|| Prologue
In a city where people walked their familiars the way they once walked dogs—flame-tailed imps tugging at leashes, tiny kelpies splashing in gutters—The weather was irritating, the sidewalks were almost hard to see in these conditions on a Friday rainy day of all things! The little lady sighed brushing back her short mess of dark locks under her beige beanie, then set foot. She didn’t have her umbrella that day. Taming down her paint-smeared overalls as she pushed through the crowd.
Fen Pomodoro only wanted to buy mystic paint for her canvas.
That was it.
Just some cheap paint.
But the supernatural market was impossible to escape once it swallowed you; glowing tents, Smokey alleys, signs of promising “rare specimens” in gaudy gold lettering.
Inside the store were clusters of mystical items barely covering the aisle floor made of oak wood, creaking in every step she took; taking a look at the items that sat on the shelves. Potions of many kinds, water-breathing jelly cups, star dusts wrapped into a colorful pouch, clown tears, The many things that turned the odd into the new norm in this day in age.
She didn’t even know why she stopped by.
Maybe it was the way the seller was pitching, leaning forward as if guarding a secret. Maybe it was the faint metallic scent in the air. Or maybe it was the fact that the cage set on the petalstool behind him didn’t hold a creature.
It held a man.
” Name’s Luke,” the seller said, tapping the bars with a single finger. “Specimen-class, Docile, recently acquired.”
Fen stared. Burn-brown locks of messy yet long hair that extended down the mid-section, tan yet smooth skin that seemed natural and the most hazel orbs held hers as Luke looked up at her—slow, tired, too human. His eyes held the kind of emotion that no enchanted creature was supposed to mimic. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it; normally a person would react in shock, fucking scared even if any supernatural creature can mimic a human being. He wore a simple white linen which seemed to cover his lean body along with some patch sewed pants…the man was barefooted, filthy even with dirt from the earthy ground and muck.
if only this was a normal world, she’d be telling a different story if that were the case. Obviously it is not since this is a time period full of creatures popping around the globe. Ever since the medieval times it evolved to where these creatures can be considered humanity’s companions for those that accept this concept openly.
“This isn’t funny,” she said quietly. “I’m not buying a person.”
”Not a person,” the seller corrected, holding an amused grin that could’ve had many people fooled if they were in her position. Glad she wasn’t that gullible. “He’s…. complicated. Besides, he’s registered. Inspected and perfectly safe.”
Safe.
Fen deadpanned from the statement. She didn’t even believe that word as soon as she heard it. Still…something in Luke’s gaze pulled at her heartstrings. A flicker of loneliness? Fear? Recognition maybe? Bloody hell would she know?
She should’ve walked away, not give a damn…if only she had a heart of stone, then she wouldn’t be here in this situation she set herself up in. Instead, she heard the click of her own voice saying, “Fine. How much?”
Hook. Line and center.
forty-five minutes later, she was unlocking her studio apartment with Luke standing behind her, silent as a shadow. Her home, cluttered with canvases and drying brushes, suddenly felt too small for the both of them. He stepped inside, and for just a second—so quick she could’ve sworn she might’ve imagined it—Fen saw his breath fog in the warmth of the room, as if something colder lived beneath his skin.
She pretended not to notice. Adults were good at that—ignoring the stuff that felt like omens.
After all, people owned supernatural beings all the time.
This was normal.
Wasn’t it?
Not dramatically. Not enough to let her body know, instinctively, that it was now sharing space with something that did not belong on the prey end of the food chain.
”Look,” she said, clearing her throat, “I don’t know what you actually are, or why that man decided you belong in a cage, or what ’specimen’ means in your case, but—“
Luke’s eyes flashed a brief, sharp amber.
Fen froze.
”Oh,” she whispered. “Oh of fucking course. That tracks it. That absolutely tracks my life choices.” Fen groaned just remembering a tiny-weensy detail in this particular problem.
There were rules in this era for owning supernatural creatures as companions. Legal forms, Training, Emergency protocols. Fen had done none of them.
And now? Now she has a werewolf standing politely
In the middle of her living room, checking out her painted canvases with a hint of curiosity as if this were a normal Tuesday.
So, with all full cynicism, she told herself she could adapt to this...
That was an understatement to its fullest.
