There it is, I remembered thinking as my fathers pulled their SUV up in front of the Woodcreek Mill.

“There she is,” Andrew, my father Will’s omega, said with approval as he looked up at the lumber mill which sat on the top of the hill like a chicken on a nest of eggs. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“I guess so,” I said hesitantly, rolling down the passenger side window to get a better look. It certainly was a sight to see. Piles and piles of logs lined the ridge and I could see the towering hull of the first mill that I knew was simply one of many that stretched back from the road. I could hear the sound of saws and smell the sweet scent of fresh pine and sap. Coming from the suburbs of Portsmouth, this was a bit of a different setting than I was used to.

“Always love the smell,” my father Will said, inhaling deeply. “We don’t get pine this fresh in the shop. Can’t really work it anyway that soon, but I sure love the smell.”

He hit the gas and wheeled the SUV up the slope toward the parking lot. I must have looked miserable as we pulled in and parked, because Andrew looked at me and stuck out his lower lip.

“Don’t be miserable,” he said with a chuckle. “You know why you’re doing this, right?”

“Because I’m your slave and this is child abuse?” I replied, half joking.

“Oh, hush, Clarence,” Will chided me, undoing his seatbelt.

“You want to work in the shop with us, right?” Andrew continued. “Make furniture? Take over the business one day?”

I nodded. He was right about that. My fathers ran a very successful custom furniture and woodworking business in Portsmouth. I’d grown up running around in the shop, playing with wood scraps, playing with my little play tool chest, pretending like I was helping. But as I grew older, I realized it was actually something I loved and wanted to do. For most kids my age, fresh out of high school, that was a rarity.

“Well, your father and I both worked the mill when we were your age,” he told me. “It taught us about all about wood, how to handle it, how to read the grain, where it comes from. It taught us respect that you need to be a skilled carpenter. And we want you to have that knowledge as well.”

I nodded as we got out of the car. The mills stretched out before me, and I must have counted at least six as I followed my fathers to the office. The room was small and sparse, with a simple pine slab desk and chair. Behind it sat a man that just looked like the epitome of a lumberjack.

He was older, probably in his fifties, with a thick brown beard, sea salt sprinkled gray in his dark hair, a chiseled jaw, overall work pants and a flannel shirt. I half expected him to pull out an axe and toss it over his shoulder and start singing Paul Bunyan.

“William!” He roared, getting up from his desk and coming around to meet my fathers. “Andrew! How the Hell are you boys!?”

“Doing well, Henry!” Will said with a smile, clasping hands with the boss.

“Good to see you, Henry,” Andrew said, turning to me. “Here he is. Fresh meat for the mill!”

Ugh, I groaned as Henry snatched me by the hands and squeezed. I could feel the thick calluses and vise-like grip you’d expect from a working man like him.

“Yeah, his hands are soft,” Henry cackled, looking at my parents with glee. “We’ll take care of that in no time. You ready to work, son?”

“I guess so,” I said with a sigh. That drew an even harder squeeze on my hands, cracking my knuckles. “Ow!”

“We don’t like guesses here, son,” Henry said firmly. “Either you’re ready to work or you ain’t. Half assin’ things around here causes accidents, and we don’t like those here at Woodcreek. So I say again; are you ready to work?”

I looked to my dads for help, but none came. I guess this was what it meant to step up and be a man – a man who hadn’t even had his first heat yet.

Summoning up whatever I could inside me, I squeezed his hand back as hard as I could. It barely budged, but I saw his eyes light up at my effort.

“I’m ready to work, boss,” I told him firmly. I could feel the approval in the room as he released me.

“Atta boy,” he said. “Now, the mess hall’s over there. Go grab yourself some chow and we’ll get you started unloading a truck this afternoon.”

With a nod, I turned to my fathers, who looked at me approvingly.

“We’ll be back at seven to get you,” Will told me.

“Okay, bye,” I replied, heading out of the office.

The main road was covered in sawdust and chips as I made my way toward the “mess hall,” as he’d called it.

What is this, the military?

I could smell the humans among the shifters. As usual, we were the minority. There was a lot of alpha on the air, and as I stepped up to the door to the cafeteria and pulled it open, the scent became even stronger.

In fact, one scent in particular hit me so hard I almost fell over.

What is this!?

The smell lit my nose like a light bulb that short circuited, popping and sending a thousand little jolts of electricity through my body. I’d heard of the mythical “fated mate” scent that so few shifters are able to experience. Was this it!?

I didn’t even have to scan the faces to determine the source of the scent. My eyes were drawn right to him.

And he was…breathtaking.

He was handsome in every way that I wasn’t – he was rugged, chiseled, hard, and reminded me of Nathan Fillion from Firefly, but with hair that made him look like he belonged in a rock band.

When our eyes met, it was like a volcano exploded inside of me. It wasn’t my first heat, but my entire body turned into a towering inferno of lust, spreading out from my chest, through my thighs and arms to my feet and hands, which tingled with excitement as I stared like an idiot.

I wanted to race over to him and throw myself in his arms, and I could see he wanted to leap out of his chair and tear my clothes off me. But before either of us could do what we wanted, a loud voice bellowed across the hall at me.

“Woo-weee!” It called. I turned to see a hungry alpha, with a head of slicked-back blond hair licking his lips at me. “Now, what do we have here? Fresh meat? Come over here, boy, and lemme have a look at you!”