Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Her eyes stung with hot tears. She’d like to think he’d see the truth one day. Like to think he’d come for her, apologize, ask for forgiveness, and try to stake his claim. But she wasn’t quite optimistic enough to let herself hope for it. Especially when he might just sign a mating agreement sometime soon.
A rustle of grass drew her attention to her far left just as a brunette stepped out from behind a tree, a smirk curving her mouth. “Well, that was interesting.”
Shit.
CHAPTER ONE
Nine years later
Having set his laptop on his thighs, Isaiah Hale switched it on and quickly logged in. He had a few things to do before attending a pride celebration later on, but he’d received a notification on his phone that he didn’t want to ignore.
He brought up the web browser and selected one of the tabs he’d left open—the sign-in page for a website he’d recently become a member of. FindYourMate.com was a shifter-run site that aimed to pair up any who wished to enter an arranged mating. Its success rate was pretty high. Not many of its couples had later been forced to dissolve the mating.
After signing up, he’d had to complete an extremely thorough—not to mention invasive—questionnaire. What were his likes, goals, fears, hobbies, favorite books, moral beliefs, worst traits, sexual preferences? Did he have kinks? Did he want children? How was his relationship with his parents? What were his pet peeves?
On and on it went.
It hadn’t been easy to expose so much of himself that way. But, no matter how personal the questions, he’d had to answer honestly. Otherwise, he would have been matched up with people who didn’t fit him on every level.
Isaiah would have refused to complete it if there hadn’t been a guarantee of secrecy. Not even members who were sent his name by the site would receive copies of his responses, just as he wouldn’t receive copies of theirs.
It had taken him a long time to complete, but he’d managed to submit the filled-in questionnaire last night. An hour ago, the website had notified him via email that his account would now show a list of three potential matches. Isaiah was way too curious to hold off on checking them out.
Hence why he was right this moment signing in.
He clicked on the “Suggested Profiles” tab and took a surface look at the list. All three were female, his preferred physical type, and lived local. The latter was important to Isaiah, as a mating would go forward more quickly if there weren’t flights to schedule and all that shit.
Set on ensuring that shifters used the site only to arrange permanent matches, the founders had set rules. One, you could only contact one person from the list of potentials at a time. Two, you had to reach out to them via the site. Three, if there was an agreement to meet, it had to occur at the website’s headquarters and each person’s Alpha had to be present.
Basically, there was no chance for them to be alone, hookup, get to know each other, nothing. They either arranged a meeting and thereafter agreed to move forward with a mating … or they didn’t. If nothing came from reaching out to a potential from his list, he could then contact another.
Isaiah clicked on the first name on his list, bringing up her profile. It was basic, protecting her confidentiality. He skimmed through it quickly before moving onto the next, giving it the same cursory assessment.
Opening the third profile, Isaiah leaned toward the screen. She was beautiful for sure, but it wasn’t her pretty oval face that snared his attention. Or all that black hair with streaks of tawny gold. Or even her full and extremely bitable lower lip. It wasn’t even the striking amber shade of her thickly-lashed wide eyes. No, it was the shadows in those eyes.
He saw those same shadows in his own gaze whenever he looked in the mirror.
Isaiah read through the information provided …
Quinley Bevan. Healer. Crimson Pride member. Black-footed cat shifter.
The latter made Isaiah’s brows lift. Black-foots were … interesting, to say the least. They definitely wouldn’t be scared off by Isaiah’s kind.
Every good shifter mother warned their offspring not to fuck with a pallas cat. He personally didn’t think it fair that his breed had such an awful reputation. It wasn’t as if they went around stirring shit or looking for trouble—they were content to live and let live. But if you jacked them over, no, they wouldn’t let you live.
In their animal form, they weren’t much bigger than a domestic housecat. But they were exceptionally strong, utterly ferocious, and would fuck up your shit with a profound rage that was often described as demonic.
But no, a black-foot wasn’t likely to be bothered by a small thing like “demonic.” Little disturbed them in general.