Bronaz’ acceptance to dinner finally comes through several hours later. I was beginning to worry he wouldn’t want to meet.

I’m not sure why, he seemed willing enough to exchange phone numbers earlier. So I chalk it up to being busy and not being able to get back to me quickly.

It doesn’t matter because he said yes. My dragon wiggles in delight at the prospect of getting to know Bronaz better.

We agree to a time later in the week, which is a mistake on my part. It gives me way too much time to fret about it.

I want to cook something special but not too special. Sort of ordinary but not too ordinary. What does he like? Is he allergic to anything? Why didn’t I think to ask this before?

Panicked preparation has me in a tizzy and I change my mind a half a dozen times before settling on something simple that my dad cooks often. Of course I have to call and get the recipe. My parents suspect something’s up but I push off their questions, saying that I don’t have much time to talk.

That is so rude. Especially when my father chuckles right before he hangs up. I’ll call and tell him later.

While dinner simmers on the stove, I spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror trying to find the right shirt. And by right shirt, I mean one not stained or wrinkled.

Clean. I’d settle for clean. Now I regret not doing laundry earlier in the week.

It isn’t completely my laziness that has put me in this predicament of what to wear. I’ve been slammed full busy the past few weeks and it seems like half my pregnant clients all got together and decided to have their babies at once.

Things are calmer now as we have moved into the next phase of scheduling for their new set of needs with a baby in the mix.

I still didn’t do my laundry like I should have.

I find something appropriate, a deep burgundy button up shirt. It’s not too wrinkled and those can be smoothed out in the steam when I have a shower.

After stepping in the hot spray to let it beat down on my super tense shoulders, I steady myself with deep, cleansing breaths. If I get too wound up, I will come off acting desperate. That’s not a good thing.

No one likes someone who is desperate and clingy.

It shouldn’t matter, though, right? I mean, we’re fated mates. There is no denying it. I felt it when we touched.

No doubt in my mind at all.

When the doorbell rings, all the nerves I managed to talk down spring back up again. Every one of them land in my stomach and do somersaults. My dragon croons soothingly in the back of my mind to help keep me from being stupid.

The door opens and my mouth goes dry to see Bronaz standing there. He’s in a simple white button down dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos. I half registered that he had tattoos when I first met him but to see them up close now is a little exciting.

It gives him a bit of a dangerous edge to how he presents himself.

What he’s really like, well, I guess I’ll find out.

He smiles when he sees me, his eyes sparkling. “Hey. Hope I’m not late.”

“No, you’re right on time.” I motion for him to come in. “I’ll just put the dinner rolls on. We’ll have a few minutes to chat before we eat. Can I get you something to drink?”

He holds up his hands. In one, he has a bottle of wine. White. “I didn’t know which kind to get since you didn’t say what you were cooking.”

“It’s perfect, actually, since I made my dad’s famous Russian chicken over rice.” I take the bottle from him and our fingers brush. The electric touch jolts me and I gasp softly from how it shoots through my body. If that’s what I have to look forward to every time he touches me, I’m in for a hell of a ride.

Apparently he feels the same thing and our fingers linger a little longer before he blinks and pulls his hands away. “I also brought beer if the wine didn’t go over well.” He holds up a six pack.

“That’s perfect, too.” I step back and gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen. “Let’s take this to the fridge to chill while we wait for the rolls. What do you want to drink first? Beer, then wine for dinner?”

Bronaz follows and puts four of the beer bottles in the refrigerator. “Beer first. Want one?”

I point to the drawer that holds the bottle opener. “Church key is in there.”

While he opens our beer, I put the rolls in the oven and check the rice in the cooker. “Seven to nine minutes, then we’ll eat.”

He pops the cap off both beers and holds one out to me, which I take in the hopes of hiding my nervousness.

Standing in the kitchen is a little awkward so I head for the living room. He’s close behind and we both settle on the couch. I think it’s a good sign that he’s sitting close to me. That’s a good sign, right? That means he’s not sitting across the room from me.

I’m getting too worked up. I need to calm down.

To gather my thoughts, I take a sip of beer. “Did you have trouble getting here?”

