Owyn pulled his t-shirt over his head and picked his cap up off the floor.
It was settled then. Romance was the name of the game, and Doc’s heart was the prize. He’d play hard, and if she still didn’t trust him with her love…
Well, it wouldn’t come to that.
It couldn’t. Otherwise their secret will have meant nothing. And he refused to let that happen.
Chapter Three
Back then…
Owyn sat on his stool at Cleaver’s bar, staring into his half full highball glass. The amber liquid wasn’t helping the boulder lodged in his chest, but it wasn’t not helping either. Which was more than he could hope for given what today was.
He’d stay a while longer.
The shifters-only watering hole was a dirty place full of dirty deeds done without remorse. It hadn’t felt dirty all those years ago when Owyn and Magic frequented it. It had just felt like… reality. It was a place males went to get fucked or fucked up. Females occasionally too, but never mated ones.
A singular night, forever marked in Owyn’s heart, changed that. This night, five years prior, when he was just becoming a man.
And Magic, the man he looked up to, made a fatal judgment call.
Cleaver gave the counter in front of Owyn and pass with a rag. “Need a refill?” the falcon-shifter and owner of the sin den asked.
Owyn gave him a nod and waited for a fresh beer.
A crash over by the pool tables caught his attention as a rangy looking lion shifter pushed a bear into the cue rack. The lion looked crazy in the eyes. Half starved or feral. Something wasn’t right with him, but Owyn couldn’t care. Males came to the bar looking for a fight all the time.
Fighting and sex fulfilled two of a shifter’s most important base instincts.
Cleaver slid an icy glass in front of Owyn and leaned on the bar with his elbows. “How’s Magic doing?” he asked low.
“Fine, I guess.”
“Fine huh? He hasn’t been around since… since that night.”
Owyn nodded. Magic was done with this life. Done with females and done with the bullshit way the mountain cats lived. Done with Cleaver, done with all of it. Owyn couldn’t blame him. He shouldn’t be here either.
He ran his middle finger around the rim of the glass, and Cleaver caught the hint, moving on to serve the next customer.
Owyn could’ve spent this anniversary anywhere else, but it only seemed fair to return to the place that brought on the tragedy. Being here served as a reminder of the dangers of careless mating. And though he didn’t need the reminder now, when the wound was only five years old, he’d need it later. Keeping it at the forefront of who he was would serve him another day.
Five years ago, Mandi and Magic were newly-mates, still living under the old ways. The ways that favored the males of the species and procreation rather than emotions and love. The ways that were disgustingly animalistic and left little of their humanity at the forefront.
Monogamy wasn’t possible. Or so they’d been told. And who were they to argue when it meant they could have whatever they wanted? License to fuck whoever sure sounded nice when they were young and stupid. But what about when they were in love, like Magic was back then. When they wanted only one woman but they’d been taught the necessity of many.
Fucked up shit, is what it was. And it’d taken a goddamn tragedy for any of them to realize it.
No, that wasn’t right. They’d realized it, back in the recesses of their minds where they didn’t want to play. It’d taken a tragedy to make it hit home and thunder through their core beliefs.
That, and only that, made Mandi’s death worth something.
She’d killed herself when she thought Magic had strayed. Drank poison rather than fight for what they had. And he’d been an ignorant ass, just like all of them, uncaring that their situation bothered her, because it was just the way of things. And like most feline females, she was just supposed to get used to it. He and Owyn partied away at Cleaver’s bar while a female of their clan was filled with so much despair she didn’t think she could go on living.
It wasn’t okay. None of it was okay, and it wouldn’t be for a long time. Maybe not ever. All they could do now was cope with their guilt and do their damndest to protect other females from feeling the same way.
A wolf-shifter took the stool next to Owyn. “Damn cat,” he muttered to Cleaver, gesturing to the volatile lion shifter. “Bastard’s looking for his female so he can claim her. He’s half crazy with lust already and she ain’t even around.”
“Shee-ut,” Cleaver spat, staring at the pool area. “You know who she is?”
The wolf eyed Owyn. “Yeah, but I ain’t saying. What if she don’t wanna be found?”