Summer Shifter Nights

by Harmony Raines

  “Why do you keep showing up?” she asked. “I told you that I belong to no one.”

  He watched her, the possession in his gaze both thrilling and frightening. There was something animalistic about the way he walked toward her, the muscles in thighs and torso graceful, powerful. Her heart stuttered in her chest when he linked her wrists and pulled her into his embrace.

  “I am coming for you,” he murmured. He buried his face against her neck and breathed her scent. His hands cupped her ass and brought his cock into sizzling contact with her labia, sliding between the sensitive folds and pressing against her clitoris. Her sex contracted and moisture beaded her thighs.

  Her dream lover growled.

  Stranger still was the need that shuddered through her. Good God. Was it possible that fearful, dark sound turned her on?

  Her fingers splayed on the hard muscles of his chest, and she wiggled closer, daring to put her mouth onto his collarbone, and trace it with her tongue.

  But then … then … The chest under her hands and the thighs pressed against hers were no longer smooth skin, but silky fur. On her throat, she felt not soft lips, but a narrow snout snuffling while a raspy tongue licked.

  Confused, she drew away and gasped.

  “What the hell are you?”

  “I am your Alpha. I am your mate.” The words sounded gravelly. Large, furred paws pressed on her shoulders and she fell to her knees, now a pseudo worshipper at the feet of this wolf god.

  “Leave me alone.” Tears fell. She never cried. Never. But this monster had drawn tears from her. Had made her fear, had made her want, goddamn him. She liked the emotional void that had consumed her. She didn’t want to feel.

  But he made her feel all the same. The vortex of emotions filled the emptiness of her soul. Such a powerful mix of anger and terror and passion…she could barely stand it.

  Before she realized what she was doing, what she was agreeing to, she had gotten on all fours. Her body quivered, her arms shaking as her fingers dug into the sand. Then she felt him behind her, his furry thighs pushing against her smooth ass.

  His cock teased her entrance and she drew in a breath as anticipation soaked her.

  He was not gentle. One rough shove and he sank into her fully. He pumped into her unmercifully and she loved it. Loved the pain and the pleasure. She wanted more, so much more…

  Elle woke, her heart pounding fiercely. Taking a deep breath, she rolled onto her side and looked at the digital clock. The big green letters blinked 3:02 a.m. “Fuck!”

  Three months ago, Elle had moved to this beach house trying to escape the devastation wrought by her marriage. Her husband was dead and it felt as though she was too. Every night she since she’d come to this place, she had the same dream. It had built and built…

  “And we finally have sex and I don’t even get an orgasm.” Sweating as though she’d had a real session of lovemaking, she removed the sheet and allowed the twirling blades of the ceiling fan to cool her off.

  Elle could not deny that she missed the strength of a man’s body, the thrust of his cock, and, truth be told, the protection and domination of a male. Elle had an aggressive nature, one she did little to temper. How she longed to find her equal. If only her dream man, even if he was part wolf, was real.

  Once, she thought she’d found the one meant for her.

  She’d been wrong about Simon. They had courted and married quickly, lost in the love and lust that beguiles couples in the beginning. After only a year, their lives lay in ruin—the ashes of betrayal and death scattered in the miles between her old life and her new one.

  Xavier Skye stood on the patio next to the garish turquoise chairs and table and watched through the window as Elle snuggled into her pillow to resume sleep.

  Next to him, Jonas sighed. He was as uninterested in the woman as he was in doing in his own laundry or balancing his own checkbook.

  “How much longer do we act like Peeping Toms, your eternal and all-knowing highness?” he whispered. When Xavier did not respond, Jonas muttered, “Oh, fine. Seethe on, my lord.”

  Xavier’s nostrils flared as the scent of Elle’s sex perfumed the air. He licked his lips, almost tasting her. As he watched her fall into another restless sleep, he bared his teeth and choked on the snarl.

  “You need to take the edge off. Call in a soother and fuck her senseless.”

  Xavier turned a steely gaze onto his friend.

  Jonas grinned. “I’m happy to oblige, of course, but as you say, your cock doesn’t bend that way.”

