Dean

by Erin Havoc

  “The next stop is a smaller order, you just have to drop one box. You don’t mind if I stay back here and make good use of the air conditioning, right?” Neil grins, leaning back.

  I smile, shaking my head. “I’m good. Understandably, you’re already tired.”

  He gasps in mock insult. “Well, if your claws aren’t showing.”

  Swallowing, I study his expression, trying to read if he’s really insulted. “Just kidding, of course.”

  He shoots me an annoyed glance and punches my shoulder with a laugh. “You don’t say! I’m telling you, Dean, you gotta relax. You’re too controlled. I get it. You move around, and that must suck balls. But try to make the best of a situation for a change. For example, have you met any girls yet?”

  Hell no. I’m not into dating and meeting different people and being betrayed and let down. When my mate shows up, I’ll know. I have been through too much disappointment to go on looking for her. When it’s time, it’s time.

  “Na.” I shrug, trying to act casual. But I know my shoulders are tense. Every time this subject comes up, it starts a pulsing down the tips of my fingers. “I care little about that.”

  “Oh,” he mouths, looking at me sideways. “But if you’re gay, I’m sure you can find someone too...”

  Laughter bursts from me, unbridled, surprising both Neil and I. I laugh so hard my shoulders shake and I have to clench my jaw and force my breathing to calm. “Good God, no! That’s not what I meant!”

  “What the fuck did you mean then?” Neil laughs, parking outside our next client.

  “I meant I just don’t date. That’s all. Not that I’m gay.” I unlock the door and push it open.

  “Hey,” Neil calls before I shut it again. “Leave your plaid shirt behind, man. You’ll sweat your brains out in these.”

  I have already rolled the sleeves to my elbows, but that’s the most I’ll do. My arms are not pleasing to look at. So I shrug as I drop the clipboard. “Never mind about it. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  My wolf growls inside of me as I carry the box into the deposit. He’s pacing so hard I grow breathless. That feeling, that presentiment from before gets worse and worse. My stomach sinks as my heart claws its way up my throat.

  What the fuck is that? Either I’m having a stroke, or my wolf’s noticing something I don’t...

  My wolf snarls, desperate, desperate for something.

  For someone, I notice. And before I think twice… Before I can convince myself against it, I pass the deposit into the main bookstore, my gaze combing the crowd.

  Because the sinking feeling in my stomach is a proximity alarm. And I know she’s here.

  My mate.

  3

  NATALIE

  Bookstores are a haven for anxious people, aren't they? It's quiet in here as I walk past empty hallways, running my fingers over the spines of books I won't read. The carpet beneath my boots is smooth and the lighting a comforting yellow. Some walls have nooks with beanbags and armchairs for you to sit and read.

  It's the place I come to when I need to think. Half of the time I don't even buy a book. It's just... the ambiance. It calms me, settles my heart.

  And I do need that right now.

  The Shifter Dating App has been live for a week and it's thriving. Over fifty thousand downloads up until now and the numbers keep increasing. Because of the beta testing phase, no one has found a bug yet. We've got all the main ones. Now, I have to do some marketing.

  More than a few journalists have already reached for me. From local newspapers to bigger ones, and from online platforms to magazines. At first, I thought the interviews would give a boost to the app's downloads but I'm not so sure anymore. Not after Mr Norfax and his shifter-hating questions.

  Are the others going to be like that? Prejudiced? Ready to ask me questions not about the app but about the shifter situation?

  As I cross one of the main corridors, my eyes catch a TV in a corner, near the coffee shop. It's mute because, come on, it's a bookstore, but the images catch my eye. It's not the first time I see the amateur filming since it's all over the place lately.

  Someone's recorded a fight from the window of their apartment. Not any fight though. There's a wolf, and then one man jumps from a window and turns into a second wolf.

