Dorian

by Erin Havoc

  Table of Contents

  Opening

  Blurb

  Chapter 01

  Chapter 02

  Chapter 03

  Chapter 04

  Chapter 05

  Chapter 06

  Chapter 07

  Chapter 08

  Chapter 09

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Free book!

  Read Next!

  Backmatter

  Copyright

  DORIAN

  SHIFTER DATING APP SERIES

  * * *

  ERIN HAVOC

  An Older Man, Younger Curvy Woman Shifter Romance

  BELLA

  Shifters are real.

  All right. I can deal with that.

  But this dating app is telling me my perfect match is a bear.

  Please. I’m so not falling for that scam.

  DORIAN

  I have had enough of waiting.

  My mate is out there and I have to find her.

  It doesn’t matter what it takes,

  I’ll make her mine.

  1

  BELLA

  Flopping back into my chair, I release the biggest, longest sigh that has ever been released in the history of programming.

  I can’t believe I’m finally done. It’s over. C’est fini. The end.

  The longest software testing report that has ever been written since computers became a thing. Testing it has been, well, as boring as every other one.

  It may sound neat to test not-yet-released programs. See what they can do before everyone else. Have a sneak peek. But the truth is, I don’t quite have the time to enjoy them. I’m not being paid to.

  They pay me to find flaws and test the interface, and I have to keep up with my studies, always up-to-date with the newest technologies. They pay me to be meticulous and analyze every possible point of view. Beta testing for the sake of beta testing is a unicorn in this industry.

  Running a hand through my hair, I capture the ends between my fingers to eye them. The light brown strands are in desperate need of a cut. And I am in dire need of some time off. A long soak in the tub with a book. Wine. Maybe some pizza.

  The report for the testing has taken longer than I expected — hours upon hours of finding the right words and re-testing and printing screens. I like to be thorough and make sure the client has everything he requires. Sometimes it’s not enough, and I hate to go through everything again because an inattentive client forgot to ask a question or formulated it differently.

  It’s even worse if they want to meet up. God. Seeing people. Ugh.

  My job’s greatest highlight is working from home. They send me emails, both parts sign online contracts, and everything is done through the internet. Nowadays, you don’t need to see people to get stuff done. There are online dating sites, and online classes, and some physicians even attend through video calls.

  And it’s great. I’m not missing human contact at all. People only hurt. Even the ones that are supposed to love you unconditionally.

  Sending the report, I pick up my phone and stride into my bathroom. The water gushes from the faucet as I turn it on, and I flick through my messages as I strip off the leggings and t-shirt. Even if I have spent the entire day without checking my messages, there’s only one blinking to attention and one email. I select the message first. The email is probably work-related and I’m just thinking about that tomorrow.

  Vivian: Hey girl. What are you up to tonight?

  The message is hours old. Vivian’s my closest (if not only) friend, even if we’re not exactly peas in a pod. I’m a pea. But she’s, like, a broccoli. She’s never one to be by herself at home. She doesn’t do loneliness and introversion. And since I’ve taken forever to see the message, it’s way more likely that she’s already found herself something to do.

  Bella: Hey there. Thinking about pizza and wine. You?

  The greatest part about Vivian is that even if we’re opposites, she never forces me. She knows I’d rather have a rash than go out into a club or hang around a noisy bar. So even if that’s her thing, she just grabs some food and pops in here to spend time with me.

  Her answer comes moments later, as I’m dipping my foot into the warm water. I check it before I sit inside the tub.

  Vivian: Sounds amazing! I’m getting there in an hour or so. I’ll bring the pizza.

  Bella: Fantastic. You know what I like.

  She does because it’s the same old flavor in the same old pizzeria. Pepperoni, with extra pepperonis, in Bella Napoli. I’m not one into trying different things. I mean, what’s the point if I have already found something I like?

  I let myself soak for fifteen minutes as I read. Then I stand to wash my hair — I’m the one who cuts it since I dread the uncomfortable tension of going to a hairdresser. They usually ignore what I ask of them and a couple of inches turn into a bob in the blink of an eye. Also, they like to stare at me, waiting for the highest of praises for doing what I didn’t ask of them. Gives me chills.

  After trimming my own hair and getting inside a new pair of leggings and t-shirt, I tidy my place up. It doesn’t take long. My apartment is a tiny flat. I don’t even have a dining table — when Vivian comes here, we just plop down on the couch. My meals I have on my work desk. I don’t mind it that much.

  She knocks on my door with her usual vivacious energy, making up harmonies as I stride to let her in.

  “Hi!” She grins, showing off a perfect row of teeth in a large smile that makes her eyes glitter. An arm swings around my neck and I chuckle with her antics.

  “Hey there.” I hug her back, my fingers roping along her auburn tresses. “We saw each other last week.”

  “So what?” She lets me go and walks in, the smell of pizza wafting behind her as she ambles to the coffee table and props two square boxes there. “You’re my best friend. I’d see you every day, and I’d still miss you.”

