The Billionaire Shifter's Second Chance (Billionaire Shifters Club Book 3)

by Diana Seere

  Run run run need need need, his thick fur warming as blood pushed him faster, all thoughts of humans gone, released by a feral smoothness, a pounding pulse that had no name, just the scent and taste of blue and corn silk.

  A completion.

  A wholeness.

  Creatures skittered in and out of holes in the grass, bats making strange, throaty sounds as they flew high. He heard them all, pausing to breathe, his nose layered and nuanced, finding nothing important. He was not on the hunt. No prowl, no need for blood here. This was his land, his territory.

  Space was what he craved.

  Space.

  And her.

  Exhaling in frustration, Molly rolled out of bed and marched to the bathroom.

  No go. No O. Again.

  She yanked her nightgown over her head and turned on the water for the shower, muttering curses under her breath.

  Something was wrong with her. Something biological. It didn’t matter what she did—wine, bath, music, books, toys, video—she couldn’t have an orgasm. Her most reliable fantasies were now as effective as reading the Massachusetts tax code, which she’d done during a brief stint as an aspiring accountant, when she’d learned a person could actually pass out from boredom.

  Her lady bits had been more turned on by the tax code than they were now. She was dead down there. It was like a switch had been flipped, fire extinguished, wires cut. Out of order. Broken.

  She showered quickly, skipping breakfast, and hurried out to take a bus across Boston to the Longwood Medical Area, at one of the hospitals that housed her old gynecologist’s practice. Of course, her former doctor was gone, but they still considered her a patient in the practice and fit her in.

  It was embarrassing to see a new doctor, but it had to be done. Gritting her teeth during the weighing and the blood pressure check, Molly told herself it was worth the poking and prodding. Sex was important to her. She was a sensual creature. Food, drink, art, music, sex. What point was life if you couldn’t feel it?

  But the doctor was no help.

  “I see you’re on birth control pills,” the doctor said, looking at her computer, not at Molly.

  “Same ones I’ve been on for a while.”

  “Bodies change,” the doctor said. “It might be a factor. You aren’t on antidepressants?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm. Any unusual stress lately?”

  “I got a promotion at work,” Molly said. “But I like it. It’s exciting.” Just two weeks ago, her boss, Eva, had made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Now she was Eva’s assistant on the main floor of the Platinum Club, no longer responsible for doing the clothes and makeup for the waitstaff. Now she coordinated décor, food, music, personnel, whatever Eva wanted.

  The doctor shrugged. “We can do a few blood tests. Iron, thyroid, vitamin D, that sort of thing.” Her gaze fell on Molly’s arm, which was marked with a small bandage from her visit to a different clinic the day before. “Or have you already been to the lab?”

  “No, I gave blood yesterday.” Molly patted her sore arm. “I’m a special donor. The blood bank loves me.”

  The doctor nodded, but she wasn’t paying much attention. “My guess is that you’re suffering from stress. Even good things, like a promotion, can cause stress. Any big change in our lives can have an impact on our bodies.” She stood up, offering a smile but glancing at the clock. The clinic waiting room had been packed, and she was obviously rushed. “Maybe you should just wait and see, settle into your new job, call me if there’s still a problem.”

  “I don’t think it’s my job,” Molly said.

  The doctor shrugged. “We’ll see. Give it time.”

  “It’s already been more than a month.” She looked at the bandage on her inner arm. “Six weeks, actually. Exactly six weeks.” Who knew giving blood could be a form of measuring time? It had been time to donate again already.

  The doctor, not much older than Molly, made a slightly smirky face that seemed unprofessional, given the circumstances. “That’s not very long.”

  “Maybe not to you,” Molly said, crossing her arms over her disposable gown. Stupid doctors. It was bad enough she had to come in and expose herself, but they had to make it worse by dressing her in a tiny, gaping paper bag that was a hideous shade of bruise blue.

  “I’ll let you know if we find anything in the tests,” the doctor said, glancing at the clock again as she disappeared out the door.

