Heartsridge Shifters: Owen (The Protectors Book 1)

by Olivia Arran

Turning slowly, I looked him up and down. “You’re back.”

  “I missed my wife,” Owen replied with a grin that just about melted my panties off. His arm snaked around me as he nuzzled into my hair. “You never cease to surprise me.”

  Tilting my head to give him better access, I sighed when he nipped at the skin behind my ear, his warm breath tickling my throat. “I have to do something to make sure you don’t grow bored of me … husband.”

  He licked the sting caused by his teeth, his low growl vibrating through my jaw. “That will never happen.”

  “Are they always like this?” I wasn’t sure who’d spoken, but it snapped me out of the fog that Owen had managed to pull me into.

  Grant replied as he finished fastening his jeans—damn, how long had I been canoodling with Owen?—“When we mate, we connect soul to soul. If you shared your soul with another, wouldn’t you find it hard to keep your hands off them? You’re a human, which means you’ll never understand.” His words were sharp, but if you listened carefully you could hear the longing buried deep down inside. A longing duplicated in every shifter I’d ever met.

  But I didn’t have what he described with Owen, which meant I had no excuse to keep losing myself in him. I gave myself a shake, pulling out of his embrace. Now, if he could only stop being so damn … sexy all the time, maybe a girl could concentrate.

  “Come on, I know you’re in here somewhere.” Scanning the shelves for my prize, I almost jumped out of my skin when a hand landed on my shoulder, spinning around and barely stopping myself from springing on my would-be attacker.

  Julie threw her hands up in the air, sending the bare bulb swinging back and forth over her head. “Sorry! I thought you’d heard me, but then when you didn’t reply…”

  “You thought you’d follow me into the pantry and scare the bejesus out of me?” My lips twitched at her sorrowful expression, which didn’t match the mischief in her eyes.

  “At least I’ve still got it,” she eventually said with enough smugness that I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Got what, exactly?”

  She sniffed, popping her hands on her hips. “I’m a cat shifter, we pride ourselves on being able to prowl around, sneaking up on anyone we damn well please.” Then she pointed at her swollen belly. “Even with junior on board, I’m as light as ever.”

  “Honey, you’re tiny.” She lit up like a Christmas tree. “And I was distracted.”

  “Don’t go spoiling my ego boost,” she muttered. “What were you looking for anyway?”

  “Gooseberry jelly. I could have sworn we had another couple of jars in here.” Going back to scanning the shelves, I almost missed the guilty expression that flashed over her face before she managed to smooth it away. Almost. I turned back around, putting my hands on my hips and tapping my foot. “Where’d you hide it.”

  She scuffed her shoe, her hands dropping from her hips to clasp in front of her. “Would you deprive a pregnant woman her cravings?”

  “I’m not Tom, that won’t work.” I wiggled my fingers at her. “But I’ll share.”

  On a groan, she pointed at the far right corner.

  Looking up at the top shelf, I glanced back at her. “Seriously? Nobody looks up there.” The shelf had to be seven feet in the air.

  “Exactly.”

  “And you shouldn’t be climbing up there, not in your condition.”

  A scowl twisted her lips as she pushed her pale blonde hair behind her ears. “And now you sound just like Tom, so I’ll give you the same answer I give him: I’m a cat shifter.”

  I paused, mid scramble, shooting a quizzical look back at her. I went for the obvious answer. “And you always land on your feet?”

  “Of course,” she replied with a huff, and for the first time since meeting her, I could see the same traits that made up the rest of her species. Cats were confident in their superiority. Overly confident, if you asked me. They couldn’t even fly.

  “Bree, I know you’re in there!”

  Talking of cats. Snatching my prize off the shelf, I let go and dropped back down to the floor, landing with only the smallest thump. “Coming right out, Nita,” I called back, waving the jar of jelly in front of Julie’s nose. “One catnip sandwich coming right up.”

  She grinned, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth.

  Yep, she really did love this stuff.

