Shifter Starter Set

by Candace Ayers

  “So, you tried to go home?”

  I nodded. “And the east side of the island was already flooded. It’s really my own fault. I should have known better. I should’ve boarded everything up days ago and given myself time to evacuate. I’ve never been this irresponsible before. It all just…snuck up on me.”

  “Dylan better hope Matilda carries him out to sea.”

  11

  Roman

  I was going insane. Megan had leaned over and was peacefully sleeping on the couch. It was as though she wasn’t bothered at all by the story she’d just dropped at my feet. Her husband was a dick. Worse than a dick. A cowardly, sniveling, lowlife dick. Maybe it bothered me more than it should have, but I couldn’t stop fuming. I wanted to rip out of my skin and find the motherfucker and maul him to shreds.

  Her arm had nasty bruises from him. She’d nearly died alone because of him. I was going to make him pay for hurting her. He’d also pay for making her think it was her duty to assume a masculine role as though her size was a good excuse for him to not step up as a man. Her size was quite perfect in my opinion, and she was all woman.

  I paced around the house, listening to the storm until I was ready to scratch my own eyeballs out. That way, I wouldn’t have to be faced with the constant sight of Megan, the thin boxer shorts she wore riding up ever so slightly. Even those boxers were pissing me off. They belonged to Greg. Not me. I wanted to pull them off her and find something of mine to drape her in. Not his. Fuck Greg, the guy from high school. And fuck her dick of a husband—I wanted to rip that asshole to shreds.

  The eye of the storm has arrived. It should be calm for about fifteen minutes. Want to make it here while you can? Serge sounded strained, even in my head. It was a tense situation not just for me, apparently.

  Maybe. I’ll let you know.

  I was looking down at Megan. She was stunning. Even with her hair curling in every direction and potato chip crumbs dusting her mouth, she was beautiful. She deserved more than she was getting. I may not have known her well, but I knew that much. She was sweet and loyal, despite her husband not deserving her loyalty.

  She groaned and grew restless. Her hands balled into fists on her lap. Her forehead scrunched, her expression was unhappy, and she pursed her lips. Dreaming of something unpleasant, she mumbled in her sleep and then grunted.

  I didn’t like seeing her unhappy, even in her sleep. It bothered me and it bothered my bear. I was already reaching for her when she mumbled her asshole husband’s name and frowned even deeper. My bear growled and I squeezed my eyes shut, needing a second to get him under control, to get myself under control. I didn’t know what it was about the woman that had me so agitated, but I was ready to tear up the place in anger over her mistreatment.

  “Megan, wake up,” I spoke her name gently, not wanting to scare her. Her eyes flew open, and when they focused on me, a light smile lifted her lips, and I fought an intense yearning, wanting so badly to draw her back against my chest that my arms ached.

  Husband. What the fuck?

  “The eye of the storm is coming. We can safely make it to my office, if you want.”

  She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “I want to check on my house.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “And the business.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll have time for both.” I looked at my watch and thought about it. “Maybe, if we’re fast and the water allows it. Otherwise, we’ll get to your house and either bunk there or go on to my office. The rest of my team is there, waiting out the storm.”

  “Your team?”

  I shrugged. “I work at the lifeguard station at the southern end of the island.”

  She nodded, like something made sense to her finally. “That’s why you’re so good at swimming. Okay. When do we go?”

  For whatever reason, I felt uncomfortable lying to her. P.O.L.A.R. was a clandestine league, though. I didn’t have the authority to reveal what we did or who we were just because I thought she was pretty and I was inexplicably attracted to her. “Soon. Does Greg or his wife have any shoes you can wear? Tennis shoes or something that lace up tightly?”

  “I can look.” She arched her back and reached her arms up in the air in a stretch. As she did, the hem of the shirt came up, revealing a sliver of stomach. I swallowed audibly, and she jerked it back in place and stood up. “Sorry.”

