“There are bear shifters, obviously.” She gestured to him. “I’ve heard of wolf shifters in passing. What else is there?”
“Some say there are dragon shifters,” Trevor said. “One hasn’t been seen in centuries, though. I think they died out.”
“Dragons,” Holly murmured. “I can’t imagine that.”
“There are stories of jaguar shifters down in South America, but I’ve never seen one. Same thing with tiger shifters in the forest of Asia.”
“And lion shifters in Africa, I assume?” Holly added.
“Lions? No, that’s just ridiculous.”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding?”
“I’m kidding.” Trevor chuckled. “There probably are lion shifters. You know what would be super cool?”
“Bird shifters?” Holly ventured.
“I was going to say shark shifters, but I like the way you think.”
“Shark shifters,” Holly said thoughtfully. “How would that work? One form is a fish, one is a mammal. One can’t breathe outside of water.”
“Sharks are fish?” Trevor steered Holly down the trail back to the main road. The only bar in town was just a block up.
“I know you’re kidding.” Holly rolled her eyes. “You can’t fool me twice.”
“I’m not kidding. Sharks aren’t fish.”
“What do you think they are?”
“Sharks.” He opened the door of the Golden Barrel for Holly.
She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of the dingy bar that hadn’t seen an upgrade in half a century.
“Hey, Trevor!” The bartender, a tough as nails woman called Beryl, waved.
“Beryl.” Trevor grinned. “I want you to meet my friend Holly. It’s her birthday.”
“Happy birthday, honey.” Beryl smiled.
“Thank you.” Holly smiled and leaned closer to Trevor to mutter, “Shifter?”
“Nah. Act extra human.”
“Good thing that’s what I am.” Holly sauntered over to the bar and plopped down in a stool.
Trevor took the seat next to her.
“This girl here thinks sharks are fish,” he said to Beryl.
“Sharks are fish, moron,” Beryl said without looking up from the drink she poured.
“What? No way.”
Holly pressed her lips together as she held back laughter.
“Oh, you want to laugh at me? All right. I’ll make you a deal. If sharks are fish, I buy the drinks tonight.”
“It’s my birthday,” Holly said. “You should be buying my drinks anyway.”
“Fair but take the bet. Beryl, is your Wi-Fi working?”
“Should be.”
“Can you look something up for us?”
“I don’t need the internet to tell me a shark is a fish.”
“Humor me and there’s a shot in it for you.”
“This is my bar. There’s always a shot in it for me.”
“Neither of you are any fun,” Trevor huffed.
Holly still had that sad puppy look in her eyes. Seeing the other firstborns clearly had an effect on her.
Beryl disappeared into the back room. Within a minute, she came back out again.
“Google told me sharks are fish.”
“Told you,” Holly said smugly.
“Bring Google out here and prove it to me.”
“The computer is bolted to the wall, as it has been since I put it in back in ’98. It will stay bolted. Take the loss and buy the lady a drink.” Beryl offered Holly a smile, then frowned. “Make that two or three drinks, by the look of her. What’s wrong, honey? You shouldn’t be looking like that on your birthday.”
“I didn’t expect to be here,” Holly said. “Usually, I go home to celebrate, but that’s not possible this year.”
Trevor fought the urge to take her hand under the bar. He wasn’t sure if she’d respond well to that.
“There’s always next year,” Beryl said. “But, until then, you can have drinks on the house.”
“Thanks.” Holly smiled softly before turning to Trevor. “What should I get?”
“What do you like?” he asked.
“I like things that make days suck less. This has been a pretty sucky day. If it could make my neck stop hurting, that would be great, too.”
“I’ve got just the thing,” said Beryl. “Hang tight.”
Holly crossed her arms on the bar and rested her chin against her hand.
“You might not want to do that,” Trevor warned. “The grime on the bar is authentic from the 90s.”
“I don’t care,” Holly mumbled. “I just want to have a drink, or ten, and go to bed.”
Trevor’s mind raced as he tried to think of the right thing to say.
Despite the lengths he’d gone to isolate himself from everything having to do with the Maiden’s prophecy, he felt its pull.
He had known the moment Holly arrived in Silver Spruce, even though he wasn’t in the territory at the time. No matter where she went or what she did, he felt her presence. It made going against his natural instincts to protect her, service her, and honor her even more painful than he anticipated.
For a while, when he was living in the silver mines, pretending to be the one who’d resurrect the dark shifters, he thought he’d truly gone mad. Being so close to Holly, then having her vanish, disrupted every aspect of his life.
Having her here, beside him, was almost too much for him to handle. If it turned him into a bumbling idiot, fine, as long as he kept the primal desire to take her back to her room and claim her as his under control, everything would be all right.
He didn’t want to spook her, especially when she had no way to escape.
“Here you go, honey.” Beryl set an amethyst colored drink in front of Holly.
“That looks pretty,” she said.
“It tastes pretty, too. Happy birthday. Let me know if you want another.”
“Thank you.” Holly lifted her head and pulled the drink closer to her.
“Beryl?” Trevor called. “Can we get a straw? Also, I’ll have a shot of—”
Beryl set down a shot of amber whiskey before Trevor could finish his sentence.
“You know me too well.” He chuckled.
“I know I do.” Beryl