  My heart warms inside my chest. “I missed you too. It’s just that days pass so fast…”

  She waves a hand in dismissal, sitting on the couch and freeing herself of her purse. “You don’t need to explain a thing, Bella. Remember, your friends don’t mind, your enemies don’t care.”

  Vivian and her inspirational quotes. I chuckle as I join her on the couch. She’s looking good as ever. Even being a curvy girl like myself, we have different ways to own it. I mean, I don’t. At all. I’m in t-shirts and sweaters, even if it’s hot outside. I can still remember my mother telling me no one needs to know I’m overweight. No one needs to see it.

  Vivian’s in a flowy dress, celebrating spring. Bright and sunny, it shows off her arms and nipped waist, her round hips. She crosses her legs, and a slit in the dress reveals a thigh. A part of me wishes I had that self-confidence. Her wild red hair flows in curls around her shoulders, and she picks up a slice of pizza and takes a generous bite of it, her red lipstick staining the cheese.

  “So,” she starts with her mouth full, “how’s that shitty project going?”

  I sigh, walking into the kitchen to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of wine. “I’ve completed it today. Already sent it back. So boring. I hope the next one is something more fun.”

  “It will be.” She nods, her curls bouncing as she accepts a glass. “It will be something hot. Like reviewing a dating app.” She wiggles her brows.

  I roll my eyes as I plop into the couch, filling two glasses with red wine. “A dating app? How could I, of all people, judge something like that?”

  She curls her nose. “How could you not? The only requisite to judge that is to be single, right?”

  “But I don’t date, Vivian, you know that.”

  “Go on. Tell me why,” Vivian prompts, cocking a brow. She knows I can’t
say “because I’m too big for that” since she’s as curvy as I am, and she has had as many flings this past year as I had fictional boyfriends in my entire life.

  “I don’t like going out. And I don’t like meeting people,” I blurt out, digging into my pizza.

  She huffs. “So you’re not interested in dating? As in ever? Come on, Bella. That’s non-sense. You just have to find yourself someone who accepts your quirks, that’s all. When you start seeing your worth, you won’t overthink so much.”

  My lips twist at the corners and I hold back the next words. We’ve already been through that. My quirks are not endearing. They are not cute. I’m not clumsy, waiting for a strong guy to hold me up if I trip. No guy wants to date a girl who doesn’t mind spending a whole month cooped up inside her place, solving things through the internet. Guys are social. They like sports and to hang out with friends in bars.

  “Pizza’s great,” I say, trying to escape from the subject.

  Vivian curls her lips in that way that tells me she knows what I’m doing. Releasing a sigh, she runs her fingers through my wet strands. “Did you cut your hair? It looks great.”

  “I did. Just before you got here.”

  “You’re good at that, Bella. I can’t believe you’ve learned how to cut your own hair so you wouldn’t need to go to a hairdresser. But it looks fantastic, and you saved the money. Kudos to you.” She clinks our glasses together.

  “You spoil me.” I laugh, sipping my wine.

  “I know.” She grins and picks her phone up, making herself comfortable. “So, what’s new?”

  I shrug. “Nothing really. Finished that project today. Tomorrow I’ll look for the next one.” I also am about to finish Les Miserables, which is a milestone for a book nerd, but that’s not worth mentioning. “You?”

  She opens a sly grin that tells me she has a real novelty, unlike me. “Got a fantastic job. It’s a month from now. You should join me.”

  Vivian’s a photographer. And I cannot see why, under any circumstance, she’d want me to join her in an assignment. “Join you? If you need some help, maybe you should find someone with the skills. I don’t even know the last time I’ve taken a picture.”

  She chuckles, elbowing me. “Fuck skills. It’s the hottest event in town. I could come up with some excuse to bring you along.”

  “What event?”

  Her eyes sparkle. “Firefighter calendar.”

  I snort. “Really?” It’s not that I don’t appreciate buffed up men. I do, as much as the next girl. What I don’t appreciate is making small talk and waiting for the moment they will ignore me and run after the closest skinny girl.

  “Not only that.” She flicks her thumb at her phone screen, picking her way through a website. Then she turns the screen to face me. “It’s that first all-shifters fire station downtown.”

  The piece of news she shows me says exactly that — the first fire station made up of all-shifters. The pictures involve rescues and big men with their clothes singed getting out of burning houses with people in their bulging arms.

  They’re huge. It’s undeniable.

  The whole shifter thing came out to the public a year ago. Shifters. As in people that are not completely human walking among us. They’re half Homo sapiens and half… something else. Bears, wolves, lions. And not just the predators. I’ve heard of mice shifters, which sounds entirely unimpressive, but have been used as spies and agents for years.

  At first, I didn’t believe it. I waited for the truth to be unveiled - some complex prank, or a collective hallucination. But it never did. More and more people came out as shifters. Videos and images and witnesses. I’ve watched laws being discussed, and people getting together to decide what was supposed to happen.

  Then one day I was getting out of the supermarket and a man down the street lost control of his car. A woman had just started crossing the street with a baby stroller, and it almost felt like a movie. Everything slowed down as I watched, unable to open my mouth to yell as the driver swerved in her direction.

