Heartsridge Shifters: Grant

by Olivia Arran

  I woke every morning wishing that I didn’t know how he tasted. Every night, I relived the feel of his hard body pressed against mine. I wanted to forget how his mouth had devoured me, as if starved for my touch. Forget the deep, hoarse sounds he had made, as if I pleased him, just by being alive. Most of all, I wanted to unlearn how safe I had felt in his arms. He’d kissed me and I hadn’t felt alone anymore.

  Until he’d walked away and pretended it hadn’t happened.

  For some reason, Grant Romano hated me. A fact my libido had no qualms ignoring. But, as a grown woman edging my way up to thirty, I was more than just my over-eager lady bits. Plenty more fish in the sea. Anacondas in the jungle. Grass snakes in the—

  He grunted at me. Daryl shot him a look, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

  The other guys—who I hadn’t met before, but who were damn fine specimens of the male species—just looked bored, though the one with the violet eyes gave me an assessing once-over, as if to try and figure out what all the fuss was about. To be perfectly honest, it was creepy. Note to self: steer clear of the tall, dark, and psychotic looking one.

  Fixing my eyes firmly forward, I pulled up to a stop at Kel’s door, rapping my knuckles on the flimsy surface.

  “Come in,” my boss shouted, his voice carrying the amount of exasperation to be expected of a Lieutenant being interrupted in the middle of his busy work day.

  Shouldering the door open, I poked my head in. “Surprise delivery!” I cried out, waving a hand in the general direction of the five brutish men who crowded me in a semi-circle.

  Kel looked up from his screen, blinking in a way that told me he hadn’t been wearing his glasses. Again.

  “No returns,” I said, making my way over to behind his desk and propping up the wall. This way I could keep an eye on all of the players, and hopefully Kel would forget I was here.

  He rose from his chair, uncurling his strapping six-foot frame as he rubbed a hand over dark hair that he kept cropped close to his scalp. Despite being well into his forties, the boss had the physique of a man easily ten years his junior, and as far as I could tell, not a single gray hair. Yet. Though he kept telling both me and Sarah—my partner in crime and fellow squad member—that the first one he got, he’d be blaming on us. The man was like a father to me.

  “Grant, Daryl, Dante.” Kel nodded to each of the men, turning his attention to the two he obviously didn’t know.

  Note to self: Dante is the creepy one.

  Grant indicated each man in turn when they remained silent, obviously perfecting their don’t fuck with me attitudes, not that they really needed the extra practice. Those two men were hella intimidating. “Ridge and Talon.”

  I snorted, muffling it with my sleeve. Couldn’t help myself.

  All eyes swung to me, several eyebrows lifted.

  I shrugged. What could I say? I’d bet my six months’ rent checks that the names their mamas gave them at birth were nice and normal, something like Raymond and Thomas.

  Keeping his face turned from the audience, Kel rolled his eyes at me, then pursed his lips in his classic behave, Mandy look. He turned his attention back to the group. “Welcome, gentlemen. Please take a seat.”

  A whole lot of shuffling and an extra two chairs later, everyone was settled and comfy, and ready to get down to business.

  Geez, finally. I was still propping up the wall.

  Kel picked up his mug and looked at me.

  I sent him my most evil glare, crossing my arms. “Oh, I’m fine, thank you. If I drink anymore, I’ll need to pee.”

  “For the guests.”

  “I take mine black with five sugars,” creepy guy drawled at me while hooking his foot over his knee and accidentally elbowing Grant in the side, who scowled at him.

  Okay, one point in favor of creepy guy.

  I deliberately flicked on my radio, thumbing the station to contact the front desk. “Trig, coffee order incoming.”

  Kel huffed, something that could have been a chuckle. It was a chuckle; I was sure of it. “Don’t you have other work you need to be getting on with?”

  I finished giving the order. “Nope.”

  “Paperwork?”

  “No, Sir. All caught up.”

  His brow crinkled. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But I’m not paying out on overtime, just because you wanted to listen in on something I’ll be briefing the squad about later.”

