by Lia Bevans
Make Him Mine
Monsters For Humanity
Book 1
Lia Bevans
Copyright © 2018 by Lia Bevans
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, shared in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
This is a work of fiction!
Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENT
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
EPILOGUE
JOIN MY PACK?
CHAPTER ONE
CHANTAL SOMMERS FLOPPED into her mint green office chair with a sigh. She kicked her legs up on the brown desk, crossing her small feet. Her eyelids had just managed to flutter closed when the door slammed open, banging against the wall like thunder. The wooden photograph hanging on a crooked nail above her head shuddered but did not fall.
Without opening her eyes, Chantal groaned. “Five minutes. Just five minutes, Terry.”
“The bank’s on Line One and Hazel’s on Line Two. Which bomb do you want to throw yourself on first?”
“I’m not here.”
“Hazel can sense when I’m lying,” Terry said. Chantal heard her secretary walking closer. Every knock of Terry’s heels against the floor thumped like a piercing drumbeat.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Her headache worsened.
Chantal hunkered down, refusing to open her eyes. “I would tell her myself if I could, but that would kind of defeat the purpose.”
“You can’t keep avoiding their calls. The bank is threatening to shut this place down because we can’t make payments and Hazel is—”
“Not going to push me around.”
Finally Chantal cracked her eyes open, glancing at the woman before her. Terry brushed a lock of mahogany colored hair back into the bun at the nape of her neck. The movement was at once firm and graceful. Sharp brown eyes set in an oval head, a thin nose, and slim red lips made up the face she’d known for twenty-five years.
Chantal sighed again. “Give me the phone. I’ll get the bank off our backs.”
With a firm nod, Terry handed the phone to her. She stepped back, sliding her elegant fingers over the fabric of her cream-colored pencil skirt. “I knew you would see reason.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed her off and clicked on the button. “Hello, this is Chantal. Thanks so much for waiting.”
“It’s about time,” a sultry voice danced over the phone line. Chantal stiffened. Her eyes flickered to Terry who only arched an eyebrow in response. Hazel chuckled in her ear. “Don’t glare at your sister. You know she can’t lie to me.”
“I’ll be outside,” Terry whispered. She turned on her heels and strutted out of the office, locking the door quietly behind her.
Chantal gritted her teeth and tried to speak in as polite a manner as she could muster. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”
“We’re killing two birds with one stone. How long has it been since I’ve heard your voice? Geez, since I’ve seen your face? We should have a family barbeque at my place. Catch up without all the distractions.”
“It’s only natural that the leader of the wolf pack is busy. There’s no need to exert yourself just to spend a few hours with me.”
“Leader of the wolf—” Hazel chuckled. “You know those old farts would have a conniption fit if they heard you calling me that. I’m simply filling in until they decide on their new alpha. They’ve got six months left.”
Chantal frowned. “Didn’t you accept the position to prove that females could be alphas too?”
“I did and we can, but listening to their mindless whining for the rest of my life is not something I can put up with. I’m just fine being the head of the Judicial Council, thank you very much. Which is the perfect lead in for what I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Hazel...”
“Before you say anything, hear me out. The Council is willing to pay a generous amount if you agree to take on some of our community service cases. We’re talking big money here, Chan. You could use it to get out of some debt—”
“I’m not taking a cent from your pack, Hazel.”
There was a beat of silence.
Quietly, Hazel said, “You can’t keep blaming the entire pack for what one werewolf did. Lucien lost control. He was duly punished for that. No one agrees with his method of dealing with humans. If you would just stop being so stubborn, we could help each other.”
“Lucien killed my parents.” Chantel let out a big breath to keep her wolf from lashing out. The words were bitter against her tongue and she wished she could swallow them back. Wished she could change who she was. What she was.
“I know.”
“Your council let him live. He shouldn’t have breathed for one more day.”
“I know.”
Hazel’s agreement further annoyed her. “Is that all? Did you call just to rub my parent’s death in my face?” Chantal’s hand trembled as she held the phone to her ear. “Look, it’s been a long day already. I’ve been puked on and grabbed at and I think I’ve lost fur in places I didn’t know I could. If we’re finished here...”
“I love you, Chantal. And I believe in what you’re doing. The pack does not want to fight with you.”
“I love you too, but I want nothing to do with the pack.”
“This isn’t the time to be selfish.”
“Excuse me?”
“Think of all the lives you’ve touched in the past year—all the kids who forgot for a moment about the sickness eating at their bodies, all the elders who reclaimed the sparkle in their eyes. Imagine the others who will never get a chance to experience that if you shut down now.”
“Who said I was shutting down? I’m handling it.”
