Page 5

"Then I'll go get her myself."

And I will.

Even if I have to cross the world and drag her here myself.

Chapter 1: Cienna

My ankles wobble a little on my heels. I adjust my stride, slow down, and take my time, ignoring how my untried shoes clatter on the marble floor of La Paris. The name is pathetically obvious for an elegant French restaurant, but hey—it works.

I take in the room as I walk—ladies in boutique dresses with designer purses, men in bespoke suits—and glance down at my off-the-rack skirt and silk blouse, that I dressed up with pearl accessories. It's fancier than my usual yoga pants and long sweater, and far more comfortable. I think I know what he has planned. Steven hasn't been subtle—asking what restaurant I'd like to try in Minneapolis, what my favorite type of food is, whether there is a particular flower I like. It's a lot, from a man who has become closer than a mere colleague. He's one of my best friends.

I twist the fabric at the side of my skirt back and forth before catching myself and forcing my hands to lie flat at my sides. He's going to ask me to marry him. He doesn't love me. I don't love him. But we are compatible. When we work together in the lab, we don't even have to look at each other to complete a sentence, hand off a test, or fill a crucible. We know what the other needs. We're like zippers—we just click, click, click, as we rise. And we have been rising.

Tonight should be a night of celebration. A major breakthrough has put our research on track for a grant project worth millions. We didn't start this for the money, but we will definitely take it. Our goal has always been to help shifters—all shifters. Why shouldn't shifters have the same opportunities as everyone else?

I look at the couples dining around me and think, yeah. The same chances as everyone else. We should be able to meet a nice person, fall in love, get married. None of this alpha-and-omega stuff—just pure love, not dictated by biology. Truthfully, if I could change anything about shifter biology, I'd change that. It shouldn't be left to random fate, this hope that a stranger's scent would one day set your soul on fire. At least that's what I tell myself.

I've never tried to work on that part of our biology. Because a part of me—a small, quiet part—still wishes I get what my parents have.

When my father saw my mother, he said he'd never seen a more beautiful cougar. They were both on a run in a state park, and by the end of that night, she was his in every way. Thankfully, they never shared the details. Cringe. I was born exactly nine months later.

I always wanted to find my alpha, and the place where I belong. But apparently that's too much to ask. The only place I've ever belonged has been a classroom or a lab, surrounded by people who don't know me or, worse, only see me as a scientific prodigy. Before I met Steven, that was all I had. He's here to propose something more. I'll finally have a chance to belong to someone, even though he's not my alpha. He'll be mine.

And maybe that's enough.

It's not like Steven is some consolation prize I picked up in the clearance aisle because the good stuff sold out. He's handsome, intelligent, thoughtful, and patient with me when I disappear into the lab for sixteen hours and forget to return his call. He understands my work because it's his work, too. He doesn't complain when I message him at three in the morning because I've figured out the exact stress-force ratio for a rabbit's new leg, so it doesn't snap on its first hop.

Instead of complaining, he listens, asks questions, and sometimes comes up with an answer I hadn't considered. How many women can say that about the men they marry?

I know the odds; I'm a scientist. My chances of crossing paths with my fated mate are why humans invented negative exponents.

I understand the rules. If Steven and I marry, we break our bonds forever—the possibility of them, anyway. As soon as he bites and marks me, we change our fates and our biology forever. The change is painful, and my true mate and I will never find each other. We could be in the same room and never know that our bond was destroyed by the other. It's a devastating choice, but it makes sense. All those people who never find their mates deserve to be happy, and nature has given them that chance. It will never be what the fated match would have been. But it will be something.

Something good. Something we build together instead of waiting for nature to hand it to us.

I square my shoulders. Twenty-five is very young to make this choice; I know that. But I will make it. If I'm right, and Steven is here to ask me to be his wife—his partner, more than his lab partner—well. We've been besties since med school. Maybe it's finally time for more.

He stands when he sees me walking toward him, ever the gentleman, looking as out of place in his suit and white shirt—buttoned to the collarbone, of course—as I feel in my fancy clothes.

This is it. This is life as we will make it together.

I reach the table and take his hand as he seats me. We might not be fated mates, but this match will be perfect. I squash every flicker of hesitation, sit down, and squeeze the hand of the man who will be my partner for life.

Carrie pounces on me the second I walk through our office door and snatches me right into the reception area.

"Don't leave me hanging, girl. Did he ask you or not? Give me your hand. You said, yes, didn't you? Give me your hand."

She grabs it before I can answer a single question, and oohs and aahs and tap-dances her feet when she sees the ring.

"They say three months' salary, but this must be at least six." She steps back, presses her palm over her heart, and sighs. "My little girl is growing up and getting married. I can't believe it. I'm so happy for you."

I roll my eyes. "You're only five years older than me, Carrie."

"I know, but you know—" She pulls me into her arms and hugs me again.

I stiffen for a second, then laugh, roll my eyes, and dissolve into her. "Yes. He asked me. And I said, yes."

She pulls away, hands on my shoulders, and looks me in the eyes, suddenly careful. "And the whole fated-mates thing? The alpha-omega thing? You're okay with that? You guys are good?"