by Erin Havoc
Table of Contents
Opening
Blurb
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Epilogue
Epilogue
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Backmatter
Copyright
JASON
SHIFTER DATING APP SERIES
* * *
ERIN HAVOC
An Older Man, Younger Curvy Woman Shifter Romance
MEGHAN
This app is a revolution.
There's nothing like dating a shifter. They're possessive, hot, caring...
Unless it's an alpha wolf. Nope, alpha wolves are a big no-no for me.
So I don't care the app says we're a match. I block him on the spot.
JASON
I had a mate for a total of two minutes.
Then she blocked me.
Doesn't matter. I'm not stopping until I find her.
No matter what it takes. I'll make her mine.
1
MEGHAN
This app is the greatest thing that has ever been invented. And I mean it.! Better than velvet cupcakes and salted caramel ice cream. Better even - gasp! - than cinnamon-sugar popcorn.
It is the reason the internet has been invented. Yes, yes, I see the technology and its potential. And I am so freaking glad I have the chance to take this pretty app for a ride.
And to think that ever since I subscribed to be a beta for in-the-pipeline apps, the only fun part has been receiving the check. My sister had suggested it to me — to make some extra bucks in a side job, you know? Beer money. She’s the Queen of Side Hustles, I tell you. I have been downloading these apps and playing games before release for some six months now, and nothing has ever come close to this one.
The Shifter Dating App.
Even the name makes me grin. Every night after I get back from work — selling cute plus-sized clothes in a boutique—, I plop down on my couch and even before I kick my shoes off, I open the app. Clicking on the white muzzle on my home screen, I wait for it to load, like every other day.
And like every other day, this app brings me a beautiful selection of hunky men looking for their match. And it could be me. I giggle like a schoolgirl as I flick my thumb between candidates. Dark skinned and pale, ebony hair or blonds. There are guys with a swimmer physique — wide shoulder and lean, sculpted muscles. But there are also enormous men that I’m sure could do press-ups holding me.
And I am not a skinny girl. Plus-sized and proud of it. I learned from a very young age that girls like me can’t bat their lashes and hope for the best. We have to speak up, to take a stand and make ourselves known. And I am not ashamed of it.
This app is the cherry on top after years improving my self-esteem. Shifters, it is said, prefer curvy women. And hell, if it ain’t true, I’ll skip breakfast for a week. Every day I open my messages, there’s a flood of new guys contacting me, from all over the country. They don’t care we’re separated by miles and miles of land and mountains. They’d still pick their car and drive after me.
And that because the DNA add-on is still in beta.
When I accepted to test it and judge it — from the user’s point of view, nothing technical—, I received a small box in my mail box with instructions. They wanted a sample of my DNA to go along with it.
At first, I thought “this is freaking Gattaca and they’re going to do something bad with my poor genes”. But they had the manual, and I checked on the news and their website, and everything seemed to be just fine. It was a piece of technology, already used for other things.
But for finding mates? They apparently can only do it with shifters. There is something about their genome that makes the process clearer.
And I’m totally fine with it. Even if I haven’t found my one true furry love yet.
Shame, I know. I’ve been on the app for a couple of months and the best I ever got was a lukewarm eighty-five percent of compatibility. Knowing that they can only mate once, I’m keeping the sexy part for the guy that matches me one hundred percent. Maybe I’m being a fool and this guy doesn’t exist, but I’m a dreamer.
It’s not like the world isn’t upside down anyway. You see... Shifters. People who can turn into animals and back at their will.
Before the app came into my life, I have dated other guys. I’m not innocent, neither inexperienced. But after I had a taste of what these shifters do to a girl? I want nothing else. They treat me differently, even when I tell them we’re not meant to be. They’re nice and accepting, and open-minded.
Well... Up to the moment, all but one.
A message blinks on top of the others. Stupid Carl keeps messaging me. Fifteen unread messages. I click it open just to be sure it’s nothing I should read, but nope. He’s just complaining. Demanding my undivided attention and unending love. Then being a sucker and changing the mood of the conversation to verbal abuse. He calls me a bitch thrice, and I don’t think it’s the female dog he’s referring to.
Carl’s a wolf shifter. A freaking alpha wolf. Literally.
I am trying to pick which kind of shifter matches my tastes the most. So far, I’ve dated a tiger, a lion, a bear, and a wolf. The wolf is the most difficult one. Egocentric, thinks the universe owes him for his pure, sacred existence, and he can’t freaking get a clue. We went out twice and it was enough for me to see through his lopsided smirk.
I told him I’m not interested. Did it matter? Nope. He just felt insulted for being rejected.
The memory makes me groan, so I flick through his messages and block him.
“Get a life, wolfie,” escapes my mouth with a laugh, and I jump to my feet and stride into my kitchen. Halfway to it, I remember to kick my shoes off. Turning to my drawers, I rummage for some food. I have never asked any of the shifters if they hunt. It must be a thing, no? Keeping your animal in contact with nature and all.