  Frowning, Molly tore off her paper dress and got dressed, grateful to be back in her designer jeans, push-up bra, tight hot-pink T-shirt, leather jacket, and kick-ass high-heeled boots.

  What a waste of time. It wasn’t stress. Working for Eva as an assistant club manager was a little different, but Eva had been nice, encouraging, patient. They’d always gotten along well. Her job had nothing to do with her inability to get off. She knew her body; she knew herself. But she was glad to have tests done.

  Maybe it would turn out to be iron or vitamin D. After dropping by the lab, she went to the drugstore and picked up a new bottle of multivitamins before heading back to Cambridge. She was meeting Lilah for an early lunch at a vegan café with a stellar reputation among non-vegans. Molly was chugging a handful of the nutritional supplements with a gallon of kombucha-spiked kefir, desperate for anything that might help, when Lilah entered the café.

  Gorgeous as ever, Lilah strode over with her arms outstretched, her cheeks pink and eyes bright. “It’s so great to see you, Molly.” They hugged over the table and sat down.

  “I got you Ants on a Log,” Molly said, pushing the little plate over to her. She’d actually got it for herself before she realized she had no appetite. Another sign that Molly World was in bad shape. Even a childhood favorite didn’t cut it today.

  “I love you,” Lilah said, seizing the piece of celery with peanut butter and raisins on it with two hands. “I’m starving.” She laughed through a mouthful. “Haven’t had this snack in years!” She ate another bite. “I can’t imagine serving this to Gavin.”

  “Doesn’t that billionaire husband of yours feed you?”

  Lilah flushed. “We skipped breakfast.”

  Laughing, Molly lifted her greenish-gray health beverage and took a sip. “I’m glad somebody’s happy,” she said. Envy wasn’t her thing. Even though she was suffering, she took comfort in her friend’s pleasure.

  Lilah polished off the snack and looked longingly over at the display counter. “I might have to get another one of those when I get my coffee. Or maybe a grilled wrap. Oooo! Coconut milk cocoa smoothies!” She stood up. “Want anything?”

  Molly made a face at her green drink. “I’m fine.”

  Lilah went over and ordered for herself while Molly searched for orgasm cures on the internet. When Lilah returned, Molly put her phone away with a sigh. None of the cures seemed likely to work for her, although she did order a new two-hundred-dollar personal massager that seemed to have a religious following on Good Vibrations. If the new job was killing her O, at least she had the increase in salary to afford the latest technology.

  “I wonder if my health savings account will cover it,” Molly mumbled, frowning into her drink.

  “Your vitamins?” Lilah asked, looking at the bottle on the table. “It should. I used to—”

  “No,” Molly said. “A new vibrator. I haven’t been able to have an orgasm in six weeks and I’m about to die. The real kind, not the figurative one.”

  “Six weeks?” Lilah sipped her latte. “That’s a long time, especially for—for a person.”

  “For me, you mean.” If Molly weren’t so frustrated, she would’ve laughed. “It’s true. I don’t know what to do. Have you ever had this happen to you?”

  Lilah’s rosy cheeks turned a dark red. She shook her head. “You poor thing. I’ve been… lonely, but never… you know, nonfunctional. Could it be a medicine you’re taking?”

  “Nothing’s changed since last month.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Lilah cramme
d a piece of grilled wrap into her mouth. After she swallowed, she asked, “Did anything happen a month ago?”

  “It’s not the promotion. The doctor thinks it might be stress.”

  To her credit, Lilah didn’t take the doctor’s side. “You like the new job. I don’t see why that would kill your libido.”

  “Oh, the libido is fine. That’s the problem.” Molly ran a hand through her hair. “I want it, I just can’t get it. I’m eternally frustrated.”

  “That sucks.” Lilah lifted the last small morsel of wrap. “Are you seeing anyone? Maybe you need help, you know what I’m saying?”

  “I definitely need help. Unfortunately, the last time I kissed a guy, he ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.”

  Lilah’s eyebrows popped up. “Really,” she said slowly, drawing out the word. “And that was right before… the problems began?”

  Molly frowned. “What are you saying?”

