by T. S. Joyce
With an eye roll, he tossed them back on the chair. “I just got nervous.”
“Brock, look at me. I’m wearing a T-shirt that is three sizes too big and sweat pants with chocolate stains on them that are hanging halfway down my butt. I’m the last person you should be nervous around.” But deep down, she was turning to mush. He was nervous? Around her? She should be the nervous one. He was so handsome and charismatic, and she was just…Ava.
How did he do that? Make her feel important.
There was a TV tray beside the bed with containers of leftover dinner, and he’d already poured a glass of wine and opened a beer for himself. He grabbed the remote and hit the play button on the movie he had paused. The TV was right above the hearth, and there was a fire glowing in it, heating up the room.
And everything was perfect.
She grabbed his hand and froze, bent at the knees, and looked up at him. “Ready?”
He caught on instantly and nodded. “One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
They ran and jumped on the bed. Ava’s T-shirt billowed out like a parachute right before she landed. “I’m so attractive,” she teased, adjusting her shirt modestly as she sat up and curled her legs to the side.
“Agree. I don’t care who says lingerie is the sexiest thing a woman could sleep in. I think it’s definitely a giant beer shirt.”
She looked down at the brewery logo across her chest and laughed. “This is my man-getting outfit.”
He dragged her hips closer and kissed her suddenly. It was fast and hard, his lips firm against hers. She gasped at the suddenness of it. He eased back to whisper, “It’s working.”
Utterly shocked, she searched his eyes, so blue and steady on her. She waited for the panic to hit, but it didn’t. In fact, she’d never felt more right and safe and comfortable than right here, in this moment, with him.
She eased forward and hesitated just inches away from his lips, then leaned in and kissed him gently. His fingers had been digging into her hips, but his hands relaxed. One hand drifted up her shirt to her ribs and rested there. He drew slow circles on her skin with his thumb and cupped her neck gently with the other hand. He didn’t rush. He just kissed her, explored her body, tracing her curves, learning her shape, dragging fire with his fingertips across her sensitive skin.
And when every muscle in her body was relaxed, she found her bravery and pushed his T-shirt upward. Brock knelt and pulled off his shirt, then grabbed her hand and placed it over his beating heart. He laid back down on his side and oh what a view. He had perfect pecs, the defined line between them, a flexed six pack, and a light trail of hair that led down into his low slung sweats. She traced it with her finger and hooked her hand on the elastic band.
His smile turned wicked. “Do it,” he dared her.
Ava pulled down, unsheathing his big, thick cock. Holy hell.
He kicked out of his sweats, and when he pulled the corner of the covers over them, she felt even warmer, even safer.
He kissed her again, took his time, and guided her hand over his skin. Memorize me, he seemed to say in the silence of the room.
Body humming, Ava pushed her own sweats down her legs. His hand went straight to the back of her knee and dragged it up to rest over his waist. And then he rolled his body against her.
It. Felt. So good.
His swollen dick pushed against her just right, and she let off a soft moan.
When a deep noise in his throat sounded, she snuggled closer. Kiss, kiss, his hands were getting rougher as he grabbed her ass, her waist, her thighs…as he reached under her shirt and cupped her breast.
Arching back, Ava moaned his name.
“More?” he murmured against her lips.
“Please,” she begged.
“Mmmmm,” he rumbled, pulling her T-shirt over her head.
And now it was just her skin against his, nothing between them.
It was perfect, this strong man, fitting just right against her soft curves. They were intertwined in every way, arms, legs, lips moving against lips.
She was already so wet when he pressed his erection against her. She could come just like this, but a desperation took over her. A hunger.
Ava reached between them, gripped his hard cock, and smiled against his lips when he let off a moan of ecstasy. She had that power over him. Her. This was perhaps the first time Ava had ever felt powerful in her entire life.
Spreading her knees wider, she eased the head of his cock to her entrance and rocked her hips forward.
“Fuck, Ava.” He rolled her over onto her back and stayed right with her, between her knees. “Need you,” he growled.
His hand found her breast, and he massaged hard, bringing another gasp from her lips at how good it felt, and then he pushed into her. In, in, deeper and deeper as she closed her eyes and wished this moment could drag on. She’d never felt anything this good.
Deep inside of her, he bucked into her shallowly, staying right against her clit. The pressure built so fast she was panting his name after a few thrusts.
“Come for me,” he whispered against her neck, nipping her with his teeth. “Come on, Ava.” His voice was deep and gritty, hungry as he bucked into her. His fingertips dug into her ass as he pushed into her faster and harder.
The slick sound he made sliding into her was so sexy, and she dug her nails into his back as she lost control. Her release pulsed through her body, consuming her. She came hard, gripping his dick, but he didn’t slow. Instead, he bucked into her faster, their bodies crashing together.
Her orgasm was so intense she couldn’t stop the sounds of euphoria that poured from her throat. Then Brock slammed into her deep and held, his body impossibly rigid as he grunted out the sexiest moan against her neck. His dick throbbed inside of her, spilling warmth that dragged her orgasm on and on.
Nothing…nothing…had ever felt like this.
