Big Furry Deal (Paranormal BBW Shape Shifter Romance) (Ridgeville)

by Celia Kyle

  His lungs froze as the full weight of the situation struck him. He hadn’t protected her, hadn’t kept her safe as he’d promised. Pain not related to Frank’s poison invaded him, overrode the agony of the venom.

  His heart. His heart broke and cracked under the weight of what was to come.

  He believed in his mate’s strength, had faith in her ability to fight and survive.

  Yet that attitude didn’t brush aside the fact that she now had to face her greatest nightmare come to life… alone.

  She’d suffer for his arrogance, his belief that nothing could invade his home, nothing could get past him and harm his mate.

  Wyatt fell to the side, body frozen by the poison yet his mind cataloged everything that happened within his line of sight. It was strong enough to disable him, but there was nothing that could erase his memories of Bethy.

  He saw Frank’s cocky smile.

  Saw that grin turn evil.

  And then he saw something he’d remember the rest of his life.

  His Bethy, sweet and timid when she wasn’t raging at males or screaming for more, held a wooden bat in her hands. And she didn’t appear to be afraid to use it. Bethy raised it high, hands holding the grip so tight her knuckles were white, and then she screamed.

  *

  “No!”

  Millie felt as if her world were crumbling right before her very eyes. Oh God, Frank had somehow snuck into the house. They hadn’t found him and he’d snuck in— No, slithered. The asshole snake crept into their home and he’d bitten Wyatt and…

  No panicking! I can’t help Wyatt if I panic.

  Thankfully, she’d tripped over a baseball bat and shoes as she’d rolled from the bed, and now she was ready to bludgeon the man to death. And fuck it, she didn’t even feel guilty.

  Millie brought it down, swinging in a short arc aimed directly for the snake’s head. She’d hit him over and over and over until he couldn’t ever hurt her again. She felt the cat rising within her, her power right behind the beast, and she prayed for calm. She couldn’t lose control, not when Wyatt needed her. Let her remove the threat and then she could shatter into a million pieces.

  But damnit, Frank spun and grabbed the barrel of the bat, stopping her before it struck him.

  “You stupid bitch.” He yanked and jerked it from her hands. “Did you think you could actually hurt me?” Frank shook his head. “No, baby, you’re mine. My mate, remember? Mates can’t hurt each other.” He smiled wide, exposing his bloodstained fangs.

  Frank took a step forward, and she eased back. “No,” she shook her head, panic threatening to overwhelm her. But she had to do this. For herself. For Wyatt. For them. “I have a mate. Wyatt is my mate.”

  The snake hissed. “You’re mine!” His reptilian tongue flicked out. “I’ve claimed you over and over, baby. Your cat is having a hard time accepting me. But I figured it out. I fixed the formula and now she’ll want me.” His eyes were glazed, crazed. “I’m sorry the others hurt you, but I have it right now. We’ll be so happy together.”

  Hands now empty of a weapon, worry assaulted her. He had his natural poison on his side. A glance at Wyatt showed it’d already worked its way through her mate. She couldn’t protect her male if she was bitten, as well.

  Millie’s fingers tingled and burned, and her panther snarled in the back of her mind. Wait, she did have a weapon of her own. Her power stirred, midnight black and rolled with fury. More than one weapon.

  Weapons she’d never actively controlled. Fuck, what a trial by fire.

  “I’ll never be yours. Never!” She shook her head, punctuating the statement. “You forced yourself on me, Frank, but you’re never going to do it again.”

  “Honey…” He stepped forward and she moved back.

  “No!” She allowed her hands to change, let the cat flow through her and shift her hands to lethal claws. The beast then moved on to her face, changing her human visage to a bastardized version of the panther’s head. Midnight fur replaced her pale skin, and she knew she faded into the shadows with the change.

  Panthers were sneaky bastards, and she embraced that side of her.

  Her beast fed her the cat’s agility and hunting instincts.

  “I’m not your ‘baby’ or your mate. I’m nothing to you.” A snippet of her past overlaid the present. Frank’s nude body, the sweat that coated him, the flex of muscles as he sought release… “And you will never touch me again.”

