My Shifter Showmance: Shifting Reality, Book 1

by R. G. Alexander

  “That’s not brave. That’s masochistic and crazy.” Her chuckle was watery. “I couldn’t help myself. It must be your pheromones.”

  Thomas smiled a strange half smile and shook his head. “I haven’t even used them on you. Yet.”

  He pulled her close once more and continued to hold her, just hold her, until her sniffles stopped and her tears dried. Until her skin began to warm beneath his hands, and she felt his breathing change.

  She wanted him. Just one last time she wanted to feel what he made her feel. Wash away her ugly past with a beautiful memory. She kissed his neck, and he stilled beside her. Her teeth closed over the taut tendon of his neck, and he shivered.

  “Don’t tease, Margo.”

  She lifted herself up and straddled his lap. “Who’s teasing?” She bit at his upper lip. “I need you, Thomas.”

  He closed his eyes on a moan, dragging her body against his and tilting his head for a deep, soulful kiss. Yes. This was what she needed. He was what she needed. His taste. His smell. Everything.

  His mind was in turmoil. Thomas was walking a ragged edge. In less than an hour he’d gone from betrayal, to remorse, to homicidal rage. And now? Desire, so strong he wanted to shout with it.

  His rage was for Jimmy the band manager, a man he silently vowed he would find and pay back for every tear his woman had shed over the bastard. The rest was for her. Margo. How had one human woman wound so tightly around his heart in so short a time?

  He had no doubt she was his mate. His only worry was that he might not be hers. It was a worry that kept him up nights. Tormented him every minute he wasn’t with her, touching her, making her cry out with pleasure.

  She was kissing him now and he could scent her need. His mind knew she was vulnerable, that he should just hold her until she slept, keep her safe. But his instincts were demanding he claim her. It was the only way the beast inside knew to protect her.

  Mate.

  He continued to kiss her as he stripped off their clothes, rolling until he was on top, his mouth never lifting from hers. Her taste was as familiar as his own now, as necessary as his heartbeat. It unnerved him, the fact that he’d already bonded with her so deeply without the mark. How much stronger could these emotions get?

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his hard cock pressed against her wet core. Need tightened around him like a vice. Mine. Make her mine. Mate.

  He lifted her legs higher, until her knees were pressed against her shoulders. She didn’t hesitate, her passion as wild as his. He snared her gaze as his cock slid between the cheeks of her ass. “Let me.”

  She bit her lip, her beautiful doe eyes widening, but she nodded.

  “That’s my girl.”

  He took his time, kissing and caressing her body, her breasts, the curve of her belly. She was arching and rocking against him, begging by the time he’d lifted his mouth from between her legs.

  His fingers slid through her arousal, dragging it down to coat her ass with her natural lubrication. He was on edge, his fangs, his cock, ached for her. To be in her. Joined with her. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

  He stretched her with his fingers, growling at how tightly she clenched around him. How much tighter would she be around his cock? He slid his fingers out of her, positioning himself until the head of his cock was aligned with the tight ring of muscles that beckoned him. He needed this. Needed his mate.

  “You’ve never done this before.” He wasn’t asking. “Remember those pheromones I was talking about?” With a thought his unique scent emitted through his pores, and he watched her inhale in surprise.

  Her pupils dilated, the scent of her own arousal increased so quickly he grew dizzy with it. Wild. He wanted to make this good for her. So good she would never forget the day he made her his.

  He looked into her shimmering eyes and pushed forward, loving the way her spine arched off the bed, the look of amazed pleasure on her face. Yes. Mate. Mine.

  His jaw ground together as he forced himself to go slow, to let her get used to the new invasion. She was so damn beautiful it stole his control. Took his breath away. When she moaned, pushed more fully against him, he lost the last drop of patience he had left.

  The lion roared as he claimed her, took her sweet ass the way he’d dreamt of. His head bent, fangs stinging as they extended for the marking bite. She saw him, arching her neck, a willing supplicant.

