by Sophie Stern
“What basis does he have for filing a harassment lawsuit? Is that in here?”
“Yeah,” she points to the page, and I pull it out.
“Complete bullshit,” I say a little too harshly, and Lara cringes. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “But this pisses me off. You’ve done nothing wrong, Miss Berkshire.”
“Lara.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Lara, but we need to act fast in order to minimize the damage.”
“I’m supposed to go to court,” she says. “Isn’t that the way this works? I go to court and the judge will tell me how much money I have to give him? I just…I need to know what’s going to happen, Mr. Casa. Are they going to make me move? Can they do that?”
If Lester wins this case, Lara will definitely have to pay something. How much? I have no idea. If he’s suing for damages and emotional trauma, Lara will be required to bear the brunt of that expense.
The judge can demand that she move out of town, as well. Because Bradshaw is legally considered a shifter sanctuary, humans can be forcefully evicted when they get entangled in legal trouble. It doesn’t even matter if the human is in the right. What matters is that shifters don’t want people stirring up trouble. Shifters want a safe, quiet place they can do shifter things without being under scrutiny.
“We have a couple of options,” I tell her, looking at the paperwork. “First off, and this sounds like a huge cop-out, but you can move.”
“I don’t want to move,” her eyes fill with tears and my heart clenches. Damn, if she’s not the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s so adorable and perfect. “I just moved in and I really like my house and I finally finished unpacking and I’m so close to work.” She shakes her head. “I guess I don’t have a choice, but if there’s any way I can stay, if there’s any way you can help me not have to move, I would really, really appreciate it.”
“Okay, so option one is off the table. Understood. Let’s talk about option two. You can give him what he wants, which seems to be money. I wouldn’t recommend this, however, because it never stops at just one payment. Handing over money, especially if you settle out-of-court, will set the precedent that you’re willing to pay. And unlike many human courts, he can sue you again for the same offense. Shifter law functions a little differently.”
She sighs, and Lauren buries her face in her hands and groans. “So I’m like, not only fucked, but super, completely, totally fucked.”
“There’s a third option,” I tell her. “We can fight it.”
“Fight it?” She asks, peeking up over her fingers. “How? On what grounds?”
“He’s harassing you,” I say. “You’re a fine, upstanding citizen. I bet you’ve never even had a parking ticket.”
“Well, no, I mean, but that’s because I always check where I am before I park. It’s not hard to avoid parking tickets. It’s not like, I don’t know…being sued, apparently.”
“From where I’m standing, I think we can build a case against him. When is your court date?”
“Two weeks, I think.”
“That gives us plenty of time to figure out how we’re going to approach this and how we can make the judge see our side.” I take a look at who the judge for this case is, and I smile. It’s a shifter who happens to be mated to a human. This is good news for us. It’s not a guarantee that things will go our way, but it gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.
“Really?” She asks. Then Lara smiles for real, perhaps for the first time since she walked into the office, and I’m struck once again by how lovely she is.
“Really.”
“So what do we do now?” She asks. “I mean, I have to pay you now, right? I know Joyce said the first consultation is free, but now that we’re moving forward, we should talk about the price.”
My usual rate is at the lower end of the “normal” range in Bradshaw, but Lara is a schoolteacher. She’s a human who is a sweet, adorable little schoolteacher, and the idea of charging her or inconveniencing her in any way is not okay with me. My inner wolf screams at me, but I ignore him.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
She’s my mate.
I don’t believe in mates. I’ve been a lawyer far too long to believe in fairytales or happy endings or anything that goes along with them. Romance comes and goes. Relationships bloom and die. It’s all part of the natural order of life, but life mates? That’s just a story invented to sell books.
“It’s been awhile since I did pro-bono work,” I tell her. “This one’s on me.”
“Wait, what?” She looks confused. She had been reaching for her checkbook, but she drops it back into her purse. “What do you mean? You mean it’s free?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” I tell her. “This one’s on the house, Lara Berkley.”
I expect Lara to be grateful or happy or relieved, but instead of jumping up and thanking me, she starts bawling in the center of my office. Lara doesn’t cry prettily, either. She’s not one of those girls who cries gently or quietly. No, she cries really, really loudly, and I have no idea what the hell to do.
Luckily for me, I work with three shifters, and their hearing is excellent. Fee, Lyon, and Joyce all come racing into the room at the same time.
“What did you do?” Fee asks me as Joyce wraps Lara up in a tight hug. Joyce starts stroking her hair and trying to help her calm down.
“It’s going to be okay,” Joyce whispers. “Everything is going to be just fine, sweetie. Everything is all right.”
“Holy dragons,” Lyon adds. “You can’t just make your clients cry, asshole. It’s bad for business.”
“You’re bad for business,” I glare at him.
“On the contrary,” Lyon grins. “I’m quite good for business, if my last few clients do say so themselves.” Lyon just finished representing three different high-profile divorces and his earnings from that alone will keep the firm open for the next two years.
“Seriously, man,” Fee looks at me like I punched Lara in the face. “You need to get your act together.”
