Shifters' Storm Part 28

"You're all right, financially I mean?"

"I'll be living with my son for a month or so, but we need that time together. His boss is hiring me to do the books." Alice held up her hand. "No more grease under my nails. Once I get paid, I'm going to get myself a manicure, maybe those false nail things."

"You deserve it."

Alice sobered. "You mean it? After what-"

"We're not going there. The past is the past. We're both looking at the future." A hammering sound had Alice looking toward the house where Rane had grown up. "What are those two men doing?"

"Ask them. They just told me to trust them."

"I've known Songan for years. He's smarter than he looks, not that there's a d.a.m.n thing wrong with his looks. If Ber's like him-"

"He is. And different."

"It'll work out, as long as you stay here. Never thought I'd be telling you that. I used to think your mother didn't know what she was talking about when she said you belonged in the Chinook Mountains.

Now I know that's because I wanted out. Everyone's different." She nodded at the house. "The three of you are meant for each other. It'll work out. Look, I better get going."

"Stay in touch, please."

"If you want me to."

"I do. And I'll let you know how Clifford's doing."

"I'd appreciate that." Reaching out the window, Alice stroked Rane's cheek. "If I'd had a daughter, I'd want her to be like you."

Rane was still wiping at her tears as she turned back toward the house. Last week Ber and Songan had moved out the old woodstove and replaced it with a more efficient one. Between that and a strategically placed fan in a new wall cutout, the single wood heat source kept the whole house warm. Another stove would probably be needed to accommodate the addition of a master bedroom and bath, something the s.h.i.+fters planned to start on in spring.

She'd just stepped inside when the cell phone in her pocket rang. The construction sounds stopped, leaving her with yet more proof of Ber and Songan's acute hearing. Both men, s.h.i.+rtless, studied her as she said, "h.e.l.lo."

"It's yours," the man on the other end said. "You start the first of the month." Suddenly weak, she slumped against the nearest wall. Her gaze strayed from the men to the king-size wooden bed frame they'd been working on.

"I do?" She sounded stupid.

"As far as I'm concerned," Forest Supervisor Donald Cus.h.i.+ng said, "this is exactly what should happen. Having you step into your mother's shoes is what the district needs. I'm sorry it took so long to deal with the red tape. And in case you don't think to ask, my recommendation carried weight. I pointed out that you changing your mind about Alaska had no bearing on your ability to do your job. Your mother was one of the most dedicated rangers I've known. I have no doubt you'll follow in her footsteps." Following in her mother's footsteps, earning her own reputation for dedication to the Chinook Forest, safeguarding the trees and every creature that called these mountains home.

"You're quiet," Donald said. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts." Neither Ber nor Songan had so much as exchanged glances, yet she knew they'd heard Donald's side of the conversation. Past caring what they might think, she wiped at her fresh tears.

"No. None. Donald, thank you."

"No, thank you. The Chinook district is unique. The elk s.h.i.+fters make it so, and now-any idea when those grizzly s.h.i.+fters are going to get here?"

Ber was taking off tomorrow. He intended to travel to Alaska as a human and then s.h.i.+ft and lead the rest of the Enyeto to their new home. He'd told her that the month he expected the return trip to take would give the others the time they needed to adjust to the change in their lives.

Instead of telling Donald everything, she said she expected to see the Enyeto s.h.i.+fters before Christmas. "They'll be going right into hibernation. Spring's a wonderful time here. They'll fall in love with their new home."

164.

"They will as long as you're the bridge between them and the locals. Look, I'll let you go for now.

We'll hook up in a couple of days to discuss that in detail and finalize the paperwork. Welcome aboard.

Your mother would be proud of you."

Rane had put her phone back in her pocket but hadn't figured out how to push off the wall when two blurry hands reached toward her. She took them.

"You okay?" Songan asked.

"I think-yes."

"I hope so. Haven't seen you cry since your mother went missing." The men were still holding her hands, which meant no wiping away the tears she wasn't quite done with.

"These are different." She sniffed. "Kind of happy, a bit overwhelmed."

"Think you can put your mind to something else?"

For a moment she thought her mood was making Ber uncomfortable and he was trying to change the subject. Then she realized her lovers were guiding her to the bed frame.

"We want to finish this tonight," Ber explained. "With me being gone for a while, we want to break it in first."

"We? You feel the same way?" She directed her question at Songan.

