ready to pounce. Her weak shifter genes didn’t show in her features. Nor did any clan or animal lay claim to her kinship. Too bad they hadn’t realized that Granny knew how to develop their strongest traits and magical abilities. Whoever it was they were in for one hell of a fight. Michelle was done with running and hiding.

Grey inhaled sharply. His hand tightly gripped the back of the bench, crushing the wood edge into fragments. He’d found her. His groin tightened as his balls swelled and need clenched at his gut. What a hell of a time to find his mate. He didn’t want to frighten her off. Nor did he want to scare the child. He sensed her fear and angst. He’d wait and protect. That was his nature. Once they were gone, he’d morph and find his dinner in the woods. The need to hunt coursed through him.