Shifter Wars Complete Series
Books 1-5
Sarah J. Stone
Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright © 2019 by Sarah J. Stone
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Website: www.sarahjstone.com
Contents
Title Page
Copyright and Disclaimer
Book 1: Sleepless City
Book 2: Rising Tide
Book 3: Untold Chaos
Book 4: The Warning
Book 5: The Empire
More From The Author
Book 1: Sleepless City
Sarah J. Stone
CHAPTER 1
The downtown New York office of the real estate firm where Josephine Walsh worked was a deafening din of white-collar clatter. Phones rang, employees yelled back and forth at one another across the office floor, and clients were led here and there by agents eager to make their next big sale.
"Jo!" said the cocky, bright voice of Aaron, one of the up-and-comers in the office, the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kid just out of college who'd managed to recently score some leads that would probably make his career. "How's this lovely Monday finding you?"
Jo rolled her eyes as she stood over her desk; a small, plastic thing near where Mr. Delany, the firm partner who she worked for, had his office.
"About as lovely as the rest of them," said Jo, straightening a stack of papers, her eyes fixed on her desk.
"Well, I'm about to put a big, fat bow on an apartment sale with these Saudis I've been working with. You ever worked with a Saudi? Loaded. This family's about to drop four mil on a place in the West Village like it was nothing. And, you know the insane part? This is a pied-a-terre; it's just their place to crash while they're in the city."
"Uh huh," said Jo, knowing that Aaron's spiel was less about sharing good news and more about circuitously hinting at the massive commission he was about to pull, likely followed with an invitation for drinks that Jo would turn down for what felt to her like the hundredth time.
"So, I'm sitting pretty over here if you know what I mean."
"Sounds that way," said Jo, looking over the report that Mr. Delany asked her to prepare for him.
"Which means I'm about to have cash to spare."
Wow, thought Jo, he's stopped being even a little subtle about it.
Jo's eyes flicked up to Aaron, taking in his sharp, boyish features, his wide, toothy grin, his eager blue eyes, and the blond bouffant which sat upon everything. He was dressed in a suit that was well-tailored but gaudy with showy, wide lapels, a purple-and-white striped tie that clashed with the pocket handkerchief jammed into the front of his suit jacket, and thick pinstripes that crossed over the mauve fabric.
Right now, at this moment, she wanted nothing more than for Aaron to scamper away back to the stunning office that he had managed to talk his way into.
"And, believe it or not, I'm actually free this evening."
Here we go.
"I just found out about this awesome little pub in SoHo–the place to be right now. If you're in the mood, I could be talked into grabbing a drink there for happy hour."
"I'm good," said Jo, her hands on her hips as she scanned over the title page of the report, now second-guessing her design choices.
"You sure? I think you and I are due for some one-on-one time."
He flashed another toothy smile.
"Sorry; busy," said Jo, her tone teetering on the boundary between "brusque" and "irritated."
Aaron put up his palms in mock-surrender. "Right to the point, huh? Well, I'll leave you to it. If you need to find me, well, you know where my office is."
"Sure do," said Jo, the relief of getting Aaron out of her hair washing over her.
With a wink, Aaron left Jo alone at her desk, the sounds of the office swirling around her as she spread out the pages of her report, feverishly hunting for typos and misprints.
"Still not getting the hint, huh?"
Jo's eyes widened and she turned around, now face-to-face with the bright, pretty face of Amy Rosemary, the closest thing she had to a friend in this place.
"I think I'm making progress," said Jo. "I only had to say no twice this time."
"Twice? That's definitely an improvement."
"Now, I just need to get him down to ignoring me completely," said Jo, leaning back on her desk, the flimsy surface shifting under her light weight.
"Keep up the ice queen act for another few years, and maybe you'll have your wish."
Jo blew a stray strand of chocolate-brown hair from her face. "It's worked so far with keeping away just about every other man."
Amy stepped to Jo's side and leaned against the desk next to her.
"I'm telling you, you gotta get out more," said Amy, looking over at Jo with her sparkling, blue eyes, the flawless skin of the brow above knitted in concern. "Guys like Aaron are total dorks, but there'd be worse things for you than to go grab a drink with a lame-ass like him every now and then."
Jo said nothing but knew Amy was right. The thought of drinks with Aaron made her stomach turn, but she realized that she had been letting her dating life seriously slack recently.
"You've been here for what, a year?" asked Amy. "And, I don't think I've seen you go out on a single date."
"Hey," said Jo, snapping her eyes over to Amy. "We did that group thing at that Mexican place a few weeks ago."
"First of all," said Amy, "that was a few months ago, not a few weeks. And second, that was a group thing; that doesn't count as a date."
"There was that guy there that I was talking to; that kind of counts."
"Oh, you mean that gorgeous blond guy who was two years away from being made partner and looked like he wanted to put a ring on it right then and there? Yeah, he might count if you actually went on that date he kept pestering you about."
"I just got busy."
"That's the thing, Jo–you're always busy."