“Fuck,” Joyce suddenly says, looking up. She sniffs the air. “Are you turned on right now?” She looks from Lara to me and back again. “You’re both totally horny right now. She’s crying and you’re still horny. Are you mates or something? Is Lara your mate?”
I’m going to need whiskey.
Chapter 3
Lara
Are we mates?
Joyce’s question hangs in the air. I risk a look at Casa, but he’s busy making a beeline for a bottle of whiskey he’s got sitting on a little table.
I’ve lived in Bradshaw long enough to know what mates are. I know exactly what shifters think of mates and I now for a fact that a guy like Ronan Casa wouldn’t be mated to a girl like me.
I’m too normal, too ordinary. I have way too many problems and issues and hang-ups to be good enough for a guy like that.
Still, Joyce’s question is enough to make me stop crying. Well, that and the hug she offers me, which is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.
“Are you okay?” Joyce asks, and I sniffle, but manage to nod.
“I’m sorry. I was just surprised.” I look at Ronan, but his back is to me, so I look at his colleagues. “Um, hi.”
“Hello,” they say in unison.
“What did Ronan do to you?” One of them asks.
“He just said I didn’t have to pay him.”
“So you started bawling?” The other man asks, confused.
“I’m really sorry,” I whisper, and I’m sure my face is a thousand shades of red. “People aren’t usually nice to me. It was a new feeling and I may have overreacted.”
The two men laugh and cross their arms over their chests, then turn to Ronan.
“Wow,” the one in the blue suit says. “You really know how to win a woman’s heart.”
“Shut up, Fee,” Ronan says. That means the other man, the one in the khakis a
nd button-down, is Lyon. Through my tears, I make a mental note to try to remember this. If Ronan is actually taking my case, I’ll probably see his colleagues in the future when I come by to talk with him.
“Somebody’s touchy,” Lyon says. “I wonder if it’s because you made your mate cry. I mean, I’m no wolf, but that would make anyone upset.”
“Get out of my office,” he says, but his words hold no edge. Instead, he sounds tired, defeated. “Please,” he adds. “Just give me a moment with my client.”
To my surprise, Joyce kisses my forehead in a weird, motherly gesture, and quietly exits the room. Fee and Lyon don’t leave right away. Instead, they go to Ronan and put their hands on his shoulders.
“Are you okay, brother?” Lyon asks. “Is there anything you need from us?”
“It’s fine,” he assures them. “Thank you.”
After a second, the two men nod to me and they leave the room, closing the door behind them. The sound seems to echo and Ronan and I are left alone.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” he says, finally turning around. He’s got a glass of whiskey in hand and he takes a long sip. Then he offers it to me. I accept the glass and finish it. The liquor burns the entire way down, but I don’t mind. Not today. Not after the events of this afternoon. Not after I had a complete breakdown in front of my lawyer.
“You didn’t,” I say. “Not like that. It’s just that the past few weeks have been really hard. Your kindness was unexpected and I may have overreacted.”
He chuckles, but takes the glass from me and pours again. This time he sips more slowly, and while he drinks his whiskey, I take a moment to really look at Ronan.
He’s taller than me by a lot. That’s not hard because I’m actually quite short. This has always bothered me. I’ve always wanted to be taller, lankier, prettier. I’ve always wanted to be a more beautiful person than I am. Ronan is definitely the type of person I would describe as beautiful.
I bet he hates how pretty he is. It’s unfair that a man should be so nice to look at, but there you go. His hair is short and his eyes are dark, vivid. They’re this deep brown you could really get lost in, and I wonder how many hearts those eyes have broken.
Then there’s the rest of him.
His chest is broad and chiseled. Does her work out? Or is that just part of being a shifter? He fills out his shirt and pants. Oh, his pants. My eyes are drawn to his cock, which seems to be bulging. His dick is hard and I wonder, suddenly, if Joyce was right.
I wonder if he actually is attracted to me.
My eyes dart to his, and I’m surprised to see that he’s watching me.
“Are you done eating me alive with your eyes?” He asks, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Stop telling me you’re sorry,” he sets the whiskey down and takes a step toward me.
I back up.
“But it’s just that I-”
“Am really sorry,” he cuts me off. “Yes, I know. You’ve mentioned this several times.”
“What are you doing?” I take another step back and he takes another forward. Back and forward, back and forward. We move until I run into the wall and can’t move back anymore. Ronan keeps walking, though, until he’s completely invaded my space. He puts his hands on the wall over my head, essentially locking me in place. I can’t go anywhere now.
Not that I want to go anywhere.
I don’t want to go anywhere.
I just want to stand here and look up at him and enjoy the way he makes me feel because my body hasn’t been this turned on since prom night, and that was a very long time ago.
“What are you doing?” I ask again, but he doesn’t answer me. Instead, Ronan just looks at me.
“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” He asks, leaning down. He whispers in my ear. “You’re perfect,” he says. “A damn feast.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I’m nothing special. I’m just normal.”
“There’s nothing normal about you, princess.”
