Miri: A Paranormal Romance (Plenty of Shift Book 1)

by Wilder, Carina

  “Yeah, that’s the other thing. He wasn’t exactly keen on my cat form.”

  “That’s why our kinds can’t mix,” said Jenn, who was a mink shifter: sleek, sexy and always able to slither out of tight spots. Almost. “I hate to sound like a bigot, but we’re not meant to be with humans. They don’t get us.”

  “I guess not,” sighed Miri. “You know—I’m not heartbroken. And I know I’m better off like this. I’m better off single, probably forever, come to think of it. Anyhow, it doesn’t matter. I never loved Jeff. I loved the idea of him, but never the man himself.”

  “Well, you’re not better off single. Don’t be silly. You’re better off without a dishonest ass-waffle for a boyfriend. You’re a great lady. Any man should be thanking his lucky freakin’ stars to have a chick like you.”

  “Well, like you said, I found Kor for you. So tell me: where do I find one of him for myself?”

  Jenn’s boyfriend was big, strong and protective. He took no shit from anyone except for Jenn herself. For her, he would have lain in a puddle so that she could step on him to protect her shoes from getting wet. He was one smitten grizzly.

  “Well, you’re in the right neighbourhood,” said Jenn. “This is where his clan members hang out.”

  “I was wondering why you were bringing me to Bear-Town,” laughed Miri. “You’re thinking I need a one-night hookup with a grizzly. I’ll happily look, but I won’t lick. The last thing I want to see anytime soon is a naked shifter.”

  Bear shifters were attractive in the way a defensive back on a football team was attractive: from far away all you saw was a nice, tight ass and muscular arms. Up close, you realized quickly that if you got any closer he’d either seduce you or throw you to the ground and break your neck. Miri’s prejudice had always caused her to keep a cautious distance. Bears were fine for other women; just not for her.

  “Come on—you’ve never even seen one naked. Honey, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “No? What makes them so special?”

  Jenn raised an eyebrow suggestively as if to ask, “Do I really need to spell it out?”

  “Okay,” chuckled Miri. “Other than that. We all know they’re well-endowed. If I gave a crap about that I’d be looking to date a rhino shifter. Or a blue whale, if I could fit him in my bed.”

  “A blue whale. Hmmm,” said Jenn, closing her eyes as though imagining what such a man would look like unclothed.

  “Snap out of it. Point is, I’m not into dating. Not right now. I’m in All Men Are Shits mode.”

  “Fine. But I still think you should find yourself a shifter next time. I know you’re reluctant, but they’re…different. You should know—you’re one of them. Besides, you’ve always been a fantastic matchmaker, so there’s no reason you couldn’t find a good match for yourself.”

  “I am a rare and exquisite talent; it’s true.”

  “I’m serious. Hell, you should start a professional service for single shifters who want to find each other. You’d be great at it.”

  Miri was about to let out a guffaw and stopped herself. “That’s actually not the worst idea in the world,” she said.

  “Yes it is,” replied Jenn. “Are you already drunk? It’s probably a terrible idea. I was only joking.”

  “No it’s not. I’m sure there are tons of single shifters in this town. Hell, I’ve just joined their ranks. I could charge a small membership fee and get people together. And besides, you could help. I could use you to bounce ideas off of. You’re sensible and clever, and you know what women and men want.”

  “I’d do anything for you,” said Jenn. “You know that. But remember—I have a job, Miri.”

  “Well, it’s only a pipe dream, anyhow. I have a job, too, though I’m not sure how long it’ll last.”

  “Still hating Mr. Lech, are you?” Jenn deliberately left the second E out of his name; he was, in fact, named Alfonso Leech. An apt name for a serious pervert.

  “He smells like garbage that’s been run through a sewage treatment plant and then puked on.”

  “That’s never good.”

  “Not to mention that he calls me ‘Sweet Tits.’ And touches his crotch way too often. Sometimes he touches his crotch while he’s calling me Sweet Tits.” Miri shuddered at the thought.

  “Jesus. Can’t you get his ass fired?”

  “He runs the company. Besides, I’d sooner tear his face off. It’d be more satisfying on every possible level.”