  I had more to say to her, more to ask her, but it wasn’t the time. It’d never be the time for what I wanted to say. She was married. I kept my mouth shut and forced myself to look anywhere but at her.

  When she returned a few minutes later, her limp was not as severe as before. “His shoe size is a 10. I don’t think they’ll fit you. And I’m pretty sure his clothes won’t.”

  I looked down at the towel I was wearing and bit back a laugh. “I don’t need shoes. Will they be too big for you?”

  Her cheeks went so red I could see the blush even in the shadows of the house. “No. You should know I have big feet. You held my foot in your hand.”

  I frowned. “Size is relative. They aren’t big to me.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she just slid her feet into the shoes and laced them up tight. When she was finished, she stood up and looked around. “I’ll leave a note for Greg. I’m sure he’ll understand that we had no choice but to come in.”

  I didn’t give a fuck about Greg. I didn’t want to say that to her and make her think I was an asshole, though. What’s the word on the eye?

  You better hustle. Dmitry paused. I suggest you avoid the office unless you want a giant fucking headache. Serge and Hannah are bickering because he won’t stop freaking out about her safety. You’re better off weathering Matilda head on.

  Copy that.

  I went to the door and slowly opened it. Sure enough, it was eerily silent outside. No rain, no battering wind. I glanced up and found myself gazing up at a beautiful, starry sky. “We’re in the eye. Come on.”

  “My house is on East Beach.” Megan raced up behind me, looking over my shoulder to see what I was staring at. “Wow. That’s so strange. But cool.”

  I didn’t disagree. “Come on. We’re going to have to swim. I’ll go ahead to make sure there aren’t rip currents.”

  “Wait, what if there are?” She grabbed my arm and shook her head. “Maybe we should just stay put. You don’t have to do this for me. We can stay here and both be safe.”

  I looked down at her, the woman who thought she was big, and wanted to kiss her more than I’d ever wanted to do anything in my life. Was she worried about me? “There’s no need to worry. I’m an incredibly strong swimmer and well trained. Lifeguard, remember?”

  As she stared up at me, I watched her eyes travel to my mouth.

  A gust of wind pushed at my back and I snapped back to reality. She cleared her throat and let go of my arm. “Just…be careful.”

  I wagged my eyebrows at her, wanting to relax her a bit. “We’re in the eye of a hurricane, woman. Telling me to be careful is moot at this point.”

  She grinned at me, I saw just a flash of her true beauty, and then we were off.

  12

  Megan

  Traveling in a hurricane was no fun. The trip to my house took so long that by the time we got to my porch, I felt like Matilda was right behind us, ready to strike up again any second. Sunkissed Key had already taken a beating, from what we’d seen, and she wasn’t done. My house, fortunately, seemed to be okay. Some damage to the roof was evident, but it wasn’t anything I wouldn’t be able to fix myself.

  As soon as we were in the house, I realized a few things right away. Every gust of wind sent the place rocking as though we were on a boat. More than that, I noticed what I’d somehow failed to notice that morning. Things were missing.

  I went from room to room, checking for damage and creating a catalog of the missing items. When I got to the bedroom and looked into the closet, my stomach sank. Dylan’s side was empty. All his clothes and sho
es were gone.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the empty half of the closet. When had he packed his stuff? How had I not noticed? I’d moved into the guestroom, but shouldn’t I have noticed him packing and leaving with his things?

  “Megan?”

  I glanced up and found Roman staring at the half-empty closet, too. I sighed and tried to quickly bury the feelings that were threatening to surface. I wasn’t even sure what they were, but I didn’t want to have my emotions explode in front of Roman.

  I stood up and wiped my hands on Greg’s boxers, like that would wipe away the shock. “Everything seems in order here. Do you think we have time to get to the shop?”

  He shook his head. “It’s already starting up again.”

  I turned my back to the closet and nodded. “Okay. That’s fine. I’m going to put on dry clothes and…I’ll find something for you to wear, too.”

