Heavenly ScentBy: Stormy Glenn
Scent of a Mate 3
Jude Mason and his identical twin brother are ocelots. In the paranormal world, that means that they are less than everyone else. They are considered abominations, chased from one pride territory to the next, never knowing if someone is going to attack them or where they might find their next meal. When Jude stops off at a local bar to get a glass of milk, he finds the one thing he thought he’d never have—his mate. There’s just one problem…his mate is human and knows nothing of the shifter world or the bond that just formed between them.
Tripp Van Buren never imagined he’d fall for a geeky little guy with glasses and a surprising giggle. But after meeting the strange man, he can’t stop thinking about him. It’s almost an obsession. And so is the need to keep Jude protected from everything. When Tripp goes back to the bar for Jude, he discovers a world he never had a clue about—shifters, mates, claiming, mating heat, and something different about Jude that takes them all by surprise. Tripp knows that if he wants to stay in this odd world with Jude, he’ll need to learn everything he can about it. But will he still want Jude after he learns just how unique Jude is?
Tripp Van Buren couldn’t say what drew his attention to the small figure that stepped into the bar. Maybe it was the way his bright cornflower-blue eyes darted around the room before he bounced over to the bar top. Or maybe it was the fact that he actually bounced. He didn’t walk. He didn’t run.
He freaking bounced.
Whatever it was, Tripp’s eyes were drawn to the exuberant man with a curiosity he hadn’t felt in years. He leaned back in his seat and tilted his head to one side as he watched the man push his thin black-rimmed glasses back up his pert little nose every few minutes as he talked to the bartender.
Tripp had no idea what the guy said to Frank, but the bartender’s eyebrows shot up his forehead so fast that Tripp thought they might be in danger of sliding right off his head altogether. Frank stared for a minute then walked away, shaking his head. Every few moments, he’d shoot a look at the cute little guy like he thought he was from outer space or something.
When Frank came back, he held a glass of something white in his hands, which he set down on the bar top in front of the man. As the stranger took the glass and drank it down through the straw, Frank stepped back like he was afraid he might catch whatever the guy had. Tripp almost laughed. His lips did curve up with amusement, threatening to split into a smile, something he didn’t do often, if ever.
Tripp was utterly fascinated.
He watched for a while, slowly sipping his cold beer. The young man drank his white substance then asked for another. This time, Frank didn’t look quite so shocked, but he still shook his head as he walked away.
While he waited for Frank to return, the man turned around and leaned back against the wooden bar counter, once again pushing his dark glasses up his face. There was something in his eyes as he gazed around the room that Tripp couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost as if the guy was looking for something, or someone.
Tripp was a little dismayed when he saw his friend Boone walk up to the cute little guy. Boone Marshall was the looker of Tripp’s little group of friends. Tripp had never seen the man get turned down when he decided to pursue someone. Men and women flocked to the tall dark-haired man like a moth to a flame.
He never went home alone.
Tripp almost spit out the beer in his mouth when the little black-haired cutie leaned in and sniffed at Boone then shook his head, dismissing Boone like they hadn’t even spoken. Boone stood there, his mouth hanging open as if he had never heard the word no before. After a moment, he frowned and stormed away. Tripp had never seen the man so upset, or so confused.
Hell, he’d never seen the man turned down before.
Sipping his beer, Tripp sat back and watched as man after man approach the little guy. Everyone that stepped up was sniffed then turned away and dismissed as if they didn’t exist. Maybe the guy didn’t realize that he was in a gay bar. How he couldn’t know that, Tripp would never figure out. Men in pairs of two—and sometimes three and four—were pressed together on the dance floor, their bodies gyrating together in the most public act of sex legally possible.