The elk s.h.i.+fter nodded. "There's details to be worked out, the whole sharing you thing, but this"-he indicated the frame-"is a start."

She could point out that some of the time only one of them would be sleeping under this roof, in this bed with her, but that could wait.

Pulling free, she folded her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Then finish," she said in her most take-charge tone, "because I'm more than ready to see what kind of craftsmen you two are."

"That's not the only thing we're good at." Ber made his point by cupping himself. Smiling, Songan did the same.

She agreed. And several hours later with three sweating, naked bodies tangled together, she agreed even more.

165.

About the Author.

A fast-fingered writer of erotica, Vonna Harper loves penning stories set in remote locations where her characters can give into primitive impulse. Throw in a little capture and/or bondage and she's a happy camper. Her website is www.vonnaharper.com. She's also on Twitter and Facebook and loves connecting with readers.

Look for these t.i.tles by Now Available:.

Bloodhunter.

Predator.

Night Hunter.

Desire is their only connection. Love may be his only salvation....

Night Hunter.

2011 Locals call the highway Alligator Alley. Emerging jeweler Mala Bey sees it as a storm-tossed road to a bright future. When a black-clad motorcyclist pulls alongside, thrilling her with dark eyes that promise raw, wild s.e.x, her system goes into overload. Moments later, the stranger loses control and crashes into the Everglades.

Horrified, Mala desperately searches for the compelling man, but it's as if the thick vegetation swallowed him whole. Yet she hears his voice calling for her-only his voice.

Caught in a portal filled with disembodied voices calling him backward in time, Laird Jaeger clings to his only lifeline to the present-the woman with gray-green eyes. A mystical thread connects their thoughts as ancient forces drag him deeper into a nightmare, farther back into a past only his Seminole blood remembers.

A mysterious, panther-like creature guides Jaeger toward a past life as Thunder, the ancient tribe's one hope of survival. Even as the past wraps tendrils around his soul, his and Mala's connection endures.

Its power is enough burn a fiery path of desire through time, but their growing love may not be strong enough to break destiny's spell.

Warning: s.e.x in the Everglades. Lots of hot s.e.x with no bugs. Or snakes. But some rather judgmental Seminoles.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Night Hunter: The air conditioning wasn't working in the Fort Lauderdale motel room, but Mala was barely aware of the sticky heat. After placing the case containing her jewelry on the small table, she kicked off her sandals and collapsed on the bed.

She lay staring at the speckled ceiling, her thoughts going places her tired body couldn't. She'd spent what was left of daylight prowling Alligator Alley. Hugging the side of the road had done nothing to sway her conviction that she had been right about where she'd directed Todd and his fellow patrolmen to look.

Not that being sure had changed anything, she admitted as she became aware of the blinking telephone light. Because she'd told Sandy where she'd be staying, it had to be her friend trying to get in touch with her. The past five years had been a journey to where she was tonight career-wise, and yet it no longer mattered because a stranger on a motorcycle had become more important. Had penetrated her in frightening, exciting ways.

Still- On the tail of a sigh, she sat up and dialed the motel operator who informed her that Sandy had left three messages asking-insisting-she get in touch with her immediately.

"Where the h.e.l.l have you been?" Sandy demanded before Mala had time to do more than say h.e.l.lo.

"It's a long story. I'm sorry. I know you were worried."

"Yeah, I was, old kid. But that isn't the half of it. Ralph called asking if the three of us could get together for dinner tonight instead of waiting to meet in his office tomorrow. Naturally I said yes, and then when I couldn't get hold of you, I had to cancel. I don't know what he's going to think. Hopefully chalk it up to artistic temperament. I just hope he won't decide you're undependable." Ralph Korn of Southeast Jewelry Unlimited had long dealt with independent crafts people. He wouldn't be successful if he hadn't developed an instinct about those who could be depended on. Sandy would have done her best to make things right, but they deserved an explanation. The apology she could handle. As for the explanation- "Where were you?" Sandy demanded.

"What?" she asked, then struggled to correct herself. "You don't have time for the whole story.

Besides, if I get going, I'll sound like an idiot." Or s.e.x-starved, which I am. "I'll try to make sense of it in the morning. The meeting's still set for then, right?"

