by May Sage
He would have breathed easier if they’d made a detour to get any follower off their trail, but Daunte was adamant that they needed to arrive before the kids, so that they might settle things with the mysterious loner.
Every passing minute, Rygan was more intrigued about the woman who made his Beta stress out so much.
“Chill,” he told him at their last pit stop before they’d made it to the place Daunte had input into their GPSs. “If you can’t sweet talk her, we can pay her off.”
They might not be the biggest, oldest, or the most fearful pride out there, but they certainly didn’t lack funds.
Rygan had been given a fair bit of cash by his grandmother when he’d become Alpha, and he’d invested it wisely. Besides, unlike a lot of shifters out there - they normally kept to themselves, finding roles within their community, and shutting out the rest of the world - most of the members of the pride had businesses.
Christine handcrafted some girly shit that somehow sold - hats, scarves, Teddy Bears and god knew what - Coveney was a wiz behind a computer and pimped his skills as a PI, Jas had a popular travel blog, Ian invested in start-ups, Tracy wrote novels. Rygan didn’t demand it but they all pitched in, dropping some of their profit in the pride’s savings account when they could. Which was often. Last time he’d looked, the amount in their savings had a lot of zeros. No loner was going to turn up her nose at the kind of bribes they could afford.
But, surprising and intriguing him again, Daunte snorted, “No. Trust me, if she doesn’t want us in her territory, there’s nothing we can say or do to change her mind.”
Daunte was adamant, but he didn’t elaborate, to Rye’s annoyance.
They finished the last leg of their journey within the next couple of hours; by the time they stopped in front of a handsome plantation built at the heart of a wild, untamed forest, Rye was imagining that they would be met by a she-bear, a fearsome witch, or maybe even a damn vampire.
“Wow. This place is beautiful.”
It was; the location, the old house with ivy crawling up the walls, and those strong, high trees surrounding it were picturesque. His cat was seriously drooling over the untamed landscape, desperate to shift. He wanted to go play. Badly. But now wasn’t the time, and Rygan told him so.
Quiet.
The tiger inside him was normally more or less amenable - he understood that Rye let him have its say when he could - but today, it felt agitated. There was… something. He couldn’t place his finger on it. He scented something that made every part of him uneasy, unhinged.
Rye had no gift, but there was a fair bit of witch blood in his family tree - his grandmother had healing powers, like Ola, his aunt was a Seer, and his mother, a powerful empath - and he knew that meant he should listen to his instincts more than the average shifter so, he stayed vigilant, ready for the world to explode.
“Do I hear a waterfall?” Ian asked, and Daunte pointed west.
“Yep, that way. There’s a lake further into the forest, too.”
Ola shook her head and playfully bumped his shoulder.
“You’re in deep shit for not telling us about this place before. It’s perfect.”
They’d moved seven times over the last ten years, since he’d formed the pride, but they’d never settled anywhere nearly as nice; these kinds of places were normally packed with humans, but during their ride over, they hadn't come across even one house. This was the perfect location for a pride.
“Oh, he most certainly is in deep shit.”
They all tensed and turned away from the view and towards the direction of the beautiful, singsong voice, startled because none of them had felt or heard anyone approach, even though Rye had been on high alert.
Fuck.
Rygan had a hard time staying focused; the moment he saw her, his entire attention was captured by her.
The brunette who’d appeared on the step of the elegant home was small, petite, delicate, and dangerous. Her aura said so. The way she moved said so. The way his tiger clawed to the surface, urging Rygan forward, definitely said so.
His tiger had never paid any attention to a female before. Never. He didn’t form any words, but Rygan understood his feeling completely. Usually, when Rygan looked at women he found appealing, his animal was bored, finding them unworthy of his attention. Pitiful. Weak. He told him, play with it if you must, but don’t get me involved. Problematic, as no shifter could hope to form a relationship if their animal didn’t approve.