  “No overtime, got it.” I couldn’t help the grin, which Daryl returned. Soon, we’d be sniggering together like teenagers sampling under the counter hooch.

  Meanwhile, Grant looked like he was having his teeth pulled. Without anesthetic. While someone waved a cheeseburger in front of his nose.

  Which just made my grin even wider. Hell, if I was going to have to work with the guy again, I might as well get some fun out of it—even if it wasn’t the kind of fun I’d much prefer.

  After another warning glance from Kel, and once everyone who’d requested a coffee was clutching a mug in their sweaty hands, the meeting finally started, Grant taking the lead.

  Surprising—not.

  “I trust that Mayor Carter forwarded the relevant information onto you?”

  Kel nodded, blowing the steam off the top of his brew before taking a cautious gulp. “I was surprised, to be honest. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Field training would be damn useful.”

  Field training?

  The corner of Grant’s mouth turned up in a mockery of a smirk. “We thought the bootcamp went well, so they’ve given us the go ahead to trial the next stage.” He shrugged. “A trial run is prudent in light of the new legislation being passed and the Registration Act amended.”

  Kel grunted his agreement, shifting in his chair. “Agreed.” He tilted his head, brows bunching together. “Though, in my understanding, it’s not a certainty yet.”

  “True. But still, what harm would it be to work together again?” His smile this time was all teeth and a lot of sex appeal.

  I blinked at the grumpy stud muffin. Harm? What about my ovaries and spontaneous combustion? Did he not have a heart?

  Kel—the turncoat—returned his smile, upping the stakes by flashing it around the room. That was it, no more donuts for him! “It’ll be a good challenge for my team, to work with new people.” The look he gave me was pointed. As if little old me was the troublemaker. Steepling his fingers together, he poked the bottom of his jaw. “How’re we doing this, then? My squad usually goes out on patrol in pairs while I run things from back here.”

  Dante chose this moment to pipe up, his tone making it blatantly obvious what he thought of this charade. Kinda made me want to have him assigned as my partner, if only so I could wiggle the great big stick that was shoved up his ass. “There are five of us and five of you.” He widened his eyes in mock shock, then snorted, smoke puffing out of his nostrils.

  Okaaaaay, then. Dragon shifter, like Bree.

  Everyone else ignored the self-combusting dragon shifter in the room.

  Kel nodded. “Okay, each one of my squad pairs up with a shifter. Usual patrols and schedule. Extra training?” He looked hopeful, and I understood why. We’d learned a helluva lot during our bootcamp at Heartsridge, and I, for one, would be happy to continue to hone those skills.

  Daryl smirked, stretching out his legs and looping his arms behind his head, causing his shirt to ride high and reveal a glimpse of toned, tanned abs. “Of course I’ll whoop your ass, Lieutenant, no need to ask,” he all but growled, his eyes glinting as he eyed my boss, who sat apparently speechless and frozen in his chair.

  Grant gave them both the side-eye. “Sure, more training if you’d like.” Reshuffling his bulky frame on the plastic chair, his gaze darted over to me.

  Holy mackerel with extra sauce. Slate gray, with silver flecks dancing around the iris in mesmerizing swirls. A stark challenge in the hooded gaze, charcoal lashes blinking once, then twice, before he resumed his previous grump, jaw gritted, dimple flexing as he suf
fered under the strain of being a huge pain in the ass. “Talon can pair with Chris. Ridge with Don. Dante with…” His eyes flicked back in my direction once again, then over to Daryl, his barked orders pausing as he considered his options. “…Sarah. Daryl, you’re with Mandy.” He sounded a little wheezy on the last command.

  Aw, knock me over with a feather pillow, he couldn’t even say my name without getting all flustered. “Fine by me,” I chirped, flashing my future partner in crime a fabulous grin. At least Daryl would be fun.

  But Daryl wasn’t looking too impressed with the arrangement. “You can’t put Sarah with scaly-ass.”

  Dante bristled. “I would not mistreat or harm a human woman.”

