Starcrossed Shifters

by Chloe Vincent

  She kept having to go to the bathroom to cry and she’d never had that problem at work in her life. He was angry. He was trying very hard to keep it up, she could see. She didn’t try to stop him. But when he saw she’d been crying, she saw his face fall and his brow furrow. She’d see his fists clench as he held himself back from comforting her.

  It was all driving them both out of their minds.

  On a tragic and grimly rainy Wednesday, Megan got an email from Gunner.

  It said simply: Meet me in the second floor supply closet in ten minutes. Please. - G

  She frowned at that. He clearly wanted a private conversation. She could not help the way her heart leaped at the thought, even if he was going to try to plead with her and even if it hurt, at least he wouldn’t be angry. Or else he was going to tell her he was leaving, in which case meeting in a supply closet seemed like overkill.

  She wasn’t sure, if he asked her again to be with him, if she’d have the strength to say no.

  She’d reread that one really important text exchange a thousand times.

  I’ll leave them all behind. I love you.

  It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her by leaps and bounds. She clung to it. She obsessed over it. If she hadn’t just begun to build her own little empire, she might have taken him up on it. But there was nowhere to hide anywhere near the city, not really. She could work remotely to a degree but not that remotely and eventually some bunch of wolves or foxes would find them. They’d be running, running. Forever running.

  Megan couldn’t help herself. She watched the seconds tick by, wondering what he had to say, waiting impatiently to go meet him. She had too much self-control for her own good, she thought. If she were any less alpha, she would have emailed him first if only to get him alone for a minute and take in his scent; breathe him in and look at him for a few precious minutes.

  When nine minutes and thirty seconds had gone by, Megan sprang from her seat and ignored the curious glances as she pounded up the stairs to the second floor which was currently mostly storage and the server room. The supply closet was at the end of an L-shaped hallway. She found the door already ajar and stepped inside but Gunner wasn’t there yet. The room was narrow and made narrower by stacked boxes of self-care products overflowing from their off-site warehouse. Megan half sat on a crate and waited. She smoothed down her skirt and wished she’d checked herself in the mirror on the way, even though, for the sake of her own sanity, she shouldn’t have been worried about her appearance for Gunner. She had brought her phone and balked at herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d left her phone anywhere for more than two seconds together.

  “Hey.” Gunner’s low voice echoed slightly when he stepped inside. He shut the door behind him and smoothed his hair. She felt that woozy sense of longing come over her and stood up shakily. “What did you need?” His expression was grim and cold. All business.

  She frowned at him, confused. “What do you mean? You emailed me?”

  Gunner looked at her like she was completely out of her mind. “I got an email from you.”

  “You got an email from me?” Megan said, squinting. “To meet me in here?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well…” Megan scratched her neck. “If that’s true, then somebody’s messing with us. Because I didn’t send you an email and I got one from you. But I don’t know who it would be. Lane doesn’t even know about us. I mean she has her suspicions but she wouldn’t pull this on me.”

  “What’s to know?” Gunner said, biting on the words. “There’s nothing to know about us.”

  Megan bit down on any response she could think of. Nothing seemed good enough.

  “It was probably one of the entry-level staffers just pulling a silly prank,” she said, heading for the door. “They’d think it was funny. They wouldn’t know any better. Not sure how they hacked the email though.” She dried the door handle and found it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, come on...” She yanked it up and down. Nothing.

  They were locked.

  Gunner came up next to her and his scent so close made her want to pass out. “Shit, are you kidding?” He tried the handle several times to no success. “Shit! Oh, some funny prank!” He kicked the door and spun away, clapping his hands to his head. “Just text Lane or something to let us out, Megan, please?”

  “I didn’t bring my phone.” She frowned at him. “You did, didn’t you?”

  Gunner looked slightly sick and said, “No.”

  There was no phone in the supply closet. There were no windows. Nobody even worked on the second floor. They simultaneously leaped at the door and pounded on it, screaming for somebody to come and let them out. After a couple of minutes of pointless ruckus, Megan gave up and sat on her crate and closed her eyes. What a day.

  Gunner gave the door one final kick, mumbling obscenities. “Unbelievable.” He spun and leaned back against the door. “I guess we wait ‘til we hear somebody? Or somebody figures out we’re missing?”

  “I guess,” Megan murmured. Since she now had the opportunity and he wasn’t going anywhere, she let her gaze rest on him, wherever she liked. She took in the way his mouth turned down in a petulant frown, his lips slightly pouty. His hair was a bit mussed. He had not been quite as put together since the night they’d made love. His hair had a tendency to stay wherever it was put. She could see almost exactly where he’d fisted it in frustration and left it stuck like that. He was wearing a white shirt and no tie. He looked a bit rumbled. A couple of buttons were undone. That beard growth was back again.

  She wanted to eat him alive.

  “You keep looking at me like that,” he said, “and I’m not going to make it.”

  “Sorry.” She glared at her shoes. It didn’t seem fair that she couldn’t take advantage of their unfortunate circumstances.

  They were quiet for a long time and then Gunner said, “I still mean it. I’d leave my pack, my clan. If it meant I could be with you. What do I need a pack for anyway? I barely see them as it is.”