  A shifter fight. In the middle of the night, in a public place. Once more, I thought it wasn't much to deal with, since men fight all the time. I watch as a girl comes out of the building, attacks one of the wolves with a fire extinguisher (bad-ass!), then helps the remaining shifter upstairs after he turns back into a human. A side of me thought “wow, can you imagine if I joined these two with my app?” when I first saw the recording.

  But that's so not what people are worried about. They're worried about wolves fighting, period. They don't want to run into one of those fights, and they don't want to fight someone just for them to turn into wolves and rip a piece of their necks out.

  Come on. If shifters were ever going to do that, they would already have done it. And we would already have learned of their existence. Since they haven't, I expect they have more self-control than this. A girl comes on the screen next and the tiny letters say it's the girl from the video. I approach to read it better.

  "No, you don't get it. The guy I helped upstairs, he was helping me. He was defending me. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't made a move." Her brows quirk up with the emergency of her words.

  The microphone disappears from view, and the subtitle changes so the reporter’s speaking. "But if shifters didn't share the society with us, you wouldn't have been in danger."

  The girl shakes her head, her cheeks pink. "Carl threatened me in his human form, and I would have been in the same danger with any other sexist jerk who thought they owned me." She releases a breath. "If shifters weren't in society, I wouldn't have met Jason, and he's my mate. Life would be much duller without him."

  My heart swells inside my chest. That's the very reason I'm doing this. And that's the very reason I'm taking the nasty questions, and I'm shoving these specists off my way. They won't stop me from helping people like the girl on TV being happy.

  They won't stop me from finding my happiness.

  Ambling back between bookcases, I pull one book out and flip through it, inhaling the scent of ink on paper. I am also on the app, of course. Every girl wants to find true love, and I'm not turning this opportunity down. Mr Norfax will see. Soon enough I'll meet a shifter who wants me the way I am. Curvy and trash mouthed.

  A pair of steps approach from the end of the hallway and halt. I don't lift my head, still sniffling the book like a fiend. The person approaches me slowly, and I slide a glance to the side automatically.

  My breath catches, my head snapping up so I can face him. The man staring down at me is fucking gorgeous. The first thing I notice is the pair of striking blue eyes, so cerulean they seem to shine on their own. His dark hair falls in soft waves around his forehead and ears, and I have to crane my neck back so I look at him as he approaches.

  My heart thunders in my ears, my mouth dry as he stops next to me. His gaze is still on me for some reason. And now that he's so close I feel dwarfed by his towering height. He could reach the top shelf with no effort.

  "Um," I mutter, unable to say anything. Karen would laugh at me. She has probably never seen me speechless. But this huge man, all broad shoulders and strong arms stares at me with something so bright in his eyes I can't find words.

  My body buzzes, my hairs standing on end. Like touching a plasma ball, I feel electrified. The world dims, and his blue eyes are the only light in it.

  "Hi," he says, in a grave, melodic voice that rumbles through me, vibrating through my every cell. Fuck. I had no idea a voice could be hot, but there it is.

  I move my lips but no word comes out. Clearing my throat, I try again. "Hi."

  He shudders as if my voice affects him too. "May I... know your name?"

  My lips chap with how dry my mouth
is. I lick at them, and the man follows the motion of my tongue with rapt attention. My stomach flutters. I don't know what's happening, but I love it.

  "Why?" I ask, softly. My fingers tingle as I grip the book in my hands, and I'm dying to drop it so I can touch this hulking man ogling me like I'm a freaking model.

  "To put a name on your beautiful face."

  Freeing one hand, I offer it to him. "Natalie King."

  He looks at my hand for a moment before encapsulating it between long, rough fingers. A sliver of electricity runs through me as I shake his hand once, jerking the muscles of my arms. But I don't let it go. It's... a good kind of buzzing. It courses up my limb to my chest, straight to my heart.

  Then lower. Lower and lower over my stomach, down between my legs. It zaps at my clit with astonishing strength, and I gasp.

  He doesn't let me go even when I do so. His lips part and his eyes widen as he takes a sharp inhale of breath. Is he feeling this too? My head swims with sudden lust, bright and powerful. My girl parts are screaming at me, for some reason.

