Taken by Moonlight: Shifters Wild & Free Reverse Harem Book 1

by Bonnie Vanak

  Didn’t matter. I had to get the hell out of here before fifty horny shifters decided I was the only available female and came after me, determined to satisfy their lust.

  Bracing my hands on the stainless counter, I struggled to get a grip. Trouble was, much as my logical brain screamed to flee into the night, my body yelled to stay.

  Stay and find out what would happen. My nipples actually ached and I hurt with need. No, I burned.

  The swinging door opened. If this was a horny shifter, like a Brown were, I was toast. Gasping, I turned, clenching my fists, prepared to fight or flee.

  Not to fuck. Not me.

  But it was Dante, elegant in his tuxedo, his short-cropped hair gleaming blue-black in the overhead fluorescents, his dark eyes filled with concern.

  Seeing him I relaxed a little. He didn’t look lusty or savage.

  Only worried.

  In seconds he crossed the distance between us.

  “Peyton, are you all right? You’re trembling.” Dante gently gripped my shoulders, his dark gaze searching mine.

  Yes, I started to lie. “No.” I gulped down another shuddering breath.

  “What’s wrong? I saw you in the doorway and I could smell your fear.”

  He continued to rub my shoulders, soothing caresses that did anything to calm me down. Rather, it made me even more aroused.

  “I, I don’t know where everyone is. The staff vanished.” My laugh sounded shaky. “I guess they abandoned me.”

  “They’re all in the back, getting ready for the auction.” Dante searched my face. “Didn’t they tell you to join them?”

  I shook my head.

  He swore in a soft voice and I didn’t envy Norm for bungling this.

  “But there’s nothing to be alarmed about. You look terrified.”

  A breathy laugh. “Oh nothing. I’m the only person here, it seems, and there’s fifty or more lusty shifters out there, looking like they want to pounce.”

  “They would not dare. They’re aroused, yes, but waiting for the auction. Don’t be afraid. None of them would dare touch you.”

  This last sentence uttered with a slight growl as if he were my personal savior out to defend me from the horde.

  Mouth wobbling, I looked up. “My knight in shining fur, huh? But one against forty-nine is bad odds, Dante.”

  The alpha touched my cheek, his gaze tender. “We’re here for you, Peyton. The odds are nothing to us.”

  “Three against forty-seven.” Gabriel spoke from the door. “Hey Peyton, you ok?”

  I nodded, and my gaze met Alexander’s, who also had entered the kitchen. In the stark light, brown eyes wide behind his glasses, he had the same look of concern.

  Then I glanced up at Dante, his aristocratic, chiseled features, the firm mouth, the straight nose, now flaring as if he scented something he liked, the black lashes framing eyes like rich chocolate. In formal wear or jeans and Western boots, the werewolf carried himself with an air of authority, but beneath lingered a hint of wildness and danger.

  And sex.

  My gaze whipped over to Gabriel. An intricate tattoo with swirls and curlicues snaked down his neck, vanishing into the collar of his starched white shirt. With his blue eyes, good looks, and devilish charm, Gabriel was a ladies’ man.

  Not Alexander, quiet and bookish, with his guarded features and thin shoulders. He had the look of a long-suffering, dreamy poet, the soul of a true artist, not a werewolf who tore apart his enemies. Yet I had once seen Alex go after a customer and beat the male into a bloody pulp.

  It had been because the guy had slapped my ass as I served him, while making a crude comment about my breasts.

  After that incident, no male ever bothered me.

  These three had been quietly at the club, guarding me with their presence every night I worked. There had never been a single night since that Alex fight since where they were not there.

  This realization made me relax further, even as a warning bell clanged inside. What did they want? Were they being altruistic to the human psi who hustled tables for tips?

  Or did they want something more? In my 23 years on earth, I gained a healthy cynicism about motivations.

  Humans or shifters.

  “Why are you here tonight?” I blurted out. “What’s the auction to you? Do you plan to bid?”

  Gabriel and Alex exchanged glances, while Damian smoothed back a lock of hair escaping my ponytail.

