It wasn’t.
Plus, my skin was itching.
Just like it had when we were headed to my parents’ house. I’d done a little googling during the day, trying to learn as much as I could about shifters.
There was much more written about them than I’d realized, numerous white papers researched by well-respected scientists from various universities throughout the world.
The bottom line was that for all the hype presented by the media, all the myths and rumors that had been flying around for almost two years, shifters did exist. The phenomenon had been proven through countless scientific tests. No longer could I shove my head into the sand.
Especially since I’d exhibited signs of being in heat as female animals did during different periods of their lives.
But I was human.
At least that’s what my birth certificate said.
While the great scientists had yet to come up with a better name for my condition, there’d been hundreds of reports of them and subsequent matings during the two-year period. In turn, and at least according to the latest information, several babies had been born to mixed species couples. Who knew?
The announcements had pushed various hospitals into embracing the fact soon there would be a need for an entirely different wellness program geared toward hybrid children. I was still having a tough time wrapping my mind around the fact two creatures from different species could be drawn to one another both chemically and emotionally.
I’d also found an article written about the debacle on theToday Showincident. They’d insisted they’d been lied to. Someattorney by the name of Michael Weston had threatened a huge lawsuit. I’d done further digging, realizing the lawyer making all the fuss was attached to the Masters family.
And boy, did I find several articles on Steven’s father Barrett Masters. The man was practically a legend in the shifter world. I’d been blown away.
And impressed.
When several beads of sweat rolled down both sides of my face, I had to get some air. I headed to the bathroom, splashing water on my face. As soon as I involuntarily scratched my arm again, I held it into the light. There was a light rash covering several inches.
Another telltale sign of the mating process.
Heat: Oh, you bet. It was like I was having hot flashes twenty-four/seven, especially when Steven was within a few hundred yards.
Itch: All I had to do was lift my shirt or check my arm.
Throbbing pussy: As embarrassing at it was, my cunt hadn’t stopped throbbing since the night before. I’d changed panties four times because I’d been so wet, the material had been soaked.
Swollen nipples: If the anguish caused by them scraping against the lace of my bra was any indication, I was fully in heat.
Huffing, I stormed from behind the stand, refusing to believe what human nature was trying to tell me.
I was not Steven Masters’ mate.
No way.
Impossible.
A loud cracking sound followed by wild applause drew my attention. I couldn’t help myself and headed toward the stadium seating, taking my apron off in the process. I wasn’t certain if the team manager or my boss would like me to be seen with the concession stand apron on.
Tawny had been right. I had a perfect view of the ice.
And I was in awe.
This was different than an ice-skating event. The energy level was off the charts. Plus, there was a vibe of electricity that could not be denied.
Including buzzing in every muscle in my body.
My mind skipped back to what I’d read earlier in the day. Was it really possible karma or Mother Nature or some shifter god above had determined we would be good mates?
Almost immediately, my eyes caught Steven racing down the ice, flicking the black chunky thing around with his stick. No, I had no idea of hockey terms. I couldn’t care less.