With a cup of tea and a bowl of nachos, I plop back down on the couch to flick through more hot men. None catches my eye, and none has higher compatibility than ninety percent, which is a bummer. But I have to keep looking. Maybe my perfect shifter is somewhere out there, and he just doesn’t know about the app just yet.
Once he has an account and sends his DNA, I’m supposed to be notified. I wonder how he will look like... I hope for longish, amber hair and resplendent blue eyes. Also, a lean physique instead of a gym rat.
Can I hope for a V muscle on his abs? Damn, I love those.
While Mr Right doesn’t show up, I window-shop. There’s nothing wrong with checking other guys out while I’m single. And check them out is exactly what I do. As long as they’re not another alpha wolf with a colossal ego, I’m open to chatting a little and flirting a bit. Nothing wrong with eying some eye candies while my mate doesn’t show up.
2
JASON
A towel wrapped around my waist, I stride out of my bathroom and into the living room. Picking the remote and turning the TV on, I spin into my kitchen and mentally pick out what I’m having for lunch.
Golden potatoes and grilled chicken will do. I still have two hours before my shift starts, and my boss’s never too strict with what time we arrive at the business. His clients are of the rich kind that wants some bodyguard next to them when they punch a no-one in a bar. Or when they seek satisfaction after a betrayal.
I don’t care. As a private bodyguard, I get in, protect the client, and get out. Protecting these types involve staying up late. Lucky me. Being a wolf, I’m nocturnal at heart. It was quite a tragedy when I had to get up before seven for school. Not one day I got there on time. So I was lucky my parents
changed me back to the afternoon shift.
It’s almost time for the news at noon and I give it half my attention as I plop a pile of potato and chicken onto a plate. Here’s to hoping the job tonight ends early. I need to hunt. A wolf has its limits.
Though all my pack brothers also work for Adaggio Security Service, and we see each other every day, we’ve been busy lately. Ever since our boss came out on Twitter about having a business a hundred percent composed of shifters, and fully working. I don’t deem it his wisest shot, but it brings him money.
But me and my pack? We gotta hunt. We gotta get out there, run in the woods and howl at the moon. There’s a certain order to things, and we need to keep going to the forest. We need unity.
And I’m their alpha. Too long apart makes them wonder.
With my food, I walk back into the living room and plop down at the table to eat. Still with the towel wrapped around me, but who cares? I’m alone anyway. No family. No mate, no cubs.
Every shifter has their mate. Every one of us, no exception. But sometimes, I wonder what happened to mine. I’m past forty, and I have yet to find someone that makes me think about losing the bachelor’s life. Being by myself is great. I can either cook or hunt, which can’t be achieved with a human female. For all I care, I could sit here naked. I have nothing to prove. When I get up in the late morning, I exercise for two hours and have a cold shower.
I have my routine. And it’s good enough. Yes, there’s always that hole in my chest. Yes, my wolf gets terribly lonely and gloomy during full moons. But there’s nothing I can do. Human females are half of the world’s population. It would be impossible to hunt her down.
“Nothing changes concerning how we treat each other. We’ve lived together for millennia, and we’re just now noticing it. Shifters have always been part of society...” A man on TV babbles on.
A senator catches my eye. I read the headline under his face as he gives a speech. It’s an old video, and the tag reads “Magnus Callahan - Shifter Laws”. The words give me a shudder. Sticking food into my mouth, I glare at the short-haired, dark-skinned man. He’s younger than me, lithe and with brawny arms beneath a gray suit. He looks like money, but there’s a glint to his eye and a tilt to his smile that tells me he believes in what he defends.
“Sucker. We should have stayed hidden,” I grunt, baring my teeth and snarling at the man.
It used to be good for everyone. Shifters had to be discreet, yes, but we had our lives and our grounds and routines. Now that everybody knows about us, things just get awkward and dangerous. There are riots. People asking for us to be separated from them. Humans are not yet over skin-color, imagine being able to transform into an entirely different animal.
Why did the boss have to come out and say we were all shifters? I still haven’t seen one single pro to that. My wages haven’t gone up, that’s for sure. He said it would help us find our mates but I don’t see how…
My phone beeps, interrupting my line of thought. The new email comes from a Shifter Dating App...
Oh. Yeah, I remember that. Boss said they’d help with the mates if we let them scrub a cotton swab on the inside of our cheeks. Science, I guess? I did let them, though my hopes were slim. I care not, the boss has already done me the favor of spilling the beans.
I finish my plate as I open the email. There’s a logo, and the DNA image we see in textbooks, and a mediocre greeting...
We are happy to inform your genome has been sequenced and your profile is pre-launched! All you have to do is click on the link below, insert your info and import the following code so we know you are you!
Scrubbing my face in frustration, I check on any new messages, searching for a way out of this. But there are none and the boss hasn’t called me yet. Procrastinating another few minutes, I get dressed in my usual dark pants, boots, and black shirt. Finally, I click the link open and install the thing.
Welcome to Shifter Dating App!
