Shifter Romance Box Set

by Unknown

  Lacey sighed as she melted into her husband's embrace. Truthfully, the town set her nerves on edge too, but there wasn't an easy way to explain that.

  The community was a strange mix of old-time charm and modern sterility. Most of the people who worked at the lab were young, clean-cut, but acted like self-absorbed government drones. And the established residents, the ones who had been raised in the area, all seemed quiet and sad.

  Lacey still didn't know where she and Mark fit into the picture, and for months, she'd felt like an outsider. The worst part was that whenever she walked down the quaint, sleepy Main Street, the hairs on her neck always prickled.

  "All right, I might go to the butcher." She nuzzled Mark's neck and stroked her hands down his strong back. "I've got a weird craving for steak."

  Mark grinned and picked up the cowboy hat, setting it on her head.

  "That's my girl." He stepped back and studied her with an admiring gaze. "You'd better wear that tonight, little lady," he said in a drawl. Then he smacked her ass as he brushed past, heading for the closet in search of a tie. "I hear cowgirls like to be on top."

  She winked at him, but it was lost under the wide brim of the hat. And her heart wasn't in it. Normally, she would have been turned on by her husband's teasing. On a morning like this, with no time for sex before work, she would have reached for her vibrator the moment he left.

  But she couldn't get the ghastly suspicion out of her mind. Mark might have killed someone last night. Her heart tried to escape from her throat but she swallowed it down.

  She shot a sidelong glance at her husband, then slipped into the bathroom again. Closing the door, she crumpled to the ground with the hat clutched to her chest. What am I going to do?

  "See you tonight, honey," Mark shouted before the front door closed loudly behind him.

  "Have a good day," she whispered to herself as she buried her face in her hands.

  * * * *

  The brim of the cowboy hat sat low over Lacey's eyes as she fixed dinner. It felt immoral to be wearing the clothing of some dead man, but her husband had insisted. He joked that she'd missed her calling for rodeos and cattle herding. She had to admit it looked good, even if it was too large. The charcoal gray rabbit felt brought out her dark hair and eyes.

  Fantasies of role-playing an outlaw churned in her mind as the aroma of the sizzling steak wafted up to her nose. She wiped at her mouth and then grimaced in disgust as she found saliva coating the back of her hand.

  "What's happening to me?" Lacey whispered under her breath as she snatched a tissue from a box on the counter. In an effort to forget that she'd caught herself drooling, she dabbed it at her lips. She could almost pretend she was fixing her lipstick.

  There was a knock on the door and she shouted to Mark, "Can you get that?" Probably a neighbor from down the road, looking to borrow Mark's tools.

  She listened while cooking, hearing the creak of the door followed by a muffled conversation. Then Mark raised his voice in frustration. He was normally very courteous to visitors, even solicitors. So she switched the burner off and hurried into the hall to find out what upset him.

  A tall man with long blond hair stood in the doorway, illuminated by the porch light. He had the muscular build of an active body and looked to be in his twenties. A light-colored plaid button shirt covered his strong chest, under a black leather vest. One hand rested in the pocket of his well worn gray jeans while the other held up a piece of metal jewelry.

  "I don't know what you're up to," Mark said in an accusing tone. "But this is a private rural road."

  "I'm not from around here and truthfully I don't even know where here is," the man said defensively. "Like I was saying, I found something and figured it belonged to someone who lives here."

  "I think you'd better leave." Mark turned, starting to close the door. But he stopped as he saw Lacey in the hallway, clutching her chest.

  The man saw her too, and his eyes widened with shock.

  "Hey!" He shouted as he pointed at her. "That's my hat!"

  Mark looked at the man, confusion contorting his face.

  "What's going on here?" he growled.

  Fear flooded her chest. She shrank back from the hall, with full knowledge that this man was involved with her husband's disorder. She wanted to run as the tight ball of secrets threatened to unwind around her.

  "Wait!" the man shouted with desperation from the doorway. "I've got your watch!"