  Daryl rolled his eyes. “I was more worried about Sarah denting your overinflated ego and causing you a hernia. She has quite the sense of humor. Wouldn’t want you to take out half of the city with a temper tantrum, would we?”

  The dragon shifter made a rude noise, following it with a dismissive gesture that involved my favorite finger. “I’m sure I’ll cope somehow.”

  “Fine.” Daryl turned his attention back to Kel, who was looking more than a little concerned.

  “Perhaps we should rethink the teams?” he offered.

  Not that I didn’t think Sarah could hold her own with Mr. Creepy Hotbuns over there, but I knew damn well she was PMS-ing right now, and might end up just stabbing him. By accident. “I’ll keep Mr. Crisp & Bake company.”

  Grant’s head snapped toward me, steel gray eyes pining me in place. “No.”

  “No?” I echoed, yanking at my uniform as I pushed away from the wall. If my hand happened to graze my firearm, well … whoops, right?

  Daryl cracked his knuckles, then scooted his chair around, as if taking up a front row seat. Even the mute pair in the background looked mildly amused. “Why not, Grant?”

  Something flashed over Grant’s face before he slammed the shutters down. “Fine, we’ll reassign—”

  Daryl jumped in, cutting him off, “Fine. Grant, you team up with Sarah, then.”

  “No.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, cheeks burning as I prayed the floor would gobble me up whole.

  Grant tensed, every muscle in his overgrown body flexing and seeming to expand.

  Daryl arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “No?”

  “Ummm…” I looked at the ceiling. Then the floor. Then at the back of my eyelids, just for good measure.

  Slapping Grant on the back, Daryl smirked. “You two together then.” He flashed Kel a look, deliberately avoiding the visual daggers I was flinging his way. “Sarah will be fine with Dante. He’s an old son-of-a-bitch, so he should know how to treat a woman.” He craned his neck, giving the dragon shifter a wink.

  Sneaking a quick look at Grant, I noticed that he looked as shellshocked as I felt. But he wasn’t protesting, instead he grunted in some sort of agreement.

  Huh. Don’t sound too enthusiastic, will you?

  Daryl stood up and stretched again. “That just leaves little old me to help man the desk with Keelin.”

  “Lazy.”

  Huh. Talon could talk, after all.

  “Should have been a cat.” Damn, Ridge, too!

  Daryl snarled. Grant grabbed him, giving him a shove in Kel’s direction, before herding the others out of the door. His voice drifted back to me, “We’re moving out. Have the rest of your squad meet us out front.”

  I resisted the urge to clip my heels and call him Sir. Barely. I almost pulled a damn muscle.

  As if hearing my inner sarcasm having a party at his expense, he pivoted on his heel, notching a shoulder against the doorframe, all six and a half feet worth of smoking sexiness laid out like a buffet for my eyes.

  I … couldn’t … help … myself. Too weak. No resistance in the face of such hotness. I stared. And stared. And massaged him with my eyeballs some more. I may even have made a noise, I could only hope it was not a groan. Or a plea. Or a—

  One corner of his mouth curved, full lips tilting and dimple deepening as a crooked grin appeared out of nowhere.

  Of course, I’d seen this smile before. Right up until he decided he couldn’t stand the sight of me.

  And, once again, my knees threatened to buckle. What kind of witchcraft was this, my inability to resist the man in front of me?

  Chapter Three

  Grant

  Damn. For the first time since arriving in this godforsaken place, I allowed myself to really look at her, to lose myself in her deep brown eyes, indulge in the lushness of her pouty lips. Greedily, I took in the way her uniform clung to her curves, swelling and dipping in all the right places. My groin tightened, my shaft swelling and stretching the confines of my jeans to the maximum.

  How the hell was I meant to carry out the mission with this kind of distraction going on?

  Speaking of which, what the hell had happened back there?

  Ah, fuck. I was still staring at her. Like an idiot. Now I was going to have to talk to her. Though, I’d probably been kidding myself thinking we could get through the next week or so without passing the time of day.

  “Mandy.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at my caveman like grunt, her eyes widening in mock surprise as she sauntered up to me, tilting her head back and shaking it back and forth. “Huh.”

