It was a laugh that meant we were still family and could continue relying on each other.
After that, we shot the shit about other decent players in the league, the shit we’d read on protestor signs, and our parents’ latest barbeque antics. My dad secretly wanted to be Bobby Flay.
But when our glasses were empty and Jim had refilled them, I could tell Savage was ready to open up about whatever was on his mind and he’d hunted me down to talk about it.
“Did Dad have the mating talk with you?” He continued popping peanuts as if the subject was no big deal. To me, the subject was akin to the one I’d had with Dad when I was maybe ten years old. All about the birds and the bees.
Wolf shifters matured in both species much faster than a typical human, which worried my mom and dad. My big brother had sat in on the conversation, my father insisting he needed a refresher course.
“Yeah, he did. He said I was going to turn into a violent, bloodthirsty wolf who’d rip apart people, eating their flesh and bone.”
Cocking his head, the look he provided was hilarious. “He did not.”
“I already feel the need to chomp on some beef jerky. Does that count?” I couldn’t hold my laughter for long.
“You are an asshole. But you’re not that far off.”
Still laughing, I brought the glass to my lips. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning there’s an insane asylum hidden away in the mountains where our kind are taken who either refuse to find a mate or are spurned by all females. They froth at the mouth and speak gibberish. They’re confined to their bed twenty-four/seven until they die. Which as you know could take two hundred years.”
“What?”
He nodded, acting completely serious. I must have shifted into a horrified expression. He burst into a dark chuckle. “All kidding aside, Pops did tell me that interventions had been needed in the past with some shifters. He didn’t go on to explain and I didn’t ask. But whatever the case, if you’re experiencing the same shit I was, find your mate and enjoy the change. Trust me, you’ll be a much better player.”
“Great. I just need more sex.”
“You know it’s more than that.” He locked eyes with mine. “You’ve found someone. Haven’t you?”
Hiding behind the beer seemed like the easy thing to do. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. There isn’t a book on finding your mate in our shifter library, you know.”
“But you feel something different with her?”
“Yeah, but my coach is worried she’s a plant.”
“She could be, but that doesn’t change the fact that she could very well be your mate,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
“How the fuck do I know for sure?”
“Let’s see if I can help. Hey, guys. I think my brother has found his mate, but he’s not sure. Can you help out?”
As soon as he called over anyone in the bar who wanted to get in the middle of my business, I cringed.
“Just went through it,” one guy said. He reminded me of an accountant with wire-rim glasses and a button-down shirt. “Question for you. Are your hands clammy all the time even if all you’re doing is thinking about her?” he asked.
I lifted my hands and he made a face. “Yep.”
The crowd of men nodded among themselves. A scruffier looking one wearing a dirty tee shirt and a thick, long beard stared me directly in the eyes. “Are you having extremely vivid dreams, I mean the kind that should be on Porn Hub?”
I’d made the mistake of taking a gulp of beer, almost choking to death. “Yeah. Sometimes in the middle of the day.”
“He’s got it bad,” someone from the back offered.
“Fuck, yeah,” another interjected. “Is your control completely shot, enough that if you aren’t careful, you’ll fuck her in front of anyone including if it means being arrested for indecent exposure?”
A strange laugh left my throat as a hard reality hit me between the eyes. Christine was my mate. Mate. “Yeah, I tackled her on her lawn.”
Even my brother whistled.