  Out of the blue, a man across the street burst into a huge bear and leaped in front of the car. The woman was saved and the people around clapped, and I couldn’t say I didn’t believe it anymore when the bear shifted back into a very bulky, very naked man.

  But if I have already been ignored by average men, one can only guess how these shifters would treat me. It seems it’s in their genetics to be fit. Large or lean, they’re always strong and defined. They’re always hot and handsome and protective.

  “Why would I want to watch you photographing a bunch of hot men that wouldn’t give a shit about me?” I eyeball Vivian as I give her phone back.

  Her brows furrow. “What makes you so sure? You’re gorgeous, Bella. Don’t let some jackass’s words put you down.”

  She probably means my ex, but I’ve heard comments about my body coming from various sources. Family included. “And what makes you believe one of these men would like to hang out with a girl like me? Aren’t shifters all about groups and communities and being fit? That’s the opposite of me.”

  “I’ve heard they like curvy girls.” She wiggles her brows. “I’m single, and I wouldn’t mind having a hunk of a man like one of these. They say shifters are very faithful and protective.”

  “Hot guys that like curvy girls and are faithful? Come on, Vivian. That sounds like spam.”

  She chuckles. “It does, right? But it’s real life, girl. I’m telling you. Dating a shifter is the solution to our problems. Average guys want skinny girls, but these shifters are here to stay.”

  “I don’t know. Would you trust a man that can burst into a tiger and rip your throat off?”

  She glares at me. “Gee, Bella. When they turn into animals, they don’t lose their conscience. Don’t trip.”

  I press my lips together. “Still sounds too good to be true. Almost like some fairy tale.”

  “At first, I thought so too. But now there are laws and famous people are coming out. Remember that k-pop singer that turned into a silver fox live? So cool.”

  So cool indeed. I remember the video. I re-watched it a hundred times, trying to find the special effect, but to naught. After I saw the bear-man turning in front of my eyes, I abandoned my doubts.

  Shifters are real.

  But from accepting that reality to dating one of them?

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” I tell her, honestly. I will. Probably it’ll be a no.

  She cocks her head, her hair spilling down a shoulder. “I know it doesn’t please you, Bella. But I’d love it if you tried to get out of your comfort zone. You might be able to find some amazing things away from it.”

  I nod. “I know. It’s just that... I don’t like the idea of flirting with some hot guy face to face. You know I have problems even with flight attendants, and they’re always nice.”

  She tilts her lips. “How awesome would it be if dating apps let us know if a guy’s a shifter, right?”

  I nod. It wouldn’t be that bad. That is, if the whole “preferring curvy girls” thing is real. But being loved by a man who accepts my quirks and loves my shape? Sounds like a far-fetched dream.

  The subject changes and morphs into something else, but shifters come up here and there. They’re still all over the news. And after Vivian’s gone and I lie down to sleep, my mind takes me there again. To a wonder. A wish.

  Even if I like the whole being-alone thing, I also enjoy company. I love it when Vivian visits me, and we laugh and share our minds.

  Having that with a man who loves me sounds perfect. Too perfect.

  But dreaming is free, right?

  2

  DORIAN

  The park is quiet today.

  I sit outside the Visitor’s Center, the clipboard balanced over a knee. The thing’s so tiny next to me. It’s kind of ridiculous to hold a pen and write down the week’s report.

  But writing it down gives me pride. No incidents. No wounded tourists. No fires. It�
�s been a fantastic week. As a ranger of the National Park, it’s my job to make sure the place is safe, as are its visitors. Throughout the last months, we’ve had an insurgence of tourists and that increases the chances of an accident happening.

  Shifter-watching.

  Yeah, that’s a thing. It makes me laugh every time I think of it.

  Ever since we came out to society, it’s been a sensation. A politician said we prefer wooded areas to live close to nature. Now the place is booming with people talking in hushed voices I can still hear from afar, cameras in hand to capture the image of a shadow, and discussing if it’s just an animal or a shifter.

  It’s just an animal, I assure you. We shifters have been secret for so long because we’re tight-lipped. We never use the forest while there are visitors around, for example. And only ever after dark.

  Still fun to watch them, though.

  My bear paces inside me. It’s usually an unnerving feeling — he’s letting me know we shouldn’t be filling boring reports and feeling pride for keeping the park safe. My bear is single-minded, that’s a fact, but I’ve learned to live with it.

  You have to when you’re forty and your bear only thinks about finding a mate.

  “I know, I know,” I mutter under my breath as he paces around. The sensation takes some time getting used to — a mind akin to your own but not completely yours inside your head. Instinct calling for you. You have to learn how to tell when it’s your bear overreacting to something, and when it’s something to pay attention to.

  Luckily, I was born in a shifter family, to shifter parents, and they raised me well. They had taught me everything by the time I turned into a bear for the first time when I was around twelve. Their knowledge and love had been my haven, and I wish I can be the same for someone else.

  A mate.

  The word thrums through my body, and I avoid thinking about it too long. My bear gets all unhinged. He’s always aware we’re getting old and still single, lonely and with none of the cubs, we wished to have by now.