  She swallowed the stupid lump in her throat. “You need a pack. What if we were together and then something happened to me and you were in trouble? It’s dangerous to be a lone wolf.”

  “I’m already alone,” he said in a voice so small, she felt the already split pieces of her heart splitting again.

  “If I let you sacrifice everything for me,” she said slowly, “and something happened to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “I can’t live with myself now,” he said.

  “I wish you weren’t angry at me,” she said, fidgeting with her fingernails. She’d used to pick at them but she’d been good since college. Now she found herself wanting to tear through her own skin.

  She heard him sigh and he paced, walking in front of her and spinning and walking in front of her again which, in the narrow and short span of the room was quite awkward.

  “You know how much work it takes to be angry at you?” He said and stopped abruptly, leaning against the shelf across from her. “It’s really hard work. In here, it’s nearly impossible.” He shook his head and almost swayed on his feet. “Your scent is…”

  “I know,” she murmured.

  “If we’re mates,” he said, “than our physiology is driving us to be together, to want each other.”

  “How can that be possible?” She said.

  “I dunno.” He shrugged and smiled and it made her smile despite everything. He had such adorable teeth. “How can magic be possible? How can shifters be possible?”

  He deserved her honesty at least. She could give him that if nothing else. Even if she didn’t know what would come after it. “If this isn’t what finding your mate feels like,” he said softly, “I don’t know what it is. I can’t want you any more than I already do, I can’t think about you more than I already do.”

  She had always wondered what this would be like as a little girl. How could two people feel so strongly so quickly? And yet...

 
Her mother had said it was the same way that people could become foxes and wolves and bears and lions and anything else. It was magic.

  He stood over her. He didn’t look angry now. He had that adoring expression on his face again as if he were absolutely fascinated with everything about her.

  “I can’t love you more than I already do,” she whispered.

  He kissed her and she let him. She quickly made excuses in her head. She could kiss him because he’d kissed her first as long as she didn’t hold him and… He was holding her head in his hands like she was made of fine china and her hands betrayed her and went to his sides. She spread her fingers along his hips and felt the rumpled, wrinkled fabric of his shirt.

  His cheek was bristly from the beard stubble and she shivered when it tickled her under her lip.

  “Are you cold?” He asked.

  “No.” She stood and he broke away from the kiss. He was just a few inches taller than she was and he looked down at her with his helpless expression as if he were so desperate for her he couldn’t put a thought together. “Just here,” she whispered. “It’s just us now. Leave ‘em all behind.”

  “Yeah,” he said, sighing in relief as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about any of it, about you in my arms and how right it was and-”

  “I know, I know! Me too!”

  He spun her around and they stumbled, dizzy as they made out sloppily and then slow and deliberate. He pushed the jacket off her shoulders and turned her into the corner where there was a heavy plastic crate just tall enough for her to sit on. He lifted her up and set her on top of it and ducked his head to kiss her again, his hands sliding up her calves to her thighs and up under her skirt. She yanked his shirt out of his trousers and pressed her hands to his warm skin. She felt his stomach quiver under her touch. He kept making little moaning sounds in her mouth and it made her want to make him lose control, if this was all they had. She wanted to hear him howl for her. She pushed him back and saw his flash of fear that she’d changed her mind. Just as quickly she shoved him against the wall in the narrow nook between the crate and a shelf. He blinked at her like some babe in the woods and it made her chuckle as she mouthed at his neck and unbuttoned his shirt to feel every inch of his chest under her fingers. She wished she had more time, if this was the only chance she’d have to memorize his body. Their night together had been so fast and furious. She smiled, gazing down at the pleasing, tan planes of his sculpted chest and the way it was set off from his rumpled white shirt. She raised her eyes back up to that mouth that was so easily debauched, that mussed up hair and those heavy-lidded blue eyes.

  “God, you look like some dirty picture from a GQ shoot,” she mumbled, and she saw his pleased smirk that fell again when she sank to her knees and went for his belt buckle.

  “Oh, sweetheart…” He said roughly.

  She teased him, palming his crotch. He was half hard and she massaged him for a few seconds before pulling down his trousers. His package swelled through his black boxer briefs and she leaned forward and covered him with her mouth, clutching the backs of his thighs. She looked up at him and he grunted, whining a little as she licked him through the thin fabric and let her teeth graze him, raking the backs of his thighs with her nails. Her hands snuck up the back of those briefs to squeeze his ass.

  “Megan… Jesus….”

  She yanked down his briefs and he reached to take out the clip holding her hair up, watching the cascade of dark red waves fall around her shoulders just as she took him into her mouth.

  “Fuck.”

