Dos Culebras was not a bar women usually entered alone unless they were professionals. The few non-hookers in residence belonged to men frightening enough to convince the rest of the clients to leave them alone. She was not a professional. Worse than that, she was a shapeshifter who challenged every man in the bar just by walking into it. Hell, she wanted to be a challenge. She needed to meet another shapeshifter tonight. Someone like her, who understood her strength. Who could handle her strength. Someone who wouldn't be afraid. She heard her ex-boyfriend's voice as she took her beer to a small table in the corner. It's not you, Claire. You need someone...like you. Oh, he'd been full of false sympathy when he'd broken up with her. He'd pretended it wasn't because she'd proven herself to be stronger than he was—yet again. Humans are fragile. A morbid thought, but so true. Humans were fragile, and she had to stop wanting to be with one. Over twenty years had passed since magic had first crashed into science and bled into everyday life.