Right now the dumb tiger, who should have bared his teeth, jumped and said chase the pretty kitty.
Shit.
Daunte echoed his curse, holding his hands up, “Look, I can explain.”
He actually didn’t finish the last word, as her foot was kicking him ten feet back. The woman had effortlessly jumped to him, and she did it again, one of her knees colliding with his jaw, while the other wrapped around his neck. She did a flip that turned his Beta flat on the ground, all in a few seconds.
Jas was stepping forward, ready to defend her pridemate, but Rygan held her back. Normally, because of their difference in size and muscle mass, females fought females and males fought males, so it was understandable that the enforcer felt like intervening; but Daunte wasn’t letting the woman win out of courtesy. He was trying to push her, struggling to get up. She’d just beat his ass, fair and square, without breaking a sweat.
What. The. Hell.
“He told us to stay back,” Rygan reminded Jas, and the woman’s head snapped to his.
She’d caught his tiger’s attention immediately, but now she had his.
Damn. She was a fucking wet dream. Those fiery golden eyes turned cat - narrow irises and all - that pretty face, and every sinful curve her yoga pants and t-shirt weren’t hiding got him hard; almost as much as her display of dominance.
She narrowed her eyes as her gaze crossed his, and he couldn’t exactly place a word on what transpired there. He only knew one thing: she was hot. Very, very hot. He wanted her so bad it was almost painful.
Cutting their staring contest short, her head snapped back to Daunte, making Rye want to roar in protest. He’d never been so easily dismissed. Most females, dominant or not, would have nodded to him, at least.
He didn’t like her indifference to his status or his vibes. Not. One. Bit. His tiger heartily disagreed, seeing it as a challenge.
“You told them to leave us alone? Wise,” she sweetly said to his Beta, “What else did you say about me?”
Her knee dug harder into his Beta’s throat, and Daunte croaked, “Nothing, I swear. Dammit Aisling, I didn’t have a choice. We have cubs. A witch, a Seer, and five others. One of them is two.”
While she kept Daunte on the ground for another ten seconds, she then got up, letting him go.
“Talk.”
“Wolves. We fight them, but some of them stay back, and aim for the weaker members of the pack. They never make it. Our Seer’s just nine, but she’s gotten stronger and stronger over the last three years - what she sees happens unless we change our decisions. I just thought for one second that we could stay here for a while, and she saw we were safe if we did that. Do you really think I would have come to you if I had any other choice? I don’t actually enjoy getting my ass kicked.”
The woman glared, but the glow of her eyes slowly faded; they reverted back to her natural human gaze, an amber which was a little more normal, and just as mesmerizing.
“You could have called,” she grumbled, turning back towards the house without another word.
Rye looked - of course he looked. Fuck, she could walk away from him any day, with an ass like that.
Daunte got to his feet, and smiled, yelling after her, “We’ll be here a week, tops - downstairs, no one will go upstairs. Then, we’ll get a place nearby. We’ll stay out of your way.”
He wasn’t asking permission, and to everyone’s surprise, the woman he’d called Aisling just shrugged indifferently.
“You still run that bakery?”
he asked, and somehow that must have been pushing his luck, because she turned, her eyes flashing gold again.
“We’ll order in bulk. Delivery. The entire pride will completely stay out of your way. That’s a promise.”
She turned again, and walk away, replying, “I’ll overcharge you.”
Daunte yelled back a, “Love you!” that earned him a growl.
Rygan wasn’t quite certain what had occurred, and apparently, he wasn’t the only one because Jas asked, “So, we have a place to stay?”
Daunte turned to her and winked.
“Yep. And more surprisingly, I still have my balls.”
Excerpt of Shy Girls Write it Better
Cassie felt like a James Bond Girl, minus the grace and the fake boobs, as her fingers flew on the keyboard, typing the super-secret words no one could ever see.
