Page 1 of Lawful Mate
PROLOGUE
The wind howled as the golden leaves swirled in a perfect circle around the giant Silky Willow, her ancestral tree. Ivy saw it clear as day in her dream. It’s what woke her and got her out of bed, her bare feet padding noiselessly as she strode out of her room, out of her house, into the center of the dancing leaves.
She had just turned thirteen the day before. The hanging lights adorning the willow tree from yesterday’s celebration twinkled with the rising sun. Looking at the sky, she closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth and peace that surrounded her. When she reopened her eyes, she saw she was no longer alone. A boy, maybe a year or two older, stood before her, wearing flannel pajama pants with a Metallica T-shirt, along with a shocked expression and his mouth slightly agape.
The leaves swirled faster, the sound of the wind grew louder, and the boy looked around wildly before setting his sights on her again.
“What’s happening? How did I get here?”
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. She barely remembered walking the near quarter of a mile from her house to the willow tree. It also seemed odd how they both spoke in normal volumes with complete coherency, as if wrapped in their own private bubble, while the wind practically roared, as if from a distance. Perhaps her powers were growing. It dawned on her that her mother and grandmother were capable of doing the same thing.
Clawed nails suddenly extended from the boy’s right hand, and Ivy instinctively stepped back. She was about to go into defense mode when a gut feeling told her to stop. She didn’t want to hurt him. Her instincts proved right when, a few moments later, he retracted his claws and raised his hands up in surrender.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He’s a shifter. What kind, she couldn’t tell yet. “You didn’t,” she lied. She realized the lie was less about her bravado and more about not making him feel bad. They were both creatures of instinct.
She took a few steps closer to him, examining his face—his long, dark lashes accentuating his green eyes, perfectly sculpted nose, narrowing cheekbones leading to a cute, pointed chin with a slight dimple at its center. He had a light spattering of symmetrical freckles on the bridge of his nose, fanning out across the tops of his cheeks that made him look even more attractive. The wind ruffled his golden-brown locks, still messy from sleep. He’s beautiful. She had never had the desire to kiss a boy until now—until she zeroed in on his pillowy cupid’s bow lips.
His face softened as she stopped inches from his tall, lanky frame. He seemed to be examining her as well. Then he smiled, revealing straight pearly whites, and she could have sworn her heart stuttered.
“You really don’t know how I got here?” he asked, his voice a soft velvet sound with a slight rasp.
Ivy shook her head. “Maybe we’re both dreaming?”
The boy tilted his head as if pondering the same thing. “It doesn’t feel like a dream, though.”
Ivy didn’t think so, either. “I know.” She thought about the blessings her grandmother and mother had bestowed on her last night—one was to one day find her true mate. Her grandmother had been lucky to find hers later in life after both her children were fully grown. Ivy’s mother, though she had once loved Ivy’s father, had not yet found hers. Perhaps this was destiny giving her a glimpse. Or Ivy’s powers were growing, and she just wanted to hang out with a cute boy. Ivy smirked at the aforementioned cute boy.
“Or maybe I did bring you here somehow. After all, I am a powerful witch.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed. “Are you, now?” He crossed his arms in front of him. “What’s your name, oh powerful one?”
Ivy opened her mouth, but the sudden stillness in the air caught her attention. She turned her head to the side in time to see all the now flightless leaves fall to the ground. When she turned back to her cute boy, he was gone.
She blew out a long puff of air.
“Okay, so maybe not that powerful after all.”
CHAPTER 1
Ivy awoke with a start, bolting upright. She flopped back down on the bed and emitted a loud, heavy sigh. She’d had that same frustrating dream for nearly two decades now, once a year, every year, the night she went to bed on her birthday. Years later, when she told her mother about her recurring dream—leaving out the part that the dream was a manifestation of what really happened and that the boy was as real as she was—her mother had given her a funny look and waved it off as nothing but a dream. Ivy knew it wasn’t nothing, not then, not now, despite not seeing the boy again other than in her birthday dream, which liked to replay itself. Ivy was sure her mother hadn’t been entirely forthcoming. Poppy Spencer had an annoying way of revealing things to her daughter when “the wind told her to,” as she liked to put it.
Ivy snorted, then shook her head, thinking about her mother’s antics. Turning her head to the right, she glanced at her clock.
“Shit!” She bolted upright again.
“Fuck! Fuck! Shit!”
She was going to be late, and for her first day at her new job, no less. Ignoring the incessant ringing of her cellphone and her growling stomach, she jumped into the shower. Lucky for her, her ancestral magic was wind, allowing her to use the warm air in the room to dry her hair quickly, taming her unruly curls into soft waves as she dressed. After a light touch of makeup, with an apple between her teeth and briefcase in hand, she was out the door, impressed with her timing.
“Maybe I’ll make it in time after all,” she muttered as she reached the elevator.
Her skeezy neighbor didn’t bother to hide ogling her. She gave him a tight smile just as the elevator dinged open and ignored him as they both stepped inside. The incessant ringing of her cell phone crammed into her blazer, however, could no longer be ignored. She knew who it was, and the woman wouldn’t stop calling until Ivy answered it.
“Hi, Mom,”
“I’ve been calling you for fifteen minutes,” she said frantically. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Are you alright?”
