The Apex Shifter Complete Set: Books 1 - 3

by Emilia Hartley

  When the wind shifted direction, he caught a faint whiff of heated steel, patchouli and leather. It was enough to let him zero in. As he wound around the backroads, getting closer, Thorn didn’t feel the usual thirst for violence that emanated from his submerged animal before a fight. Zen-like calm was not a feeling he associated with the three-quarter-ton monster he housed.

  Even if his bear wasn’t aroused, Thorn felt the need to bust heads. The witch’s words had him stirred up, his emotions seething. His head felt like it was going to explode if he didn’t cut loose. Just around a bend, he found the place: Jethro’s Roadhouse. Thorn had been there before. It wasn’t a reliable outlaw biker hangout, but a club picked this place tonight. Eight hogs parked in the spaces out front. He saw why. A sign out front advertised karaoke tonight. Outlaw bikers couldn’t resist karaoke night.

  A good number, eight; just about even odds for Thorn. He pushed through batwing doors, feeling like he was in a Western saloon. Inside, he saw a divided crowd. Regulars bunched together in the front corner near the bar. Bikers with three rockers on the back of their jackets sat in the back. One biker swayed in front of the karaoke screen crooning the theme from the Love Boat.

  Even now, in a place full of people, the bear within did not balk or rear. Had the witch really put a whammy on him? It didn’t matter. His inner bear always enjoyed a brawl, but it was Thorn’s human side that needed to throw some fists around. Without pausing, he headed toward the bikers.

  Suddenly, the bear emerged. It wasn’t agitated or angry, merely insistent. It guided him away from the tattooed guys in leather to a separate table.

  Thorn fully trusted the instincts of his bear half, yet something was off. Instead of getting pumped up, psyched, the bear gave off flutters of nervous excitement. Something like glee lightened his footsteps. All Thorn could see were two more dirt bag bikers at a corner table. Something tingled at the edge of his olfactory sense. The scent was slightly familiar, fully enticing.

  As he neared, he spotted the hottie on the other side of the table—Felicity Malkin. What the hell was a real estate developer doing in a bar out in the sticks with two grimy biker dudes?

  At once, the bear’s emotional switch flicked from happy butterflies to a jealous volcano. What the hell was up with this? Even a woman who liked it rough probably didn’t like it rough, slimy and stinky.

  Felicity was all plungy neck line, short skirt and tall boots, the snug outfit spotlighting her femininity. Thorns eyes couldn’t find a place to rest between the boots, the stockings and the cleavage. She looked up at him with those gold-green eyes and faked surprise. “Hello, Lumberjack.”

  “I totally suck at talking to smoking hot babes,” Thorn said.

  Felicity nodded. “Yeah, you do. That’s a terrible start.”

  He pulled out the last chair and sat across from her. “I was hoping, in comparison with these two buckets of pus, my conversation might appear scintillating by contrast.”

  “Shove the fuck off.” The biker on her left was a balding redhead with a hipster beard. He wore a leather vest without a shirt, showing off a rack of man-boobs.

  The other, shaved head and a blurry face tattoo, lowered his brows and bared half-rotten teeth. “What did you call us, motherfucker?”

  “I rest my case.” Thorn held his palms up. “Plus, I probably smell better.”

  Moobs stood suddenly, knocking his chair over. “I’m gonna fuck your shit up.”

  “Gonna break you in half, Lumberjack,” Face-Tat got up slower.

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey!”

  The four of them turned toward the bar. Thumbing at a sign behind him, a brawny old guy with a buzz cut glared at them. TAKE IT OUTSIDE, the sign read. A double-barrel shotgun hung on a rack below, underlining the words.

  “Do you guys need me to read that to you?” Thorn asked.

  Face-Tat angled his head at the door. “Let’s go, wise-ass.”

  Thorn stood slowly, giving Felicity a lingering look. The rational side of his brain suspected something was up with this woman. The instinctive side wanted to roll over for a belly rub. Now he just wanted to make short work of the bikers so he could corner Felicity and find out what she was up to.

  Outside, Moobs grabbed something off the handlebars of a bike. Thorn recognized the weapon, what bikers called a payback or get-back whip. Rule One of fighting bikers: bikers cheat.

