“Who’s that again?” I ask.
“Jase,” she whispers.
“Jason Creed.” He holds his hand out.
I shake it.
Jason Creed is a tall drink of water with light brown hair and light brown eyes. He’s wearing a brown button-down with dark jeans and that button down is only half buttoned, showing he’s tattooed from his neck down to his wrists.
No wonder she’s flushed. He oozes sexuality.
He smiles at her with dimples. Lordy.
A gorgeous woman in a miniskirt and cowboy boots signals to him from by the door and he says, “Excuse me ladies.”
“He’s a tall drink of water,” I whisper, watching him walk away.
“Mm.” Bailey stares at her plate and starts forking food in faster.
“Does he have a girlfriend? Was that her by the door?”
“Jase has plenty of girlfriends,” she mumbles.
“He’s not… uh… mated, though,” I ask.
“Nope,” she replies, staring at her plate.
Tyson’s hand sifts through my hair and he puts his nose to the spot on my neck. I shiver.
“What are you doing, Ivy?” he growls in my ear, low.
His tone feels… dangerous.
I look into his eyes. “I may be doing some matchmaking.”
His eyes flash with humor.
“Not mated? Hm,” I say.
Bailey’s eyes are on me and I think she heard what I said to Ty.
“Nobody’s mated from our alpha council. It happens in birth order, usually, or it has in the past, but with our pack things went a bit wonky with Tyson being gone. Hopefully with Ty in the mix things will run their usual course and these guys’ll all be taken off the market. Stop their whoring ways.” She rolls her eyes and I look over to the door where Jason Creed is whispering into that girl’s ear.
Is this Jase guy the one she’s got her big crush on?
By her reaction, I would bet money on it.
The rest of the meal is spent on chitchat. Lucy and Cat ask me questions about my life, and I fill them in and talk about my job, my family, and tell them about my mom, sister, and brother.
Lucy is a teacher at the school here, telling me they teach via a Montessori-like method and she has students ranging in age from kindergarten to high-school age.
“Do shifter people go on to a special college?” I ask her.
“We have people that integrate with mainstream society because they want to for school, but we also have a university in Scotland that many choose to go to because it’s easier. There’s a wide range of programs there. My daughter Trina’s there now, studying. My son, Brody, chose a mainstream school. He graduates in a few weeks.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
“Being in mainstream society is complicated,” Bailey adds. “My cousin fell in love with a guy and had to end it because she didn’t think he’d integrate with our pack. In order to bring a mainstream person in, the pack has to agree first. Sometimes people leave the pack and give up their community for love with a mainstream person, but more often, that person integrates with us.”
“The pack has to agree?” I ask.
“Unless it’s an alpha mating,” Bailey says. “In which case that stuff usually happens after because alphas have no self-control and aren’t about to ask anyone for permission to be with somebody.”
I look at Tyson. “Yeah, I can see that.”
He smirks.
Laughter comes from the neighboring table and it’s clear that some of those alphas agree with that statement.
“It’s tricky with friendships, too,” Bailey adds, “because if you become close with someone they’ll eventually wanna meet your family and we have to keep a distance. If some outsider shows up there’s an alert sent out so that everyone knows to be extra cautious. As you can imagine, we don’t want mainstreamers to know about us.”
“Is that something that’s ever been considered? Telling the world about who you really are?” I ask.
The mood goes strange.
“Sorry, if that’s offensive. I just don’t see why it couldn’t eventually be accepted.”
“You’re idealistic,” Riley says.
Obviously at some stage of the conversation, all the guys at that table began tuning into what we were talking about.
“But the reality - it’s safer the way it is. Supernaturals may be stronger, but there are more of the mainstreamers and history has taught us that it’d go wrong. Any time in history that anyone with differences has tried, it’s gone wrong. They outnumber us and it’s been shown time and again that mainstreamers can’t handle the truth about anybody considered supernatural.”
“That’s sad,” I say, “To live in secret.”
“We’re fine with it. It’s our way of life,” Riley tells me. “Believe me, we don’t lose out. Each major pack has a voice in a larger council, like a United Nations of sorts. Any major decisions would be brought there. They interface with councils of other supernaturals.”
“Others? You mean, non-shifters? What other sorts of supernatural beings exist?” I ask. “Or can you tell me?”