“Yeah,” I admit, wishing I could do this without hurting him. I know he doesn’t deserve it. “But Jolly doesn’t seem to think it’s possible.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t even know anyone who’s ever wanted to dissolve their bond. And if you’re talking about Jolly Fortunes, he knows better than almost anybody.”
I nod along. “He’s my best friend.”
Poe’s posture sinks down even further. “Oh.”
Feeling guilty, I walk up to him and grab his shoulders, then immediately expel a relieved breath.Fucking hell.This simple contact takes down some of my internal agitation, and I hate it.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. This isn’t about you. I have a fucked-up history with avian shifters. Crows, specifically. And ravens and crows are…” I let out a disgruntled sound.
“Related, but not the same.” He raises his brows at me. “Also? One shifter being an asshole does not mean every single shifter in that particular species is an asshole.”
“I know.I know. But—” I grip my head, pacing. “I literallyjustgot out of a shitty relationship. She was a grifter who stole thousands of dollars from me. And now that I moved halfway across the country to get away from that fucking crow, I run face-first intothis,” I say, gesturing the length of him.
Hurt crosses his face and… dammit. I am such an asshole.
“I’m sorry, Poe. That came out wrong.” I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair. “I came here because I needed some fucking peace. She ripped through my life in Seattle, making my favorite city in the world an awful place. I’d visited Jolly out here abunch of times, and he convinced me to make the move.”
Snapping his mouth shut, Poe makes a sort of sad trill with his nose. “Sorry to have fucked up your big plans.”
4
POE
Of all the dreams I ever had about meeting my fated mate, never once did I dream it would be someone who hates me. Especially someone who hates me for something that isn’t even my fault and isn’t about me at all.
I was raised to look forward to being mated, and I spent untold hours dreaming about what it would be like to meet my one true love for the first time. When I reached maturity and still hadn’t found my mate, it still tookyearsto accept it wasn’t going to happen for me.
To have this sprung on me now, only to discover my mate hates me so badly he can barely even look at me? To have a bond that practically screams DO NOT WANT? I wish I could go back to that younger version of myself—the one who imagined so many lovely mating scenarios—and shake him until his head pops off.
The angry, hurt part of me wants to walk away, to tell this guy to go fuck himself, but that’s not how anyof this works. If I walk away now, all of these awful, unresolved desires itching under my skin will intensify for both of us until we’re driven insane with need.
I want desperately to fall to my knees for him, but I refuse to pleasure a man who can barely stand the thought of me. The untenable situation leaves me frozen, standing in his foyer, taunted by the kind of home I’d hoped to buy for myself one day. It’s open and airy, with a view of the Texas Hill Country any raven would give their tail feathers to have.
Despite the beige-colored walls, the living room has exquisite lighting and, most damning, built-in shelves—currently empty, natch—which would perfectly showcase the necessary trinkets of our lives together. I can see it so clearly, how I would fit into his life.
Pathetic.
I mean, it’s not like I expect him to instantly fall in love with me, but I’m tired of feeling like some gross specimen he has to endure.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, nearing me.
I flinch away from him and shake my head, walking out to the deck and the devastating vista of the big Texas sky over rolling evergreen hills.
“I don’t like you very much. And I don’t want to be here for a single second longer.”
Whipping off the baggy shirt I wore to hide my painful erection, I quickly slip out of my pajama bottoms and flip-flops. Underwear was absolutely out of the question when I got dressed, so with those pieces gone, I’m nude. Shooting him a fierce look over myshoulder, I face my uncertain future and shift. Wherever I’m meant to be, it’s clearly not here.
Talk about your Sophie’s choice. In my raven form, the physical need isn’t nearly as painful, which is a good thing. In its place, however, is an instinct so strong I’m finding it impossible to fight. I’ve spent the entire afternoon flying away from Thorin, only to find myself circling back to his place. It’s not even a conscious choice. I fly out over the lake, enjoy the view, then attempt to turn toward home and end up in his backyard.
After half a dozen attempts, I’m exhausted. Giving up, I land on the branch of a tree just beyond his deck. To give myself something to do, I search the area for the items I would need to build a comfortable nest. Luckily, the raccoons have managed to flip open the lid on his garbage can, and he uses the good cotton balls.
I’m not exactly thrilled with his choice of facial toner—it really is rather astringent—but at least I don’t have a bunch of twigs poking me in the ass. As I’m fussing with the final details—and yes, I found a tiny bit of quartz to jazz up the place—I’m overcome with the creeping feeling of being watched.
Hopping around, I startle to find Thorin’s wolf sitting peacefully on his deck. I turn away from him, ignoring all ofthatwhile I settle into a comfy spot. Asshole.
“I’m not a stalker,” I call out. “My internal GPSkeeps sending me here. I’m too tired to keep trying, so I’m going to stay out here tonight.”
