The Apex Shifter Complete Set: Books 1 - 3

by Emilia Hartley

  Together, the two of them collapsed into a shuddering heap.

  After a few moments of panting, Thorn spoke. “That was fucking amazing.”

  “Shut up and let me enjoy my afterglow.”

  Deep inside her, Felicity’s cougar identity rolled on its back and purred.

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  Chapter Eight

  Thorn didn’t have the breath to speak anyway. The last few moments tumbled through his brain. If the bear hadn’t taken the reins at the moment he passed out, he’d be dead. But his animal identity had persevered, allowing Thorn to heal from a wound that would otherwise prove mortal.

  It was the scent of another predator that roused Thorn back to consciousness. His bear smelled a big cat in the woods. Even if Thorn wasn’t the best guy in the world regarding speech, he wasn’t an idiot. Felicity was a cat-shifter. Had to be. Who else would put two and two together and come up with Thorn as a bear-shifter?

  Cougars, pumas, whatever the politically correct term was for cat-shifters in the Americas, were, like brown bears, apex predators. According to the witchy Vet, an apex predator was out to topple Thorn from the top of the food chain.

  What animal other than a cougar could kill so many deer so quickly, and display them in his front yard without Thorn noticing? Cats were climbers, too. It would be nothing for a wildcat to knock down his satellite dish. That was just about unforgivable. Except sex. Territory, cats loved territory, and Felicity loved real estate. He could feel the claw marks burning on his back, his ass. More proof. And here she was, naked, curled up next to him, breathing as hard as he was.

  So why the fuck did his bear persona want to cuddle up to this feline? At first, the bear’s guidance was a little odd. Now, it seemed that the bear within was as attracted to the cat inside Felicity Malkin as much, if not more so, than Thorn was attracted to the amazingly beautiful human aspect.

  Despite his exhaustion, his worked-over dick stirred when Felicity stretched languorously in the loam. Holy shit, she was beautiful. Her skin was golden, even her boobs and the triangle around her hips and pussy. Most girls had tan lines, if they had any tan at all. Felicity was perfect, flawless. He couldn’t help but reach out and stroke the soft skin of the hip above her stocking. He went from stirring to hard again.

  “Fun time’s over, Lumberjack. Mama needs her beauty sleep.” Felicity gathered her clothes, snapping her bra over the perfect globes of her tits. Thorn stared, dick rearing. Even as she covered herself with the tight sweater and snug skirt (commando, his brain screamed), he only became more aroused.

  “You could stay awake a long time.”

  Felicity squinted at him. “What?”

  “Because, you don’t need sleep, not for a long time. You’d still be beautiful.”

  She stood up. “Is that a compliment? Because if it is, it’s really terrible.”

  “It’s still early,” he tried.

  Thorn saw her eyes dart to his erection. Speculation, perhaps consideration, crossed her features like a cloud scudding over the moon. She took a deep breath. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Let me walk you to your car. Lots of bad elements around here.”

  Felicity angled her head at him, the expression on her face impossible to read. After a few heartbeats, her shoulders sagged. “Fine. But only with pants.”

  Why was everyone telling him to put pants on all of a sudden? Whatever, it was cold out anyway. “Of course with pants.”

  Thorn dragged his sweats on, one leg cut enough so that pants didn’t matter that much. He had trouble taming his raging dick as well and resigned himself to the purple tent at his crotch. Pulling on his shirt he walked beside Felicity out of the woods. When they reached the parking lot, the beast surged in his brain, and Thorn took her hand.

  He half expected her to pull away. She didn’t. The bear part of him rumbled on a nearly subconscious level. Sappy-assed animal. Or maybe Thorn was the sap. He still wanted her. The walk across the parking lot seemed to end too quickly. What could he say to her?

  “Have you seen my sneakers?”

  Nothing.

  “You look pretty in the moonlight.”

  Felicity gave him an appraising look. Her feet didn’t slow any.

  “Almost full.”

  She didn’t say anything. It didn’t matter. Felicity was making him crazy. The scent of her, her slightly mussed up sex hair, the warmth emanating from her affected him like a drug.

