“Okay.” Sammy poured two cups, brought them both to the counter, and pressed one into Dominic’s hands. “Have some coffee.”
He took it without thinking, too disarmed by the nonchalance to refuse. The warm ceramic felt nice against his palms, and steam spiraled from the contents, carrying the aroma of quality roasted beans.
“Thanks,” he muttered before lifting the rim to his lips. Rich and bold with hints of chocolate and black cherry, the flavors lingered pleasantly on his tongue, even after he’d swallowed. “This is really good.”
“Thanks,” Sammy echoed before taking a sip from his own mug. “It was supposed to be a limited-time holiday roast, but I might make it a permanent menu item.” Rounding the counter through a swinging gate near the register, he stopped arespectful distance away and nodded to a nearby table. “Would you like to sit?”
Dominic followed him, torn between amusement and disbelief. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said as he pulled out one of the chairs. “But you seem oddly calm right now.”
With a noncommittal shrug, Sammy settled into the seat across from him and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the tabletop. “Should I be panicking?”
“I would prefer that you didn’t.”
The smile he received was timid and a little self-deprecating, but it softened the baker’s features, making him look sweet as hell.
Dominic liked that too, but he didn’t trust it.
As a changeling, Sammy was genetically predisposed to read what most appealed to someone and conform to those desires. Not only physically, but by altering his behavior as well.
Older changelings could transform their appearance at will, but it took decades for younglings to learn that level of control. Sammy looked young enough to still struggle, especially in stressful situations, and he likely didn’t realize when he molded himself to fit what other people wanted.
But even the possibility made it difficult for Dominic to gauge the male in front of him. How much was real, and how much of it was Sammy subconsciously adjusting to fit his preferences?
Rather than examine why that bothered him so much, he pushed it away for the time being and decided to focus on something hecouldcontrol.
“In your messages,” he began, waiting for Sammy to lift his head and look at him before continuing. “You said you didn’t want to discuss anything over the phone.”
Sammy nodded.
“We’re not on the phone now.”
The changeling’s hands clenched around his coffee mug, the skin over the knuckles stretched thin and pale. His gaze lowered to the table, and he caught the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I need you to help me find my mother,” he blurted after several tense seconds.
“And does your mother have a name?”
“Valerie Halloway.” He glanced up, checking Dominic’s reaction as if the name should mean something to him.
It didn’t.
Not receiving the response he clearly expected, Sammy took a deep breath and added, “She’s not lost, or taken, or anything like that. She just has something I want.”
Dominic arched an eyebrow. “Care to explain that?”
Sammy immediately dropped his head again. “No,” he muttered. “Not really.”
Settling back in his chair, Dominic stretched his legs out under the table and crossed one ankle over the other. He had made his request, and he wasn’t in the habit of repeating himself.
Frankly, if it had been anyone else, he would have already left. If fate had chosen this person for him, though, he wanted to find out why.
“How much do you want to know?” Sammy asked after another significant pause.
“I’m not in any hurry.”
Sammy seemed to have expected the response because he sighed and bobbed his head. Not in understanding exactly, but more like resignation.
“How much do you know about changelings?”