The Billionaire Shifter’s Final Redemption: The Billionaire Shifters Club #6

by Seere, Diana

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Are we really having this conversation, Asher? Because frankly, I’m relieved. You have spent the years since Father died doing nothing but shoring up your power, and I admire you for it. Uniquely suited to lead the shifter world, you’re damn good at it. But you’ve cut off more than half yourself to do it. You’re not quite human.”

  “None of us is human, Gavin.”

  “It’s an expression. You’re avoiding my point because it is bloody inconvenient for you to admit that you’re terrified to love someone again. And even more frightened to try to have a child with them.”

  Baby Tobias caught Asher’s eye in that exact moment. It was as if an angel saw straight into his soul, blinding him, making his heart fly out of his chest and hover above them, at the mercy of the wind.

  He had two choices, he knew, as Gavin calmly watched him, masking his own thumping heart. The risk Gavin took in this moment, as a loving brother, was that to force Asher to admit he was right would mean a complete restructuring of the emotional army he had built inside himself.

  One that defended his heart at all costs.

  But then there was that kiss. The feel of Samantha in his arms, soft and pliant, steely and headstrong, a capable, alluring woman who managed to find ways to turn his wall into nothing more than a child’s sandcastle at the beach.

  How?

  How could he crumble now?

  “Gavin, I—”

  His brother’s smartphone buzzed in his pocket.

  “I don’t even have to look at that. It’s Lilah. Time for Tobias to eat. I’ll be back. We have more than enough to talk about.”

  “If you wish to talk about Tomas, come back. If you wish to talk about my emotions, stay the hell away.”

  Gavin reached the door to his office and turned with a troubled look. “I’m sorry to say, Asher, but at this point, I’m not sure the two can be separated.”

  And with that, the door closed with a click that made Asher’s walled-off heart skip a beat.

  * * *

  Sam was coming back from a morning swim in the indoor pool and a soak in the hot tub when she received the summons.

  It was actually a short note delivered by a servant, but it felt like she’d been called to Buckingham Palace. The handwriting was good enough for an engraved wedding invitation.

  It would be greatly appreciated if you would meet me regarding a matter of scientific business as soon as you’re able, it read. Thanking you in advance for your attention, I remain, Yours faithfully, Asher Stanton.

  Sam stared at the note for a long moment, even bringing it to her nose for a quick sniff, inhaling the hint of men’s cologne that lingered on the heavy paper. The scent got her heart pounding almost as hard as it had when he’d finally kissed—

  Yes, she told herself savagely, throwing the note aside. He’d kissed her, rejected her, and now communicated with her via painfully formal letters delivered by a servant.

  Her heart would learn to calm the heck down. Her mind was in control now, as it had always been and always would be.

  She took a deep breath and retrieved the note from the floor. Scientific business. He hadn’t wanted to take any chance she might misunderstand his intentions. After all, he’d thrown her on the bed the last time they’d been together.

  She gritted her teeth, remembering how eagerly she’d gone along with his short-lived seduction. Now he knew how she felt, and there was no putting that genie back in the bottle. How humiliating to have her most tender feelings, hidden even to herself most of the time, exposed to him.

  Unconsciously she lifted the note to her lips and breathed in the scent of him, his cologne, his memory. Perhaps, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who’d been exposed. Although Derry and even Gavin Stanton had reputations, prior to their marriages, for sleeping around—the gossip about their seductions at the Platinum Club reached even the human workaholics at LupiNex—their eldest brother had no such reputation of his own.

  If he made a habit of taking women in his arms and kissing them senseless, he’d kept it a secret. And you couldn’t keep that sort of thing a secret, which suggested he didn’t make a habit of taking women in his arms and kissing them senseless.

  What if it wasn’t a habit but an infrequent slipup? Say, every year or two? Or three?

  How long had it been since the man had been with a woman?

  She realized she had already pulled on a cardigan, slipped her laptop bag over her shoulder, and was touching up her lipstick with a darker shade of red, one that complemented the highlights in her hair and made her look like a classic film star.

