Page 24 of Forget Me Not
“Hey, in your defense, I really tried to approach you in a non-threatening way—I’m sure you would have reacted differently if I was like…” He threw his hands up, clawing at the air with a pathetic ‘grr’ that immediately had him internally face-palming.
Syve slapped a hand over her mouth, poorly concealing her laugh.
“Well…” He cleared his throat. “If I had to guess...I think you’ve been shifting in your sleep this whole time—kinda like sleepwalking.” That only seemed to upset Syve more.
“Great! Now I’m not just a mess, I’m asleepwalkingmess! Why did this happen now? I’ve never had an issue before recently! I’ve only been having these dreams—or sleep-shifting,whatever, since December.”
“Those were your first shifts?” he asked, aghast. “Typically, the first shift follows the onset of puberty—no later than fifteen or sixteen. I’m assuming you’re older than that.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she shot him a look that he assumed meant, ‘don’t be a dipshit,’ so he carried on. “Strong physical, hormonal and emotional changes happen around that time…I guess the same could happen later in life? Maybe…maybe you experienced a strong emotional trigger?”
Syve seemed to physically sink away at that.
“Syve, who is Noah?” he whispered.
“So, you’re a shifter too? Even though we are different, uh, species?”
She quickly changed the subject and he begrudgingly took the hint. Some questions would remain just that, it seemed. He confirmed they were both indeed shifters, regardless of the fact they did not assume the same form. Yes, it’s genetic, yes, there are shifters everywhere, and yes, there are more kinds.
Syve’s eyeballs almost popped out of her head when Bastien told her about his family—how his father descended from a long line of horse shifters and his mother from an even longer line of wolves. She asked if that was common, for different ‘species’ to cross, which led to the question, “Are certain animal genes recessive? Are predators naturally dominant? Is that why you’re a wolf like your mom?”
The question caught him off guard, and he laughed. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just…you haven’t been asking any of the questions I thought you would ask. There is no rhyme or reason behind which animal a child will inherit—at least not one that we know of—and actually, my little sister took after our father. She’s a horse shifter.”
Syve gasped, then spent a solid five minutes excitedly jabbering about how majestic Del’s horse form must be before they could move on.
“I just don’t understandwhyyour first shift was so delayed. I’ve never heard of that happening…”
At this she clapped her hands together, pressing them to her nose. “I might have the answer to that…Is it rare for shifters to be with…humans? Non-shifters?” She had his full attention, and he tilted his head toward her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “My Dad. He wasn’t a shifter.” She shrugged. “I guess that makes me half-blooded. Do you thinkthatcould be why I’m so…different?”
Bastien stared at her, mouth agape as he processed her words.
“It’s completely unheard of—I didn’t know it was evenpossibleto have a baby with a non-shifter. I’m sure I would have heard of, or met one by now…”
Syve smiled sadly and told him about the trouble her parents went through just to have her. How they had eventually given up on the idea of a second child after years of trying.
“You’re a miracle then, that’s incredible,” he whispered reverently. “So, if your mom is a shifter, why hasn’t she told you any of this? Why didn’t youknow?”
“Was. She was.” Syve murmured the words, studying her hands in her lap as she did.
Syve
“Was.Shewas.”Syvestared down at her hands, mindlessly picking at her nails while she waited for the pity that always came after telling people she was an orphan.
She had referred to her father in past tense earlier and he either missed it or hadn’t deemed it important enough to comment on. Honestly, she was happy either way. But this? Now he would have to acknowledge it, and shehatedthis part.
“When did you lose them?” His voice was soft, hesitant even. “You know what, don’t answer that. Unless you wantto—but I get it if you don’t.”
It hit her then. She’d been so caught up in her own bullshit—while he hadn’t said anything when she talked about her dad,shehadn’t said anything when he mentioned his dad in past tense either.
He was just following her lead.
“When I was ten. Car accident,” she whispered. “You?”
Bas’s face shifted from despair to surprise, then back, as if he was not expecting the question.
“My Father? Seven years ago. Cancer.”
Syve sucked in a sharp breath before she could think better of it, then grimaced.
“I’m so sorry, Bastien.”