Jo knew she was right, yet again. In the time since she'd begun working at Delany & Markett, one of the hottest up-and-coming real state firms in the city, she'd been focusing on nothing but the substantial work load with which Mr. Delany seemed insistent on keeping her weighed. She had considered herself lucky to land a position as the executive assistant to one of the most powerful real estate men in the city, and she didn't want to risk losing it by indulging in anything as frivolous as dating.
"I'm only going to be busy for the next few years. Then, I can open my own firm like I've always wanted, and then I'll finally have the free time to go on dates."
Amy lowered her eyes in disbelief. "You mean to say that when you're a small-business owner you're going to have more time to date?"
Jo realized immediately how silly this sounded.
"I mean, look at Mr. Delany, the guy you want to be someday."
Amy looked past Jo and through one of the narrow, glass windows that looked into Mr. Delany's office. He was sitting at his desk, his hefty frame piled into his chair, his pudgy features tightened into an expression of overwhelmed frustration. He was looking over one report or another, and as he read, he reached over into the large bowl of candy that sat on the corner of his massive desk, gr
abbed a handful of colorful pieces, and shoved them into his mouth. He chewed the candy, the fat around his jaw working slowly, not a single hint on his face that he was even enjoying what he was eating.
"I saw a picture of him back when he was our age; he was actually kinda hot," said Amy, shaking her head.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. Like, that skinny-but-ripped swimmer's body kind of thing. And, now look at him. Work, work, work. Packing on pounds because he won't even set aside twenty minutes to eat something that doesn't come in a wrapper or is coated with sugar, maybe every now and then going out on a date with a woman who's trying to figure out if suffering through sex with him a few times a month is worth getting at his bank account."
"I won't end up like that."
"Well, that's the path you're on. And, speaking of hot: look at you! You're a babe."
Jo felt her face go red as her eyes drifted over to her reflection in one of Mr. Delany's office windows. She regarded her slim figure clad in a pair of skinny-fitting black slacks that accentuated her slender curves, the light-blue blouse that clung to her ample figure, her dark brown hair that framed a heart-shaped face of smoky, gray eyes, a pert nose, and full, Cupid's-Bow lips.
"See? You can't tell me you're not a total piece of ass."
"Oh, stop it," said Jo, her fair complexion taking on an even deeper shade of red.
"You should be fighting the rich guys off with a damn stick, girl. Trust me, this city's full of dumpy middle-aged women who thought that they could put off finding a man until they thought the timing was perfect. And, they end up either living in a Harlem studio, the proud mother of three cats, or morbidly obese workaholics eating a pound of M&Ms off of their desk every day. I'm j–"
"Josephine!"
The two girls snapped to attention. To Jo's horror, she saw that Mr. Delany was standing at the door to his office, a frustrated look on his face. Jo and Amy shared a quick, wide-eyed look, both worried about just how much of their conversation Mr. Delany had heard.
"You going to show me that report I asked for, or are you just going to stand there jawing with ah, Blondie all afternoon?"
"Sorry, Mr. Delany," said Jo, snatching the report from her desk and starting off towards Mr. Delany's office.
"Bye, lady!" called Amy after her. "Think about what I said!"
Truth be told, Jo wanted to put what Amy had said to her as far out of her mind as possible. She knew that she'd chosen a particular path by focusing on her career, and as much as Amy had her best interests in mind, she didn't care for anyone telling her that she needed to change her life around.
Mr. Delany plopped back into his high-backed, black leather office chair, his face red from the walk over to fetch Jo. He snatched up another handful of candies shoved them down, and continued looking over whatever had been occupying his attention before he called for Jo. The office was dead quiet, nothing but Mr. Delany's low chomping on his candies and the light rustling of paper filling the air. Jo turned her attention towards the sweeping view of upper Manhattan that Mr. Delany's office afforded him, making a solemn vow to herself that she'd one day have a space like this.
"The report?" he asked, holding out his hand, not lifting his eyes up from his papers, his round frame illuminated by the two massive, flat-screen monitors on his desk.
Jo stiffened up, walked over to the desk, and handed the carefully-laminated packet of papers over to Mr. Delany. He tossed it onto his desk on top of one of the many piles of papers before turning to his computers, his ruddy face squinting as he looked over one thing or another.
Feeling unsure of what to do with herself, Jo shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
"Plans for tonight?" asked Mr. Delany, his eyes still on his computer as he typed something out.
"Um, no," said Jo, unsure of why he was asking her such a question.
"Good. Because I'm going to need you."
"Sure," said Jo in a chipper, professional voice. "What's going on?"
"A meeting; one with the client that you've been working on this report for."
The rich, mysterious firm that barely anyone knows about? she thought.
"Of course," said Jo. "I'm actually kind of curious as to who this group is; I could barely find anything about them when doing my research."
Mr. Delany finally took his gaze from his computers and looked at Jo with his limpid, watery-blue eyes, his silver hair slicked-back into a hair shell atop his head.
