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It was a particularly dreary morning today. It matched Miguel’s mood to a T.
There was something about the scent of ozone in the air that just set him on edge. It was going to storm, possibly even thunder. The air was damp and sticky, not necessarily ideal for woodworking but Miguel opened his shop anyway. He had orders to fulfill and he’d gotten a notification that the books he’d ordered had just come in, all he had to do was pick them up at his local bookstore. Coincidentally, that particular store was located right next to his own shop in town.
The majority of the staff were werewolves, like Miguel, so he usually felt comfortable there. At least, as much as he could be considering he wasn’t technically a part of their pack. He’d never met the owner of the bookstore, on the rare occasions that he’d popped in, they hadn’t been around. Perhaps that would change today.
It was still early, no one was really out on the streets, he could stand to open his shop a few minutes later. So Miguel decided to pop into the bookstore next door to pick up his order. As soon as he saw you behind the counter instead of one of the usual employees, he was doomed.
They were his mate, and they were *human*.
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