He poured another shot of whiskey. “This is an early celebration.”
I downed the drink because it prevented me from answering him.
I should have paid and left, but I sat there, ogling his butt as he reached for a bottle of something. But I ordered another beer on top of the two whiskey shots and then another. He filled me in on the guy who’d asked him out, while spilling beer down his shirt, and I complained about my roommate and a professor who’d given me a B when I deserved an A.
It was the usual banter between friends, except friends didn’t look at one another the way we did, until he asked what was bugging me. My bear insisted I say that I had to go and wouldn’t be coming back, but I ignored him.
Instead of shrugging off his question with talk of a college class, the alcohol loosened my tongue. “What if you wanted something you couldn’t have?”
Merrick pressed his lips together, and our eyes locked. “I’d probably want it even more.”
No, that wasn’t the right answer. He should have said I had to walk away, damn it.
He nibbled his lower lip before replying with, “King, if you’re not interested, tell me now because I’ve been receiving these signals from you all semester. If I’ve been imagining your intentions, please tell me and I’ll back off.”
This was the moment I had to back away and tell him he’d made a mistake. It might sting, but it would protect him from the inevitable hurt.
“You're not imagining things.” What? No. Who said that?
My bear covered his ears, telling me I’d made a huge mistake.
“So what's stopping you?”
Ummm, everything and nothing. What else? I’d break his heart, and he’d hate me, and I might screw him up forever more. I should have just been honest with him. It was common knowledge that shifters existed, and while most humans didn’t pay attention to our law or traditions, most understood the concept of fated mates.
“I’m a fool.”
Merrick grinned. “Lucky for you, I like fools.” And then he left to serve someone.
That was the worst possible response. He should have shrugged and said, “Good luck.”
I waited until the last customer left and he closed up. Neither of us said anything as we walked out, side by side. My dorm mate was on a field trip, so we wouldn’t be disturbed.
“This is probably a mistake,” I said as we walked up the stairs to my room.
“I hope not.”
What followed were soft kisses, grabby hands, clothes flung aside, and warm hands on bare skin. It was dangerous, and I didn’t care.
I outstretched my hand, expecting to find Merrick at my side, but the other side of the bed was empty, with rumpled sheets the only sign someone had slept there.
His clothes were gone except for a shirt I found tangled in the bedding. How did he leave and not have his shirt? I sniffed it, wishing it contained the scent of my mate. Determined to see him before I headed to class, I stopped by the bar, which wasn’t open, but the manager came up behind me as I was peering in the window.
“If you’re looking for Merrick, he’s gone.” He huffed and unlocked the door. “Got a message early this morning, saying he’d quit because of a family emergency.”
“I have something of his.” I didn’t give a toss about the shirt, but he had something of mine: my heart.
“Can’t help you. He didn’t give me a forwarding address.”
I asked for Merrick’s phone number, but he said if the guy had wanted me to have it, he would have given it to me.
I stumbled away with the shirt clutched in my hands and tried to make sense of what had happened. The morning after we'd slept together, he'd quit his job and disappeared.
Because of me and what we'd done?
The next three days passed. I must have gone to class. Maybe I ate. My birthday arrived, and I did what I’d done every morning since he'd left. I sniffed his shirt.
What? No. It smelled different, better, more intoxicating if that were possible.
