Slippers and Surprises

A loud banging sound shatters my deep sleep. It takes my exhausted brain a few heavy seconds to register the noise. Someone is hammering their fist against my front door with relentless, aggressive force. I groan, dragging my arm out from the warm cocoon of my thick blankets to grab my cheap flip phone from the nightstand. The screen glares back at me. Eight twenty-two in the morning.

Who would be banging on my door at this hour? Agnes should be at the local markets right now haggling over fresh produce, and Caleb would already be on his way to school. Besides, neither of them would ever knock with such fierce, demanding intensity. It sounds like a police raid.

I force myself to push aside the weighted blanket. The cool morning air hits my skin, making me shiver in my oversized unicorn flannels. As I pass the small hallway mirror, I catch a tragic glimpse of my reflection. The ponytail I slept in has twisted into a chaotic mess, sitting lopsided on my head with half my hair pulled loose in a bizarre, tangled loop. I yank the hair tie free, letting the messy waves fall around my shoulders, and slip the elastic over my wrist.

The hammering against my door resumes, louder this time. The wood literally rattles in its frame.

"I'm COMING, chill out already would you!" I yell, my voice raspy with sleep.

Surprisingly, the banging stops. Whoever is standing out in the hallway clearly possesses exceptional hearing. Either that, or they finally gave up and decided to leave. I desperately hope for the latter. The urge to crawl back into my mountain of velvet pillows and pretend the outside world doesn't exist is overwhelming.

I shuffle the rest of the way to the entryway, my fluffy bunny slippers sliding across the cheap linoleum. In hindsight, my next move is reckless. I should check the peephole. I should verify the identity of the aggressive knocker before undoing the deadbolt. But I am groggy, irritated, and lacking the basic survival instincts of a fully caffeinated person. Honestly, whoever is on the other side of the door should be afraid of me right now.

I grab the handle and swing the door open.

The scowl on my face vanishes the second my eyes land on the man standing on my threshold. He is, without exaggeration, breathtaking.

He towers over me, his broad shoulders and muscular build filling the doorframe. He has thick black hair with a slight, unruly wave to it, framing sharp, striking features. He wears a pair of fitted blue jeans and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing strong forearms. A quick glance at his stance and the raw, predatory energy rolling off him tells me he is a Shifter. He shares the same distinct aura as Siena.

He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes narrowed in deep impatience.

I open my mouth to ask him what he wants, but the words die in my throat. My sleepy brain finally registers something floating in the space between us.

I blink, rubbing my tired eyes. I stare.

A vibrant, glowing red thread extends directly from the center of the Shifter's chest.

My breath hitches. The glowing line of magic pulses with a warm, crimson light. I track the thread as it loops through the air, bridging the gap between us. The shocking, world-tilting truth slams into me. The bright red string leads straight to my own chest, sinking right into my heart.

I freeze, my eyes wide and unblinking. I stare up at the impossibly handsome, incredibly rude stranger invading my morning.

This man is my literal soulmate.

My internal alarm blares, deafening in my own ears. A Shifter? My fated mate is a Shifter? And he is standing right here, scowling at my bunny slippers. A wild, conflicting storm of emotions paralyzes my limbs. A sudden, intense urge claws at my chest, demanding I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. I have waited my whole life to find the person on the other end of my red thread.

But another, louder part of my brain screams for retreat. I barely know this guy, and his current demeanor is terrifying. The urge to bolt back into my bedroom, build a fortress out of my fuzzy blankets, and hide from this overwhelming reality wins out. I am definitely not ready for a soulmate.

I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing my racing heart to slow down. I make a swift, executive decision. I will keep this revelation to myself. If I blurt out that we are bound by the red string of fate while wearing unicorn pajamas and a bedhead, he will think I am unhinged. I need to act normal. I need to get to know him without sounding like a creepy stalker.

My extended silence draws a deeper scowl from him. He stares down his nose at me, his nostrils flaring slightly as he sweeps his golden gaze over my ridiculous sleepwear. He is clearly unimpressed.

I clear my throat, doing my best to pull myself together.

"Um, good morning?" I offer, the greeting coming out more like a hesitant question.

When he speaks, his voice is a deep, commanding rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. "Are you B.V.?"

I blink, thrown off by the abrupt demand. "Excuse me?"

He lets out an exasperated breath. "Are you being deliberately stupid or are you really this slow? Are you the B.V. who wrote this note to my twin sister, Siena?"

He reaches into his pocket and shoves a crumpled piece of paper toward my face. I flinch back as the paper stops an inch from my nose. The sheer rudeness of the gesture makes my jaw drop.

"Oh, that," I stammer, my eyes darting from the familiar handwriting back to his intense glare. "Um... yes? My name is Bria Vale."

"I'm Kaelen Cross," he states flatly. "We need to talk."

Before I can grant a single ounce of permission, Kaelen steps forward. He uses his imposing size to shove his way past me, forcing me to step back to avoid colliding with his chest. He strides right into the center of my small apartment like he owns the place.

My shock quickly morphs into hot, rising temper.

"What are you doing?" I snap, spinning around to face his broad back. "This is my home, you can't just let yourself in!"

Kaelen stops and slowly turns around. He fixes me with those piercing golden eyes. The sheer, imperious weight of his stare is overwhelming. A cowardly instinct flares in my gut, urging me to shrink back against the wall and submit to the dominant predator in my living room. I find my gaze dropping to the cheap linoleum out of pure habit.

No. I clench my fists. I force my chin up, meeting his stare head-on. I refuse to show him that he intimidates me, even though my pulse is racing. He doesn't even notice my small act of defiance because he is already looking away, his critical eyes sweeping over my messy apartment.

