“If he’s my… I’m not a shifter.”
Aries nodded. “I never said you were. Shifters are all about mates—annoyingly so, I admit—but they’re not the only species with mates. Vampires have them. Witches have them. Mages do, even humans, though their dulled senses make it hard for them to recognize their mates. Then again, I think your sire here told me you’d already found your Finn when you were both human?”
I nodded, my mind still reeling with what he’d said.
Vampires hadmates?
And Finn was supposedly mine?
No. No, this couldn’t be true. I’d sworn to myself I’d keep him far away from this world, but if he was my mate… it was just a matter of time until he’d get sucked into it. Right?
And all because of me.
I sat up straighter, giving Aries a serious look. “I need to know all about mates. Symptoms, err, signs. Everything.”
And then, I feared, I had a lot of thinking to do.
Chapter 8
Finn
There was no note waiting for me when I got home from the hospital. In a weird way, it was almost disappointing. I’d been mentally preparing for something like, “I told you so.” Because yeah, my medical fetishist stalker had told me so, and he’d been correct.
I was severely anemic and had a raging case of gastritis. I also had a referral to my usual doctor for follow-up iron infusions because my iron levels were so low that swallowing a couple of pills for a few weeks wouldn’t be enough. Oh, I’d still have to swallow pills—iron supplements and stuff for my gastritis—but that was in addition to the infusions.
Great.
Also, the doctor had recommended taking a couple of days off and decompressing. Because decompressing and not stressingout was so easy if you expected your stalker to have left a fucking note on your door every time you got home.
I entered my apartment and shut the door firmly behind me.
Nope.
I was not going to think about my stalker or how he’d known about my iron deficiency. That was the exact opposite of decompressing. Thinking about those questions was pure and utter stress.
A yawn rippled through me, my eyelids drooping a bit.
I hadn’t slept even a wink last night, and now I wasn’t allowed to have coffee for a couple of weeks. Great.
I was fucking dying.
My stomach hurt.
My head fucking hurt.
My eyes didn’t want to stay open.
And now there was someone at my door.
Whoever it was, I was going to fucking kill them!
Dragging myself from my couch to the door took ages, long enough for the person outside to buzz another two times. As if I hadn’t heard the fucking annoying doorbell the first time.
I’m not some kind of athlete.
“Yes?” I muttered into the intercom.
“Hi, I’m here to deliver your groceries.”