  She was irresistible.

  He pierced her flesh and heard her cry out. The first drop of her blood on his tongue swamped him with adrenaline. He groaned against her skin, soaking in the essence that was his mate. Margo.

  He swelled inside her, pressing her into the mattress with the power of his thrusts. He was his animal. Primal. Hungry. Her blood was a drug in his veins. He could feel it changing him, linking him to her.

  When she climaxed it whipped through him with the force of a hurricane. Setting off a chain reaction inside him. Arcs of lightning shot up his body, through him and into her. They cried out together.

  Mate. Mine.

  Margo took one last look at her lover’s sleeping form sprawled across the bed. It was just after dawn, but she knew Dugan would be there. Waiting. She opened the bookshelf door and headed down the hallway, unwilling to brave the tower stairs in the rain. Luckily, he’d moved the bureau in the night when they’d snuck into the kitchen for a two a.m. snack.

  He was wrong. She wasn’t brave. She was a coward. Unsure of everything she felt, everything she was. She compartmentalized herself into so many pieces she wasn’t sure who the real Margo was. Reliable and diligent? Wild and foolish? Whatever she was, she knew it was time to go home and face her dragons.

  What about him?

  Thomas was a cat. He’d land on his feet. Soon enough he’d forget about her and move on to his next conquest. His next challenge. She would always remember what he gave her.

  She got to the base of the stairs with her carryon and heard it. A faint echo of sound, like hammering, and then a male voice swearing. She set her bag down and went to investigate.

  Beneath the staircase there was a door that had been hidden by a suit of armor. It was open, and she could see a stairway leading further down. She followed the noise to the bottom, wondering if they were doing any more remodeling. She doubted it. Suspicion sped up her heart as she tread carefully over the black earthen floor toward the dim light.

  She heard swearing again and recognized the voice. Stan Ayer? She suddenly remembered the question from last night. Why was he lurking here? What was he looking for?

  A hand covered her mouth before she could scream. “For a Slayer he really is rather clumsy. And his pseudonym. Ha. Maybe he was following our lead. Obvious is the new stealth, you know.”

  Saint turned her around, and she could see his black eyes were sparking with a red, unnatural light. “Stanley is more like us than he is you, Margo. His line slay vampires, and are given some of the vampy powers like charisma, when he focuses, and longevity. In a few minutes he’ll be wishing they’d added some extra intelligence in for good measure.”

  She pulled his hand off her mouth. “He’s trying to find out where Mac sleeps isn’t he? What are we going to do?”

  Saint smiled. “You are going to go back upstairs and get on the bus before my roommate wakes up. And I am going to make the slayer wish he’d never been born.” He glanced down at her neck and his smile grew. “Nice love bite. Don’t worry, Margo. I’m sure I’ll see you again. And I won’t kill Slayer. I’m just gonna hurt him a little, and scare him a lot. It’s a demon thing.” His eyes burned red. “You should go now.”

  She couldn’t help it. She ran up the stairs as though she’d seen a demon. And she had. Esther was waiting beside her bag, her smile sad but understanding. “Be safe, dear. You’re welcome back anytime. With or without Master Thomas.”

  Margo tried not to cry as a silent Dugan helped her onto the large, lonely bus. She rubbed the mark on her neck, reliving every moment, bur
ning her lover’s face and touch into her memories.

  They were all she had left.

  Chapter Eight

  The light outside of her apartment building had gone out. Great. She set down her small bag of groceries and fumbled for her keys in the dark, desperate for a long soak in the bath and some sleep.

  It had been a month since she’d returned from Scotland. The longest month of her life. She’d returned to work with a letter of resignation in her hand, but Darcy demanded she give her three months to find and train her replacement. “It’s the least you could do after that Shifting debacle.”

  She’d agreed, but everyone could tell her heart was no longer in her job. It was no longer anywhere. It was with him.