"That's because they're . . . new in town. In a matter of speaking."
"Oh?" asked Jo.
"Well, new in the sense that they're actually letting people know they exist."
"I'm . . . a little confused."
Mr. Delany sat back in his seat and folded his hands over his ample belly.
"They're called the Bianchi Group. A bunch of rich kids looking to make a name for themselves in the city. They've been scooping up property behind the scenes for the last few years, using aliases, pretending to be single buyers. Now that they're carved out a chunk of Manhattan, they're making themselves known in anticipation of making their biggest buy yet–a buy that we're going to help facilitate."
"I see," said Jo, her eye catching the glitter of light on the glass body of One World Trade Center. "And, the meeting is tonight?"
Mr. Delany shook his head. "That's what they want. Eight p.m. sharp. Don't ask me why. Anyway, it's just going to be you, me, and them. We're representing the current owners of the building, some Japanese holding company who doesn't feel it important for them to be here. Whatever, more money for us."
"Great," said Jo, her eyes tracking down to the report. "Is everything good with that?"
"Huh?" said Mr. Delany, taking a moment to figure out what Jo was referring to. "Oh yeah, I'm sure it's fine. I'll look over it in a minute and let you know what I think. But, if it's like everything else you've handed in to me, I already know it's good stuff."
He grabbed another handful of candies and shoved them down. Jo felt a smile form on her face at the compliment.
"Thank you, Mr. Delany; I'm looking forward to the meeting this evening."
"Yeah, it'll be a blast," he said, swallowing the current load of candy. "This is going to be a big deal tonight. We do good, and we're both moving up. Okay, get back to it."
Jo gave one more warm nod to Mr. Delany before heading back out to her desk. She wasn't sure what this meeting would have in store for her, but she knew that she was ready to meet the challenge.
CHAPTER 2
Kyle Thorn stood on the balcony of his Midtown apartment looking out over the city, the stretch of towers in front of him illuminated with the even light of the midday sun. The sky was a perfect, clear azure, and the early, fall breeze had just enough chill to it for him to find it agreeable. Sliding the black fabric of his tie through the knot, he pulled it tight, setting it just where it needed to be. He took in a long, slow draw of air before reaching for his coffee. The mug was warm in his hands, he took a small sip, the liquid hot and refreshing.
Casting a glance at the analog face of his gold watch, he saw that it was about time for his break to come to an end. As much as he wanted to spend more time with his lunch companion, he knew that there were important and pressing matters that he couldn't afford to put off any longer.
"Oh, Kyle," said a sweet, woman's voice from inside of his apartment.
A smirk crossed Kyle's face as he turned around. Through the open door to his balcony he could see Kendra, his "lunch" companion, walking into the spacious area of his living room, a stark-white sheet draped around her figure. Her red hair was tossed around her pale shoulders, and a sensual expression played on her full, red lips.
But, when she saw that Kyle was getting dressed, her gorgeous features shifted into a playful sulk.
"Does this mean that you're not hungry for seconds?" she asked, stepping out onto the balcony and slipping a slim arm around his broad shoulders, the other arm holding the sheet in place.
&nbs
p; "As nice as that sounds, I have quite a full day ahead of me."
"Aw," the girl said, her lips forming into a pout. "And, I had so much fun."
Then, she removed her arm from Kyle's shoulders, stepped back, and, leaning back on the railing, let the sheet drop from her body.
"Anything I can do to change your mind?" the girl asked, spreading her arms across the cool metal of the railing, her body on full display.
"I didn't think this view could get any better."
A grin on his face, Kyle looked Kendra over. His eyes worked their way down her body, starting at her long neck, then down to her ample breasts, her small, pink nipples hard in the cool air. Down further, he paid special attention to her toned, flat stomach, the subtle curves moving outward into her hourglass hips. Then, as he moved his gaze even further down, a hand entered his view, covering up that last part of her body, the one that he really wanted to look at.
And, what's more, between Kendra's shapely legs was the full, thick tail of a fox; she was partially shifted.
"Ah, ah, ah," she said, waving her free finger in front of his face. "You want to see the rest, you've got to show me yours, too."
"You're in a half-shifting kind of mood, huh?"
"I wouldn't mind seeing your more . . . animalistic side one more time, if you know what I mean."
Kyle considered the offer. It was tempting, especially with her body here on display, his for the taking. But, he knew that he'd already spent too much of his lunch break lounging around. If he was to get anything done, he'd need to stay dressed and get this distraction out of his apartment.
"Much as I'd like to, I'm afraid my schedule's booked for the day. Not to mention, I've finally got this place looking the way I like; a half-shifted fuck session wouldn't exactly be kind on the décor."
Another pout broke out on the girl's face, this one with a tinge of genuine frustration. In a huff, she snatched the sheet up and stormed into the apartment, an angry growl sounding from her throat.
Uh oh, thought Kyle. I broke the "three-bangs-then-done" rule, and now I'm paying for it.
Shifter Wars Complete Series Page 1