“Not at all. The city maps stay up to date, which is a big help. Nothing’s worse than taking the next turn at the corner only to find it is a dead end alley and no way to turn around. Not that it’s ever happened to me.”

I see the small quirk of his lips. That’s a good sign, too.

“It’s the very reason I don’t drive in Stell any more. Trying to second guess the city maps got me in more trouble than it was worth.” I feel a little more relaxed now that he’s actually here and sitting right next to me.

But there’s just something a little off. Maybe it’s that we don’t know each other. I normally have no trouble talking with new clients and putting them at ease. Why now all of a sudden do I feel like I have a mouth full of cheese or something?

“So how long have you been a doula?” Bronaz angles on the couch to face me, his arm braced on the cushion back and knee pulled up on the seat cushion between us. It’s a casual gesture and I normally wouldn’t think more about it except I can’t shake the feeling that it isn’t a casual gesture but a calculated one. As if to make sure there is distance between us.

I’m a little confused but for the moment, I’m still willing to chalk it up to first time meeting nerves. After all, neither of us were expecting to meet our fated mates out of the blue.

“About twenty five years. After finishing college with a degree in physical therapy, I didn’t find it all that satisfying a career choice. It paid well enough and everything but I didn’t feel like it was what I was supposed to be doing.” I run my fingers through my hair nervously. It’s still a little damp. Now I worry about not having dried it. Do I look too dumb?

“What made you change your mind? Just boredom?”

“One of my neighbors, when I lived in an apartment. She went into labor early and had no one to take her to the hospital. So I did and I stayed with her. Months after, she thanked me profusely for being her support in a time she needed someone and I realized there had to be something like it that I could do. Looked into it, researched it and went to night classes to get my certifications. I haven’t looked back since.”

Bronaz glances at his bottle with a thoughtful look. It’s almost as if he didn’t really hear me and was just nodding politely.

Was I boring? Did I bore him? My nerves just won’t stay settled!

“That’s always nice, to finally find what you were meant to do.”

“What about you?” I prod his knee with my bottle. “Have you always wanted to be a tattoo artist?”

“Not really.” Bronaz snaps out of whatever thought he was in and looked at me with his amazing eyes and inside-melting smile. Now he is present with me again. “I haven’t really found my passion because I haven’t looked for it. I’m a decent enough artist and it’s fun. I like creating the tattoos on clients and I’m good at that too. My strongest point is being able to handle the walk-ins.”

“So you don’t want to be a tattoo artist?”

“I don’t not want to be one. I’m pretty good. Honestly, I’m there because of the guys. They’re my best friends and they were there for me when I had…issues early in my life. Taran wanted to open the shop and this is my way of supporting him.”

That was cryptic. Before I could press for more, the timer went off for the rolls. “Come on, you can help set get the food on the table.”

Once we actually sat down to dinner, the conversation flowed much more easily. Or maybe it was the beer.

A fleeting thought occurs to me that it might be the distance at the table but I push that away. That’s my overactive imagination, I’m sure of it now. Bronaz is funny and charming and a little flirty when he talks with me so I chalk it up to first meeting jitters.

The beer gives way to the wine, which is a bad move for me if I get carried away. I’m such a sloppy drunk so I promise myself only two glasses.

“So are you originally from the Stelline territory?” All through our talks I notice that Bronaz rarely talks about himself. He asks engaging questions and I feel like I’ve spilled my entire life to him but he’s still this blank wall to me.

His gaze shutters and I feel his energy withdraw a little bit. “Yeah. On the coast about two hours north of here. Taran and I are from the same area.”

“And your family? Are they still there?”

“Yeah. They want to stay close to where my brother…close to my brother. My sister is planning on moving to the city. We had lunch the other day, when I met you.”

And that was it. Nothing about the rest of his family except one aborted comment about his brother. “Oh, that’s nice. To have at least some of your family close. Mine moved to Fairwyn territory where the humidity is lower and the air is dryer.”

“I hear the mountain climbing there is top rate,” Bronaz says as he stands to help me clear the table.

I pull the apple rhubarb pie from the refrigerator and he sets out the plates and forks.

“I’m not much for mountain climbing.”