“Why did you call me that?” I search his eyes, looking for answers, but he doesn’t give me any. He just keeps watching me, staring at me like he really is going to eat me alive, only I’m not scared. I feel like I should be. I should be scared, afraid of Ronan. I should be worried about being alone in a room with a man – a shifter – who has been drinking, but I’m not.
Somehow, I feel safe around him.
Somehow, I feel like everything is going to be okay around him.
“It just seems fitting,” he says. “You’re like a little fairy: a fairy princess. You’re tiny and curvy and cute. You’re sweet. You’re adorable. And I want you,” he adds, kissing my ear. “I want you so bad that it hurts. I shouldn’t want you this bad. I’m no good for you.”
Ronan wants me.
He doesn’t just want to be around me, to get to know me. He wants to fuck me. He wants to devour me with his body and right now, that’s what I want, too. This feeling, this desire is overwhelming. It’s not something I’ve ever felt so strongly before and suddenly, I feel like I’m going to die if Ronan doesn’t touch me.
I want his hands on me. I want his mouth on me. I want all of him on me.
This is the part where I usually run away.
I should push him away and flee. I should run back to my house and hide and be safe and alone and isolated. I should do what I’ve always done and go be by myself. I should do that.
I should do that right now.
But suddenly, I don’t want to do what I’ve always done.
Suddenly, I want to be brave.
Suddenly, I want everything that Ronan wants, and I want it more.
So instead of running, I look in his eyes as I reach out and grip his cock through his pants.
“I want you, too,” I whisper, and his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
Chapter 4
Ronan
Lara tastes like sunshine and flowers and warm summer days.
She tastes like rainbows.
She tastes like happiness.
She tastes like perfection and I know that I utterly, completely don’t deserve her, but right now I’m going to be selfish and take what she’s offering me. Right now, I’m going to be a little crazy, a little irresponsible, a little bad, and I’m going to kiss the hell of this little human.
I’m going to make her forget everything but me.
She’s going to be the death of me, I realize. Her hand is still on my cock, gripping it through my pants, and her lips are soft against mine. How long has it been since a woman made me feel this way? How long has it been since someone made me lose every ounce of self-control I possess?
As a lawyer, my self-control is everything to me. It’s the most important part of my job, the most valuable thing I have to offer to my clients. I have to be in complete control of myself at all times so I can get the best deal for each client who comes my way. If I freak out, if I get upset, if I let anger cloud my judgment, then I won’t be able to help my clients.
So I stay calm at all times.
I stay calm and collected and rational because if I’m not, I’ll risk losing the case. I’ll risk everything and that’s not something I’m willing to do. It’s not just about my clients, to be honest. On a certain level, the self-control I exhibit is also about my pride. I’m not going to let nasty looks from a jury get under my skin. I’m not going to let a prosecutor’s harsh words irritate me. I’m certainly not going to let an angry judge’s wrath be the reason I can’t stay rational.
I’m better than that.
At least, I always thought so.
That was before, though.
That was before Lara.
Now?
Now I’m not so sure that self-control is the answer. Now I’m not so sure that being in control is always the best idea. I’ve never felt so out of control as I do at this moment and I’ve never felt so alive.
Everything about Lara is incredible. Ever
ything about her captivates me. I run my hands through her hair and down her cheeks. My hands settle on her face and I hold her, kissing her, dominating her mouth, sliding my tongue over her own.
She doesn’t release my cock. Instead, she runs her hand up and down my shaft, offering me achingly wonderful pain. My dick is screaming with excitement, with pleasure.
“I want to be inside you,” I whisper, and Lara groans. “I want to make love to you, baby,” I tell her. “I want to spread your legs and sink into your tight pussy and just fuck you until you come over and over again.”
“Oh my dragons,” she whispers, but I can smell her arousal. I’m sure that at this point, everyone in the damn building can smell her arousal. Everyone knows exactly how turned on she is. They all know exactly how much Lara wants me.
And something about that makes me feel protective.
No one should know she’s aroused but me.
She’s my mate.
The thought echoes through my head and this time, I don’t push it away. This time, I embrace the feeling, the idea that maybe, just maybe, Lara really is my mate.
Her hand grips me tighter, stroking harder and harder, and I know that we’re about to reach a breaking point. We’re either going to sleep together or we’re going to stop touching because if she doesn’t stop rubbing my cock, I’m going to come inside my pants like a horny teenager.
“I need you,” she whispers. “Oh, I’ve never needed anything like this before.”
“No?” I ask, kissing her neck, running my tongue over her skin.
“No,” she groans, throwing her head back, giving me easier access. “This is incredible. I’m so wet, Ronan. I’m so horny. Fuck, why am I so horny?” Then, just as suddenly as this started, she stops it, pushing me away.
Lara looks overwhelmed, confused. Her face is flushed and her hair is a mess now, but she still looks perfect. She still looks beautiful.
“What’s wrong with me?” She asks, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and I try to read the emotions there: pain, confusion, embarrassment. “We’ve only just met,” she says. “I’m really, really sorry. That was completely inappropriate.”