  Following her out of the dusty pantry, I zeroed in on my friend, who was trailing a hand over the stove, her nose wrinkling like she wasn’t quite sure what it was for. Pulling out some bread, I grabbed some plates. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” With a knife, I indicated the sandwich fixings, raising an eyebrow.

  “Ooooh, gooseberry jelly?” She nodded vigorously, sliding into a seat at the table … and not answering my question.

  Huh. Definitely catnip. After quickly making the sandwiches, I joined them at the table, taking a big bite. Several minutes passed in silence as we chewed and the other two women silently orgasmed, before I placed my sandwich down. “Nita, why are you here?” I’d snuck off for some quiet time—something which was hard to find in a house full of wolves—but the pack was having a meeting and then going for a run, so I’d thought I was in the clear. Owen had wanted me to go with him, but after painting a detailed picture in his mind of a dragon running, he’d finally gotten off my case and let me be. I mean, really, a dragon running?

  Licking her fingers, Nita let out a happy hum. “Girls night out.”

  Three little words that immediately lifted my spirits. “Sounds good. When?”

  “Tomorrow night at the Lair.” She referred to the bar downtown, run by the cat shifters, open to shifters and the human tourists that visited the town.

  Julie let out a squeal. “Count me in!”

  I squinted at my friends. “Will there be shifter moonshine?” I almost licked my lips, but restrained myself, knowing that I stood a better chance of scoring if I didn’t let on to my dealer how much I was craving another hit.

  Her corkscrew curls bobbing, Nita gave me a predatory stare. Her eyes narrowed and I began to sweat. “Damn straight,” she eventually purred and I mentally let out a whoop and punched the air. Don’t judge me, it’d been a hard week. Month. Year. Whatever, I needed a break and a way to let down my hair.

  She tidied her plate away, eyeing the jar of gooseberry jerry out of the corner of her eye. “The rest of the gang will be there.”

  This time, Julie’s squeal was deafening, then she frowned. “I have nothing to wear.”

  I plucked the edge of her shirt. “You’re not exactly naked right now.”

  “Shopping!” Her war cry echoed around the kitchen.

  And … she appeared to be looking in my direction, Nita having already beaten a hasty exit. Traitor. Or sensible? It wasn’t that I didn’t like shopping—in fact, I loved it. It had just been a long time since I’d done something so normal, and especially with someone I could call a friend. The thought left me feeling … unbalanced. “I have, you know, enforcer duties to attend to,” I mumbled, tearing the crust off my remaining sandwich.

  She flicked my excuse away with a wave of her hand. “Your mate will give you some time off.”

  I goggled at her, stupefied by the thought that I’d need someone’s permission to do anything I damn well pleased. “Excuse me?”

  Peering at me, she enunciated clearly, “Owen, your mate.”

  “Oh, right.” I forced a chuckle. “He doesn’t have a say in what I do.”

  “Oh, I know, neither does Tom. I just meant with Owen being your boss…” She slid out of her chair, a smile pasted on her face as she snuck toward the exit.

  Which meant I had my scary expression on.

  “Sounds good, Julie,” I shouted after her. No way was I asking Owen’s permission. And, if he expected me to, he had another thing coming, supposed boss or not.

  I blinked. Then blinked again, shoving the rest of the sandwich into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Yep, I was pretty sure
I’d just been played. Sneaky cat.

  The bedroom door swung open and I lifted my eyes from my book, marking my page with my finger. “Did you have a good run, sweetie?”

  His eyes narrowed at me, suspicion clouding his brilliant green eyes. With a flex of his arm, the towel that had been hugging his neck flicked down in front of him, sweeping across his incredible chest.

  I’m jealous of a towel. I let that thought sit there in my head as my eyes followed the white cotton on its happy trail across moisture beaded skin.

  “It was good.” A smirk tugged at his lips as he slowed his movements, towel dipping lower and lower. “Just what the pack needed.”

  And something I could never share with them. With him. Swallowing past the surge of pain inside my chest, my eyes had returned to my book, when he continued, “The humans behave themselves?”

