very good earner. I had a brother, and we competed because, someday, we would battle for dominant boar over all our people. We had to excel in everything. To hold a top position, I had to be perfect. I had to have a high-paying job and a good mate who bore me offspring. Only I fell in love with an intern at the security company my family owned. I ran the company, had a good head for business, and I hired Esmerelda because my boar chose her the second she walked into my office for that interview.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “She was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, gorgeous Spanish accent. My human side had nothing to do with it, or I would’ve slowed us down.”
“Why?”
“Because she was human, and boar shifters tend to stay together. I brought her into my Drift knowing she would be treated second-rate. My animal didn’t care about that, though, because every woman I’d been raised around was strong. Tough. Thick-skinned. I assumed Esmerelda was the same.” His lips pursed into a thin line before he murmured, “I was wrong. Her depression presented itself immediately. She swore it was seasonal and tried to hide her mood swings, but within the first few weeks we’d been mated, I got this sick feeling deep down that I couldn’t make her happy. That nothing could. She started feeling the pressure of her station in our Drift. She was supposed to give me piglets and enable me to fight for the dominant boar position. She felt pressure to be perfect. She said having a baby would make her happier, so we tried. And tried and tried, and nothing happened. And the sows in my Drift were awful to her, because boar shifters procreate easily. Fertility problems are rare, and they blamed her for hurting my standing with our people. They wanted me to leave her, like I could just break the bond, and I started to hate them. My brother, Jamison, was the worst. He dug in, hounded her, because he could see hurting her was the best way to hurt me. He was after that dominant boar position, and our trouble conceiving gave him an edge because his mate was not only a sow, but she got pregnant right away. I was losing, but somewhere along the way, I stopped caring as much because I loved Esmerelda.”
Heartbreak slashed through Mason’s eyes as he ran the tip of his finger down Beck’s cheek. “I worked a lot. My instinct to provide for Esmerelda and our future babies kicked up so hard, I couldn’t stop pushing myself. More time at the office, more weekends ruined, and I couldn’t see it, but Essie saw it as me pulling away from her. She couldn’t understand shifter instincts because she wasn’t one. I thought I was being a good mate, setting up a nest egg because I knew that someday we would get pregnant, but to her, she thought I resented her. She thought I was abandoning her. She was crying all the time. Arguing over nothing. She didn’t want me to touch her. Stopped wanting to sleep with me. She would say, ‘What’s the point? I’m broken.’ I didn’t know what to do. I was twenty when we first paired up, young, stupid, head-strong, didn’t understand depression, didn’t understand her. She quit my company, didn’t want to work, didn’t want to get dressed, didn’t want to brush her hair or go out or talk to people. I watched her wither. She became obsessed with these apple trees in our backyard. Just…babied them. Maybe they were her babies while we tried, I don’t know. She was always out there with them, talking to them, pruning them, reading under their branches, obsessing over the fruit and any dead leaf. And one day, I came home from work dog tired, my Drift had been on my ass about offspring, had to fire someone that day, just in my own little world when I walked through the door. I couldn’t wait to unload all my burdens on her because she always made me feel better. So I called her name, and when she didn’t answer, I knew something was wrong. Just knew it .” Mason’s voice hitched, and he took
“Why?”
“Because she was human, and boar shifters tend to stay together. I brought her into my Drift knowing she would be treated second-rate. My animal didn’t care about that, though, because every woman I’d been raised around was strong. Tough. Thick-skinned. I assumed Esmerelda was the same.” His lips pursed into a thin line before he murmured, “I was wrong. Her depression presented itself immediately. She swore it was seasonal and tried to hide her mood swings, but within the first few weeks we’d been mated, I got this sick feeling deep down that I couldn’t make her happy. That nothing could. She started feeling the pressure of her station in our Drift. She was supposed to give me piglets and enable me to fight for the dominant boar position. She felt pressure to be perfect. She said having a baby would make her happier, so we tried. And tried and tried, and nothing happened. And the sows in my Drift were awful to her, because boar shifters procreate easily. Fertility problems are rare, and they blamed her for hurting my standing with our people. They wanted me to leave her, like I could just break the bond, and I started to hate them. My brother, Jamison, was the worst. He dug in, hounded her, because he could see hurting her was the best way to hurt me. He was after that dominant boar position, and our trouble conceiving gave him an edge because his mate was not only a sow, but she got pregnant right away. I was losing, but somewhere along the way, I stopped caring as much because I loved Esmerelda.”
Heartbreak slashed through Mason’s eyes as he ran the tip of his finger down Beck’s cheek. “I worked a lot. My instinct to provide for Esmerelda and our future babies kicked up so hard, I couldn’t stop pushing myself. More time at the office, more weekends ruined, and I couldn’t see it, but Essie saw it as me pulling away from her. She couldn’t understand shifter instincts because she wasn’t one. I thought I was being a good mate, setting up a nest egg because I knew that someday we would get pregnant, but to her, she thought I resented her. She thought I was abandoning her. She was crying all the time. Arguing over nothing. She didn’t want me to touch her. Stopped wanting to sleep with me. She would say, ‘What’s the point? I’m broken.’ I didn’t know what to do. I was twenty when we first paired up, young, stupid, head-strong, didn’t understand depression, didn’t understand her. She quit my company, didn’t want to work, didn’t want to get dressed, didn’t want to brush her hair or go out or talk to people. I watched her wither. She became obsessed with these apple trees in our backyard. Just…babied them. Maybe they were her babies while we tried, I don’t know. She was always out there with them, talking to them, pruning them, reading under their branches, obsessing over the fruit and any dead leaf. And one day, I came home from work dog tired, my Drift had been on my ass about offspring, had to fire someone that day, just in my own little world when I walked through the door. I couldn’t wait to unload all my burdens on her because she always made me feel better. So I called her name, and when she didn’t answer, I knew something was wrong. Just knew it .” Mason’s voice hitched, and he took
Similar Books