  She clutched her wrist and self-consciously rubbed the tan line on her skin. Her day had been so hectic that she'd forgotten to look for it after her shower. She retreated backwards into the kitchen, hiding her view from the doorway. Her hand groped blindly behind her; she brushed a chair and sat heavily as she tried to compose the right words in her mind.

  Mark came around the corner, holding the thin watch. He held it up for her, with the back showing her name imprinted on the metal. He remained silent but his forehead knitted and the question was plain on his face.

  "Mark," Lacey whispered as she lowered her head. "There's something I've been meaning to—"

  "I'm sorry if I'm intruding on your dinner." The man poked his head around the corner, his mouth crooked into a grimace. "The name matched your mailbox so I figured it was probably yours."

  Mark handed the watch to Lacey and turned to face the stranger. The man's eyes widened and he lifted his hands, palms out.

  "I don't know how you got my hat and truthfully I don't need to know. If I could just get it back, I'll be on my way."

  "I would like to know," Mark said with heat in his voice. "Have you two been sleeping together?"

  "No, sir." The man blushed. "I'm not that kind of guy. I don't go home with the first lady I meet at a bar." A sheepish smile played on his face as his gaze flicked between the two.

  "You met at a bar?" Mark glanced back at Lacey, his brow pinched, and his eyes wild.

  "That's not what I meant." The man waved his hands. "I've never seen your lovely wife before. Honest!"

  Mark's fist clenched as his lip curled, exposing his teeth.

  "Honey, no—" Lacey grabbed Mark's arm but he jerked away from her as he stared the other man down.

  She'd never seen him like this; even when angry he'd always kept his head. Now there was fire burning in the depths of his eyes and his broad shoulders twitched, as if itching for an excuse to throw a punch.

  "Hey, now!" The man said, his brows lowering. "I didn't ask to be involved with you batshit crazy people. Just keep the hat, I don't need the trouble."

  "You've already got it, pal."

  With that, the two spoke in quick succession, trying to override the other with a steady rise to their voices.

  "—some fucking hick breaks into our house—" Mark shouted into the man's face.

  "—don't even know how the hell I got here! And I'm no fucking hick—" The man yelled back.

  It was as if the two were possessed by a wild rage, spittle spraying with their angry words. Her hands covered her ears as she tried to block them out. Like the wind before a storm, she knew fists would fly if she didn't do something soon.

  She closed her eyes and tried to think. How did my watch get outside? I wore it to bed. The hat fell forward on her head covering her clenched eyes and she no longer heard the yelling over the ringing in her ears. Like a whirlwind, the details swirled in her mind: the man's hat, the watch, her scratches, the dream—and the dirt under her nails.

  Her eyes snapped open and she gasped as the pieces fell into place.

  "You're both werewolves!" Lacey screamed, her throat burning from the force of the outburst.

  After a moment of silence, she lifted the hat up to be sure the men were still there. They stood less than an inch from each other, but both stared at her, their jaws agape. Their faces could not have looked more surprised if cats had started spilling out of her mouth.

  "... and I'm one, too." Her voice cracked and the hat fell forward again, hiding her from their concerned looks.
The weight of the truth came crushing down on her, forcing out a flood of tears. She sat on the chair, sobbing, her face cradled in her hands as the two men shifted uncomfortably.

  Finally, Mark cleared his throat and walked over to her, his gentle voice returning. "Honey, we'll figure this out but I think you need to rest. This is causing you too much stress." He removed the hat to kiss her forehead.

  "L—Look." She hiccupped, then pulled her shirt down her shoulder, exposing the wicked gash that was starting to heal. "Last night—" She choked and pointed at the man, unable to explain.

  The rage returned to her husband's eyes and he stood, fists at his sides. The stranger took a step back, bracing his hands in front of him. "Whoa! I wouldn't—I don't hit—" He stammered as Mark approached him.