  “Not a peep out of them.”

  Dropping onto the bed, he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Good. What do you think?”

  I lowered my book again, this time using the bookmark rather than my finger. Well, that was a leading question, if I’d ever heard one. I had a lot of opinions, pretty much on everything, though I’d found out a long time ago that most people preferred it if I kept them to myself. Pffft. Their loss—I had a whole lot of awesome swimming around inside my brain.

  The tightness inside my chest loosened, a flutter of pleasure replacing it. He really wants to know what I think.

  Tucking my feet further up under my ass, I angled myself from where I was curled on the corner of the bed, lounging in my self-built nest of pillows. “About what?”

  Owen grunted, his head flopping to the side so he could see me, hand snaking out to trail along my bare calf in an almost absentminded gesture. “About the bootcamp,” he replied.

  “You really want my opinion?” I blurted out before I managed to give my old insecurities a quick kick in the ass.

  He blinked at me, as if bringing me into focus, highlighting lines of stress that clung to his mouth that I hadn’t noticed up until now. He looked … tired. Worn out. “I most certainly do. Your honest opinion, please.”

  “Oh, he said please.” I clasped my chest. “Be still my beating heart.”

  “Bree…” His growl was a low rumble as he rubbed his stomach, drawing my eye to the waistband of his sweats, and the incredible V-shape he had going on down there.

  I dragged my eyes back to his face, which was now turned back to the ceiling, completely oblivious to my ogling. “Well, if you really want to know.” Setting my book down beside me, I stretched my legs out, poking his side with my toes.

  “I’m dying to,” he replied in a dry voice.

  “I don’t really see the point of it,” I finally said.

  He rolled over onto his stomach and rested his head on his hands. “Exactly what I was thinking. It’s been nagging at me all week.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  His hand slipped up my thigh to toy with the hem of my shorts, sliding it back and forth between his fingers as a frown dug into his forehead. “Bringing humans here to train with us for a week doesn’t achieve the brief. They want shifters to work with humans, but that’s only going to happen if we go to them. Meet them on their turf.” He swiped a hand over his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

  “You mean, integrate with a team that’s out there, working together already?”

  He nodded, the furrow deepening. “It’s almost as if they’re testing the water.”

  I tapped his hand, my breath catching when he slid his fingers between mine without a second thought. “What do you mean?”

  “Checking to see if we can be trusted around them.” He grunted to himself, his eyes shuttering. “Or if we’re keeping anything from them.” At my confused expression, he sighed, then said, “I don’t know what I mean. I just feel like we’re”—he paused, searching for the word—“on display somehow.”

  I agreed with him. Something wasn’t making sense, at all. “Like there’s some hidden agenda that we don’t know about?”

  He blinked at me, then one corner of his mouth twisted in a grimace. “And who would know more about hidden agendas than anyone?”

  A heartbeat later, we both answered together, “Carter.”

  Owen swiftly cursed, sliding off the bed and tugging me with him. “Only one way to find out what’s really going on.”

  We headed to the door. He hadn’t let go of my hand, which could only mean… “I’m coming with you?”

  He looked over his shoulder, flashing me a smile that had my pulse thudding in my ears. He really was one sexy fucker, even without trying. “I’d like you to,” he replied simply.

  We headed downstairs, only pausing to shrug on coats and shoes, then my hand was back in his. “As your enforcer, you mean?”

  Rounding the side of a truck, he unlocked it and opened the door, ushering me in. Slamming the door, he raced around to the other side, jumping in and gunning the engine. A quick glance behind him and we were off, hurtling down the dirt road and toward town.

  He still hadn’t answered my question when his eyes slid to mine. Reaching across, he tangled our fingers together, his other hand keeping the vehicle steady and steering us around potholes. He broke the silence, his voice gruff and low, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of us, “As the person whose opinion I value the most.”

  Oh. Okay, then. That’d do just fine as an answer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Owen

  Voices reached us as we closed in on the door to Carter’s office, indistinct and muffled by the thick wood, but clearly raised.