  Frank’s gaze drifted to her hands and she was satisfied to see the surprise overcome Frank’s features along with a hint of fear.

  “Baby,” he soothed. “What are you doing?”

  She knew what she was doing. Killing him. “Did you hear me? Never again.”

  Her power responded, satisfied and urging her to finish him, to destroy the male who’d harmed them over and over through the years. He drugged her, tortured her, and her human mind had been unable to handle the pain.

  He was the reason she was always angry. He was the reason she struck at every male, friend or foe. He was the reason she was so fucking broken.

  That enraged her. That he’d done things so horrible her mind splintered and broke from his treatments.

  Millie called on the black cloud within her, beckoned the very core of her Sensitive powers, and allowed it free reign. That part of her surged and spanned the distance between her and Frank, diving into him like a starving beast. He jerked as if physically struck, body listing to the side as he stumbled.

  “What-what are you doing?”

  More images, snapshots of his past actions came to her.

  Her blood decorating the floor. Her wrists bleeding as she fought her bindings. His fangs sinking into her body over and over again in an effort to mate her.

  Millie pushed them all back. She and the cat had other things to do. Like gut Frank.

  “Do you remember how I spent my eighteenth birthday, Frank?” She cracked her neck and flexed her hands, stretching her claws and settling into the newly shaped bone and muscle. She was strength personified in this shape, her curves not detracting from her deadly intent. “Beneath you.” She raised her hand and extended her paw, smiling as the light glinted off of every nail.

  “You can’t—” He winced and coughed, grabbing his head. “You can’t do that. What are you doing?”

  “Do you know how you’ll spend tonight?” Frank didn’t answer her question, but she wasn’t surprised. “Beneath me.”

  Millie sprang forward, tackling him to the ground in one leap. He’d hurt her, violated her, and injured her mate.

  Clawed paws dug into his muscles, sinking deep before tearing at his flesh. She ignored the rotten stench of his snake’s blood and instead focused on injuring him, killing him. One gouging scratch became two, became four. His claws scraped her body, and she recognized her injuries, but pushed them aside.

  Hurt. Kill. Two words, repeating over and over.

  Frank jerked and heaved, rolling her beneath him, and he straddled her waist.

  The panther didn’t care, not when she had her Sensitive powers on her side. That part of her was fully fused in her mind, reacting to her every thought as she dug through the snake’s mind. Horror after horror flicked past, and she ignored them as best she could, but they wouldn’t be silenced.

  Her fourteenth birthday.

  Frank backhanding her.

  She turned fifteen.

  Frank tying her down.

  She never had a sweet sixteen.

  Not with Frank braced above her as his venom went to work, his body straining as he fought to keep her still so he could…

  Oh, God, eighteen…

  Frank keeping her captive as others entered her room.

  Millie struggled to shove the memories aside. They wouldn’t help her defeat the male.

  Frank hissed and bared his fangs, leaning down as if to strike and wound her as he’d done to Wyatt.

  Wyatt…

  She spared a split-second glance at her mate and n
oted his wide, panicked eyes. Well, yeah, she wasn’t enjoying this shit either. Her wounds burned and she was ready for Frank to die already.

  “Millie, you’re not being a very good girl.”

  Very good girl?

  Three words, another memory. Frank’s blood tinged hands stroking her bare stomach, tracing the lines of her ribs and then finally cupping her cheek. She was naked, beaten, bruises decorating her body. “You’re my very good girl.”

  She tore herself from the past and back to the present. Her cat and her power had endured enough. The two assisted her, the dark cloud of rage lashing out at Frank while her cat reacted with inhuman speed. She twisted her wrists in a sudden move and then shoved his chest, sending him flying backward. She didn’t spare time for a breath before she launched herself at him, pouncing like the panther inside her.

  Again and again, her ball of rage pummeled him, disabling him, and she took her chance. Opening her jaws wide, she attacked. Teeth sank through flesh and bone, goring his throat in a massive, powerful bite. She increased the pressure, grinding down on his spine until fangs met her lower teeth.