She lay there spent and safe under his weight as he rolled his hips languidly. He kissed and sucked and nipped at her neck, her jawline, her lips, her earlobe. His hands had turned to velvet against her skin, as if he was coveting her.
He didn’t get up and leave her alone on the bed to wonder what the hell had just happened to her body. He didn’t leave her at all. He stayed right there, buried inside of her, in no rush to put space between them.
She fell for him him a little deeper with each minute that he made her feel beautiful, important, and worth his time.
And when he rolled over at last, he still didn’t leave. He brought her with him and hugged her tight against his chest, rested his chin on top of her head. His heartbeat was racing hers, but both eventually slowed.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked low.
“Anything.”
“Earlier, with my gran, you said your animal is pointless.”
“Mmm hmmm.”
“I didn’t like that. The animal is part of what makes you you.”
It was sweet of him to say, and her stomach got flutters of happiness, but he hadn’t seen her animal. Hadn’t coped with what she really was. How could he? Brock had only seen her human skin. Had only touched the softness, not her armor. But still…it made her smile that he didn’t like that she put herself down. “You’re a good man, Brock.”
“Mmmm, well this good man had plans to take things slow with you and make you addicted to me so you would come back and visit me again soon. Or invite me to Texas. But instead I slept with you the first chance I got.”
She laughed and snuggled her face against his chest. “I’m not complaining.” And just to test him and to tease a little, she murmured, “You know…my job allows me to work from anywhere.”
There was a smile in his voice as he said, “Then I’ll keep working on you. Hungry?”
“Part of your plan to get me addicted is to feed and fuck me thoroughly, isn’t it?” she teased.
His chuckle vibrated from his chest against her cheek. His tone was tainted with seriou
sness when he spoke, though. “Ava, I’m selfish and want to keep you. I would do stupid things to steal more time with you. I would do stupid things to steal your attention.”
Butterflies, butterflies.
He wasn’t just in this for a fling.
Laying a kiss on his chest, she whispered, “It’s not stealing if you earn it.”
Chapter Eight
Ava woke with a start. She’d had a dream that was right at the edge of her memory, and she didn’t recognize the scents around her. The moonlight from the window illuminated the room, so when she rolled over, she could see him clearly. Brock was on his side, facing her, his face relaxed with sleep. No shirt, so the curves of his muscles were highlighted and shadowed. He looked so handsome, like a painting of a god mid-slumber.
He let off a soft moan and reached out in his sleep, slid his hand up her waist and squeezed her lightly, then settled again, his hand heavy and comforting on her.
She would’ve gone back to sleep if her skin wasn’t tingling from her toes to her scalp. No, no, no. It was the first signs of a Change she wouldn’t be able to stop, and it was coming on fast.
A glance at the clock told her it was 1:24 am. It was officially Valentine’s day.
She wished she had time to write him a note. Wished she could explain. He’d slept with her, trusted her, and she’d fallen for him too early.
If he saw her Change, he would be the one to run, not her.
She needed to hide. She needed to cloak herself in Dillo’s armor and disappear far into the woods where he would never find her like that. Tomorrow morning, she could explain when she was herself again. Wait, that wasn’t right. Dillo was part of herself, too.
Why did she feel like crying? Because he’d been a perfect Prince Charming, and she knew…knew…he wouldn’t feel the same about her if he saw her Changed.
Panic spreading its black, sticky tendrils through her chest, she slipped out from under his hand and rushed for her boots sitting next to the door.
Fire spread from her toes upward. Too fast. The Change was coming too fast, and there wasn’t time for the boots. They wouldn’t matter anyway. Clothes didn’t matter either. No time. No time!
“Ava?” came Brock’s sleep-filled voice from behind her.
“Have to go.” She nearly choked on the last word. Her vocal cords always tightened up when she was this close to losing her skin. Her entire body was Changing, and it always started on her insides.
Grunting in pain, she yanked open the door and flew down the stairs, tripping three stairs from the bottom as her body seized up, and she hit the wooden floorboards hard.
“Ava, what’s wrong?” Brock asked. He was here suddenly, picking her up.
“Everything hurts,” she uttered on a breath.
“Oh shit, what can I do?”
“Outside,” she choked out.
And then his hands were on her again, burning her skin, burning right through her. A few seconds felt like a week as he carried her outside.
Tears streaked down her cheeks, but not from pain. It was from sadness. “Don’t…want…you to see.”
Brock’s eyes were brighter than the moon, hanging low over him. That was her focus. Pretty blue. God, she wished she could stay here with him. Wished she could stroke his cheek and wipe away the worry lines that creased the corners of his eyes and furrowed his brows.
She wished she could keep him a little longer.
That’s why the tears burned her eyes as she sank into another shape. As she disappeared into another skin. As her soft human skin morphed to armor and her face elongated. As her bones snapped and shrank and re-formed into the animal she’d been so good at hiding from the world—but not from Brock.
After the pain and the burning faded, she sat in the snow, horrified, looking up at the giant human man who was crouched down in front of her, clothed in his black sweatpants, and that was all.