  Like magic, the towel had stayed around Roman’s hips through the trip, but it was soaked and riding so low that I was getting a view of what I was pretty sure was the top of his “down there” hair. And those abs…whew. Danger zone. I turned to the closet and ran my hands through my hair.

  “I’ll find you something.”

  Roman chuckled from behind me. “I don’t think you’ll have anything big enough. Maybe another towel?”

  I glanced back at him and shook my head. “I don’t think I have towels big enough, either.”

  He flashed me a cheeky grin and wagged his brows again. “A sheet?”

  I looked down at my bed and nodded. “Yeah, a sheet would probably do it. Okay, that’ll work.”

  My door closed, and I glanced back to see he’d gone. In just the glow of a vanilla-scented candle, I stripped and changed into a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. I kept my back to Dylan’s side as I flipped through clothes, searching for something for Roman.

  The man was just…too big. He had to be close to seven feet tall and so broad chested that there was no way anything I had, even my bloat clothes meant for heavy-flow days, would fit him. I pulled an old baseball cap over my hair and went back into the bedroom.

  The idea of giving Roman a sheet from our bed made me cringe. Dylan had slept with someone else on those sheets. Washed or not, I didn’t want their filth anywhere near Roman. Instead, I went into the guestroom and took the flat sheet off the bed I’d been sleeping in. I told myself that it didn’t mean anything, but the idea of a sheet that had touched my body wrapped around his bare skin sent a wicked shiver through me.

  Downstairs, Roman was in the kitchen, staring into my darkened fridge. There was nothing in there. Nothing fresh anyway, but he’d managed to find a lone beer. The wet towel hanging around him was even lower and I could see the top of his ass.

  “Sheet. I…I brought you a sheet.” I turned away from the view and stammered. “It’s from my bed.”

  The sound of the wet towel hitting the ground set my blood on fire. Roman was naked behind me and I could see him, in all his glory, if I just looked over my shoulder. I kept my eyes closed just in case I was tempted to try. He wasn’t mine to look at. Why I was feeling so much like a hormonal teenager, I didn’t know.

  When we were leaving Greg’s, I had this feeling that he was going to kiss me. And I wouldn’t have minded. Thankfully he didn’t actually try. Why I would have been willing to let him kiss me, I had no idea. I was married. Even if Dylan had left me.

  That reality helped dampen my mood. My husband left me. He’d also taken things from around the house that weren’t his. Artwork, every TV, the home desktop computer. When had he had time to take the TVs off the walls? It made no sense.

  Again, I had more anger than sorrow. I had half a mind to find him and rip into him about what he’d done. Rip him apart—that’s what I wanted to do if I was being honest with myself. I may have spent several days in denial, avoidance of the mess that was my marriage, but I was ready now to face the reality that my husband was a lying, cheating piece of crap who’d left me and I wanted to repay him for it. I also wanted to not give a shit about what my family would say and not give a shit about what it would feel like to be plunged into divorcehood.

  “You want to talk about it?” Roman’s deep voice was so close that I felt the vibrations in my chest.

  He must have read my expression. I shook my head. I knew that if I opened my mouth, I was going to lose it. Whatever I was feeling was going to fire off like a missile and I didn’t trust myself. I needed to think about everything a little more before I put any of my thoughts out into the world.

  The house swayed harder and I gasped. “Greg’s house didn’t sway this much.”

  Roman put his hand on my shoulder and lightly squeezed, a comforting gesture, or it should’ve been. Instead, warmth radiated down my arm and chest in ways it had no business doing. “We’re okay. Different construction, probably. It stood up to the first half of the storm, it’ll stand up to the second half just as well.”

  Another powerful sway and I wasn’t so sure.

  “Come on. I found a beer. Drink it. It’ll calm you while we ride out the storm on your couch. It’s a lot prettier than Greg’s animal print monstrosity.”