  “Does he know you’re a cougar?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Miri, taking a swig of beer. “But he’s definitely obsessed with pussy. Though it’s strange: I’m pretty sure he’s never been near one, let alone had his dick in one.”

  Jenn laughed. “Well, damn. I wish it were legal for shifters to rip sexist assholes to shreds.”

  “Yeah. There’s that annoying thing called human law, though.”

  “So inconvenient.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Anyhow, if you do find a way out of that job I could see you being some kind of pro matchmaker, even if the idea is insane. You’ve always been good at pairing people up.”

  “Except where my own love life is concerned.” Miri sighed. “But that won’t stop me thinking about the idea. At the very least it would take my mind off my own appalling situation. I could find men who fit all the criteria: tall, handsome, built. Maybe—and this might be a stretch—they could even be intelligent. And I’d hook them up with eager women.”

  “Like a female pimp.”

  Miri laughed. “I hope I’d be a little more noble-intentioned, but yeah. A female pimp of sorts. I mean, some people think shifters have fated mates—someone they’re meant to be with forever. But the fact is that shifters are like humans. We meet, we date, and if we’re lucky as hell we fall in love. All I’d like to do is facilitate the process.”

  “Okay, let’s play the game. I like where this is going,” said Jenn, turning to look over the bar’s inhabitants. “Tell me what you’d do about…that one. Who should he be set up with?” She pointed to a man sitting in a far corner with a newspaper. On the table before him sat a clear drink; either a gin and tonic or a dull glass of water. He was slouched, studiously reading an article in the Business section. His white shirt had pronounced armpit stains, and he had the unfortunate habit of pushing his glasses up his nose every few seconds.

  “He’s intellectual,” said Miri. “Quiet. Probably far more wealthy than you and I combined. And he’s a shifter. Probably a black bear, though; he doesn’t have the physique of a grizzly. I’d hook him up with a fox, or maybe an ocelot. Something small, not too aggressive. A woman who won’t put up with his reading all day. He needs someone who can teach him about sex.”

  “Not bad at all,” said Jenn, a look of admiration on her face. “And tell me—what do you think about the new bartender?”

  Miri looked again towards the sloped backs of the customers who sat at the bar, mindlessly eyeing the television sets that were blaring soccer and baseball games in seizure-inducing flashes of action. Beyond them stood a tall, dark-haired man who was ramming a tea towel up a pint glass, grinning a friendly smile at one of the customers.

  “Holy shit,” said Miri. “That is one lucky pint glass.”

  To say that he was good-looking was to give every good-looking person in history far too much credit. The guy oozed raw, unfiltered sexuality. His shoulders were broad, his torso tapering to a narrow, toned waist. The bar obstructed the view lower than his belt. But as far as Miri was concerned it was a good thing, because she might have dashed over to him and put her mouth on the front of his jeans if access were too easy.

  She’d never been so turned on by someone from across a room. Or from up close, for that matter. The man was like melting chocolate that begged to be poured over a bowl of ice cream. And Miri wanted suddenly to be made of vanilla, draped in his essence so that she could lick him off slowly, consuming every drop.

  “I…don’t k
now what to say about that one,” she said, nearly dropping her glass.

  “Isn’t he amazing?” laughed Jenn. “I was wondering when you’d notice him.”

  “Who the hell is he?”

  “That, my dear, is Malcolm Byrne. A proper grizzly shifter. Handsome, to put it mildly. Smart. Fun. Nice, even.”

  “And no doubt engaged to be married to some gorgeous prom queen type.”

  “Nope. He’s single.”

  “How is that even possible?” Miri noticed him glancing over at them and quickly averted her eyes, looking down at the table. Something told her that he might be able to read how much she wanted to throw him to the ground and do unspeakable things to every inch of his body.

  “He had a long-term girlfriend, but they broke up a few months back.” Jenn teased her finger around the rim of her beer stein, as though to draw Malcolm’s gaze a little longer.

  “And how do you know all this?” asked Miri.

  “He’s a friend of Kor’s. They used to work together for a renovation company. And they’re in the Ulrika Clan together.”