  “Why do you want to buy the shitty bar I go to?”

  Her pace slowed. Stopped. Her head angled slightly to the left as her golden-green eyes searched his. Thorn had no idea what she was looking for.

  “I think Ripple has potential.”

  Thorn raised his brows. “You probably haven’t been around here long enough.”

  “The population is growing east of Portland. People are getting priced out of the city. Ripple will be the next growth spurt, if it’s developed right. There’s money to be made here.”

  The idea held no appeal to Thorn. “The only thing not fucked-up about Ripple is the fact that if you go three minutes in any direction from the intersection, you’re in the woods. Why would you want to change that?”

  He thought she’d be angry. Instead, she smiled. “I don’t want to change that. My plan is to buy up the properties around the intersection and build there. There’s already infrastructure. Extending electricity and sewers and gas lines is expensive. The woods are attractive to tourists, and so are the mountains. But they’re only attractive because they are wild places.”

  “You like wild places?”

  Felicity nodded. “Very much. I also like it when people can afford housing. Outside investors have made the market unaffordable for locals. I’m a local—not to Ripple, but someplace a lot like it. No matter what you’ve heard, I’m not about to bring in the bulldozers and knock down the woods. Ripple may be way out in the sticks, but eventually someone is going to have the same idea as me. They probably won’t feel compelled to keep the bulldozers at bay.”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad, when you put it that way.” At least he had her talking. “I heard you want to build a resort.”

  Felicity chuckled. “Sure I want to. But let’s start with a decent market and a café.”

  “And a gastropub?”

  She gave him the stink eye.

  “You’re scaring the crap out of Sally.”

  She shrugged. “Admittedly, I’m not always the most tactful negotiator. I want what I want.”

  “Me, too,” Thorn said. “Right now, I want you.”

  “You just had me.”

  “So I’m a glutton.”

  Felicity closed her eyes and shook her head. “Look, Lumberjack, it’s been a lot of fun. But I’ve got my own life. There’s no room in my life for anyone else right now. I don’t know anything about you.”

  “You know me. What you see is what you get. You call me Lumberjack. I’m an arborist. I’m a big dumb guy who knocks down trees. The really important thing right now is that I also have a hard-on for you that won’t quit.”

  “How romantic.”

  Thorn had been with a lot of women. On occasion, with several women at once. He knew chicks dug him. Despite her smug attitude, he could sense her interest in a second go-round. It was in the flash of her eyes, the slight coloring of her skin, a slight increase in her pulse.

  “Why do you fight?”

  The question caught him off guard. “There’s nothing else to do around here but drink and fight and fuck if you get lucky. It’s what guys do.”

  “Bullshit. Guys don’t drive out to the middle of nowhere and pick a fight with eight large, armed outlaw bikers. Guys go bowling, watch the game, rent ‘Bladerunner’ and ‘Robocop’ and endlessly, play poker.”

  “You have to do that stuff with people. I don’t like people.”

  Her eyes assessed him. “You don’t have any friends?”

  “I don’t like people
, I said.” She was irritating him. “You can’t count on people. You have to count on yourself.”

  “So you’re just proving you’re macho?”

  How much of this did he have to endure to get back into her pants? Thorn was used to women wanting to fuck him, not psychoanalyze him. “I don’t need to prove anything.”

  “Do you need to prove how much you can count on yourself?”

  Thorn was getting pissed off. “You said you don’t have room in your life for someone else. That would be romance. What I’m offering is to fuck your brains out a second time. How about in my truck?”

  Felicity half-hid a smile. “That’s pretty goddamn forward.”

  “No sense in beating around the bush.” Thorn shrugged. “As it were.”

  She moved a half-step closer to him. “Even though I’m an evil real estate developer?”

  “I’m keeping my eye on you. It’s easier if you’re underneath me. Or on top of me. I’m good with cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl. Whatever.”

  Her eyes locked onto his. “What will people think of you banging the evil developer?”