  Face-Tat pulled a switchblade from his leather jacket. “Let’s take this around back.”

  “Okay, good idea,” Thorn said, but instead threw a roundhouse from his hip that landed in the middle of the face tattoo’s face. Pieces of brown tooth went flying. Face-Tat crumpled down hard. Thorn stepped over him, delivering a body blow to Moobs.

  The balding biker managed to half-turn with the punch; he retaliated with a snap of the braided whip. Luckily for Thorn, the man was thrown off-balance by his man-boobs. The weapon, made of plaited leather, the fringes knotted around a fistful of hex bolts and nuts, whistled an inch past Thorn’s face.

  Stepping in as the whip-arm followed through, Thorn grabbed the weapon with his left and landed a right cross. Moobs spat some blood. Thorn hauled back on the whip, spinning his opponent like a top and gave him an elbow in the nose.

  Eyes crossed, Moobs did a slow dance before sitting on the pavement. Gulping air, Thorn smiled. A brief sense of elation floated through him. Brief, because the other five bikers in the bar charged his way.

  “Thorn, look out!” he heard Felicity shout. He half-turned to see Face-Tat rise from the ground and stick his switchblade in Thorn’s leg.

  “Ow, shit!”

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  Chapter Six

  She had been more than relieved to see Thorn walk in. These bikers were bigger, creepier and stinkier than she could have imagined. Felicity’s plan didn’t involve Thorn getting killed—that would ruin everything. She intended to play lady in distress, but the distress was all Thorn’s. And when these greasy men dispatched her knight in shining armor, she’d be stuck here getting sweet-talked by guys with few teeth and no hygiene. The fat man singing “The Love Boat” dropped the mic mid-song and waddled quickly toward the door, beckoning. Four greasy dudes at the back table rose to join him.

  She was out the door before all of them. Thorn stood over two unconscious men. He panted with his efforts, but smiled. Felicity went warm inside. Until one got up from the ground, knife in hand. Felicity shouted a warning, but too late. Thorn’s head flew back in pain. At the same time, his good knee crashed into the knife-wielder’s head.

  “Felicity, move!” Thorn shouted. The crooner was first out the door, greasy hair flying, long hair under his armpits—eew!—splayed like a mating display. Thorn had some kind of whip in his hand. He side-swiped it into the man’s jaw with a loud crack. Four hundred pounds of biker vocalist dropped to his knees, eyes rolling, at his sudden fall. Yes! She whispered, sotto voce. Thorn was incredible, poetry in motion, beautiful violence. She’d never seen a real brawl like this, and she found her heart racing.

  While the bulk of the crooner nearly blocked the exit, a tall thin dude scrambled over the fat man, stepping on and over him to get outside. Felicity watched in horror as the man pulled a pistol from his waistband.

  She stood between the gunman and Thorn. Felicity saw the black eye of the gun give her a fatal stare.

  Appearing out of nowhere, the biggest bear she had ever seen leapt in front of her. The gun cracked. The monstrous bear roared. Maybe it was shock, but she saw a pair of purple sweat pants dangling from the animal’s hind foot, a torn flannel shirt hanging from a front leg.

  The animal rose on its hind legs—nine feet of him, and yes, with purple sweat pants tangled around the left hind leg. A paw nearly two feet wide whistled through the air. When it struck, it sounded like a movie sound effect. The gangly outlaw sailed through the air, landing on the parked bikes and knocking three of them over like dominoes.

  As suddenly a
s it appeared, the monster bear vanished. Thorn stood, naked, in front of the door, switchblade jutting from his thigh like a thin, wobbly hard-on. He shoved Felicity aside. The urgency of his motion, the hard hands on her, set her a-tingle. Lady in distress indeed.

  The fat obstacle was dragged away, and a man with a handlebar mustache that joined his sideburns lunged out. He swung a lead pipe at Thorn’s face. Felicity thought for sure that the Lumberjack’s pretty face would be smashed. Thorn ducked under the weapon, and came back with a head-butt that crushed the biker’s nose. The lumberjack’s sweat-oiled muscles surged with the effort. It was like watching a sexy dancer. Why was she getting so steamed up?