  He hadn’t called. Hadn’t tried to find her. A small part of her had dreamt that he would, prayed that he would. She woke up from dreams filled with him only to find her bed empty and cold.

  It was probably for the best. Dreams didn’t always come true. She’d learned that lesson enough for two lifetimes. She wouldn’t forget again.

  “I was wondering when you’d get home.”

  Margo jumped a few inches off the ground, a scream trapped in her throat. “Mac?”

  The redheaded vampire emerged from the shadows, his hands in his pockets. “Good to see you again, Ms. Sheffield.”

  “What are you doing here?” And why aren’t you Thomas?

  “I wanted you to know that I appreciated your desire to help Saint with our little problem.” He grimaced. “No harm came to Mr. Ayer, I assure you. Apart from a few bruises, and the belief that his family legacy is now slaying fish, not vampires.”

  She chuckled, and his lips quirked. “I also wanted to let you know that we have signed the contracts with Ms. Darcy. With a few, special caveats, of course. And that you have been given full credit for our decision, as well as a percentage of the profits.”

  They’d agreed to the movie? Mac of all people? “But you said Shifting Reality was done. The site shut down and everything. I mean, thank you, but I don’t understand… why the sudden change in heart?”

  Mac smiled. “Heart. That’s the word. The heart is such an inexplicable little organ. They can dissect and study it for millennia and still miss the magic it holds. The magic that makes us follow it, no matter where it leads.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “It has been brought to my attention that I need to loosen up. Take advantage of the recent vampire craze to get out more, meet new people. I’m willing to take a chance.” He stepped back, his expression trying to convey something important to her before he faded into the darkness once more. As though he’d never been there.

  She opened the door to her apartment, shaking her head. They’d signed. Did that mean she’d see Thomas again? Would he even want her to? She could only imagine how angry he’d been when he woke to find her gone from the castle.

  “Yoohoo. Margo Sheffield. You have a demon calling on line one.”

  She dropped her groceries on the carpet. “Shit.”

  “Oops. Hope there wasn’t anything breakable in there.”

  She followed the voice to her dining room table, her jaw dropping at the sight of her open laptop, and the live feed image of Saint’s face smiling directly at her. “What is this?”

  “Ms. Sheffield. This is your life. But first, a lesson in the mating habits of shifters.” He lifted his nose haughtily in the air, assuming the posture of pompous professor. “Despite the romantic propaganda, cat shifters cannot change their human mates on a genetic level. When they mark a mate, it bonds them to her for life, but not vice versa, which makes for one very possessive and vulnerable cat. As you can imagine.”

  Margo touched the mark on her neck, the mark that had remained visible even after weeks of separation. Was he saying what she thought he was?

  “Sometimes this possession manifests itself in strange ways. The shifter may wish to prove himself to his mate. Bring home a prized elk from the hunt or—” he waved a VHS tape in front of the camera, “—find a nasty little scumbag of a band manager and have his demon and vampire friends ferret out every last copy of an incriminating video tape.” The tape began to burn in his hands, and Margo’s vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.

  Saint nodded his head. “That was the last copy. On a final note. Shifters who have chosen their mates experience separation anxiety when said mate disappears for long stretches of time. So one shouldn’t be surprised to find them waiting in their bedroom. Now, I believe I’ve done my good deed for the next hundred years, and I feel the need to slaughter some random gamers. You kids have fun. This concludes your demon therapy session. Good luck.”

  The computer shut off, and Margo wasted no time. She ran to the bedroom, threw open the door…and froze in shock. A lion was curled up on her bed. He was huge. Beautiful. But huge.

  He stood on his large paws and shifted before her eyes, the familiar visage of Thomas Lyons taking his place, clad in jeans and a T-shirt. He looked hesitant as he stood on her bed. Nervous. “Your cat is underneath the sofa. I may have traumatized her. I’m sorry.”

  Margo smiled through her tears. “She’ll live. She’s probably just jealous. She’s always thought she was the biggest, baddest cat in my life.”