Hearing steps behind her, she minimized the document she was working on, opening up a spreadsheet as quickly as she could – given the antediluvian system she was working with, that could take a while. Thankfully, the incriminating window consented to disappear in time. It just wouldn’t do for one of her colleagues to glance over her shoulder and read the word cock.
It wasn’t her fault – not really. If her boss sent anything even remotely challenging her way, she wouldn’t feel bored to tears by eleven every morning. At the start of her employment at Harris Toys, she’d done her very best, always eagerly asking for more projects, but each time, Michelle Davis, her direct superior, just sent her on a coffee run or an equally boring task. There was nothing wrong with being treated like a secretary; when you were one.
Cassie was an accountant with a double major in business; after working her way through college and amassing more experience than your average thirty-year-old, she’d received a good dozen job offers right out of school.
She’d accepted Harris Toys’ offer because, come on, it was Harris Toys. Not only did the company specialize in really cool children’s toys, half of which were crafted for the use of kids with special needs, but it also generously gave to just about any cause that seemed worthy these days. That was the kind of company you could boast about at a high school reunion. But not when you were a glorified secretary-occasionally-doing-payroll.
As it became clear that Michelle refused to let her do her job, Cassie resorted to two equally underhanded behaviors. Firstly, she’d started to schedule her occasional trip to her boss’s desk when Michelle’s own superior was within ear shot, to make it clear that she wasn’t the slacker Michelle was trying to show she was.
She was all smiles as she said things such as, “Is there anything I can do for you, Michelle? I’m done with the last expense report.”
Because Cassie was shy – terminally so – people mistakenly believed they could walk all over her. Not happening.
Her second coping mechanism, when she had nothing else to do, consisted of plugging in her USB stick, opening up her last document, and writing the naughty books she’d never had the time to focus on until now.
After adhering to the routine for over seven months, she had three books under her belt and the hearing of your average German Shepherd, as catching approaching steps had become her biggest challenge in her cubicle.
Lifting her head to see who the newcomer could possibly be, she dropped it right back to her keyboard quicker than usual, hunching her back to disappear behind her screen.
Patrick Johnson, the CFO, Michelle’s boss, came down at least twice a week, so she’d gotten as used to him as she could – although Cassie would never feel comfortable with a man like him: tall, broad, with a killer smile and too much charisma. She preferred them to stay where they belonged: in fictitious romance.
Still, she could deal with Trick. He was one of the nice ones; he remembered her name and asked how she was until she felt comfortable enough to return the greeting.
The problem was that Trick hadn’t come alone today. Oh, no. He’d brought his best friend, the founder and CEO of Harris Toys, Carter Harris.
Given the fact that she was working for him, Cassie had seen him a few times; on her first day, for one, and maybe once or twice in the elevator. Okay, seven times. Yes, she’d been close to hyperventilating at each damn occasion.
Trick was an upgrade on the All American guy, light brown hair, with amber eyes and a ready smile, while Carter was his exact opposite. Dark wavy hair he styled like Superman and cold grey eyes always penetrating whatever they landed on. Everyone in the room held their breaths and not only because he was signing the paychecks. Well, not literally; Cassie was the one who signed them.
He was the kind of person who effortlessly dominated whatever space he entered.
She risked a peek up from her screen and regretted it immediately: he’d just been looking in her corner – her movement brought his attention to her. Shit.
That’s when, in her mind, she confidently got up, walked straight up to him and grabbed his jacket, kissing him deeply right then and there like they were alone in the world. If it had been one of her books, her protagonist would have done just that. In reality, though, she kept her ass firmly planted on her chair, and blushed like there was no tomorrow.
To her surprise, the corner of Carter Harris’ mouth curled up, although he soon turned to look at everyone else in the room.
“Morning,” his deep voice greeted them. “Don’t mind us – maintenance is redoing the carpet in the three upper floors; we’ll just borrow some of your space for a couple of days.”
Yeah, sure. No worries. Great news.