  “Jealous thoughts, probably.” He held out his hand. “Truck’s right there.”

  She crossed her arms beneath her perfect tits. “You think I’m some kind of insatiable slut?”

  “Hoping.”

  Her eyes scanned the parking lot before coming back to him. “You’d better be right about that hard-on that won’t quit.”

  Thorn nodded. “I know I can count on myself.”

  For a long time, she stood looking at the roadhouse. So long, that Thorn thought he’d lost her. Finally, she turned back. “All right, Lumberjack. Here’s the deal. I don’t usually screw a guy until at least the third date. You owe me at least three dates.”

  Thorn had never been on a date.

  “Pick me up at the B&B at ten.”

  She opened the passenger door, but didn’t get in. It was difficult to meet her eyes. “I don’t really date much.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Maybe you could just come over to my place.” That didn’t sound good either. His dump was a disaster.

  Felicity raised her brows and angled her head toward the cab. “Tomorrow, ten a.m.”

  His bear said yes, his penis said yes, which meant Thorn was outvoted. “It’s a date.”

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  Chapter Nine

  An hour later, back at his single-wide, Thorn lay on the couch thinking about Felicity. He remembered the feeling of her soft lips, her hot mouth, her voluptuous body. The second time was better, sweeter, and longer—he’d had an orgasm prior, so the next one took nearly forever. She rode him there, and he couldn’t get the image of her perfect body atop of him. Her fierce lovemaking had convinced him that she was another apex predator in his territory.

  The thought took on a life of its own. What if the Vet was right? If Felicity was encroaching on his stomping grounds, it also meant she was out to kill Thorn. For a moment, he considered her screwing him to death. That, he didn’t really have a problem with. Somehow, he doubted that was the way he would go.

  Thorn paced the trailer, which was tough, because he could only pace about three steps in any direction. The deer left in his yard, just like something a cat would do. And what was she doing in Thorn’s town? Buying up property. In his domain.

  He didn’t want to believe that Felicity was out to get him. Mostly because she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever banged, and despite the fact that he rarely banged a woman more than once, he wanted to keep that up. Partly because he didn’t think a cougar could take him. Even the biggest cougar weighed in at about a tenth of his Kodiak mass.

  But if The Vet was right, then he was a total fuck-up as an apex predator. Did that mean a good apex predator, even a small one, could kick his ass?

  Fuck no, it didn’t. Thorn the human could kick any man’s ass. Thorn the bear could kick any animal’s ass.

  More worrisome was this date. What the hell did people do on a Sunday morning at ten? He dug through the laundry covering every horizontal surface until he came up with his cell phone. He googled dating. Immediately, he saw he was in trouble. He didn’t have any shoes, to begin with, and most of his clothes were in tatters.

  He searched through his dresser, coming up with a few more pairs of sweats. There were flip-flops on the floor of his closet. On the shelf above was a stack of T-shirts he’d never worn. As he shuffled through these, something dropped into his hand.

  Thorn looked at the little silver bear fetish. It sent a shiver through him. Part of that was the silver. Just like the legends said, the metal could be used to kill or control shifters. The larger part came in a wave of dim memories. His mother. Thorn had been so young when she died, he had only the vaguest recollection.

  This charm was her only gift to him. She told him that it would soothe the beast within him when the moon became full. A young shifter needed to learn how to become one with his inner animal, and vice-versa. While wearing the charm, he would not shift, even on nights of the full moon. Thorn would remove it to let the bear run free. It was kinda like training wheels until he learned balance.

  Thorn stared at the inch-long fetish, his mind returning to deep woods far away. Leaves were in full color, and the first snow was on the ground, glowing in the moonlight. Their tent was red, turned black by the silvery light. A merry fire burned beneath a hanging cast iron pot. Fish cooked there with the water from the mountain stream and wild herbs and roots. Mom had hugged him close to her, stirring the food with a stick and singing him a song. Neither one of them had seen or heard the monster coming. His next memories were of waking in a hospital bed alone.