  She always sort of liked blow-jobs. She liked the double-sensation of rendering a man helpless and the feeling of fullness in her mouth. She liked the way Gunner tasted too. He was thick though and she let her throat relax before ducking her head, making him go as deep as she could bear. It had been a while but she found herself wantonly sucking Gunner’s cock like his eventual orgasm might save the world. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she dug her nails into his ass a little deeper. He seemed to like that and he bucked his hips, making her choke a little. She reached down to play with his balls and his head fell back against the wall with a thump as he cried out. She took him out of her mouth again and licked at him like a popsicle, stroking his base as she curled her tongue around the head of his cock. He was leaning against the crate, looking like he was having trouble keeping himself on two feet. She smiled around him and without warning, took him in her mouth again, all the way down as far as he would go, his balls at her mouth. She held herself there and sucked in her cheeks and he barked some incoherent shout of praise at her before shoving her back as he came. She fought it and grabbed his arm, suckling at his head to take his cum with her tongue.

  “Oh fuck, Meg, seriously…” He babbled, his voice cracking all over the place. She milked him until he was whining from the sensitivity and finally got to her feet, her knees sore from kneeling on the linoleum. She smoothed down her skirt and leaned next to him, catching her breath. “You look so wild,” he said, staring at her as he pulled up his pants. He ran a hand through her hair and kissed her cheek and she held him there, his pants loose around his waist.

  “I like the way you taste,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek back “And the way you smell.”

  “God, you can’t say things like that,” he said. His lips were so red he looked like he’d been the one just giving a blow-job. She wondered what that mouth would be like eating her out, what that smirk would feel like up against her very core.

  “Put your hands on me,” she whispered, and he spun them again. His hands slid up her skirt with ease and found their way into her panties like they’d practiced the move a thousand times. She melted against him and his fingers - which had aggressively, angrily pounded his keyboard all week - found her clit and she made a little yelping noise that sounded so much like a fox, he laughed in her ear. He shoved her skirt up around her waist with his other hand and moved her to sit up on the crate. He rested his forehead against hers as he thrust two fingers inside her. He mouthed at her neck and then bit down as he fingered her, just this side of too rough. They were animals then and she bit his good shoulder, sinking her teeth in so hard he grunted and growled and then he was furiously rubbing her clit and she keened, squirming and writhing until she came with a cry, tensing around him, his wrist clamped between her trembling thighs.

  He kissed the bright red spot on her neck. It would definitely leave a mark. He smoothed down her skirt and they rested, just breathing for a couple of minutes.

  She was crying again and she fought it, but a few tears slid down her cheeks and he kissed them away.

  “I won’t ask you again, don’t worry,” he whispered. He kissed her cheek and her mouth and pressed his thumb to her chin, feeling both sated and shattered. “And I’m not angry at you. I wish I was.”

  She was still trying to think of something to say to that when there was a pounding on the door.

  “Meg?” Lane called out. “You in there?”

  Chapter Fifteen: Gunner

  Following their little rendezvous in the supply closet, Gunner decided that in his heartbreak, he had been acting like an immature brat and he vowed to no longer take everything out on Meg or anyone else for that matter. It didn’t hurt any less and finding no better outlet, he started shifting more often, running in the woods. He figured if he ran into that pack of assholes again, he would just do his best to fight back or run like hell. But he was angry at himself for ever cowering from them. He lived there. They were on his turf.

  The app was doing well and if he was honest with himself, he was slightly surprised. Megan’s entire concept had always seemed clever to him if absurdly bougie, and he was a little taken aback that so many people were suddenly in need of instant self-care in their homes. The app’s launching trial run was doing so well, in fact, that they were moving up expansion which meant he had to work fast to get the training program for the masseuses ready. They were meant to be sort
of “jack-of-all-trades” masseuses. They would be trained to teach breathing and calming techniques for stress as well as basic yoga moves. Gunner didn’t know anything about any of that stuff himself, but he didn’t need to, either. He just needed to hire people who did.

  Around the office, they acted as normally toward each other as they possibly could, which he found extremely difficult. But he was careful to be kind to Meg without being overly familiar. They were nowhere near a “just friends” stage and he didn’t think they likely ever would be. It was already hard enough. He was convinced the fates had paired them up and they were working against the magical powers of the universe. There was nothing natural about that. He suspected they were having an easier time at least physically though, working around each other all day, as emotionally painful as it was.

  But the nights were long and lonely. Gunner couldn’t sleep. He went out running instead. He didn’t smell the asshole pack again and felt bolder going out alone more and more.

  He and Meg both had a hard time another week later when the AC went out again. Things got sweaty enough that he’d ended up doing most of his work after hours with the windows open and a couple fans blasting. Meg had remained behind too. He’d worn only a tank top from his gym bag and his suit pants. Meg had come to bring him iced tea and they’d been the only ones left again. There’d been something strangely noir about the whole thing; all steamy in an empty office at night in San Francisco. Meg had been wearing a dress that didn’t leave enough to his imagination and they’d stared at each other too long, panting, until she finally tore herself away. That was the night he left the office and saw a petite, dark-haired girl loitering outside in a black leather jacket. He could swear she’d called him “completely useless” as she walked by and he’d never seen her before in his life.

  That night he was particularly wired up and scarfed down a dinner at home of steak and potatoes. He still felt hungry for something freshly killed. He thought this mate business was messing with his head, just like he’d heard could happen. He felt paranoid. He could swear somebody was watching him lately and then there was that weird John Byeler who always seemed to be watching everyone and liked to stop by his office and mutter some weird non-sequitur from time to time.