Hazel went on as if she hadn’t heard her. “What about the shifters themselves? Aged wild dogs and wolves united, given a higher purpose, a reason to live even if they can’t hunt or mate anymore. Imagine what you could do in the lives of the shifters we’ll send to you.”
“My answer is still no.”
Hazel’s voice lost its cajoling tinge. “Too bad. I already told the council you agreed to collaborate with our rehabilitation program.”
There was a knock on the door at that moment and Terry poked her head through. “Chantal?”
“Not now,” she grumbled, turning her chair around to face the wall. Chantal pulled her free hand into a fist and leaned over. “Don’t you know the punishment for lying to the Council? Why would you—?”
“It’s urgent,” Terry insisted.
“Go ahead. I can wait,” Hazel said.
“What?” Chantal glared at her little sister. “What’s so important?”
“I took a message from the bank.” Terry’s brown eyes were wide. “They said the mortgage has been paid.” She swallowed, her delicate neck bobbing. “In full.”
Chantal’s heart stopped and then started beating double time. Terry tapped her fingernails against the doorknob. Her red lips twitched. They were both struck completely dumb by the news. In the silence that followed, Hazel’s voice carried through the phone.
“Since we’ve already paid for the service, I’ll consider this deal done. Your first case should be arriving as we speak. Treat him like you would any of the other shifters on your team. Good luck.”
“Wait! Hazel!” Chantal dove for the phone, but the line clicked and the dial tone buzzed.
Hazel was gone.
BLAEZ DRAMOTH STEPPED out of his blue convertible and ran a hand through his silky black hair. He whipped dark glasses off his nose and stared across the street at the decrepit square building squatting between two warehouses.
Sunshine hammered against the building’s flat cement roof with steel pipes rocketing toward the sky as if a project to complete the second story had been started and then forgotten. Flecks of white paint peeled away from the walls, tattling that the house’s original color might have been blue.
The sign above the metal barricade door proclaimed ‘Wildlife For Humanity’. Cheerful paw marks framed the bold words, but the placement of the stamps gave him the impression that it had been trampled by a dog with paint beneath his legs rather than styled intentionally.
“Here we go.” Blaez folded his sunshades into the front of his shirt and took his first step. He took another and then another, moving on autopilot until he was directly before the front door. Now that he was here, he hesitated.
It’s only for six months. I can survive the humiliation for six months.
He thrust the door open and stepped inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Why is it so dark in here? Blinds pulled halfway cast a limited amount of light on the cramped lobby. The smell of dust and wet dog rose from the worn carpet spread before three plastic chairs. A long brown desk filled one wall and was empty save for an open book.
Blaez shrugged and walked toward the notebook. He was here to do his time and get the heck out of dodge so he could find his brother. It didn’t matter to him if the Wildlife For Humanity organizers weren’t prepared for his arrival. As long as they counted the hours he logged in today.
He had just signed his name between the pale blue lines when a thin voice resounded behind him, “Is it you?”
Blaez spun and found a willowy woman with brown hair, a thin face and brown eyes staring him down. He flicked his hair back and turned on the charm. This one wasn’t a shifter. He could smell the human in her.
What was the Council thinking letting a human deal with him alone? Maybe he could wiggle his way out of work and start the search for Caldon earlier than he’d planned.
“Hi.” He swaggered over and held his hand out, pasting a wide smile on his face. “I’m Blaez Dramoth.”
The woman eyed his hand then swiveled, beckoning him forward without a word. Her bun stuck straight out behind her head. Red heels clacked against the floor as she paced down a dimly lit corridor.
Okay. That... did not go over very well.
While her back was turned, Blaez pulled the flap of his brown leather jacket and sniffed. Hm... smelled like the air freshener he kept in his car. The package had said ‘winter crisp’ and so he’d purchased it immediately hoping the scent in his car would feel like home.
Not that he had a home. But when it came to preferences, Blaez was a fan of the cold. He’d thought Caldon was too. Which was why he was still trying to figure how his brother had landed himself in the desert instead of the Rockies.
“Mr. Dramoth.” The woman yanked him from his thoughts. He jogged to catch up with her and followed silently until they stopped before a wooden door. His guide pursed her lips and gestured for him to walk inside.
He cracked another smile. “Thank you, miss...?”
She saw that he was fishing, but simply turned the doorknob and swung the door open in response. Her antipathy threw him off guard. If it wasn’t his scent that turned her off, what did? Ladies generally fell at his feet—especially the humans.
Slightly bothered, Blaez strode into the room. His eyes skimmed the walls of bookshelves crammed with books, a wilting plant that had died weeks ago and a large picture frame above the desk. It was a family portrait. He turned his eyes away from the sight.