  “Of course. I always forget about the Clan, the Pride, the Pack. All the shifter business. I’m so used to doing my own thing and staying out of pack politics.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t. If you’re going to run a dating agency, you need to remember that some species mix like oil and water.”

  “Oh,” said Miri, turning her eyes back to her friend. “So now you don’t think the idea is insane.”

  “Well, it’s kind of brilliant, you know. I mean, I did come up with it, so it has to be. Now, why don’t you come meet Malcolm? Call it research.” Jenn had already stood and begun to lead the way to the bar in spite of Miri’s weak grunt of protest.

  “Jennika,” said the bartender as Jenn approached. “Good to see you.”

  The two engaged in quick chatter and Miri realized that she wasn’t getting out of this. She rose with her beer in hand, her horror slowing her feet as she approached the bar. Suddenly she felt woefully inadequate; too fat, too unsophisticated. Too…everything. But it was too late; Jenn was already at their destination, deeply engaged in conversation with Mr. Tasty-Body.

  “Miri,” she said, turning to her friend. “This is Malcolm.”

  The bartender smiled again, a perfect row of white teeth exposing themselves against a shallow layer of dark stubble and a set of juicy pink lips that Miri wanted very much to bite.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Jennika was just telling me that you’re the one who set her up with Kor,” he said, his eyes skimming over her body. Miri found herself very glad to have worn her do-me dress, though she wanted to slap herself silly for even thinking about it. It wasn’t as though a guy like that would ever be interested in her.

  “Well, that was quick,” she said, laughing as she turned to her friend. “You just told him that?”

  “I do what I can to sell you,” beamed Jenn. “And I’m efficient.”

  “I think it’s great,” said Malcolm. “You sound like a gifted matchmaker.”

  “Oh? So tell me, would you sign up if I started an agency setting single shifters up together?”

  “That depends—would I get to sleep with the founder of the company? Because otherwise, no dice.”

  Miri was in the midst of taking another sip of beer and she coughed, covering her mouth for fear that she’d spit it all over Malcolm. Jenn patted her gently on the back, trying to soothe her friend’s inner shock at the bartender’s boldness.

  “I think that’s a maybe,” Jenn said, addressing Malcolm. “Forgive her—she has trouble swallowing sometimes.”

  “Well, that’s a crying shame,” said Malcolm, his tone dripping with mischief. “I like women who swallow.” This time, Miri was genuinely happy to have stopped drinking. She’d probably have choked to death before hitting the ground.

  “I swallow when it’s important,” she said. “And when I like what’s in my mouth.”

  “So wait—are you saying that you’re choking on our beer because it sucks?” laughed Malcolm.

  “I think,” said Jenn, “that what she’s saying is that she sucks.”

  Now Miri lost any trace of doubt that her face’s hue was beginning to match that of her dress: a deep blood red. For a moment she considered shifting right there in the middle of the bar, if only to hide her embarrassment.

  “Excuse me, Malcolm,” she said, pointing towards their table. “My friend and I have to go back over there now.”

  She grabbed Jenn’s arm and dragged her back to the the place where they’d been seated a few minutes earlier. “You’re the devil,” Miri hissed through a tight-lipped smile.

  “You love me for it. Isn’t he just delectable?”

  “You’re not supposed to notice such things, little Miss I-have-a-perfect-boyfriend.”

  “I’d have to be dead not to notice Malcolm. And so would you.”

  “I’ll admit that he’s charming. And you know how I feel about charming. Jeff was one of them. They’re not to be trusted. Besides, the guy’s a bear. I’m a cat. We’re not meant to get along.”

  “You can trust a grizzly shifter more than you think. And you can trust Malcolm. He’s good people. Besides, there’s no reason a cougar and a grizzly can’t get it on. Now, a cougar and a wolf…”

  “Even if that’s the case, how good a guy can he be? He’s got ‘Mal’ in his name, for crap’s sake. It literally means bad.”

  “He also has ‘come’ in his name. Now tell me that’s not a good sign.”

  “Well, I’ll happily let him save his coming for some other woman. Maybe a fox, or a pug. I’m taken.”