"Yes. You're not going to blow it. You've worked too d.a.m.n hard, and you're incredibly talented. You deserve this break. All right. Enough of the morale booster and lecture. I'm serious, though. The compet.i.tion's intense. I'm thinking we need to get together before early tomorrow. What if..." Mala tuned her friend out, paying just enough attention that if Sandy asked another question, hopefully she'd be able to field it, but knowing Sandy, it would be a long time before she ran down. Her friend was right. Tomorrow could be a major turning point in her life, and she should be wired. She had been until the storm and the man.

Laird Jaeger.

What had it been, mind control? More like body control along with something that stirred her as she'd never been before.

Still holding on to the receiver, she turned on the lamp, then reached for her case and opened it. Light spilled over compartments filled with necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, all created from her trademark abalone and silver. She'd been making jewelry inspired by sunsets and sunrises, dew on leaves, pristine beaches and white-flecked waves since she was in high school, experimenting and refining until these pieces and hundreds of others like them became an extension of herself. Now, in part because of Sandy's connections, she had the opportunity to become a full-time jewelry maker.

"Sandy," she said finally. "I'll be there. I promise."

After hanging up, she stared at the samples of her work Ralph Korn would be looking at tomorrow, but then her vision blurred, and she lay back down on the thin coverlet. Sandy had called her dependable, but she wasn't. Otherwise, she wouldn't have left Laird Jaeger alone.

Laird Jaeger.

She felt, not exactly a presence, but something settle beside her. Whatever it was felt like pinp.r.i.c.ks along the length of her backbone, heightened awareness at the base of her spine most of all, growing warmth in her pelvic region. With her eyes resolutely closed, she surrendered to whatever it was.

"You're mine. You have to be."

"Why?" she whispered.

"Whatever is happening, I will not go through it alone."

"What can I do? I failed to-"

"This was meant to be."

"The accident?"

"No accident. Fate."

Fate. The warmth in her belly and beyond increased, demanded attention. Moaning, she turned onto her side and pressed her hand hard against her stomach. Already her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt too swollen for her bra.

"I'm doing what I have to. You're my connection to the world. I must have that. Must keep you with me."

Although she didn't move, barely breathed, Mala felt a man's hand cover hers, pull it off her belly and replace it with his own. s.h.i.+vering, she asked herself the vital, stupid question: did she want this? h.e.l.l yes!

Impatient with clothing, he yanked off her shorts as if he had every right to do whatever he wanted with and to her and threw them on the floor. Her practical briefs no longer hugged her waist, but had been pulled half off her hips. She waited for them to join her shorts. Instead, a hand that felt like fine sandpaper slid under the fabric. In her mind-maybe only in her mind-she spread her legs. She felt so d.a.m.n exposed, like a mare in heat waiting to be mounted.

Strong, short fingernails teased away her pubic hair and found willing flesh. His other hand settled over her hipbone and pressed her against the mattress. She arched her spine, but although she might have been able to break free, that was the last thing on her mind. In truth she wasn't sure she still had a brain, not that it mattered. Forget self-restraint. Bring on an old-fas.h.i.+oned dose of s.e.x. For an excruciating length of time, he simply held her prisoner while his nails tasted and tested the rounded bulge in front of her c.l.i.t. She couldn't think past the exploration. Wanted more.

He knew what he was doing. Oh d.a.m.n, did he.

"Don't...make me..." Don't make me wait, please, she finished silently.

She heard laughter. A moment later the hand slid fully between her legs. He cupped her c.u.n.t and pressed. For maybe a half-second she was terrified of his bold possession, but what the h.e.l.l. He wasn't here in the flesh. Besides, whatever was going on was a thousand times better than masturbating.

Sometimes raking lightly, sometimes pressing with enough force that it bordered on the painful, he branded her now pulsating bud. He teased at the entrance to her pa.s.sage as she broke out in a sweat, but although he must know how desperately she wanted it, he didn't penetrate. Just the same, she felt herself rising, rising, growing and becoming hot. No, not just hot. On fire! It was happening so fast. So hard. So close to climax. So close!

"f.u.c.k me," she begged. "d.a.m.n you, do it!"

"No."

"d.a.m.n you."

"Not yet."

"Yet? What-" Before she could continue, he caught her swollen bud between thumb and forefinger.

Gasping, she arched toward him, nearly levitating off the bed. Just one more touch, please, just one and she'd be there. Gone!

"No! Please," she gasped when suddenly, cruelly, he released her. "Don't stop. Not now!"