  “What am I doing?” she muttered to herself, reaching for a tissue to wipe it off.

  But she stopped herself. She liked her lipstick. She liked how she looked. If he found it too tempting, the big bad wolf would just have to suffer, suck it up, run away if need be.

  With a naughty smile, she left her cabin and headed out into the crisp, bright spring morning, breathing in the clean mountain air as she strode to Asher’s home through the woods.

  On her first visit to the ranch, one of the servants had told her that Asher had two residences: one as a wing in the main house, where he used to live when he was alone at the ranch, and a separate, private home, ridiculously termed a cabin, where he now spent most of his time. Since his brothers and his sister had paired up, mated, and begun having children and were now living at the vast property for security reasons, Asher had retreated full time to this small, two-story mansion—the “cabin”—overlooking the lake.

  Every time Sam saw it, she sighed with appreciation. The huge family house was gorgeous in a billionaire rural luxury kind of way, but Asher’s private home was a fairy tale. Real estate porn. Even now she had to suppress the urge to take out her phone and snap a picture to post online with some caption like RESEARCH DOC’S DREAM HOUSE. It was bigger than his siblings’ houses, not pretending to be a cabin but an openly glorious, though tasteful, mansion.

  She took a moment to admire the sunlight glimmering on the lake before walking up to the porch and knocking on the oversized front door. No doorbell; it was a massive brass knocker in the shape of a wolf’s head.

  An older male servant answered, the one who had brought her the note. Behind him was Manny, a man she’d met in Boston when he’d been Gavin’s driver and security guard. And behind Manny was—

  Her heart began to thud against her rib cage.

  Asher stepped forward, nodding a well-groomed head. “Dr. Baird,” he said. The strands of long, dark hair that had been glued to his damp forehead during his mysterious medical emergency were now combed away from his face in sleek, glossy waves, tied at the nape. “Although I’m quite honored to have you attend me at my personal dwelling, I was thinking we might meet at the laboratory.”

  “You didn’t specify,” she said. In an effort to keep any erotic arousal out of her voice, she’d put a little too much snap in her tone. “This is where we met yesterday,” she added, also with more of an edge—and an allusion of what had happened—than she’d intended.

  “Will you not inquire as to what I mean by a laboratory?” he asked, stepping closer. The other two men had already silently slipped away, leaving her and Asher alone in the foyer.

  She blinked, trying to regain composure. He had said laboratory, hadn’t he? Surely he didn’t expect her to fly back to Boston already. But perhaps that’s exactly what he wanted, to get her away and out of his hair, those glossy waves…

  “I will not be shuttled back to Boston just so you can hide whatever’s eating away at you,” she declared. “I will not be shoved aside, no matter how stupid you want to be about that injury of yours. For the sake of your family, all shifters, and humanity itself, you must allow me to research the progression of this infection of your tissues, both at the site of your old wound as well as systemically. For you to continue to insist on keeping me in the dark is both foolish and morally reprehensible, and I
’m—”

  He held up a hand quickly enough to startle Sam into silence. “You will not be returning to Boston,” he said.

  “Damn right I won’t,” she said, breathing heavily. Her heart was beating too fast.

  “Tomas is nearby. It would be irresponsible to risk your well-being.”

  “Irresponsible.” Is that how he would view her abduction, her torture, her death? As a slight against his duties as the Great Shifter Patriarch?

  Or would he be hurt on a more personal level? She propped a hand on her hip and gave him a challenging stare.

  Which he met steadily with one of his own. “You are too important,” he said, “because of your expertise in shifter science, your research with Zach, Molly, and Gavin, your closeness to the family.”

  “Uh-huh.” For the first time she noticed the way his eyelid twitched when she stood too close. She shifted her weight to the other hip, watched the way his eyes followed her movement. Heat began building between her legs, a tingly heat that made her want to reach up and pull his hair free from the clasp at the back of his neck, run her fingers through the silky strands, mess up the cool exterior he was so careful to maintain. “Closeness to the family,” she repeated, taking a step toward him.