  "Dean Atwood," he says, bringing my hand up to his mouth. Dean touches his lips to my knuckles, a chaste, simple kiss. But my body doesn't think it's all that pure. From where he touches me, a flame licks up my arm down my center again, setting my body on fire. I gasp again, feeling arousal leaving me, sopping my panties.

  Baby Jesus, what is this man doing to me?

  And whatever it is. Don't stop.

  He turns my hand slowly, his eyes fastened on me. With my wrist close to his face, Dean touches his nose there and breathes in. A shiver darts down my spine, covering my skin in goosebumps. Is he sniffing me? God, he's sniffing me.

  "You smell fantastic, Natalie King," he says in a voice so hoarse I jump a little. My nipples harden against my shirt, and I'm threatening to turn into a puddle at his feet.

  "I do? I haven't put on anything," I say, absentmindedly, as I rake my gaze down his broad chest. It's so hot in here. Isn't it hot? Why in the world is he in long sleeves when it's so hot?

  Dean shakes his head, his dark hair waving with the motion. My fingers itch to run through the strands, to pull them, to feel them. "Your natural smell. It's delicious."

  My face blooms with color, and I turn to put the book back in place. This is the strangest exchange I've ever had. Just some words. Our names. I've never felt this aroused before.

  Dean takes a step, his body brushing along my side. His hand’s still on mine, eliciting all kinds of feelings from me. I'm staring at the books, trying to catch my breath as I feel his lips come to my ear.

  "Are you feeling this too?"

  His warm breath on my skin is almost too much. I shudder, and a tiny moan escapes me. He grunts, pressing his body closer to mine.

  "I am. What the hell is this?" My panties are so wet now I'm afraid my arousal will dampen my pants too. I clutch his hand in mine, seeking the balance, the grounding.

  "You're my mate." His words are heavy, full of meaning, and it takes me a moment to understand them. But then he squeezes his body harder against mine, and I feel a long, hard thing against my backside.

  I moan, louder yet, my eyes fluttering shut. "God, I've never felt like this."

  "Me neither," he snarls against my ear, his lips brushing the shell in a non-touch that almost drives me mad. "I can't believe you're this hot. I'm a lucky man."

  My brain takes the back seat as I rub myself against him, feeling more of his erection against me. "I'm your mate?"

  "You are, and I can smell your arousal, Natalie King." His voice drops to a murmur. "And I'm dying to taste it."

  I gasp, my legs quivering so hard he has to hold me up. What in the world is this fantasy I have just slipped into? A hot man is saying I'm his mate and his words are almost making me come.

  Steps come around the corridor and I jerk up and a step away, my hand slipping from his. I immediately regret it, missing the warmth of his fingers as if I've been freezing.

  A girl enters the corridor and her eyes meet mine. She can't be older than twenty, dark blond hair dropping down her exposed shoulders. She's got a thick body, a pink dress showing off her curves. "Are you Natalie King? I saw you in front of the coffee shop."

  The girl knows me from the app. I take a deep breath, praying my blush isn't showing as I smile back. "That's me. How are you?"

  I feel Dean taking a step back as the girl approaches, holding her phone. "I'm great," she says with a grin. "I've downloaded the app as soon as it came out. The DNA result came back yesterday and I'm already talking to a couple of shifters. They're so great! I can't believe there are men out there who want curvy girls like us."

  "Of course there are," I tell her, smiling my best business grin. "And the Shifter Dating App was made with that in mind. Shifters are looking for mates, and curvy girls like us are looking for men who love us. It's a perfect match."

  Another girl walks in a moment later, followed by two more. They're all unnaturally skinny and the three hold the same contemptuous look as they walk in on us.

  The leading girl stops with a hand on her waist. "You're the owner of that Shifter Dating App?" She glares at me, tilting her chin up. "No surprise you're also fat. This app is trash, it's desperation online."

