“I look that bad, huh?”

“You look stunning.” My lips purse at her tone as she adds, “For an extra on The Walking Dead.”

“Hysterical,” I mutter.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Just a rough night,” I say, shoving another pair of jeans into a dresser drawer. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

Hardly any, thanks to my infuriating new employer. Even now I feel myself tensing at the memory of the bizarre exchange I had with Hunter last night—from the coarse initial greeting to the infuriating remarks over my new designation I’d barely had more than a few hours to come to terms with.

If you’re going to be staying here, it would probably be a good idea to take precautions. I wouldn’t want you to have an incident.

I snort. What an asshole. An incident. What, does he think, I’m going to start howling at him and begging for his dick or something? Fucking shifter men. Which I assume he must be, given that the pleasant scent of sunshine and rain lingered long after he shut himself in his bedroom, something I’m now gathering was most likely not cologne.

And not to mention his obvious disdain at my being here in the first place. I spent most of the night fuming over his snide Little Miss Fixit comments—having half a mind to spend the rest of the evening boarding that asshole up in his own bedroom just to show him I’m perfectly comfortable around a hammer.

He’s lucky my brothers are bringing all the tools.

I want to know how he could even tell what I was in the first place. It’s not like there’s some sort of sign stamped on my forehead now, is there? Will every shifter I meet know that I’m some sort of medical anomaly right away? That seems…inconvenient. Hopefully there’s more information in the pamphlets Dr. Carter gave me.

“Did you pack appropriate pajamas?” Ada asks. “Are your toes in danger of frostbite?”

I roll my eyes. “I brought plenty of wool socks. I have seen snow before, you know.”

I catch Ada’s shiver even on my tiny phone screen. “I could never.”

“You’ll have to leave Southern California sometime,” I laugh.

“Right. I could join you in Axe-Murderer Land and lose my toes. No thanks.”

“What happened with Perry’s school yesterday?”

I peek over to catch her teeth worrying at her lip. “He’s acting out in class again.”

“What does that mean?”

“He refused to participate.”

“He’s six,” I scoff.

“I know that,” she says. “I just worry about him socially. He doesn’t seem interested in making friends at all. I thought moving him to private school this year would help get him some more one-on-one attention, but he keeps saying he hates the place.”

“He’ll adjust,” I assure her. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. He’s still so little.”

“I hope you’re right.” She sighs, then waves a hand in front of her face. “Now tell me why you’re not sleeping.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

I’m just apparently something entirely different than I thought I was for my entire life. Oh, and my new employer not only doesn’t want me here but might think I’m going to rampantly hump his leg at some point.

Ada narrows her bright green eyes, leaning in a little so that her auburn hair falls into her face. “Tess.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “Just…still feeling a little under the weather.”

An understatement, really. I tossed and turned the entire night—the meds the doctor gave me hardly even touched the cramps, the night sweats, and the strange itching sensation all over my skin. Between that and my irritation with Hunter, I’m positively exhausted.

“I thought you said it was clearing up?”

“I know.” I spin to plop down on the edge of the bed, frowning at my phone, which I propped up on the dresser so I can look at my friend properly. “And it…is. Technically. Sort of.”

“Oh my God,” she groans. “Tell me you aren’t dying.”

“I’m not dying,” I huff. “I’m just…not entirely well.”

“If you want to make sense anytime soon, that would be great.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal, okay? The doctor said it’s not unheard-of and that when I’m fully adjusted, everything will be as normal as—”

“Tess.”

“I’m not a beta.”

Her head cocks, her freckled nose scrunching. “Come again?”

“Or, I mean, I might be right now, but I won’t be soon? I don’t know. It’s all very confusing.”

“Still not making sense.”

“She called it a…late presentation.”

“So, what…you’re…” Her eyes widen. “Are you a shifter?”

“Among other things, apparently,” I grumble.

“Oh my God. Have you shifted? Jesus Christ. What’s that even like for the first time as an adult? I did it when I was thirteen, and I swear, Twilight didn’t get it entirely wrong. I mean—”

“I haven’t,” I tell her, cutting her off. “Not yet. But I guess I will. Soon.”

“Wow.” She shakes her head, looking as stunned as I still feel. “That’s insane, Tess. How are you holding up?”

“I’m…okay. I don’t think it’s entirely sunk in yet. Since my body is apparently still…changing.”

“Okay. Yeah. Good. I just…Fuck. Do you have any questions I can answer? I know I’m not a doctor, but it’s probably going to be easier to ask me about your biannual horny parade than it would be to ask a stranger.”

“Ah.” I shift on the bed, feeling uncomfortable. “About that. She thinks I might be having those…more frequently than others.”

“Why? I mean, I have them four or five times a year, but that usually only happens with…”

She blinks at me, understanding dawning on her features, and I nod back at her, the realization hanging between us.

“Holy fuck,” she whispers.

“Yep.” I end the p with an audible pop. “I guess we can join the Omega of the Month Club.”

“That’s not a thing,” she snorts.

“Whatever. I get to be nonsensical right now.”

Ada gapes at me, looking dazed. “Wow, Tess. That’s…” Her brows shoot up. “Do you think it’s because you’ve spent so much time with me? Like…maybe we synced up? Like periods?”

I shake my head. “Pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”

“I just…Holy shit. Seriously, are you okay? Have you told your parents?” She grimaces. “Have you told your brothers?”

I make a face. “No and no. Just you for now.” I wince, realizing that there is actually one other person in the immediate vicinity who might know. “I’m having a hard enough time letting it marinate while at the jobsite.”

“Oh shit. I didn’t even think of that. Is that going to be weird? What about the woman you’re working for? Is she a shifter?”

“I…haven’t met her yet. She wasn’t here when I got in last night. I met the owner though—who apparently is not Jeannie—and he was…a character.”

“Shifter?”

“I…” I recall the soft scent of warm, sun-heated rain and frown. “I’m not sure.” Okay, I have a very strong inkling, but I don’t say that. “It’s very possible though.”

“Is he one of those old bearded guys who’s always got on some type of fur?”

“He’s not much older than me, actually,” I tell her with a scoff. “But he does have a beard. No fur so far, just a lot of plaid.”

“Oh?” Her voice takes on a much more interested tone. “Is he hot?”

I chew at the inside of my lip, a flash of Hunter’s dark eyes and full mouth cropping up unbidden even as I try to shrug it off. I will not be romanticizing the gruff asshole, not even in my head. “I mean, he’s not unattractive by any means.”

“Oh my God. He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“I guess,” I mumble. “Objectively.”

“How interesting,” she practically purrs.

I roll my eyes. “Well, given that—like you said—I look like a Walking Dead extra and I made an axe-murderer joke right after meeting him—your fault, by the way—he’s probably going to do his best to avoid me.”

I don’t mention that at this point, I’m hoping he does, given that our first meeting went as disastrously as possible.