  The three remaining bikers crashed through the doors, avoiding Mustache-and-Sideburns as he collapsed. One raised a length of bike chain, one a hunting knife, the third with brass knuckles on both fists. No way could Thorn take all three of the armed men at once. Thorn was done for. He couldn’t run with the knife sticking out of him. Felicity’s fears abated as the bikers stopped short, weapons lowering.

  They looked at Thorn, exchanged glances. The one with brass knuckles held up his hands. “I’m not fighting no crazy naked guy. It’s just too weird.”

  “C’mon, buddy, there’s women present. Shouldn’t be standing in the parking lot with your junk hanging out. Put some pants on.”

  They grabbed their fallen comrades, hauling them back inside, eyes avoiding Thorn’s nakedness. The guy with the chain looked up from dragging Face-Tat back into the bar. “That’s just uncool, man.”

  Thorn cocked his head at their retreat, confusion pinching his features. Then he cast his eyes at Felicity. Felicity pointed at the knife. “You’re hurt.”

  Thorn took in the knife, the sweatpants around his ankle, his meat dangling in the breeze. “Be right back.”

  With an awkward gate between the bouncing switchblade and the dragging sweatpants, Thorn ran around the side of the building. Despite his handicap, Felicity couldn’t keep up with him. He disappeared into the trees that backed up to the lot.

  “Lumberjack?” she called.

  He heard Thorn’s voice. “Count to three? Wait, I’m alone here. Just do it.”

  The words were followed by the bellowing roar of a bear that echoed off the wall of the roadhouse. Felicity felt the sound in her bones. Run! The word screamed in her brain. Shivering she stood her ground.

  “Thorn, are you okay?”

  Felicity stepped into the fringe of woods carefully in her high-heeled boots. A distant rustle came to her ears. More urgently, it was a scent that made her hair stand on end: wounded bear.

  Her inner cat should have instinctively turned tail and sprinted for the roadhouse. Instead, the monster inside her purred like a kitten. The sensation stopped her short. What the hell was this? It was weird enough getting turned on by the fight.

  As quickly as it had come, the odor of bear vanished. It was replaced by a voice.

  “Ah, shit…”

  “Thorn, where are you?”

  “Hang on! Hold on a second!”

  A lot more than a second later, Thorn lumbered into view. He knotted the string tie of his sweatpants, one leg flapping with a long cut. His plaid shirt, now back on both shoulders, hung open, revealing granite slabs of pecs over a sculpted six-pack of abs. Humidity, and probably sweat, made his long hair go all wild and wavy. Even in the dark, she could see him blushing.

  There was no doubt about it. The sudden appearance of that enormous animal, smell of wounded bear, the roar, even her over-turned car, it all added up to one thing. “You’re a shifter,” Felicity blurted before she could think.

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  Chapter Seven

  Thorn’s eyes went wide. He stopped tying and crossed his arms. “A shifter? What’s that?”

  She took a step closer. The cat was giving her the instinct—now was the time to strike. The guy was already half-undressed. “A man who becomes an animal.”

  “What, that bear? I think it was just getting into the garbage cans.”

  Felicity struck a pose, thrusting her chest out, saw his eyes go to the cleavage. Female Hypnotism 101. “That’s the most amazing thing ever.”

  People weren’t supposed to know about shifters. It was practically taboo for a shape-shifter to speak about it to a human. It was grounds for ostracism by most clans. Cat instinct urged her on with fervor.

  “Amazing?”

  She moved closer. “It’s incredibly hot.”

  “Woah,” his eyes roved over her. She could almost feel his vision on her boots, her legs, her form-fitting sweater.

  “And the way you took on those bikers? I’ve never been so turned on.” She found her words to be partly true, but it wasn’t only the brawl that had her heated up. Now close enough to touch him, she felt electricity between them, and a kind of gravity. Felicity had never experienced anything like it. The cat said: Pounce.

  Thorn’s eyes went hungry, his voice husky. “Turned on enough to do it with me?”

  “You so suck at talking to women.”

  “Sounds kinda like a yes.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  Thorn was neither hesitant nor gentle. He crushed his lips against Felicity’s. The only saving grace was the softness of those lips. She returned the kiss, just as rough. His mouth was afire, his seeking tongue a flame against hers.

