Page 70 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

Lottie furrows her brow, and her eyebrows drop low over her eyes. For someone who just learned about the non-human world, she is very calm and more concerned about things like Vincent ruining the forest with his drugs than a man who can shift into a giant wolf beast.

“They have the ability to alter a person’s emotions through touch. They can make you feel happy, sad, scared, aroused. They can’t control your actions but they can shift your emotions to be more amiable to their suggestions.”

Her eyes widen in realization, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “That’s why you pulled my hand away when he tried to shake it.”

“Yes. I didn’t want him to try anything with you, but . . .” I trail off, trying to figure out how to tell her the rest of it. “But I also didn’t want him touchingyou specifically.”

“Me? Why? Because I’m a human?”

“No, not just that. Among non-humans, we have mates. And I don’t just mean friends or spouses, butbonded mates. A person who is perfectly matched to our inner selves. Our other half that is perfectly made to be our partner, lover, and friend for the rest of our lives.”

Lottie sits still across from me, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug, completely engrossed in my words. I like her attention on me, and I like being able to tell her all of this. Even though I hadn’t planned on telling her so soon—at least not tonight in such a manner—a part of me is glad I slipped and shifted in front of her.

Nothing in our laws says we can’t tell a human what we are; only that if that human is a threat they must be dealt with. Usually with fairy dust and memory-altering. In extreme cases, death, but nothing like that has been necessary in decades. At least not in Snowberry. I can’t speak for how non-humans elsewhere deal with their issues.

“When we meet that person, we feel what we refer to as the mate pull. It’s like something inside of us attaches to that person and ties an invisible string between us. That string tightens and shortens, forcing us closer and closer together.

“You don’t have to act on the pull, but not doing so can be very emotionally and physically painful to sever. Although it can be done, most don’t ignore a mate pull. Being somewhat rare, although not singular. A possible mate could appear again if the first mate pull isn’t solidified. Most don’t risk finding an even rarer second mate to ignore the first.”

Clearing my throat, I take a fortifying inhale and slowly release it, preparing myself for the final part of my explanation.

“When I first met you, I felt this pull. I didn’t think it was a mate pull because you’re human. I can tell by your scent. To my knowledge, at the time, we couldn't have mate bonds with humans. But it kept growing and pulling me to you. So, I asked a friend of mine to do some research, and today at lunch he told me what he discovered.

“He says we can have a mate bond because somewhere in your lineage not too far ago, you have an ancestor who was non-human.”

“Wait, hold on,” she says, holding up a hand, stopping me, and briefly closing her eyes before opening them to narrow on me. “You’re saying my like great-grandpappy was a non-human?”

“Or something like that. Could have been a great-grandmother.” She laughs, the sound airy and high-pitched.

“So, I’m part non-human?”

“Apparently so, yes.”

Her eyes go distant, and I’m surprised she’s more concerned with the non-human ancestor than the whole she’s my mate thing.

“What kind?”

“What kind what?” I asked, confused by her question.

“What kind of non-human am I?” she clarifies.

“I have no idea. We would have to do a deep dive into your relatives to figure that out.”

“Hmm.”

That’s it? That’s all she has to say is hmm?

“You’re taking this all very well. Are you sure you’re not in denial or having a breakdown or something?”

Lottie shrugs, standing to refill her coffee mug. She stands by the counter, and I swivel in my chair to keep her in my line of sight.

“Maybe I am. But how am I supposed to react? Should I be crying or screaming? I mean, it’s strange but kinda cool to know that the creatures I’ve always assumed were fictional actually exist.” Her eyes widen with a twinkle, and the edges of her lips curl up. “I can’t wait to see a real fairy and mermaid.”

“They don’t like being called mermaids. Especially the men. Just call them meres or mere folk is fine,” I correct.

The mermaid title is something a human came up with eons ago because they saw a siren in the ocean, who usually happen to be female and devastatingly beautiful with a voice that can make anyone walk into a stream of lava if they so desire. Sirens are among the deadliest and most powerful non-humans because of their voice and ability to control any race to do anything they want.

I don’t get into the whole history of sirens versus meres and the human term of mermaid. That’ll be for another day, as willa lesson on types of fairies and nymphs. First, before all that, though, I’ll have to go over me being an alpha. For now, I just want to get her to understand what being a possible mate to a shifter implies.

---