  She wrenched then, tearing out half of his neck with that fierce pull. Dark blood pumped and sprayed from his body, soaking into the wood.

  But it wasn’t enough. Never enough. The cat wanted to bite again, wrap its maw around his skull and pull until it jerked free of the snake’s body.

  Even now his tainted blood coated her mouth, it seemed glued to her tongue and clung to her throat. Millie gagged on the spoiled taste, but its presence signified eventual death.

  Yet the cat wasn’t satisfied. Her animal wanted to gorge on his blackened blood, ensure Frank could never return. It ached and pined for his lifeblood, and she fought the cat’s instincts.

  The rapid pounding of feet on the carpet reached her, and she shifted her stance, preparing for a new attack. She straddled Frank, crouching low to let the newcomer know the snake was hers.

  A man jerked to a stop inside the doorway. She breathed past the rancid blood and scented him. Lion. Familiar lion.

  Did he want her prey?

  Her power followed her line of thinking and lashed out at him, sending him to his knees. Prey was hers. She’d earned the right to destroy him with every wound he’d inflicted and every moment of pain she’d endured.

  The stranger groaned and gripped the doorknob.

  A moan behind her snared her attention, and she curled her lips back, ready to defend herself. Only… it was her male. Her male injured, yet stirring. His gaze met hers, and she noted his control returning, his limbs moving determinedly.

  “Bethy, stop.”

  Stop what? She wasn’t doing anything.

  The lion near the door pushed to his feet. No, he wanted her snake. So she struck again, sending him to the floor.

  “Damn it, Bethy. Don’t make me do it.” A growl filled her mate’s voice. Good, he was recovering well. But what would he do?

  Millie nudged the snake’s head, sending it lolling to the right. Frank’s pain-filled eyes met hers. It was then she noticed his hands clutching his throat, his blood continuing to flow past his fingers. Maybe she’d watch him suffer as he’d gleefully watched her year after year.

  She sneezed, clearing the stench of his blood from her nose and then refocused. Her prey clung to life, but it’d be over soon. She looked down at the body beneath her. Scaly. Thin. Probably tough.

  But hers.

  She licked her muzzle and grimaced at the rotten taste. She didn’t want it though. Movement to her right caught her attention, and she swung her head around. She glared at her mate. She was happy he was rising to his feet, but he couldn’t have hers. She’d killed it, damn it. Well, almost. But even if she didn’t want it, no one else could have it.

  She bared a fang, curling her lip and flashing it at Wyatt in warning.

  He froze in place. “Bethy, you need to relax, sweetheart. Step away from Frank. He deserves to be sent to the council for what he’s done. Let them interrogate him. Let them sentence him.”

  Her. Prey. Besides, he’d be dead soon. She’d bitten deep and took quite a bit of flesh with her.

  She flexed a paw and then rested it on Frank’s chest. She dug her nails into his flesh one by one until all four were sunk deep into him. She dragged it down, exposing more of the man’s muscles and blood.

  Wyatt’s next words were tinged with his lion’s growl. “I’m begging you, sweetheart. Calm down now.”

  She’d earned the right to destroy him. Earned it through blood, sweat, and tears. So, so many tears.

  The longer he lay beneath her, the more of her memories returned.

  There wouldn’t be anything left of him to burn.

  The stupid lion by the door stirred again, and Millie released a wailing roar, sending it vibrating through everything in the room.

  A heavy weight collided with her, slamming into her side and sending her rolling and scrambling away from Frank’s body. She fought to get her feet beneath her, blood-slick paws sliding on the wood floors, her claws fighting for purchase. That same weight settled atop her, holding her down when she would have risen.

  She growled low, let the threatening sound pulse through her, but her assailant didn’t move. No, it returned the sound, attempting to scare her into submission.

  Millie shifted and jerked her legs, digging her nails into hardened wood and fighting the body atop her. It didn’t budge, but did growl once again, the attacker’s moist heated breath bathing the back of her neck.