  Lilah shoved the food in her mouth and glanced at the ceiling, chewing silently.

  Could that be it?

  Edward?

  A memory of his lips against hers flooded her brain, her body. Heat sparked between her thighs—heat she was powerless to cool. Her heart was beating too fast.

  Him.

  Edward. That bearded, brawny Stanton brother had stolen her O.

  “What am I going to do?” Molly whispered.

  “Who was the guy? Can you give him another chance?”

  Pulling back so violently, Molly nearly knocked the table over. “No. Not possible.”

  Him.

  “Are you sure? Sounds like you need his help.” Lilah poked the bottle of vitamins. “Bet he tastes better than those.”

  Imagining how Gavin would react to hear his new bride talking sexually about his baby brother, Molly grabbed the vitamins and put them in her purse, realizing she couldn’t discuss this matter any further with a member of the family.

  Edward’s family.

  “He lives out of state,” Molly said. “I’ll probably never see him again.” When Molly had asked Eva, digging for scraps of gossip about Edward, she’d told her he hadn’t come to Boston in years. Something about a tragic accident years ago, one that made Edward hate the city. Eva had been uncharacteristically shifty about it. Molly’s hinky-meter had shot up.

  She loved a challenge, but Eva’s weird behavior made her stop asking questions.

  “Maybe it’s time to hit the dating market again,” Lilah said. “Want me to ask Gavin if he knows anyone?”

  “No, but thanks.” Gavin’s friends were too rich for her blood. She liked financial security as much as the next girl, but she’d never be comfortable dating a CEO-type.

  Beards and flannel, however…

  Just as she had another vision of Edward, her left palm began to ache the way it did before a thunderstorm. She had an old injury from something that had happened to her when she was too little to remember, an anomaly her mother had refused to explain before she’d died. Instead of being creased, the center of Molly’s palm on one hand was oddly smooth, as if ironed flat. She’d always assumed it was a burn. Whatever it was, it stung like the devil.

  Flinching, she gulped down what remained of her disgusting drink. One pain to distract her from another.

  “I think you’re right,” Molly said, grimacing as the liquid slithered into her stomach. “I need a man. But I can find one on my own.” Feeling some relief that she had a plan, Molly turned the conversation to Lilah. She and Gavin were as happy as ever.

  At least somebody was getting some.

  Molly enjoyed drawing out every detail she could, feeling better about her own life. As soon as possible, Molly would find a man and tackle this problem of hers the right way.

  And not with vitamins.

  Chapter 3

  “A mandatory gathering? Here at the ranch? Isn’t this sudden? We haven’t had a required gathering of the four main shifter families since—” Suddenly breathless, Edward chopped off his own word with a hatchet, the taste bitter.

  “Yes,” Asher snapped, face impassive, eyes sharp. “I’m well aware.”

  Since Edward’s fiancée, Vivien, had been murdered.

  He and his eldest brother, Asher, were in the quiet office Asher maintained in his residence, sipping brandy late at night. The ritual was common.

  Asher’s news was not.

  “If they all come, then…”

  “Yes. The Nagy family will be in attendance, of course.” Asher’s eyes turned down, his version of sympathy. “I know how hard this will be, but you must attend.”

  “Her father. Her mother. The brothers…” Edward tried to keep the grief out of his voice. He failed. Ten years ago, he’d been engaged to Vivien Nagy, a mountain lion shifter from one of the four main shifter families in the United States. Lively and sweet, cunningly wild, she had breathed fire into his soul, pumped lust through his body, and though the engagement had been the shifter version of an arranged marriage, the result had been nothing short of a miracle.

  True, deeply abiding love.

  “They don’t blame you, Edward.” Asher’s voice held more steel than normal. They’d gone around and around on this topic. No matter how many times others assured him that Vivien’s murder had been a fluke, a bizarre event, an uncontrollable tragedy, Edward could not help himself.

  He should have been there to protect her.

  “They don’t need to blame me, Asher.” He turned away, staring at the flames licking the brick walls of the fireplace.