“Oh?” he gets another beer and holds one up in question, which I decline. “Not enough time?”

“On call most days, actually.” I like to stay in close touch with my clients, ready to go to their side on a moment’s notice.

Bronaz tucks into the pie with a hearty appetite. That pleases me. I’d hate it if I screwed dinner up. “Do you ever take time off?” he asks.

“I steal it when I can. Like tonight.”

“This was really good,” and he waves his fork around. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever.”

“You don’t cook?”

The expression on his face grows dark again. “Not any more.”

Finally, it’s just too much. I’m not sure what to make of this hot and cold running temperature with him. At one moment, he looks at me with this open, interested, engaged expression, the next he’s shuttered and closed off. It’s driving me batty.

“I appreciate that you came over, Bronaz. I really do because I wanted to get to know you better. But I can’t help feeling that you’re not exactly here, you know?” I spread my hands helplessly. “If it wasn’t a good time, we could have rescheduled. All you had to do was say something.”

The look on his face is surprise, then a little sadness. “Shit. Shit, no Kuras. That’s not it. I’m sorry.”

He pushes back from the table and scrubs at his face. With a jerk, he’s out of the chair and taking the plates to the sink. “I am a little preoccupied tonight.”

At least he didn’t lie about it. Or I’m hoping he’s not lying now. That’s not the sense I’m getting at least. I join him at the sink. “I could tell. Do you need to talk it out? I’m a really good listener.” I nudge him playfully. “I even have references.”

He laughs at that and the tense line of his shoulders relaxes. So he is telling the truth.

“I appreciate it but I don’t to bother you with this. It’s not your fight.”

Not my fight? Now I am intrigued. Did this have to do with his family or his brother, which he has hardly mentioned all night? “Maybe not, but you never know, I might be able to help. Even if it’s to be a sounding board. Everyone needs a sounding board.”

Bronaz searches my face, looking for something. It’s impossible to tell what since he’s been closed off almost all night. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the muggings that have been targeting the mythical shifters?”

By the time Bronaz finishes explaining what’s been going on, we’ve killed the six pack and the bottle of wine. Surprisingly, I’m still very clear headed. Everything that’s been going on and I hadn’t heard a peep about it. I’m floored.

I sit back on the couch next to him. His knee is up on the seat cushion again but this time he’s not sitting so far away. His knee brushes my thigh. I take that as a very positive sign that he’s starting to warm to me.

“I can’t believe that the police won’t do anything about the muggings.”

Bronaz shrugs. “What can they do? To them, it’s just run-of-the-mill muggings of citizens. It happens all the time. They take the reports and do the minimum to find who’s doing it. They know nothing about the victims being mythicals or that we’re being deliberately targeted. We’re on our own for this.”

“That’s just…horrible. And now they’ve kidnapped someone? What are they going to do with her?”

“No idea but her sister is frantic to get her back. All of us at the shop are doing everything we can to help find her.” Bronaz scrubs his fingers through his hair. “We’re running into walls no matter which way we turn.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” I hate seeing Bronaz so frustrated and this is a situation that clearly bothers him on a deep level. He hasn’t said anything but that haunted look is in his eyes again.

And just like that, the openness we had as he talked is gone and the wall is back up. I want to scream.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kuras.”

“Why not? I’m good with people. I can talk to anyone and put them at ease.” Except my fated mate, apparently.

I push back my sour thoughts. Now is not the time to be a jerk.

“I don’t want to risk the safety of my fated mate. You have Austin you need to tend to. That’s a huge help right there. From what Nyve says, he was unprepared to be a father so he’ll need the guidance and support.”

I wanted to help doing more than that. I press my lips into a line. “Bronaz, seriously, I’ll be fine. I won’t go chasing off by myself. But you said it yourself, you guys are on your own. So let me help.”

Bronaz wants to resist and I don’t understand why. He says it’s because I’m his fated mate but I can just tell there’s something more.

I wish he would tell me.

After a deep breath, Bronaz nods. “Fine. I’ll let the guys know.”

It’s not a time to celebrate with a whoop and a shout, not with that look in Bronaz’ eyes, but I’m elated on the inside.

I just found my fated mate. I’m not about to let him do this without my support.