  He shook his head. This wasn’t helping him prepare for his date. Thorn put the charm away in the top drawer of his dresser. There was really only one thing he could do, and he dreaded it almost as much as this date. He had to go shopping.

  At first light he rose, showering and dressing in his sliced, bloodstained sweatpants, flip-flops and torn up flannel shirt and drove down the mountain to the Ripple General Store.

  His tires crashed through mounds of garbage piled in the streets around the intersection. Thorn wondered what the hell was wrong with people. In the lot behind the general store, he saw a Dumpster overturned, vomiting its contents. He didn’t have time to think about it. He was on a mission.

  The place was the size and shape of a barn and they opened at 9 on Sundays. He lumbered through the herd of tourists gaping at horse tack and antique hardware. Long ago, the owners of the place caught on that Thorn frequently destroyed his clothes. They kept size 36-38 jeans, 3X flannel shirts and 15W boots in stock and sold a surprising number of each. Thorn dressed in the employee restroom. He tossed his shredded clothes in the garbage can.

  In the sad local produce area, his eyes spotted flowers. He’d never thought about it before, but flowers and dating went hand-in-hand, if the movies were any indication. The biggest bouquet was a wide bunch of purple and white roses and lilies. He grabbed these and moved to the check out.

  Lewis, one of the owners, rang him up. He angled his head at Thorn, features pinched. “I’m sorry, Thorn, did someone pass?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “New clothes, the flowers?”

  “Never had a need to buy flowers before.” Thorn looked away, feeling some heat in his face. “There’s this girl…”

  “Oh!” Lewis fussed for a moment; pulled a long white ribbon from the arrangement. Thorn read Our Deepest-- before the ribbon got tossed. “Won’t be needing that then. You have a good day, Thorn.”

  Maybe he wasn’t dressed fancy, but at least his clothes weren’t stained or shredded. He pulled into the driveway of the Shoat’s B&B at 9:45. Gutted garbage bags fluttered in the yard. Weird. But then the Shoats were weird folk. Thorn sat in the truck gazing at the big farmhouse. A few years back, the place was crawling with adolescent Shoats. Somehow, the stillness
was unnerving. Or maybe the idea of the date was making him nervous.

  Fuck that noise. Thorn wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “Thorn, we haven’t seen you in ages!” Emma Shoat opened the front door. The bear in him balked. Lingering behind the smell of coffee and baked muffins was the scent of dangerous prey. Thorn didn’t know much about the Shoats, only that they creeped him out. “Oh, such a nice bouquet of flowers. You must be here for Miss Malkin. She was asking about you the other day. Would you like some coffee?”

  Coffee was about the only thing that would entice Thorn into the house. He moved through the parlor into the dining room. Photos of the Shoats’ brood lined the walls. How many kids did they have? Ten? Twelve? They looked so alike, Thorn couldn’t tell. He sat in the doily-festooned room and hunched over a delicate cup. Thankfully, after displaying the flowers on the table, Mrs. Shoat busied herself with kitchen cleanup. The woman was all about small-talk. Thorn didn’t do small-talk.

  Half an hour later, Felicity strode down the staircase. She wore a long-sleeved dress that came to mid-thigh, knee-high boots and a lot of scarf. Tawny hair was tied in a simple ponytail.

  “You look hot,” Thorn stood.

  “Nice to see you wearing something not covered in blood or tailored with a switchblade.” Her eyes surveyed him; then opened wide. “Are those flowers for me?”

  “Yeah. I thought they were pretty. Like you.”

  Felicity took a couple breaths before sitting down. Thorn liked the way her cheeks colored. Mrs. Shoat brought more coffee.

  Felicity tilted her head, studying the flowers. “This arrangement, it kind of looks like…”

  Thorn frowned. “You don’t like them? They were the biggest bunch.”

  “Oh, no, they’re beautiful.” She took his hand. “Thank you.”

  “Girls like flowers. I like being near you. I mean, that’s a thing, because I don’t like being near anyone. I thought flowers might make you want to be near me.” Thorn looked at the ceiling and back at Felicity. “How’m I doing?”