  “Maybe I should fuck you, Jonas. To teach you a lesson.”

  “You know how much I like lessons. Feel free to spank me while you plunge that big Alpha cock into my ass.”

  “Shut up, you mongrel.”

  Jonas’ soft laughter chased him off the patio. Xavier’s Italian leather shoes sank into the sand, the tiny granules clinging to the pants of his new Armani suit.

  By the time he reached his BMW, a half-mile away on the other side of Elle’s place, he could not deny Jonas’ suggestion was best. All the same, he didn’t want a substitute lover.

  When he arrived at his beachside mansion twenty minutes later, he resented like hell picking up the phone to request a soother to attend his needs.

  Soothers functioned within the Anubinake much the way camp followers had in ancient wars. Soldiers needed those prostitutes not only for sexual release, but also for feel of woman’s arms around them, offering temporary comfort and false hope. When alphas and betas needed release, the soothers served that purpose, and very well.

  Ten minutes later, a woman arrived.

  He was glad she was not dark-haired or tall like Elle. She was an olive-skinned brunette, with plain brown eyes, and curves in all the right places. She wore a simple black dress and a pair of three-inch heels. From the sway of her breasts and the lack of panty lines, he knew she wore nothing under the garment.

  She no doubt knew about the ferocious sensual nature of an Alpha. Not all soothers could handle an Alpha male’s…enthusiasm.

  She would be able to give him what he needed.

  But not what he wanted.

  Because he wanted Elle.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. He handed the woman a roll of 100-dollar bills.

  She stiffened. “I serve at your pleasure, Alpha. But I am not a whore.”

  “This isn’t mean as insult. Consider it a gift.”

  “Very well.” She accepted the money, and then left.

  “Hello, Lanie.”

  The blonde gasped, clutching the doorknob, keys jangling from the simple lock. Her purse slid off her shoulder and thunked to the floor. She wore a light summer dress and flip-flops and best of all, an expression of pure terror.

  Jonas made a big show of picking lint off his trousers and smoothing the fabric. His nostrils flared as he scented her fear, heard the frantic pounding of her heart. Her gaze darted from Jonas, who sat in a wicker chair a few feet away, to the knob still clenched in her trembling fingers.

  “If you run, I’ll catch you,” Jonas said, smiling.

  He saw the truth of his statement flicker in her eyes. She lost her nerve, her shoulders slumping. Entering the rest of the way, she pulled out the keys and shut the door behind her. She stood next to the small peach-colored couch, playing with her key ring.

  Chink. Chink. Chink. The keys tumbled and twirled in her nervous hands. Her gaze stayed on the floor. She had been raised Anubinake. Her submissiveness was ingrained.

  Jonas waited, letting her sweat. He’d checked out Lanie’s bungalow before he settled down to wait for her. It was much smaller than Elle’s house, and somewhat shabbier. The front door opened into the living room. To the left was a small kitchen and dining area. To the right was the only other door. It led to the bedroom with its tiny bathroom. Like Elle’s bedroom, it had sliding glass doors that opened onto a patio within steps of the beach.

  He had chosen the chair to the left of the couch because it was
between the only two exits in the living room. If Lanie tried to run either way, he would catch her.

  And she knew it.

  “You’ve been a naughty girl, Lanie.”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  Jonas snorted. “On the very same beach as your Alpha’s mate. What a coincidence.”

  She shrugged, tossing her purse onto the couch. She did not sit. Jonas suspected she wanted to keep her options open in case she decided to run. She was fast.

  But he was faster.

  “I am not fooled.” He showed his teeth. “She is quite beautiful, our Elle. She is very strong, much stronger than you. But really, it’s Xavier you wanted to see.”

  Her silence bespoke her guilty intent. Jonas felt his pity for this girl turn to ashes. She was neither naïve nor ignorant. But it seemed she was stupid.

  As the second girl born to a lesser female, Lanie had no status, no mate, and no prospects for moving up in the Anubinake’s complex hierarchy. She was not of royal blood. No common-born member held a high position of authority.