  I keep my smile. "It's not desperation, it's an option. If you're not interested in dating shifters, you can download one of the other apps that are not focused on them."

  "One," the leading girl juts a finger up, "wouldn't it be easier for you to just lose weight? Two," she juts up a second, "we all know these shifter guys date fat girls because they're too desperate. No one wants to date a shifter. I wouldn't want to sleep next to a bear, that's for sure. He could kill me in my sleep."

  "Any person can kill you in your sleep, being a shifter does not equate to being a murderer," the curvy girl who approached me first answers, but as the other three glare at her, she looks away. Her confident expression falters.

  My blood boils, fizzles in my veins. These are the kind of girls who stepped on me at school. They think we all must fit a mold, since the three look almost like identical twins, and whoever decides to be different is a freak. Once I dyed the tips of my hair purple and that was enough to incite the rage of the cheerleaders in school.

  My hands curl into fists. "Look, if the three of you don't want the app, don't download it. It's as simple as that. It's not my fucking problem if your self-esteem is so low you have to attack other people just for being different from you. Grow up." My teeth are bared as the three cock their brows and step back. "Also we all know no shifters would want petty people like you. Judging someone for their size. Get a life."

  Karen would be disappointed.

  But the curvy girl next to me smiles in gratitude.

  "Whatever," says the leading girl, whirling around and striding out of the corridor. "I'm going to leave a negative review, and then you'll see."

  I huff, then turn to the girl next to me. "Sorry about that."

  "No, it was fine." She smiles. "It was great, in fact. I never stand up for these kinds of people and it was great seeing you doing that. Defending curvy girls and shifters."

  I feel Dean's warm presence next to me before his voice resonates. "But they're not completely wrong. A shifter still has more wounding potential than a human. I mean," I turn to watch him shrug, "the jaw of a wolf is far more powerful than that of a human."

  I curl my nose. My arousal diminishes. A little.

  Isn't he a shifter? Or did I get this "mate" thing wrong?

  "If shifters were more violent than humans, then we would have had violent cases before and we would have figured it all out before the shifter community revealed itself," I offer, my heart beating erratically. Oh, no. I was about to let this man fuck me. And he is a specist?

  "Some shifters live far from human society, in forests and mountains. They take justice in their hands. Bury their dead by themselves."

  "Well, but there are also humans who live in tiny cities and such, and th
ey also solve their crimes and bury their dead by themselves," I add, having already heard that argument.

  He twists his kissable lips. No. I mean. Lips. Just lips. "Shifters are still dangerous."

  "They are not," I say, exasperatedly. I can't believe I'm having this discussion with this handsome man who has made wet with a couple of words. "They're as dangerous as a human with a weapon. We just need rules and laws, and then we'll all be fine leaving together."

  "Humans won't let that happen. There's too much fear."

  The girl stares from me to him, then she clears her throat. "Um, I think I'm heading out. Thanks for..."

  "No," I say, shooting a hand out to hold her arm. "Let me treat you for brunch, what do you think? I was leaving anyway."

  Dean takes a step. "Natalie..."

  "Um," the girl next to me hesitates, clearly feeling the vibe is not chirpy in here.

  "Let's," I say with finality, hooking my arm around hers. "Curvy girls have to stick together. And I'm really happy you came to talk to me."

  "Natalie," repeats Dean behind me, but his voice is weak as if he doesn't mean to call me.

  So I don't turn. And I don't look back.

  If he won't stand up for shifters and their rights, he's no match for me. Even if he set my entire being aflame with a touch, I don't need this kind of person in my life. There's already too much going on.

  So I leave with the girl — her name's Allyssa — and we have a great time during brunch. And I don't think of Dean. Not even once.

  Yeah. Right.

  4

  DEAN

  Fucking babbling mouth. I had to go and speak my mind just as we meet.

  Natalie leaves me in the middle of the corridor and she doesn't look back. Whatever she felt when we were so close together, my words have killed it. The things I said dropped a bucket of cold water on the arousal I had been smelling.