Beta Version
Beta version? What the hell does this even mean? More frustrated by the second, I click on “Create new profile” and type my data as quickly as possible, importing the code right after.
I don’t need a mate. What I need is to shift and spend the entire night under the light of the moon, feeling the wind on my fur and hunting some hares for dinner. I can almost hear the creek down the forest path. Fuck, I miss doing that. And it’s only been one week.
As the app finishes loading, bright orange and pink take the screen, the words blinking.
Congratulations! You’ve been matched!
I blink several times. I have been what? Matched? To whom? Why? Is it the DNA thingy. So the app thinks it’s found my mate using my spit when I’ve been trying to find her for forty years and...
As I click the button for the next page, I almost collapse. My heart jerks inside my chest as my eyes meet hers, the hairs on my body standing on end. My wolf cries out inside me, astonished. He’s usually so silent, but there’s no way he wouldn’t react to her.
Meghan, 24. So young. So fucking unbelievably gorgeous she makes me lose my breath.
Honey-colored hair trailing down her back, dazzling eyes, and those curves! Motherfucker. Wide hips, heavy breasts... My jaw slackens and I catch myself in time before my tongue lolls like a cartoonish wolf. All my years of lost hope and doubt vanish into thin air and one truth vibrates through my being.
It’s her. Simple as that.
They did manage to find my mate with my spit. That deserves a reward.
My wolf whines inside me, and I know what to do. I don’t even check her other pictures, her profile. I don’t know what she does for a living, what she likes and dislikes. That’ll be a time for that. We have forever in front of us. For a moment, I struggle with the layout. Then, finding the Direct Message option, I type furiously.
At first I thought this app wouldn’t work, but I was so damn wrong. You are the woman I have been looking for my entire life. The powerful connection I feel when I looked at you is undeniable. When are you free so we can see each other?
And sent. As my heartbeat calms down, I re-read the message and notice I could have gone for something smoother. Maybe more romantic. I haven’t told her she’s so beautiful it aches, or that her curves make me want to punch the window open and howl into the streets. Also, it slipped me I should have not mentioned the connection, in case she gets startled.
But she’s in a shifter app. I suppose she understands how we work?
She’s in a shifter app... The realization other men might have been talking to her makes my stomach churn. My lunch gets unquiet inside it, rolling from one side to the other as I imagine her going out with other men. Or these fuckers courting her, trying to make it work even when she’s not their fated mates.
I have to have her. Mark her. Quickly. My very soul tells me so. It urges me to her, to get out right about now, drop the job and just go seek this beautiful woman who has my insides turning to lava. My manhood twitches hard in my pants, begging for her, and I adjust myself as I receive a new message.
Not hers. My boss’s. Delightful. He’s asking me to drop by earlier today, which is unexpected, to say the least. He has a VIP client for tomorrow and wants us to meet him before the job itself. Shrugging, I turn the TV off and brush my teeth, hoping Meghan will have the time to reply.
But when I’m about to leave, I check the message again. The box is grayed out. Clicking around, I start to panic. I can’t talk to her, neither read her profile nor flip through her pictures.
My stomach bottoms out.
I have just found my mate. And before I even had a chance, she has blocked me from her life.
3
MEGHAN
Pulling the straps of the dress higher on the hanger, I eye Robin over my shoulder. She’s been glued to the TV the past half hour, and I just can’t get it. What’s happening that’s so exciting?
Not complaining. How could I when she has let me have her clients? Being a saleswoman on Cu
rvy Boutique, most of my wages come from commissions and I take every sale I’m able to. The last client has just slipped out with a bag full of dresses when I approach Robin.
She’s twirling a strand of hair around a forefinger as she gawks at the TV. I stand next to her and try to catch what’s happening. Senator Callahan is giving an interview in an open area — probably a park. No one ever knows senators’ names, but every girl around here would ogle Senator Magnus Callahan twice if he passed. He’s handsome, and the contrast with his fellow politicians is always stark. He’s muscular and tall, with dark, smooth skin and intelligent eyes.
But Robin’s gawking so hard I’m afraid I’m missing something.
“Um,” I clear my throat, brushing my arm against hers. “What is the news?”
“Isn’t this life-changing?” She mutters, not taking her eyes from the Senator. “History’s being written in front of our eyes.”
“Wow, what’s going on?” I cross my arms over my chest, my interest piqued. My usual way of following politics is through Twitter’s hashtags and I haven’t checked them today.
She juts her chin to the TV. “Guess who, between these men, are shifters.”
I look back at the TV. The Senator has several bodyguards behind him, all in black shirts and sunglasses, stiff postures as they scan the crowd.
Shrugging, I chuckle. “I don’t know. You know it’s impossible to tell when they’re in human form.”
She nods, slowly turning to look at me with wide eyes. “All of them, Meg.”
I blink several times. “All of them?” My mouth pulls to one side. “Including the senator?”
She nods again. “Including him. The security team was provided by an all-shifter business. And the senator has just come out.”
A whistle rings between my lips. “That’s brave of him. People are not being very nice about the whole shifter thing.”