“I’m not some sort of goddess. I’m just suggesting my presence is unwanted by the spirits.”
“And I’m suggesting that’s preposterous.”
Laurie flinched again. What did her mother know? She hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen the things that happened right in front of Laurie’s eyes.
“Don’t you think there could be another explanation? Maybe the spirit guides are trying to get your attention. But couldn’t it be for another purpose? Perhaps they didn’t mean for you to leave but for you to lead.”
“Lead?”
“Yes. Guide the folks of both counties into a better world. Stay. Fight the hard fight. Win.”
“What fight?” Laurie was confused, but she concentrated on her mother’s words.
“Racism. Judgmental thinking. Obviously someone has to stand up against that sort of bigotry. Why not you?”
Laurie moaned. “Why me?”
“Because you’re a kind, sensitive soul. You always have been. You’ve never meant anyone a moment of harm in your entire life. It must be hard facing that sort of adversarial resistance. Especially for the first time. But you’ll face it—head on. And you’ll win. And it will happen again and again for the rest of your life.
“People are mean. They’re ignorant. You’re indeed a mixture of Native American and Caucasian. It’s who you are. You can’t change it. You can only fight against the flagrant racism that will occasionally be thrown at you.”
“I’d rather it not be in the form of bricks.”
“Me too. But don’t let them win. If you let them win, you’ll hate yourself.” Her mother paused, and then she lowered her voice. “And there’s another thing you can’t change any more than your race.”
Laurie held her breath.
“Your mates. You’re not human. You do not get to pick your mates. None of us do. At least not in the conventional sense. Sure, sometimes two shifters meet and fall in love and circumvent the system a bit, but in the end they’re still mates. We mate for life. It isn’t something you can break. Not without tremendous heartache that would last for months. Perhaps years. Debilitating heartache.”
Laurie didn’t respond. She tried to soak in her mother’s words and remain immobile.
“I’ll let you think about that.” Joyce stood. “If you need me, yell.” She left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Laurie closed her eyes. As usual, every time she did so, she was met with a running reel of her mates behind her lids, as though she were watching a film. It wouldn’t stop.
She smashed her face into the pillow and fought against the tears welling up behind her eyelids. She was losing this battle. She could deny it verbally all she wanted, but the truth was her body craved the proximity of her mates with a force out of her control.
The ache between her legs increased. She concentrated on the pulsing of her clit that had a life of its own. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was swollen and stiff. And the wetness between her legs was undeniable.
She tried to think of anything else—anything unpleasant that would take her mind off sex—cow dung, the smell of raw sewage, the swirl of city residue as it runs down the edges of the street.
Nothing worked.
Her mind wandered back to her mates. Visions she couldn’t control flooded her mind instead of anything distasteful.
She pictured Corbin’s hands on her hips, the way he gripped her and held her steady before pressing his cock into her wet heat.
She arched into the sensation as if he were in the room with her now.
Zach leaning over her body, spreading her knees with his before nestling into the V and suckling her nipples until they ached with need.
They ached with the same need now.
She flipped onto her back in frustration, unable to prevent herself from imagining her mates arranging her in the way they wanted.
Her legs fell open. Her panties were soaked.
As if her hand weren’t in her control, she smoothed it down her belly and over her mound. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t succumb to the need to masturbate, but she couldn’t stop it. Like a freight train, it came barreling forward. It seemed to slam into its destination the second her fingers landed on her clit and stroked the swollen nub through the thin layer of cotton.
God, it felt so good. Amazing.
She dug her heels into the bed and lifted her hips off the mattress. With her free hand, she pinched her nipple.
A soft moan escaped her lips, startling her. She pursed her lips to keep from crying out. She needed to come so badly. She was on fire, her body so hot it burned.
Her legs shook.
Her nipples were so sensitive she had to lessen the pressure on the tip.