  "No!" She swallowed her tears, forcing herself to talk. "It's not his fault, Mark. You—" she hesitated for a moment, but since the box was already open, the words continued to spill out of her. "You attacked me, too. A month ago. I know you wouldn't have if you could control it."

  "I attacked you?" Mark's voice strained.

  "Okay." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, then stood. "We all need to calm down."

  She walked over to Mark, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  "I need to wash up. Why don't you get this nice man a beer and talk. All right?" she pleaded while looking into her husband's eyes. "That way we can go about this in a more reasonable and relaxed manner. Don't you agree?"

  "You're right." Mark rubbed his chin and then looked into her eyes. "I don't know what's come over me. I'm not sure what's going on but we'll work this out."

  "I'll explain everything over dinner." She kissed him on the cheek then offered her hand to the stranger. "I'm sorry. My name's Lacey. You'll have dinner with us? Maybe we can start over."

  "Uh, yes, ma'am." He hesitated before giving her a firm handshake. "Cole." He turned to Mark, self consciously rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry I caused such a fuss."

  "Just call me Lacey. And my husband's name is Mark."

  The two men shook hands and her husband lowered his gaze. "I have to admit things have been strange lately. I'm the one who should apologize."

  Cole shook his head. "I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but I have no clue how I got here."

  "We will figure all this out over dinner," Lacey said as she smiled. "You two have a drink and I'll be back in a minute."

  She left them in the kitchen and walked down the hallway to the bathroom.

  With a sense of unease, she sorted her thoughts as she splashed her face and rubbed the redness out of her eyes. But the truth was elusive, like staring at life through slivers of clouded glass. As the makeup sloughed off her face, leaving the hint of a now-healing scratch, she tried to reign in her senses.

  He smelled like her dream: woody undergrowth and musky sweetness. The scent was comforting, brisk, and freeing. Rather than her usual knee-jerk fear of the forest, it carried an electric-charged thrill of excitement.

  Did I actually sleep with him? When I was...

  She'd woken up sore all over, so she couldn't be sure. But from her racing pulse, and the damp tingle between her thighs, she knew that she wanted to.

  Cole seemed like a nice guy, and more than that too. He was hot. There was no mistaking how her eyes had reflexively tracked down his rugged jawline and broad chest.

  Her face flushed, both from her unexpected arousal and anxiety over how they had just treated a guest in their home. She closed her eyes, attempting to hide from the turmoil she saw in the mirror.

  She knew that Mark had enough sense to act the gracious host, even despite the circumstances. But would he forgive her?

  No, she had to relieve her tension and then think about this with a clear head. Besides, there's no harm in fantasy, she thought.

  Her mind wandered, and she imagined lying with Cole on their bed. She pictured his beautiful brown bedroom eyes looking into her, his full yet masculine lips pressed against her skin. She wanted to run her hand down his rugged jaw, feeling the rough stubble.

  Without her realizing it, she had pressed her fingers against her crotch. In that moment of need, she pulled her dress up and snaked her hand down her panties, pressing a fingertip on each side of her clit. She wanted to feel his chest, taste him, smell his skin. And her legs reflexively spread at the thought. The pressure on her mound fired off a wave of pleasure through her nerves, causing her to clench deep inside.

  Her wetness soaked into her panties, so she pulled them down and sat her naked bottom on the vanity counter. The tile was cool and the chill spread up to her full, flushed lips.

  She imagined what it would feel like to caress the bulge in his jeans and she inserted two fingers into her pussy. She used the knuckle of her thumb to grind against her pubic bone as she rode on her hand.

  I would fuck him, she thought, fantasizing about his cock entering her. He would be a good lover too.

  She hummed as her panting quickened. With her eyes closed, she fucked her fingers like she was on top of Cole. Tension built inside her, splashes of pleasure pulsing between her legs. Then her breath caught as she envisioned his cock, throbbing inside her as he released his seed. She bit her lip to keep herself from whining as she flooded over. Her ass spasmed, her body twitched, and her hips rocked on her knuckles. She only wished she could lay with him for a moment as her face and pussy flushed with tingling with bliss.