  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He didn’t step back physically, but she could see the walls go up around him, leaving only a cold, distant blankness that watched her from behind the ramparts.

  “Manny,” he said, his voice quiet but commanding, the way his voice so often was.

  Manny appeared in a doorway. “Yes, sir?”

  “Show Dr. Baird to the laboratory, will you? I need to gather a few… ah… papers. Before I can join her.” He cleared his throat and, glancing away from her, wiped the sweat off his brow.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Stanton.” Manny nodded to Sam. “Follow me, Dr. Baird? The lab is near the Bugatti.”

  “Excuse me?” She turned her full attention to the bodyguard, who was opening the front door and gesturing her ahead.

  Manny laughed, glancing at Asher. “Hope you don’t mind, sir. That’s how I see the world. Through cars. Mr. Asher’s collection is always a treat for me to see when we come out here.” He grinned. “They’re all beautiful. The Rolls, the MG, the Triumph. But the Bugatti… Well. It’s a beaut.”

  “Let us hope Dr. Baird finds the laboratory as attractive as you find my automotive collection,” Asher said. The walls around him were taller, thicker, wider. His voice came from a controlled distance, like a king on a throne of ice.

  Sam paused in the doorway, holding his cold gaze, unconsciously willing him to break like he had yesterday.

  But then, realizing she was playing with fire, she turned and followed Manny out the door.

  Chapter 5

  Asher knew that Samantha would find the laboratory professionally exciting and looked forward to her reaction, but what he did not expect was the sight of her in the arms of another man within seconds of walking into the gleaming new facilities Asher had constructed.

  Just for her.

  “Zach!” she gasped, her laughter mingling with Asher’s brother-in-law’s own chuckle, the two hugging like old friends. Zach had recently married Sophia in a quiet family ceremony, yet Asher was ashamed to admit to himself that he felt a pang of jealousy, of all things, to see the man in Samantha’s arms.

  He knew the rising impatience within his body was a symptom of a deeper disquiet, one that had nothing to do with his sister’s husband, but he let it run wild within him long enough to make a noise of displeasure.

  No idiot, Zach gave Asher a quick side-eye, then took a big step back from Sam, giving her a respectful grin she matched.

  “Having fun in here?” she asked Zach, whose own PhD in biochemistry rivaled Samantha’s, though her lab experience made her more of an expert in shifter research. She had been his boss at LupiNex.

  On the other hand, Zach was a human turned into a shifter via a serum Gavin’s company had designed, so as much as Asher was loath to admit it, they were a perfect match.

  Professionally.

  “I am having more fun playing with Dellie and Tobias whenever I’m allowed,” Zach said. “Preparing for fatherhood is much more pleasurable than working with centrifuges and clean rooms.”

  A pang of jealousy made Asher’s hands itch.

  Samantha’s face turned serious with a swiftness that made Asher’s core curl inward. “We have a problem we need to study quickly. I’ll need as much help as you can offer here in the lab.”

  Questions flipped through Zach’s eyes as he looked first at her, then Asher, who worked to keep his gaze steady and reveal nothing. “Problem? More information on Tomas?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes,” Samantha said in an acid tone, all of it pointed at Asher. “Shall you tell him, or should I?”

  Her eyes were flat, but he knew that was a defense mechanism. Emotion was easy to contain when it boiled over inside if you were smart enough. Being vulnerable was dangerous. Samantha wasn’t cold to him because she was indifferent.

  Quite the opposite.

  “I do not think Zachary needs to be involved in this,” Asher declared.

  “So now it’s ‘Zachary’ again, is it? Must be bad.” The man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter in front of a Bunsen burner. “What’s Asher done now, Sam?”

