“Correct,” he said, the corner of his mouth raising themselves. “You’re a good study.”
I smiled despite myself — his praise was like receiving a ray of the sun. “So, shifters don’t always end up with shifters?”
Fenris pulled back to eye me. “No,” he said gravely. “We don’t control who our fated mate is. While a shifter’s mate is usually another shifter, that isn’t always the case. They might be a witch, or a fae, or even a human.”
“A human!” How does that even work? Wouldn’t they have to hide that for their whole life?
Fenris stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “There. Your neck should be just fine now.”
“Thank you,” I said, again resisting the urge to touch the wound. I looked back at him. “You said ‘typically’. Not all shifters are born into it?”
Fenris sighed and discarded the s