He didn’t have words. Humans never had words when they saw shifters Changed. Only shock.
Sadness washed through her. Her animal had never been so aware, so focused.
She looked down at her feet, no longer the cute toes of her human body, but tough, thick nails built for digging in the earth.
How could a man like him be okay with this?
With a soft huff of breath, she curled into a tight ball that protected her from the world. She couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, couldn’t hear anything but her own panting and racing heartbeat. She tucked her ears in tight. So sad. We had him for a minute in time, but it’s not enough.
The Valentine’s Day Curse was alive and well for a creature like Ava.
She was moving. Moving? She couldn’t feel the cold, tingling sensation of the snow against her tough outer skin now. She uncurled slightly and peeked out to see Brock. She was staring up at the underside of his chin as he looked forward. She was cupped against his stomach, and he was taking her…somewhere.
Wait…he was holding her. Holding her? She’d never been touched in this form—not by anyone.
On and on, they walked until she could see tree branches above him. Time and time again, he looked down at her with those shocked eyes and then back to the woods he was walking her through. At last, he gently set her down in the snow.
She expected him to leave her, but he didn’t. He just set her down and backed up a few feet, then knelt in the snow, staring at her with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and was shivering. Poor human man wasn’t made for the cold. He didn’t have armor like her.
She had to help him. Had to make him warm, but all she could do was dig. The only thing she could do was dig to warmer ground. She bolted the last few steps to him. She was fast, and he looked surprised, but it was okay. She was going to make it better. She would dig him a nest. She went to work, digging and digging, throwing snow and then dirt behind her, making a mountain. She made the nest wide enough for him. He was shivering more now. Oh no, oh no, this wasn’t good.
“Little Dillo,” he murmured.
Only six more feet to dig, and I can block you from the wind! Poor, fragile human. She loved him. She lo—love—loved…
Dillo stopped digging and looked way up at him. Way way up. He was so big compared to her now. She was making him a nest because she loved him.
He had done that, taken her heart in so little time.
Handsome man. Good man. Scary man.
“It’s okay, Little Dillo,” he murmured. “I have to go inside. I wish I could stay out here all night with you. Do you want to stay out here or come inside? I don’t know how to…” He inhaled a shivering breath and then blew out steam and frowned. “I don’t know what to do.”
Oh. Human, you should go inside. I have worms to dig up.
No words came out, and no noises. All she did was wiggle her nose when she talked.
“Should I go in and put on warm clothes? And come back to stay out here with you?”
Her legs splayed in the salt and pepper earth and snow she’d kicked up, Dillo shook her head hard. Sleep. Be warm. I will worry about you out here.
He huffed a frozen breath and rose, and she skittered backward a couple of feet. He felt very big right now.
“It’s okay,” Brock murmured, holding his hands out to calm her. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Can you understand me?”
Dillo nodded.
His smile meant even more to her in this form. He was smiling at her, a little critter, knowing what and who she was.
“Goodnight.” He was shaking so bad the word came out through chattering teeth.
She watched him walk away, barely resisting the urge to go trotting alongside him just to stay close.
She didn’t yet understand his feelings about her animal, but he tossed a smile back over his shoulder at her. And that seemed important.
Chapter Nine
Brock would definitely treat her differently today.
Ava curled around her extra pillow and hugged it tight. It had taken her an hour to get warm a
fter she’d Changed back into her human skin early this morning. Even the heat from the hearth didn’t help that much, but it wasn’t so much the physical as the emotional. Her heart felt chilly.
The sunrise had been a sight to see out the window, and she wondered if she’d ever seen anything more beautiful from the comfort of a bed.
Yes. You saw him last night, sleeping, resting his hand on your hip.
Why did the thought of losing that comfort make her so sad?
A knock sounded against the door, and she sat up in bed. “Just a minute!” she called.
Freezing, Ava kicked out of the covers that had tangled around her legs and stood on the cold wood floors. She tried to stand, but in true Ava fashion, she tripped on the corner of the comforter and hit the ground hard.
“Oh, good grief,” she moaned, hugging her stinging knee. “That’s gonna bruise.”
In a rush, she looked for some clothes. Jeans, no panties, and a pink fuzzy sweater, no bra, would have to do. At last, when she was dressed enough, she checked herself in the mirror in front of the door. Wild hair. Was that a leaf? She plucked the foliage out of her short locks and threw it on the small table in front of the mirror, smoothed out her hair, and opened the door.
No one was there.
With a frown, she looked down at the small gift wrapped in black paper with a black bow.
Kneeling, she plucked off the small card and opened it.
Happy UnValentine’s Day.
I minded the rules. No romance.
- Brock
Heart beating faster, Ava grabbed the present from the snow-covered porch and unwrapped it. She stared in utter shock at the sealed cup of live ants she lifted from the packaging. They were crawling up and down the insides of the plastic cup.
He’d been wrong. This was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.
She had no guess how he tracked down a cup of ants, her armadillo’s favorite snack, in the dead of a Colorado winter. This wasn’t just a silly gift that she would forget by next year. This was an “I accept you.” All of you.