  “All in good time, Peyton. For now, know no one will ever harm you as long as you work in this club. We’ll ensure that. Right?”

  He turned to his betas, who gave vigorous nods.

  “Please Peyton, don’t be afraid of us because we are shifters,” Alex said in a soft voice. “We would never hurt you.”

  Gabriel cracked his scarred knuckles. “We’d do a tango all over the face of any shifter who tried to hurt you, Peyton. You’re safe here.”

  I wanted to trust them, wanted to believe them. Giving all three a hard look, seeing their auras glow blue with flares of aggressive black and tendrils of yellow for worry, I finally relaxed.

  “Ok. Am I supposed to go to the back rooms now to help them?”

  “Only if you wish.” Dante trailed a thumb over my cheek and I shivered inwardly with need.

  “We don’t want you doing anything that makes you uneasy,” Gabriel added.

  “Or upset,” Alex chimed in.

  “You can leave, if that is what you want. I’ll tell Norm to give you full pay for the entire night.” Dante released me, his expression smooth.

  Helping women get ready to auction themselves off for a night of sex wasn’t exactly on my resume, but I didn’t mind. In fact, my curiosity pricked, now that I knew I wasn’t the focus of all that shifter lust.

  Might even be fun to observe.

  “I’ll stick around. No problem. Thanks for talking me off the ledge.” Giving all three a broad smile, I headed back, leaving them in the kitchen.

  In the lounge, all the shifters were drinking, talking. None of them even glanced my way. I could have been at a monastery, the atmosphere was so peaceful.

  The musky scent of male arousal had faded. I wended my way through the tables toward the back rooms.

  And then it struck me.

  The musky scent had followed me into the kitchen.

  It hadn’t been all the shifters in the lounge giving off some weird sexual fragrance guaranteed to crank up an aroused female and prepare her for sex.

  It was Dante.

  4

  Puzzled as Dante’s scent issue made me, I forgot all about it once I entered the back area of the club.

  The Fizzy Area, staff called it. Otherwise known as the Champagne rooms.

  I don’t know about other clubs, but Crossroads had an entire section devoted to private dances and sex parties. Each room was named after a vintage or a liquor. The Pinot Room was for clients who wished a discreet experience.

  The Whiskey Room was where the girls took men who liked more rough action.

  The largest room, the Dom Room, allowed seating for 150. It featured a stage and a dais. Dom stood for Dom Perignon, but we joked it was the Domination and Submission room.

  I’d heard of wild sex parties taking place there. Nothing I ever concerned myself about.

  Only tonight, I’d agreed to monitor the clients as they bid. Norm promised I’d get compensated.

  Tonight, small linen-draped tables with plush chairs replaced the theater-style seats. Crystal vases filled with budding pink roses sat in the middle of each table and the air was redolent with the fragrance. Maybe the flowers were to disguise the scent of horny shifters eager to bid on a favorite lady.

  Where was Norm?

  There.

  Electronic tablet in hand, the werepython stood on stage making notations as he stood next to a tall man with a receding hairline also consulting a tablet. His formal wear looked cheap and ill-fitting compared to the clients.

  Four women milled about. All four
were staggeringly gorgeous, and not just by means of artificial enhancements.

  The prizes for the shifters to bid on, I guessed.

  Two blondes, one brunette and one redhead, they were tall, statuesque and buxom, with long legs and slender figures. Their long hair spilled down their backsides, which were covered with red satin robes. Red stiletto shoes covered their perfect, manicured feet.

  They could have been supermodels. Maybe in the shifter world, they were. All four flashed shifter auras.

  Human auras varied by person. But shifter auras always had a distinct, thin line of green ringing them. Green for their earthy side, I guess.

  Though these women’s auras all glowed yellow, calm, perhaps even bored, there was that telltale green line.

  Disappointment filled me. I kind of hoped they’d be human. That would be fascinating, seeing how a human woman conducted herself during a live auction of her body.

  Then I shook my head. Why did I care? It wasn’t as if I wanted to observe for lessons in how to sell myself.