  “Royals mate with royals. It is the way of the Anubinake.”

  “Bullshit!” Resentment vibrated in the single word.

  “You are petty and cruel, Lanie. So fearful were you of your older sister’s beauty, you disfigured her with your own claws.”

  Triumph flashed in her eyes before she looked away. “I paid the price. I am outcast. And she’s married to the beta. Remember, Jonas, she, too was born from my mother.”

  “It is the father’s blood that gives members status.” Jonas’s smile was cold. “And hers was more than worthy.”

  Her eyes flashed with fury. “A fact Mother never let me forget. To her dying day, she was proud of Lelia, but not me. Never me.” Her nostrils flared and she showed her teeth. Then, getting herself under control, she cast a sly smile at Jonas. “You would be first beta if not for your love of men. Do you not resent your position in the pack? Would you not prefer second-in-command status rather than your role as a mere advisor?”

  “We cannot control our birthrights,” said Jonas simply. “Or our natures. The Anubinake depends on every member to survive. Royalty may be born to privilege, but it is also born to obligation. Xavier can no more choose his fate than you can yours. Or than I can choose mine.”

  “He doesn’t know what it’s like to be born from nothing. To be nothing. Without a mate or a pup to raise I am worse than a soother.”

  “But you seem worthy enough for Tanin.”

  She blanched, her pale features turning sickly gray. Jonas’ lips thinned into a satisfied smile. “Did you think you could hide your relationship with him?”

  “He should be Alpha.”

  Jonas rose from the chair and strode across the room until he towered over her small, quivering frame. Anger flared, but Jonas kept his voice even. “You are a bigger fool than I thought. Tanin may be royal, but he is so far away from the Alpha’s crown that he had to murder siblings to become the fifth in line. He will never be Alpha, Lanie. He is outcast.”

  Tears coursed her cheeks, but her rebellion refused to crumble under the weight of the truth. “Have you not considered that many of us are outcast? The numbers of the Anubinake dwindle, but outcasts remain many and strong.”

  “I tire of this melodrama,” said Jonas. “You will be imprisoned until the tribunal communes to determine your fate.”

  “Imprisoned!” Her shock gave way to horror. “The tribunal?”

  “You can’t refuse, Lanie.” She turned as if to bolt, but Jonas grabbed her arm and held her in place.

  “Please, Jonas. Let me go. I’ll leave and never come back. Yes, I wanted Xavier to pay for his rejection. But even that is not an offense great enough for the tribunal.”

  “You are being charged with association with a declared enemy of the Anubinake and illegally reinstating your shape-shifting abilities.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “We caught Giselda. She confessed that she gave you the magic to release your shape-shifting powers. She said she did the same for Tanin and for many other outcasts.” He leaned into her and bared his teeth. “She too paid for her crimes.”

  “You k-killed her.”

  “She killed herself. That is our way. To die by the Anubinake’s claws and teeth or to thrust yourself upon the sword of Anubis.”

  She looked at him, tears glittering in her eyes, but he didn’t catch a glimmer of remorse. He suspected that if she regretted anything it was getting caught before she could return to Tanin. He jostled her toward the door, but she stalled.

  “Better the tribunal’s judgment than Xavier’s,” he said softly.

  She went boneless and instead of holding her back, Jonas was forced to hold her up. After a few moments, she was able to gain her legs and after few more, able to catch her breath.

  “I love Tanin,” she screeched. “And he loves me. I am the mate of the true Alpha!”

  Jonas laughed, genuinely amused by the girl’s outburst. “Tanin loves power. He sees you and the outcasts as the way to get it.”

  She sucked in a breath, obviously offended. Her chin rose and a new emotion glinted in her gaze—pride. “Take me before the tribunal. I dare you. Tanin will free me. He will free all of us.”

  Jonas growled, knowing that his eyes glittered black instead of their usual human blue.

  “After he kills Xavier, I will be the Alpha’s mate.” Her grin was more wolf than woman. “What will happen to you then, oh mighty Jonas, when your Alpha is dead?”