  The move had her stilling, freezing in place. He’d tackled her, caged her, and stood poised to end her life in a single bite. A shudder tore through her, a hint of fear finding its way into her body.

  It wasn’t the lion by the door; he was still in sight.

  No, it was… she inhaled, drawing in the scents of the male above her. Her mate. Her mate held her captive.

  Traitor.

  He was keeping her from her prey. Her. Prey. She snarled, releasing a furious roar that bounced off the walls of the room. At the same time, she pushed up with her legs, bucking and trying to get him off her body. But he retaliated, struck her and dug his teeth into her flesh. Not deep, not truly painful, but just enough for the scent of her blood to fill the air and a stabbing ache to pierce her mind.

  Millie tensed, her mate’s jaws around her neck and teeth threatening to end her life. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, as she fought to figure out his intentions. The cat wanted to fight, wanted to continue the battle, and yet…

  Wyatt growled around her vulnerable flesh, and it sank into her bones, crept along her spine and filled her from paw to tail. When she remained, he repeated the sound, deeper and longer, and tightened his jaws. Another shard of pain tainted her blood, and she fought against the instinct to submit.

  Hers. Hers. Hers.

  He shifted his stance, weighing her down with more of his body, and then the lion’s groin rested atop hers. They were in the right position. Her male could mount her, take her, and claim her in this form.

  That thought, that consideration, was what tore Millie’s human half from the back of their shared mind and straight to the fore. She forced the cat to acquiesce to Wyatt’s dominance, to tilt their head to the side and go limp beneath him.

  She was not into furry sex.

  The moment she let her body go lax, his bite eased, and his large, feline tongue stroked her neck and lapped at her wounds.

  Slowly, her human thinking emerged in full and took over for the cat. She nudged her body into shifting back. She urged it to release the animal and return to the form their mate would appreciate most. Her body slipped from one form to the other, fur slithering into her skin, and bones reforming to her human visage. In less than a second, her furred shape was replaced by her nude, human body.

  Wyatt shuddered above her, releasing her neck, and then his skin was plastered to her back. He caged her, surrounded her with his massive body in a show of both dominance, and love.
/>
  He was their male. He was their mate. But above all, he was theirs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but if it doesn’t agree with my opinion, you might not make it through the night. Now, what were you saying?” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and official keeper of the opinions. Be careful, if you disagree with her, she will cut you.

  Millie refused to leave the bedroom. Re. Fused.

  Nope, nothing doing, wasn’t happening, she’d be content to live out her days locked in Wyatt’s spare bedroom. She glanced around the area, some of her belongings littered the space now. They’d transferred some of her stuff while she’d showered Frank’s tainted blood from her body.

  Wyatt stayed with her, alternating between calming her and ordering her cat to keep itself in line. She’d been unsettled, broken and shattered by the events. She hadn’t been witness to the cleanup, but she’d heard the comments. The whispered words of the males who tromped through the house had easily reached her.

  Savage.

  Crazed.

  Dangerous.

  But she wasn’t, not really. Now… now she was more centered than she’d ever been. The cat was still frayed around the edges. Her power still spiked and jerked here and there, but the urge to kill and maim had fled after she’d realized Frank was well and truly gone. Not dead, but incarcerated forever. Somehow he’d survived and been life flighted to a trauma hospital that specialized in shifters. He’d never speak again. She prayed they’d take her suggestion and remove his fangs. Permanently.

  Now she waited to find out if they’d remain in Ridgeville.

  She’d attacked Alex.

  She’d gone after Brute.

  She’d nearly ripped the head off a male.

  She only felt bad about two out of three, if she was honest.

  Wyatt didn’t harbor an anxiety that matched hers, but he said he’d go wherever they needed to go. Whether that was in Ridgeville or elsewhere.

  She was his home.

  The thud of a fist striking the front door told her Alex had arrived. She wondered if he’d bring Grayson, his Second, with him. It seemed like an event the male needed to be involved in. He’d been traveling a lot, splitting his time between Ridgeville and Chicago while also hitting other shifter groups. He’d been off “forming alliances” for the pride.