  Bree flicked her eyes to the door, arching an eyebrow in silent question. She’d been quiet on the drive down here, probably something to do with the little declaration I’d made, but I didn’t regret it. She might not be ready to be my mate, but she was the woman I wanted by my side. And … I had to admit, if only in the privacy of my own mind, it had felt good to unload a little, get someone else’s opinion without having to worry about appearing weak or indecisive.

  Instincts ingrained into me at a young age had rebelled, but I’d gritted my teeth, pushing them away. It didn’t make me weak—fuck that shit—I wasn’t weak. I was an alpha now, which meant I could do anything I damn well pleased.

  Rolling my shoulders, I thought back to the gratitude that had been clear on Bree’s face when I’d asked her opinion, gaining me an insight into the mind of the woman who I was determined to win over. She needed me to share more than my body, or my heart—though she might not know it yet, they were both already hers for the taking—she needed my respect. And damned if I wasn’t going to find a way to show her that I respected her more than any other person I knew. And, if that meant letting her into my life—every part of it—then so be it.

  I’d find a way to deal when my past tried to screw everything up.

  But, in the meantime… “At least I won’t have to throw insults around to rile him up,” I quipped.

  Bree paused, halfway through opening the door. She arched an eyebrow, and I took a moment to admire her beautiful face, drink in the sight of her standing next to me. “And you’d want to rile him, why?”

  “Because Carter’s a slick bastard who doesn’t let anything slip.”

  The scene that greeted us when Bree pushed the door open wasn’t anything I expected, but it made my job a hell of a lot easier.

  “You’re an insufferable asshole!” Grace Lockett held a stapler in her hand, jabbing it in Carter’s direction, who was still seated behind his desk, all calm and poised. That’s if you ignored the muscle jumping in his jaw and the fact that his hair was all messed up, like he’d been yanking his hands through it.

  He spun in the chair to face us, his nostrils flaring and teeth grinding. “Owen, Briana, what a surprise.”

  Grace lowered her arm, her cheeks darkening to a rosy pink. “I’ll just…” Snatching her bag up and clutching it to her chest, she made a move toward the door.
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  Carter held up a finger and she jerked to a stop. “We haven’t finished here, Miss Lockett.”

  If that had been fear flickering in her eyes, I’d have stepped in, but when she turned to the Mayor, her eyes were glacial. Controlled. As scary as the motherfucker seated behind his desk. This woman had everything under control, including the man surveying her from behind his throne—sorry, desk. “I won’t let you push me around and it just bites at your ass.”

  I blinked, catching Bree’s eye and noting that she was just as shocked as I was. Okay, then.

  Carter traced a finger over his lips, amusement darkening his amber gaze as he visually pinned the poor woman in place.

  I mentally shook my head, wishing I had a pair of ear plugs handy for whatever the hell was going to come out of his mouth next.

  “Actually, I’d prefer to bite your ass.”

  Yep, that. I now needed to bleach my brain.

  Grace’s lips puckered, the ice fading from her eyes to be replaced with disbelief. “Did you seriously just say that out loud? What the heck is wrong with you?” Her voice rose and she eyed the stapler that she’d only just relinquished. With a disgruntled huff, she glared at the apparently unruffled man in front of her, who just stared back.

  Like he wanted to eat her.

  And now I wanted to bleach my eyeballs. Hell, vat of bleach, anyone?

  “Uh, maybe we should just…” Bree indicated the door with a jerk of her head, but I stayed her with my hand. I was pretty sure Miss Lockett was just about to—Yep, there she went, sailing out of the door with her head held high, giving us a brief grimace and a muttered sorry as she went.

  The door slammed behind her, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence until Bree coughed, raising her hand up to cover her mouth in a suspicious manner that told me she was trying not to laugh.

  Carter’s chair creaked as he waved us around his desk, a small smile playing on his lips and his eyes far away, as if he were seeing something we weren’t. “What can I do for you two?”

  “You don’t want to go after her?” Bree said the exact thing I’d been thinking.