“So it’s you.” The chair spun, revealing a woman with dark hair and eyes. She rose and he saw that she was extremely petite. Blaez doubted her head would knock his chest if she stood on the tips of her toes. Despite her height, there were enough curves on her body to rival a dangerous mountain highway.
Blaez spread his arms wide and tried not to give her an obvious once-over. Something told him she wouldn’t appreciate it. “Looks like you were expecting me.”
Her plump lips curled in a tiny sneer. “I’m sorry, but there was a mix up. You can thank the Council for that. We have nothing for you here. Please sort out whatever you need to with your own pack.”
Annoyance furled around his spine. She didn’t look very sorry for kicking him out. What was with these women? Didn’t they understand the first thing about manners? He was a criminal, sure. Didn’t mean he’d take being pushed around for laughs.
Blaez strolled to the chair before her desk and sat. His long legs draped in front of him, and he tilted his head as he drawled, “I don’t know about that. As far as I heard, this is where I’ve been assigned. If you don’t like it, you can take it up with the Council.”
She narrowed her eyes. Blaez could practically see the steam rising from her ears. He needed to be careful. She was a shifter, what kind—he wasn’t sure. The way she glared made his wolf jumpy, alert. She was itching for a fight. He could smell it.
Blaez didn’t like the thought of getting down and dirty with a woman. At least not like this. But it didn’t really matter. Even if she shifted and came at him right this instant, he’d defend himself and return to work tomorrow.
Because this wasn’t about him.
His brother’s life depended on it.
CHAPTER TWO
CHANTAL HAD ABSOLUTELY zero tolerance for arrogance, and the man draping himself over her chair like a male model on set screamed of conceit. He was tall, muscular, and—fine, she’d admit it—sexy, but she was having the worst day and her wolf begged for something on which she could unleash her frustration.
The storm in her heart grew. She held onto her tattered composure by her fingernails and managed to speak in a level tone. “Sir, if you don’t leave while I’m asking nicely...”
“You’ll what?” He leaned his elbows on his knees, hazel eyes piercing hers. She could imagine those eyes had melted a vast number of hearts and panties, but their intense perusal only managed to spark her temper.
“I will call the police.”
He tilted his head. “And tell them you run an NGO for old and down-trodden animal shifters? That you prance into hospitals and nursing homes spreading love and rainbows to the patients who would die if they knew what their furry friends really were?”
He was goading her.
And she was falling for it.
“Do you have a death wish?” Chantal growled. A sharp pain sliced through her mouth as her fangs shot into prominence.
He tilted his head and laughed, but she could tell that he was not altogether relaxed. His fingers dug into the bottom rim of his chair and the muscles in his sculpted jaw flexed. “How do you hang around fragile patients with such an explosive personality?”
Chantal closed her eyes and thought of the children in the cancer ward who had visited her farm that morning. Their joyous faces
when they saw her wolf flooded her with calm. The memory of their tinkling laughter rang in her head like bells. Such joy. Such innocence. Such hope.
There was no way she’d compromise what Wildlife For Humanity did just for this douche bag.
Her irises returned to their normal shade of dark brown and her fangs slid back where they belonged. She shook her head to clear her mind and forced a smile. “Let me guess. You got pinned for that mouth of yours?”
“I assure you I can do many things with this mouth of mine, but no—that’s not why I’m here.” He eyed her. “But it’s nice to know you’re curious.”
“I’m not curious.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He stood and cantered over to her desk, his long legs propelling him forward in a step and a half. A large hand stretched toward her. “First, let’s start with names. I’m Blaez.”
Chantal snorted. What kind of name was that?
He bopped his head in what he probably thought was an adorable manner. “Since you might be unfamiliar with the concept, this is called an introduction. Now it’s your turn.”
She tilted her chin, trying her best not to let the intensity of his stare unnerve her. He was a criminal. A smooth one by the looks of it. Whatever he had done warranted the kind of punishment that had landed him here.
So... why was her heart thumping strangely the longer she held his gaze?
Chantal cleared her throat and broke eye contact, bending her head to shuffle some files. “You don’t need to know my name because we won’t ever have a need to meet again.”
He put his hand on her desk, pinning the document she’d been reaching for to the surface. His hands were humungous, the tips blunt and nails clipped short. Save biting his arm off, she’d need to find another way to get him out of her space. Out of her office. Out of her sight.
While she reeled back, Blaez spun the paper around and skimmed it. He pointed to a line at the bottom and read, “Chantal Sommers, Director of Wildlife For Humanity.” His head popped up and his eyes sparkled. “Chantal. That’s your name.”