  I clamped down on the urge to slide my arm around her waist and drag her closer. She wasn’t mine to play with. Definitely not after the way I’d treated her. But, still, it was a Herculean effort, so my reply was, once again, single syllable caveman style. “What?” I hid the wince; it had come out sharper than I’d intended.

  Shooting me a wry look that sent a shot of pleasure humming through my chest, she replied, “Nothing.”

  My hand had curled around her arm before my brain had engaged. “No, tell me.”

  She blinked at me, the flush of pink tinting her smooth brown skin the only indication that my hands on her garnered any sort of reaction. “Only, the last time we had a conversation that started with you snapping my name, it ended with your tongue halfway down my throat before you tucked tail and ran away.”

  My spine stiffened even while the memories her words evoked danced before my eyes. “I didn’t run.” It was a weak denial, my words coming out a throaty growl, the taste of her still dancing on my tongue as if it had been only moments since our last kiss. Our only kiss.

  She snorted, waving away my denial. “It was the last time you said my name.” She pulled her arm away, dislodging my hand. “It brought back fond memories, that’s all.”

  Instinct had me stepping closer, crowding her. “Fond?” I spat the word out as an insult.

  Her small hand came up between us, giving me a shove. “Hey! It puts you on the same level as the neighborhood stray, and she’s awesome. For a cat.”

  Her attempted show of strength had drawn a chuckle, which quickly turned to me choking on my own tongue. “Cat?”

  “Yeah, I’m fond of her kisses too. Though she usually settles for licking me on the cheek. Maybe we should try that, next time, ya know, since we’re barely frenemies?”

  Hoots of laughter echoed around the corridor, my colleagues yakking up their insides in an attempt to out laugh each other at my expense.

  I squared my shoulders, aiming a glare at the small female who was, presently, grinning from ear to ear, confident in her ability to piss me off. “Female, you’re testing my good nature,” I ground out, biting off each word.

  Her face screwed up in disbelief, then hardened in determination. “Okay, let’s do this. Clear the air.” Her finger made an appearance, jabbing me in the chest.

  What was it with females and poking? I’d spent the last couple of weeks treated to a front row seat of Bree dishing out abuse to my alpha, Owen, in exactly the same way. A quick glance at my teammates and they left us to it, but not without a couple of raised eyebrows being thrown my way.

  Mandy jabbed again, demanding my attention, though it had to be hurting her poor little fin
ger by now. “Male, you’re a whole lot of complicated and no-one’s got time for that. Sure, you know how to kiss a girl’s socks off, maybe you’re even passable in the sack, but let’s just make this clear … you could be a rockstar in the bedroom, a God at cunnilingus, hold a black belt in orgasm giving—”

  I caught her finger, cradling her hand against my chest as I met her glare with my own. “Your point? Or are you asking me to prove one?” Fuck. Where the hell did that come from?

  She sucked in a breath, bearing her teeth at me as her fingers curled into my shirt, as if to yank me down to her.

  I was already there, my head lowering, mouth watering in anticipation of tasting her again.

  She leaned back, hitting the wall, my arms bracing around her, caging her in and blocking out the rest of the world. Our noses bumped together, breath mingling and catching as we stared at each other, both caught in a tangle of want, but each unwilling to let go and … just take.

  “Your point?” I repeated, hoping to goad her into action, all thought of resistance forgotten. Why had I fought this, when, really, it was all so simple? She was made to be mine as I was hers. Could we fight it? Did I want to?

  Eyes clouded with passion, she blinked at me, clarity slowly returning, a shrewdness invading the depths. “It’s called respect, buster.”

  “I respect you.” I was barely able to stop myself from nuzzling her neck, her sweet scent calling to me. My wolf howled inside my head, pushing me once again to claim my mate, refusing to heed any of the reasons I had once thought more important.

  Then she was gone and I was hugging thin air.

  Her voice came from behind me, taunting me. “Respect for myself. You can barely bring yourself to be civil with me, so why should I even consider giving you a taste?”