  The topography of his physique beneath her seeking hands was solid. Much to her surprise, his dick had come to rigid attention already. He groaned into her mouth as she explored him.

  A rough hand slid beneath her sweater, fingers gently massaging her breast, palm against her nipple. The other hand cupped her ass and drew her tightly against Thorn. Felicity got her own hands on his tight butt and writhed her hips against him.

  With more dexterity than she would have granted, Thorn undid her bra and slid it out. She sucked in her breath as the ball of his thumb played with her nipple while he kneaded her soft skin. His other hand lifted her skirt.

  “Commando?” he gasped.

  “Yeah,” she said into the kiss.

  “Me, too.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Their kiss deepened, Felicity finding herself lost in the intensity of it. Her hands automatically removed the shirt from Thorn’s cut shoulders. Her hands went around his thick neck. His hands went under her, scooping her up and gently laying her down on top of his shirt.

  “I need you to kiss me all over, Thorn.”

  Lidded eyes gazed into hers. “I’m down.”

  “Down is a good thought.”

  Thorn started with nibbling on her ears and neck before pulling her sweater off like it was a magic trick. He nipped her breasts, his teeth making her jerk and shiver. A tongue like lava flowed over her nipples in turn. She quivered and burned with the sensation.

  While his mouth worked overtime on her tits, his hands yanked the skirt off. Felicity followed suit, sliding Thorn’s sweats down.

  With little bites and licks and kisses, Thorn worked his way down her belly. His hands caressed the stockings around her thighs for a long moment. Then he parted her legs.

  For a heartbeat, Thorn’s nuzzling and gentle kisses made Felicity believe that this was going to turn into a disappointing training session. But then, the tip of his tongue touched the button of her joy buzzer. A few moments of rhythmic swirling later, she began to make tiny cries and gasps. Thorn stayed with her, and right on target. Heat built and built, her inner pressure increasing. When her orgasm blossomed through her, she fisted her hands in Thorn’s hair and ground her teeth.

  “Yes!” she shouted, muscles contracting out of control, brain suffused in light. Her boot heels dug into Thorn’s shoulders. “Oh, yes!”

  Nerves sparking like live wires, waves of pleasure crashing through her, she grabbed Thorn’s member and stroked him. He rose from between her thighs.

  “I want you inside me,” she said.

  Thorn nodded. “That’
s where I was pretty much hoping to go.”

  “Please stop talking and fuck me.”

  He didn’t need convincing. In a heartbeat, he was on top of her, the head of his cock pressed against her sex. One of his hands was big enough to circle both of her wrists, and he held them above her head. The other hand got the right angle down below, and he penetrated her.

  Thorn’s manhood echoed the size of his body, and the initial entry shot sparks all through her. She spread her legs wider. Utterly wet, she felt herself stretch to accommodate his girth. Bucking her hips, she took in his length with a cry. In one swift motion, he buried himself in her, pelvis to pelvis.

  Felicity’s nails clawed his back. She surrounded his cock, tightening her muscles until Thorn groaned. Her legs went around him, high heels digging in like spurs, ready to ride. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his face to hers. He kissed her fiercely, and she was forced to respond in turn. Lips, tongues and teeth swarming together, Felicity braced herself as Thorn started to pump.

  Friction built quickly as he retreated and rammed his meat relentlessly into her. Thorn started slowly, gently, but each thrust came quicker and harder than the last. Soon, he was a piston, pounding out a rhythm. Felicity’s body began to dance to that rhythm, sing to it.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!”

  The instinctive part of her let out a feline scream that echoed in her brain. What the hell was that? Although her cat was a facet of her, never before had the tawny predator become aroused during sex. But at Thorn’s skilled ministrations, she quickly became part of the pumping beat.

  Pleasure started as an ember in her core. With each plunge, that coal grew brighter, hotter, the warmth of it spreading. The urgency in Thorn’s kissing and thrusting suddenly set her on fire. Nails and heels fully dug in, she cried out, swept away by a current of passion, waves of utter pleasure.

  The undertow drowned her as Thorn raised his upper body and grasped her hips. He pushed into her with all his strength. She felt him let go inside her, lava upon lava. Thorn threw his head back as he came, every muscle standing out in relief. Felicity shuddered, her orgasms too many to count.