  Pulling her glistening fingers out, she sat for a minute to catch her breath. She yearned to remember more details from the dream. No, she corrected herself, it was real. But the memories eluded her like pieces missing from a puzzle.

  Her hand was soaked and she'd left a wet spot on the countertop. So she kicked off her panties, and used them to clean up before tossing them in the hamper. She washed her hands, splashed more water on her face, and brushed her hair. Hopefully nobody notices my afterglow. Although, if they did... She smiled and pulled the dress down over her naked rear, amused by the naughty thought.

  She left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen to finish making dinner. The sound of friendly conversation echoed from the dining room and she shook her head as the meat sizzled in front of her. It amazed her how men could almost come to blows, then minutes later share a beer together like they were close friends.

  As she loaded the food onto plates, her mouth watered from the juicy aroma. Tray in hand, a wine bottle under her arm, she swept into the dining room with a smile plastered on her face. She didn't fully understand what was happening to her but she knew the power of a home cooked meal.

  The two men sat across from each other, quietly waiting as she placed the plates in front of them. Then she lit the two candles on the table and turned out the kitchen light. When she finally sat down next to her husband, Mark poured the wine and cleared his throat.

  "Cole was just telling me about Texas." He said as he picked up a fork and stabbed into the tender steak. "He works on a ranch just outside of Houston."

  Lacey frowned and took a sip from her glass. "You're a long way from home."

  "I just wish I could remember how I got here." Cole closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at her. "I really do appreciate the meal."

  She smiled again and nodded. "It's not a bother."

  They focused on feasting until the plates were squeaky clean and the sound of stainless steel hitting ceramics signaled the end of dinner. Mark poured more wine for Lacey and offered the bottle to Cole. They drank in an uncomfortable silence, denying the proverbial elephant in the room. But the alcohol was working its magic and Lacey took a deep breath before breaking the tension.

  "Did you dream of the woods last night, Cole?" She asked, swirling the liquid in her glass.

  He looked at her, his mouth open, his gaze betraying his surprise. And as she tracked her eyes to Mark, he also stared at her in bewilderment.

  Her husband blinked and shook his head. "How?"

  Lacey lowered her eyes. "I dreamt of th
e woods." She took a long draw from the glass before continuing. "I remember the moon through the branches as I ran in between the trees." She was surprised by the calm in her voice, for blood raced in her veins and pounded in her ears. "Only, I wasn't human."

  The quiet in the room felt like a vacuum, pushing in on the delicate light from the candles.

  "Somehow I can sense things that I couldn't detect before. Sounds, tastes, smells are all magnified." Her gaze flicked up to Cole's pale face. "And I now know that you were there. As a wolf."

  He took a shuddering breath and cleared his throat, his eyes squinting as if she were foretelling his death. "I would never—"

  "Just hear me out." The words came faster the more she divulged, like a levy collapsing under her burden. "You were chasing me through the forest and you cornered me. But I do not think you were yourself when you attacked me. Just like when Mark changed the first time, about a month ago."

  She gazed at her husband as sadness crept into her voice. "I didn't want to think it was anything more than a bad dream. I thought if I didn't acknowledge it, I would wake up and it would all be over."

  Her mouth was dry and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "But this morning, I awoke to find it was real. I had dirt in my nails, on my hands and feet. My foot was sore, swollen from a fall I don't remember taking. I had cuts and bruises, and I cannot tell you how else I got them."

  "Why didn't you tell me this?" Mark asked as pain creased his proud cheeks.

  "I wasn't sure if you'd believe me. I still didn't believe it myself until Cole showed up with my watch. Plus, I was afraid you'd think I was crazy and leave." She set the empty glass down and busied herself with her napkin; at first wiping her fingers then clutching the cloth in her tense fists. "And I didn't want to leave you."

  Mark sucked in a deep breath and sat back in his chair, rubbing his jaw.

  "I was afraid," Lacey whispered. "But I had faith that our love would somehow keep me alive."