She was dead. Her nerves would not survive “a couple of days” of seeing Carter Fucking Harris for eight hours straight. With a bit of luck, he’d choose the office behind her back, and she could always do without using the coffee machine nestled against it; that meant she’d only spot him when he came in and left…
Her hopes were dashed as the man carelessly waltzed in the large office right in front of her; as the walls were entirely made of glass, he might as well have been in the same room.
Great. Better get a heart surgeon on speed-dial.
He walked in and made himself at home, placing his cool MacBook on his desk as he talked with Trick, who nodded a lot, without lifting his head from his phone.
Cassie just observed them, hypnotized; so when his gaze offhandedly landed on her, he caught her right in the middle of her ogling.
Perfect. The week was starting out beautifully. She’d get fired for slacking on the job and die of a heart attack, all by Wednesday.
To her absolute shock, and terror, her boss’s boss’s boss – although she might have missed a boss or two in between – smiled directly at her, and winked, before returning to his computer.
Okay, okay. She could skip the panic attack. Quite obviously, she was dreaming the whole thing, there was no way that Carter Fucking Harris was winking at her, frumpy little Cassie Franklin.
Right?
Carter wasn’t sure whether he was amused or irritated by the unforeseen inconvenience that the slender blonde who had taken cover behind her desktop represented. She was a distraction he just didn’t have the time for right then.
It wasn’t her fault, but the girl was adorable. She always made him want to ruffle her hair or pinch her rosy cheeks, which would have been entirely inappropriate, because she was an employee.
Cassandra Franklin – went by Cassie, born 21st of June 1991, valedictorian of her high school, graduated with honors from NYU. Youngest of two sisters, both parents were still alive, still together, and they all met up for brunch every Sunday.
Yes, he’d had her checked one year and seven months ago after she’d fallen on her ass right in front of him on her way to her interview.
He recalled the incident and smiled, shaking his head. She’d worn a polka dot blouse and patent leather shoes, with a headband. Seriously, a headband. All she needed to make the image of shy little schoolgirl perfect would have been a lollipop.
His gaze had dropped to her Barbie pink
lips and suddenly he’d wanted her to suck on a lollipop.
Those were pretty lips. His interest piqued, he looked a little closer, catching the long legs under the bloodstained, ruined pantyhose, and the generous curve of her breast that the silken fabric of her top failed to entirely disguise…
He’d looked away. The girl was far too young to incite that sort of reaction from him. Eighteen, nineteen maybe, he couldn’t really tell, but she seemed far more innocent than the sophisticated women he frequented.
He heard her muttering about two left feet and found himself giving her a hand.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, to his surprise.
He wasn’t the kind of guy who called women sweetheart, or babe, or anything of that kind. But she was a sweetheart, that much was obvious. Mistaking her for one of his employees’ teenage daughters, he’d asked, “You’re meeting someone?”
“Yes,” she’d replied, before her head snapped up and took him in.
First, her jaw hit her chest, then her cheeks turned tomato red, and her big does eyes went down to her little feet.
“Yes, I… I’m here to see Ms. Cooper? I have an interview.”
He wiggled an eyebrow; so she wasn’t quite as young as he’d thought then. Good. That meant he could look down again, and properly appreciate the lips.
He liked that the upper lip was plumper than the lower one, giving her pout an irresistible and unique flair, but the pink gloss had to go. He wished he could wipe it off her face, and replace it with a cherry red lipstick.
“You want to intern here,” he guessed, and for some reason, that made her laugh.
“I’m twenty-three, and have two degrees, so no. I’d greatly prefer to be gainfully employed.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. Twenty-three; eight years younger than him. That didn’t seem bad at all…
“Don’t worry, though, I’m not offended,” she said, smiling, without lifting her eyes up to meet his. How infuriating. “I’m well aware that I look young.”
Carter smiled and showed her to the elevator, resolving to have her background check done right there and then. There was a good chance that she was an industrial spy. No one was so perfectly innocent and sweet. No one.