  Though the money would be nice.

  Norm spotted me. “Peyton! Go place these bidding cards at each table. Three to a table.

  Taking the stack from Guy on the stage, I put three cards on each round table.

  My right pocket buzzed. I pulled out my phone and glanced at the text.

  That sinking feeling became nausea. Earl Brown.

  you owe us $25,000 by Tuesday, peyton.

  The interest had tripled tonight, since I had failed to pay before the close of the business day Friday.

  I don’t have it. I can give you partial payment, I texted back.

  Tuesday morning, I would owe the Browns $25,000. If I didn’t pay in full, they’d kick me out of the house where I’d been born, raised, and lived for 23 years.

  The house that been in my family for three generations.

  The house that was the last connection to my family, my parents and all the love surrounding me growing up.

  Homeless, without anywhere to live, was not a good way to start the work week. I ruminated over my choices.

  At best, I had maybe $5,000 in the bank.

  I have until Tuesday. I can give you $10,000 by Tuesday, I texted back.

  Silence for a moment. Then, Full amount.

  Man, I was screwed. I went over to the stage. You were allowed an advance on your salary. Maybe Norm, out of the goodness of his snake heart, could loan me the remaining twenty grand. I could work it off by putting in extra hours.

  I might as well have asked him to sell his mother. Well, actually Norm probably would, for a lot of money. Werepythons aren’t exactly known for their family values.

  “No. Absolutely not. I’m not made of money.” The werepython gripped his tablet as if fearing I’d steal it.

  No, just snakeskin. I sighed. “Norm, please, I’ll work double, triple hours for free for the next year.”

  Ignoring me, he walked off. I glanced down at my phone and the text there chilled my blood.

  cal & me talked it over. We’ll take the ten grand of yours if you spend the weekend fucking us. He thinks you’re cute.

  Oh no.

  I typed back, I’m worth more than $15,000.

  Prick. I did not type that.

  Maybe Dante could loan me the money. He was wealthy and I considered him a friend. Then I remembered the club rules. No staff were allowed to ask financial favors of clients.

  If someone found out I’d asked Dante for a loan, I’d lose this job. With the way things stood at the day job, I needed the club gig to survive.

  It was Norm or no one else.

  Returning to Norm, I tugged on his sleeve. He glanced up, frowned.

  “Did you set up all the tables?” he asked.

  “Norm, please, I’m desperate. I need the money.”

  A sly light entered his beady eyes. I didn’t like it. “Well Peyton, you’re in a jam, but I’m not heartless. Tell you what. I’ll fund the entire $25,000 and get you out of that financial hole for one thing.”

  His fingers dropped to his crotch.

  OMG, I am so not giving you a blow job. Yuck.

  “Get on stage and auction yourself off.”

  Blinking I stared. Rubbed my ear. A blow job was bad enough. “Excuse me? I think my hearing is going. You said auction myself off…”

  Pointing to the bored girls on stage, I added, “Like them?”

  “Virgins are rare. You’ll fetch a high price. Maybe even record.”

  A flush ignited my face. I glanced around, but no one heard us. Everyone was too busy with last minute setting up the room.

  “Who told you I was a virgin?”

  “Kelly may have.”

  Damn that girl. And to think I felt bad for her and offered to babysit because she always had trouble finding people to watch her kid.

  No more.

  “Shifters love virgins, but they’re hard to get. C’mon Peyton, it’s a sweet deal. Only one night of sex. Whaddayah holding out for anyway? Mr. Right?”

  Not for Mr. Right Now, certainly. Love, maybe, or at least a steady relationship.

  Not a quick tumble between the sheets and a feeling as if I were meat.

  “No.”

  “You’ll get the full $25,000, cash, and I’ll split fifty-fifty with you whatever the bid goes above that amount.”

  Fifty percent of what? Virgin or not, I doubt I’d even collect $25,000.

  “Twenty five thousand, guaranteed. Even if the bid isn’t more than ten.” Norm watched my face, his expression calculating.

  Damn.