  2

  Every day Elle spent the hours trying to paint anything other than the images demanding her attention. She was finished with creating those strange, dark worlds filled with fantastical creatures.

  Wolves had always been her favorite starting point, though by the time she finished creating them, they usually looked like blended human and wolf. Was it any wonder she continued to dream about a wolf man?

  Sometimes she dreamed she was the wolf, running on all fours, her senses besieged by enhanced smells, sights, sounds. She’d had those dreams when she was a little girl. After her father died and her mother sent her to boarding school at the age of twelve, Elle had not dreamed again of the night or of the wolves until…well, no use thinking of Simon again, was there?

  Elle missed the way she felt when she painted what was in her heart, in her soul. She missed her creatures. They were beautiful and majestic, trapped in a world of magic misunderstood by common, mundane people.

  Elle had never felt common or mundane. She had always felt a right to live in the world the way she chose. Most everyone who knew her called her arrogant. Those with kinder dispositions said she was confident. Nothing or no one had stood in the way of her goals. Not ever. Not until Simon.

  Damn him.

  Her mind liked to drift to the early days. Nearly every evening, Simon arrived at her house with a bottle of good wine and some little gift for her. They took turns cooking, or ordering take-out. Sometimes, they watched a movie or listened to music.

  They always talked—endless conversations about everything. Simon liked to poke and prod her into anger. He seemed to live for the moment she snapped, her voice rising and her hands gesticulating. He would laugh then, and kiss her until her annoyance faded into something much, much better.

  That night, she decided to grill steaks. She liked hers rare and was delighted to discover that Simon preferred his bloody too. She laid the hunks of seasoned meat on the hot grill on their redwood patio. Just as the meat sizzled, its fragrance causing her to salivate, Simon arrived.

  She sensed his tension, the roughness of his hands on her shoulders, the baring of teeth against her flesh. She turned, unafraid of Simon’s aggressive nature—in truth, she’d always been turned on by his forcefulness—and felt her pulse stutter. In a way, even then, when things were falling apart, she thought she’d loved him.

  “Hello.”

  Startled, Elle dropped her paintbrush into the sand. She retrieved i
t, annoyance vibrating up her spine. What kind of moronic male would interrupt what was obviously a solitary endeavor? She was trying to paint the sun setting over the ocean.

  And failing miserably. She had never been a landscape artist. Her passion had always been to paint those fantastical worlds featuring wild animals. It was what she was famous for, what people fought over at auction, what her agent still begged her to paint. But she had put aside those images, though they had not left her.

  Elle turned, scowling at the intruder, but the scathing retort died on her lips.

  The moronic male was…surprising. He was tall, more than six feet, broad-shouldered, and given the size of his arms, obviously knew how to use a barbell. He wore a loose-fitting white shirt and a pair of khaki shorts which showed off strong, brown legs. The light breeze tossed his long black hair about his face in a familiar way. Given his bone structure, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had descended from the Chieftains of the once great tribes in America.

  Despite his dark good looks, it was his eyes that captivated her. The color of a stormy sea, they assessed her with a frankness she appreciated. Those eyes…gray and turbulent and knowing. This was man of secrets. A man of passion and intellect.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Your canvas is blank,” he said. “Isn’t the ocean inspiring?”

  “No. It’s not.” She put the brush on the easel then walked out to the wet sand and let the waves suck at her feet, not caring that the stranger followed.

  Since she’d arrived here, she had no one to share her meals with, no one to talk to about the mundane, no one to hold her when the bad dreams claimed her sleep. Elle had not known that she wanted companionship until this man arrived.

  Her new companion stood behind her, to the left, and said nothing. Elle found it soothing to know someone was there, quietly waiting. She realized, at that moment, that she didn’t miss Simon, as she’d believed. She missed only the presence of another.

  Elle turned and faced the intruder. He looked at her, brows raised, and waited for her to speak. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Elle Reddington.”

  He took her hand, clasped it with a strong grip. She smiled. A man who shook hands with a woman in a straightforward manner got high marks in her book.