  I rounded the kitchen island and went straight to the liquor cabinet. Usually full for the parties that we didn’t throw, I just stood there for a second, staring. It was empty. “He had time to pack the liquor.”

  Roman took my shoulders and gently turned me and pushed me away from the cabinet. “Take the beer.”

  13

  Roman

  If I expected myself to feel better seeing that Megan’s husband had left her, I surprised myself. I was furious. How could he have done that to her? What the hell was wrong with the asshole? I wanted to hunt him down and demand that he beg for her forgiveness. She didn’t deserve that type of treatment. I could see the emotion in her eyes, but she was bottling it inside.

  I assumed she was heartbroken. No matter how she looked at me, and I was sure I saw heat in her gaze, to her I was some guy she’d just met. He was her husband. As much as it hurt to admit that, it was true. She’d married the asshole. That meant she loved him. She was hurting, and I didn’t like it.

  I led her to the living room and to the couch, sitting next to her, ready to be a shoulder for her to cry on. Handing her the beer, I bumped her shoulder with mine. “Talk.”

  Instead of crying, she started laughing. She popped right back off the couch and started pacing in front of me. The swaying of the house would throw her off a bit, here or there, but she was focused on wearing a hole through the rug.

  “Sonofabitch. He took the liquor. Who does that? I mean, the TVs? Okay, fine. He loves TV, so I get that, kind of. The liquor, though? He doesn’t even drink the stuff. He likes wine. What the hell is that? Maybe Brandi likes liquor.”

  I just watched as she went on.

  “We’ve been married for over ten years. This December would be twelve years, actually. Twelve years of marriage and he fucks someone named Brandi—in our bed!” She nodded to the sheet around my waist and crinkled her nose. “Not on that sheet. Don’t worry. I gave you my bedding.”

  I knew that. It carried her scent so strongly that I had to mouth breathe to keep from getting aroused. “Thanks for that.”

  She paused. “And that. You say thank you. I can’t remember the last time Dylan thanked me for anything. He just expects me to bend over backward for him, and the only time he acknowledges it is if I don’t do it. Then, he has plenty to say.”

  “The shop? I do everything. It was my money that financed the business and I’m the photographer. I shoot the photos, edit them, do all the matting and framing myself, and I run the floor while he sits in the back office doing the important part. What important part? What else is there to do? I literally do everything, and when I finally get home, I have no time to do anything but eat and sleep. How did he have time to sleep around?”

  “I think you answered that.”

  She stopped and made a face. �
�True. I’m so angry. I want to rip his goddamn head off.”

  “I can arrange something like that.”

  “I caught them sleeping together, you know. I walked in on them. In our bed. He didn’t even apologize. He just basically made me feel like I was at fault for not seeing it coming.” She took off the baseball cap she’d been wearing and twisted her hair up on the top of her head. After securing it with some band she had on her wrist, she pressed her palms against her eye sockets. “He stole all the money from the shop. The shop that’s probably getting torn apart right now because he took no responsibility for securing it against the storm. I tried to do it myself, but I’m only one person.”

  I remained calm on the outside, but her pain had me raging internally. My bear was ripping at me, desperate to get out and kill the stupid shit that would treat Megan so horribly.

  “I can’t believe he took the liquor. I mean, that’s just low.”

  I opened the beer and handed it to her. “I can’t believe he thought he could find someone better than you.”

  She stopped pacing and faced me. Then, she snorted a laugh through her nose as if in disbelief. “You don’t have to say that. I know that I have flaws, too. Plenty of them. Just…not the ones Brandi has, apparently.”

  “I’m not telling you anything that isn’t true. Even a stranger can see that you’re loyal and kind, even to a man who doesn’t deserve it. It’s not hard to imagine how well you’d treat a good man. A better man.” A man like me. I cocked my head and looked at her harder. “And that’s saying nothing of your beauty.”