He takes in the cramped space, the tiny kitchen, and the small living area. His gaze lands on my couch, which is currently buried under a massive pile of unfolded laundry. Finding the seating options lacking, he extends a rigid finger toward my small dining table and its two mismatched chairs.

"Sit," he barks, issuing a single, sharp command.

The sheer audacity of the man makes my blood boil. Who does he think he is? I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. How can someone this obnoxious and overbearing be my fated soulmate? Maybe I am still trapped in a weird stress dream. I reach down and pinch my wrist. A sharp sting radiates through my skin, making my eyes water.

Not a dream. This arrogant jerk is real.

Kaelen Cross clearly expects the world to bend to his will. Normally, I avoid conflict at all costs. If a stranger asks me to sit, I usually just do it to keep the peace. But the glowing red thread tethering my chest to his changes everything. If this commanding Shifter is truly my fated partner, I refuse to be treated as a subordinate. I will not lay down and play the obedient doormat for a man meant to be my equal.

"Mr. Cross," I challenge him, keeping my voice as steady as possible. "You can't just barge your way into my home and order me around."

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. He rolls his eyes, as if dealing with me is the most exhausting task of his day.

"Would you rather I phrase my demand sweeter?" he asks, his deep voice dripping with heavy, condescending sarcasm. He takes a step toward the table, never breaking eye contact. "Miss Vale, would you be so gracious as to take a seat so that I can speak to you properly about the rather vague note you left for my sister last night?"

His polite phrasing does nothing to mask the strict authority rolling off his tongue. He is still commanding me, just using bigger words. I want to keep arguing, to stand my ground and kick him out into the hallway. But the mention of Siena deflates my anger. I need to know if my cryptic warning upset her. I care about Siena, and I have to make sure she is okay.

I swallow my mounting pride. I keep my chin high as I walk past him, doing my best to retain whatever scrap of dignity I have left while wearing bunny slippers. I pull out a chair and sit down at the small table.

"Are you happy now?" I gesture toward the empty chair across from me.

Kaelen takes the seat, his large frame making the small wooden chair look comical. I straighten my spine, projecting a calm confidence I do not actually feel.

He doesn't waste a second. He launches right into his interrogation.

"Why did you leave my sister that note?" he demands, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "I saw that man, Derrick was it? Propose to her. I know it's not right, so I wrote her a note."

Kaelen narrows his golden eyes. Up close, the feline shape of his pupils is unmistakable. He is definitely a cat Shifter of some kind. A big, lethal cat.

"And how did you 'know it's not right'?" he asks, his tone mocking my exact words.

I let out a tired sigh. Having to explain my abilities is always a frustrating ordeal. People either think I am a delusional liar looking for attention, or they treat me like a carnival freak and demand to know the romantic futures of everyone they know.

"I know it's not right because of my magic," I state firmly, keeping my voice even.

Kaelen reacts instantly. He leans in uncomfortably close across the small table. He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second and audibly sniffs the air around my face. His features immediately twist into a harsh mask of disgust.

"But you're human," he states, his voice hard. "You smell human."

The judgment in his tone stings. I know for a fact humans do not smell any worse than Shifters; we just carry a different scent. His disgust isn't aimed at an odor; it is aimed at the very idea of a lowly human possessing magic.

I pull back, putting distance between us. "Stop sniffing at me," I retort sharply. "And I'm not human."

He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his scowl deepening. "Then what are you?"

I offer a careless shrug. "Beats me. If you figure it out, let me know."

His eyes widen in genuine surprise, the fierce anger momentarily breaking. "You are an unknown Magic?"

His tone is thick with incredulity. He inhales deeply again, drawing in my scent. If I didn't know the mechanics of Shifter senses, I would find the constant sniffing incredibly creepy. I roll my eyes, matching his earlier sarcasm.

"I know, I know. Big shock, right? How can this be, blah, blah, blah," I say, the defensive edge in my voice sharpening. "I am an orphan. Even though I know what my power is, it doesn't fit into the standard categories of any known species. So, I am stuck as an unidentified, unknown Magic."

My words come out more aggressive than I planned. Being an unknown orphan is a sore subject, and his judgment struck a raw nerve. Kaelen ignores my outburst, pushing past the sass to continue his relentless questioning.

"What is your power, then?" he demands.

I lean back in my chair. "I can see the physical threads of fate." I watch his face carefully as I explain the mechanics. "There are different colors for different bonds. Derrick has a red thread, the soulmate bond. But his red thread isn't linked to Siena at all. It leads somewhere else."

I pause, letting the information sink in before continuing. "I usually try to ignore this kind of thing. Fate always sorts itself out, after all. But I share a blue thread with Siena. A fated friendship thread. If she is fated to be my friend, then I couldn't possibly just stand by and let her suffer in a doomed marriage when I had the power to prevent it."

Kaelen stares intensely across the table. The silence stretches between us, heavy and thick. His golden eyes are narrowed into slits of deep, unyielding suspicion. He clearly doubts every single word coming out of my mouth.

"You can see if people are fated to be together," he says slowly, his voice dripping with skepticism. "And you believe you are meant to be friends with my twin sister?"

Twins. That explains the identical golden eyes and the shared Shifter magic. Twin Magics are rare, but when they do exist, they are notoriously powerful.

I nod my head, maintaining eye contact. A sudden, chaotic thought crosses my mind. Now would be the perfect time to casually mention the glowing red string currently tethering our chests together. I could point right at his heart and tell him we are bound for life.

I study his harsh, skeptical expression. The scowl pulling at his handsome features screams pure distrust.

I swallow hard, making a firm, silent vow to myself. Now is definitely not the right time to drop that bombshell. I will take the secret of our red thread to the grave if I have to.