  “No. No one does. You wrap yourself in self-flagellation and refuse to move on.”

  Edward looked up sharply, fists curling, brandy spilling on his thigh as the glass dropped into his lap.

  “Says the man who cannot get past the death of his wife and son. You live in a glass house, Asher.”

  Tension cloaked them both like a smallpox-infected blanket.

  Seconds ticked by, the two locked in gaze, Edward’s normal nervousness vanquished. The topic of Vivien did this to him, isolating him from the rest of his kind, making him grieve in a black hole abyss. Hardened and worn down by what he lost, he retreated.

  Much like Asher.

  Except that Edward didn’t need power to fill the hole inside him.

  He needed space.

  “Ten years ago, you stood outside the Platinum Club, waiting to meet Vivien for dinner. No one could have predicted that a serial killer would target her, Edward. No one.”

  The headlines had been horrific, filled with grisly details and speculation about Vivien’s final minutes. Edward had forced himself to read every article, to torture himself with the pain of knowing what she’d experienced, and how simple choices might have altered her path.

  The man who killed Vivien was himself dead, the result of a self-inflicted gunshot after a standoff with police. Edward’s beloved had been his third victim. Evidence found in searching the bastard’s home indicated she was one of many, part of a sick plan. The police had been swift in finding him, “swift” being a relative term.

  The killer had been a coward, choosing to kill himself rather than be taken. Edward had not only been robbed of his beloved, but vengeance, as well. There had been nothing to do but turn inward.

  To blame himself.

  Staying silent, he just watched Asher become increasingly uncomfortable. On this one topic, Edward had power.

  Just this one.

  And he would give it all away for another kiss with Vivien.

  A different kiss flashed through his mind, the taste of Molly, the soft folds of her skirt bunched in his fist, the press of her thigh against his hip. He smelled her now, the intoxicating spice and citrus of her perfume, the musky sweat that drifted into his pores as her tongue danced with his.

  Breaking the gaze with his brother, he flushed.

  “All four families will be here tomorrow,” Asher said.

  “Tomorrow?” Edward reeled. Ten years he’d grieved, and now he’d run out of time. “But—�
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  “I’ve told you so you can prepare,” Asher said, his voice kind.

  “Prepare?” Trying to shove the sudden rush of Molly-driven lust aside, Edward castigated himself internally. How sick was he to think of his own pleasure at a time like this?

  “Prepare, yes. You haven’t seen the Nagy family since Vivien’s funeral. They will all be here. In fact, her parents expressed joy at seeing you again.”

  Edward closed his eyes.

  “They were ready to welcome you as a son into their family,” Asher said.

  “And I failed them.” Standing, Edward let the snifter glass tumble to the ground, heedless of the dark stain on his jeans.

  Asher’s eyes tracked the fallen glass with a passive observation, his stare off in the distance, lost in his own memories.

  “Derry, Jessica, Sophia, Gavin, and Lilah will all be here as well,” Asher said dryly as Edward began to leave.

  Gripping the door threshold, Edward welcomed the twist of muscle in his palm, the pain of fingers digging into the wood. “All of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” For the first time, it dawned on Edward there had to be a reason for such an important gathering. Mandatory shifter gatherings were unheard of. The last one had been for Vivien’s murder, as the families analyzed and investigated the tragedy, needing to discern whether this was a threat to shifter world or just a random attack.

  It had been all too random. Edward had taken small comfort from knowing that.

  “There’s been a theft at Gavin’s biotech company. Samples from one of the labs.”

  Edward whirled around in surprise, almost laughing. “What does that have to do with shifters?”

  “Gavin had a breakthrough. A serum that can turn off the shifter genes.”

  Stunned, Edward gaped, his chin hair on his beard scratching his chest. “What? I knew Gavin was conducting research but had no idea he was so close, Asher!”

  Being a shifter was as much a part of his identity as his masculinity, his fair hair, the dimple at the base of his spine. Turning off that part of himself was unfathomable. Gavin’s pursuit had infuriated Asher, but Edward had admired it, though he did not understand it.