  Double damn.

  It was either selling my body to some shifter or homelessness. Or worse, spending the weekend having sex with the Brown brothers, who would probably not honor any agreement to forgive the debt.

  I might be able to stay in a motel for a while if they took the house, but what about my stuff? I’d have to rent a U-Haul to bring it to storage, and if I called in sick Tuesday to handle that, I knew what would happen.

  My boss would figure I did so out of resentment and fire me. He’d lectured me Friday on adapting a winning attitude. We had a huge client starting with us Tuesday and all hands were needed.

  I’d have to wait until after work and by then, the Browns would have taken possession of my home.

  I was so screwed.

  Or I was about to be… by a shifter who would pay for that privilege.

  Lifting my shoulders in a helpless shrug, I met his greedy gaze. “What happens?”

  When he told me what was expected, I nearly backed out. And then I thought of the Brown brothers combing through my mom’s china, breaking the delicate music boxes that were my grandmothers.

  Destroying all my happy memories of a beloved childhood.

  I swallowed hard. “All right.”

  Norm grinned.

  Horror filled me. What if the Browns were here tonight? But when I asked Norm, he shook his head.

  “After the last fight with Dante, their membership was revoked.”

  Still, I had to be sure. “What are the terms?”

  “You’re auctioned off to the shifter who bids the highest. Sex takes place here, in one of the rooms. The shifter has you for the entire evening.”

  At least it would be here, where I could have a modicum of some protection if the shifter got rough. Guy wouldn’t let me get hurt.

  “We’re talking sex in human form, right? Because I’m not into that kind of kinky stuff.”

  Norm looked interested. “Really? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, Peyton. You’d be impressed at how limber my snake can get.”

  Eewww.

  “Sex in human form,” I stated. “Otherwise, no dice.”

  He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. The auction is for skin, anyway. If shifters want to get kinky, they do out of mutual consent.”

  I was impressed. “You have standards, Norm.”

  “I have liability insurance.”

  Whatever. “Ok, where do I sign?” />
  Norm handed me his tablet. After I cyber signed my name, he got that goofy grin on his face again as if he knew something I did not.

  Then he snapped his fingers. “Guy! Get Peyton her drink.”

  Guy sauntered over, his gaze pitying. “It’ll be okay, Peyton.”

  He handed me a cocktail glass half filled with amber liquid. I downed it and coughed. Whiskey, with a little something to take the edge off.

  I’d seen him give the same mixture to a new hire stripping for the first time. Always in the past I’d felt bad for the girl, getting on stage, gyrating and getting naked for ogling shifters.

  Now I was the one on stage, and they’d be doing more than looking. One of them would purchase me for the night as you’d buy a horse or a prized piece of art.

  Not a nice way to lose my virginity, but the options were much worse. And maybe I’d get lucky and the winning bidder would be a good lover.

  Guy took the empty glass, patted my shoulder. “Think of it as a life experience, Peyton. It’s only one night.”

  He moved off stage, but I’d heard the falseness in his voice. Guy was a shifter and knew what I faced. The crowd tonight might look refined and elegant, but they were wild inside.

  Norm barked out an order. “Auction’s starting late. Twenty minutes. Free drinks on the house for the clients. Tell them there’s someone special on the block. That will cool their jets.”

  He turned to me, his expression businesslike. “First you’ll have to undergo a physical exam. The doc will certify you.”

  Exam? I nearly backed out again. This was so beyond my experience and too humiliating.

  “Necessary for the opening bid,” said the auctioneer in his high, nasal voice, as he consulted his own tablet.

  He glanced up. “Of course it will be by my own personal physician, and private.”

  What choice did I have? I accompanied him to the Rose Room, where a portable exam table had been set up. The auctioneer told me all the women had been “inspected” by the physician for their physical health and to make sure they were not pregnant.

  He closed the door behind me. Clutching the red satin robe, I climbed up onto the paper-covered table.

  A sigh of relief fled me as a women in a white lab coat entered the room. She held a pair latex gloves and blinked in surprise.