  He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ve missed you, Margo. More than I thought I could miss anyone.”

  She shook her head, unable to believe he was really there. “I can’t believe you did that. I mean the tape, the contract, all of it. You didn’t have to.”

  He leapt off the bed to land a few feet away from her, holding himself back with obvious restraint. “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?” She needed to hear him say it.

  He smiled. “Because I love you, Kittysnapdragon. I have from the moment I met you. I always will. And a cat in love will do anything to make his mate happy.”

  “I love you too.”

  His expression was shocked, as though he hadn’t expected such a quick response. But they’d already wasted too much time as far as she was concerned. She raced toward him, leaping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. She peppered his face with kisses, laughing and crying and so full of gratitude and joy she could hardly breathe. He’d come for her. He loved her.

  He groaned at the feel of her against him. “I can’t believe I stayed away from you so long. Do you know how hard it was?”

  Margo felt the hard ridge of his erection press against her and shivered. “I’m getting a general idea.”

  He growled. “General, huh? Well, let’s get down to specifics. I need to taste you. Need to feel my woman come around my cock. Now.”

  She placed open mouth kisses on his neck as he carried her to what she hoped was the bed. She needed him too. It was desperate, this desire to get closer, to touch every part of him, taste every part of him. She wondered if it would always be like this.

  The sound of water running pushed through the haze of her passion. Before she could lift her head he’d stepped into the shower, holding her, the hot water blasting over her fully clothed body. “What—”

  His voice was harsh, guttural. “Couldn’t wait. Didn’t want to let you go.”

  She heard the rending sound of her tailored pants as he ripped off the center panel, baring her white lace underwear to his touch. That too shredded beneath his hands, until there was nothing between them but his sodden jeans.

  “Have I mentioned that you’re good at this?”

  “Not good. Not smooth. Around you, Margo, I have no control.”

  Her blouse clung to her skin, resistant to his frustrated fingers. Margo leaned back in his arms, pulling everything, bra and all, off over her head. It landed on the floor of the shower with a wet thud and she smiled. “Your turn.”

  He took her mouth, his sharp teeth snagging her lower lip in his haste, but she loved it. Loved his wildness. Without releasing her he somehow undid the buttons of his jeans, and she felt the rock solid heat of him against her sex.

  She pluc
ked at the cloth on his shoulders, humming into his mouth as she dragged her sensitive breasts across the wet, heavy cotton. The water beat down on them and she remembered her fantasy in the shower. She tore her mouth away with a laugh. “It was you, wasn’t it? Your voice I heard that first day? You were watching me.”

  He narrowed his brilliant green eyes, studying her face for a tense moment. “You aren’t angry?”

  She should be, she knew. “No,” she whispered, surprised at her own answer. “It’s only fair. I was watching you for months. Dreaming of us, like this, since I first found your site.”

  His jaw clenched, the emotion glistening in his eyes making hers water. “I think I created it so you’d find me.” And then he was kissing her again, his tongue filling her mouth as his cock stretched and filled her sex.

  Yes. God, she’d missed this. Craved it. No fantasy, no battery operated boyfriend, nothing had satisfied her since she’d left Scotland. Nothing could compare to Thomas, and the way he made her feel.

  His head reared back, looking into her eyes as the strong arms around her hips pumped her against his body. “Say it, kitten.”

  She knew exactly what he wanted. “I love you, Thomas Lyons.”

  “You’re mine now. Don’t ever run away from me again.”

  She shook her head and his mouth opened over the mark on her shoulder. “Oh, that feels so…” He sank his fangs into her flesh, and she cried out, tightening her arms and legs around him, needing to be closer, needing everything.

  For long, delicious minutes he drank from her, claiming her as she took him, feeling as though he were inside her mind and heart as well as her body. Love you…love you so much, her inner voice whimpered.

  You can say that again, little voice.

  She sensed it building inside her. The spark became a conflagration that had her hips bucking, desperate for a faster rhythm. More. Harder. More.