  “By whom?”

  “By the Invisible damn Man, that’s who. The only person I intend to sleep with anytime soon is yours truly. If I want to sleep with bears, I have a perfectly good Winnie the Pooh at the hotel.”

  “All right,” laughed Jenn. “I’m sorry. I just thought you two would hit it off. And you did. Someday you need to get over this fear you have of other shifters. If I can handle one, you can.”

  “I know. It’s a stupid prejudice, I guess,” said Miri. “I’m just a little afraid that someone will prove me right one of these days. All these rumours of turf wars between the packs. And the Kefir Pack is on the prowl, they say.”

  “Some shifters are thugs, just like some humans are, Miri. It’s the way of the world. But don’t turn down a man like Malcolm because you think he’s like everyone else. Not all men are cruel.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll try to be open-minded.” Miri turned her eyes to the bar where Malcolm stood, staring at her. His eyes were so intense that she felt for a moment as though her dress were melting off her body, exposing her every inch of flesh to him. And she liked it.

  “God, he’s gorgeous,” she said quietly.

  “And he seems to think you are, too. Chemistry 101.”

  There was no doubt in Miri’s mind that there was chemistry. Hell, a laboratory explosion had just occurred in her panties, and she’d only spoken the guy for a few minutes.

  “Jenn, I’m fucked.”

  “Malcolm can only hope.”

  Chapter Three

  When Miri arrived the next morning at her cubicle outside of Mr. Leech’s office, she pulled the latest newspaper out, opening it to the real estate section in the Classified ads.

  She’d stopped on her way to work for a pumpkin latte, a rare treat to celebrate her freedom—and to wake herself up after one too many beers the previous evening. An evening during which she’d spent about four hours quietly and stealthily staring at Malcolm: his dark, thick hair, the coating of stubble that lined his jaw.

  And the more beer she’d consumed, the more she’d begun to wonder about his taste, and whether it matched his scent. The moment she’d approached him, it had sent her mind reeling into oblivion: savoury, smooth, raw, pure sex. A scent that had seemed to slip in invisible tendrils over her body even as she’d moved away from him. As she recollected it, her e
yes closed and she had to force herself not to let out a moan of pleasure.

  Miri found herself stroking the latte cup’s rim along her lips as she inhaled its aroma. Nothing like as good as Malcolm’s, but it would have to do for now.

  But sadly, the tasty-smelling beverage didn’t even begin to conceal the smell of her boss as he stepped off the elevator a moment later, destroying Miri’s fantasies about the grizzly shifter in one fell swoop. Though Mr. Leech was thirty feet down the hall, a rank fanfare of stink was announcing his imminent arrival. And a fouler smell there had never been; Miri would even have taken the Whore’s perfume over his questionable ideas of personal hygiene.

  As her boss approached, she held the latte under her nose, attempting in vain to cover up what was coming at her.

  “I can think of better things for your lips to do than fondle that cup, Sugar-buns.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Lech—Leech,” Miri said without looking up. God, did he bathe in two-month-old halibut this morning?

  As she turned to face her far too pervy superior, she saw that he’d positioned himself next to her, at a perfect angle to look down her shirt. Miri grabbed her collar, forcing the material to seal over her cleavage.

  Leech’s hair, which may have been light brown or even blond, was so filled with product and grease that Miri had never managed to work out its natural colour. Over time it had simply taken on the appearance of string soaked in used engine oil, adhered in repulsive strands around his pasty face.

  “Good morning to you,” he said. “Oh—real estate rentals, is it? Listen, if you need a place to crash, there’s a whole half of my bed that would love to have your shapely behind imprinted on it.”

  And there’s a whole half of your face that I’d love to see with a giant fucking claw mark imprinted on it, you foul, weasel-faced pig.

  “No, thank you. I’ll be just fine.”

  “Oh, my. I just realized—this must mean you’ve broken up with that boyfriend of yours. Well, I never thought he was good enough for you, anyhow.” Miri wanted to wash the words off her skin even as he spoke them. The man’s voice had the quality of sweaty cheese; the sort that had been sitting on the counter for about eight hours too long.