  “Excuse me. I am in the room.” Asher interrupted, hating the loss of control, knowing Samantha was right. They needed to pull more people in who could help, but his brother-in-law? Really? Asher needed more time. He needed to analyze. Like chess, this was a game of strategy.

  Unlike chess, actual lives were at stake. No one dies if you must sacrifice a knight or a queen to subdue the enemy king.

  He sighed. “I assure you, I’ve done nothing wrong. Samantha is overreacting to a minor health issue I am experiencing.”

  Her nostrils flared as she turned to him, seething, looking into Asher’s eyes as she addressed Zach. “Tomas infected Asher somehow. He’s becoming part cat,” Samantha announced, ruining all hope of keeping this under wraps.

  Zach blinked repeatedly, then swallowed. “Could you repeat that?”

  “I would, except I don’t want to be accused of overreacting,” Samantha spat out, glaring at Asher, face full of passion and frustration, her sense of dignity clearly injured by his comment.

  Before she could say another word, Asher grabbed her arm and fairly dragged her out of the room and into the hallway, slamming the lab door with a quick flick of his ankle before caging her against a wall and hissing, “You did not have my permission to share sensitive information with him.”

  Her chest heaved against his, hands moving up his lapels, chin jutting up in defiance. “And you do not have my consent to treat me like I am some errant schoolgirl who answered a question incorrectly before the whole class.” Her pupils widened, cheeks going a deep red, her hands pressing into his pecs. He felt her heat through his suit, his shirt, into the core of him, all of his atoms racing to realign so he could take her in.

  This was impossible.

  Incomprehensible.

  All he could think about was her taste, how she would feel in his arms again, how his bare skin had been a perfect complement to her writhing body on that bed, her willingness and want so evident.

  “Errant schoolgirl? Is that how you feel?” A bold image, unyielding and intrusive, of Samantha over his knee, wearing a short plaid skirt, her lush ass deserving a spanking, made his next words catch in his throat, cock straining at his pants.

  Inhaling her warm breath made him dizzy.

  “How I feel does not matter. What I know does. And I know that you’ve been infected by Tomas with some unknown agent. I need time, resources, and people with training to help me help you. And if you call that overreacting, then we’re done. I’ll leave and go home.” Inching closer, she stared into his eyes until he almost lost the sharp edges of her features, close enough to smell the mint she’d eaten afte
r morning coffee.

  Close enough to kiss senseless.

  “No.”

  “No what? No, you won’t give me time and resources? No, you won’t stop treating me like some overly emotional woman without a stitch of sense? What are you saying no to, Asher?”

  What, indeed, was that no for? he wondered before breathing her breath, before letting the hunger take over, the relinquishing of civil decency tasting so good as he kissed her, the response more extraordinary than he expected.

  “Stop,” she said, tearing her mouth from his, looking toward the open door to the lab. “We can’t. You can’t! Every time I try to talk about anything rational, you kiss me to shut me up.”

  “That is not why I kiss you.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I cannot help myself.”

  Shoving her crossed arms over her bountiful, beautiful chest, she blocked him from touching her, nudging him back. “Asher Stanton, you are the epitome of control. Self-sacrifice. Delayed gratification. Your emotions live in a box you hand chiseled out of marble and willpower. If anyone can stop themselves from kissing a woman, it’s you.”

  “That’s the problem, Samantha. Every word you just said is true.”

  “And?”

  “And I still cannot help myself. You make me lose my manners. My decency. My restraint.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  A cool hand went to his forehead. “Perhaps Tomas really did infect you.”

  “No. This is no biological agent. No virus. No bacterium. It’s much older, much more invasive, and there is no cure.”

  “What is it?”

  He took the hand on his forehead and placed it over his beating heart, the pulse at her wrist skipping beats until it came into syncopation with his own. Panic fluttered across her face, her knees weakening until he reached out to hold her elbow, the ease with which she accepted the support pleasing him to no end.

  “I do not know, but I cannot. Samantha. I cannot.”

  “Cannot what?”

  “Stop.”