Abram [Wounded Hearts 1] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)
Page 1
Wounded Hearts 1
Abram
After losing an arm in the war, dominant lion shifter Abram is suffering from PTSD and having trouble adapting to civilian life. His sessions with his therapist, Kane, are the only things he looks forward to.
Sparks ignite after one accidental kiss. When Kane decides it’s unprofessional to keep seeing Abram, all the cards come down and Abram’s lion goes on a prowl. Abram might be one broken vet, but his lion knows Kane is his mate and letting go is not an option.
Omega cat shifter Kane has a huge problem. He’s had a massive crush on Abram since the wounded vet entered his life. When keeping things professional between them no longer works, Kane bolts, terrified of the intense attraction between them.
Kane gives Abram quite a chase, but he soon realizes that lions are persistent hunters—and when it comes to the matters of the heart, only a fool would refuse the mating bond.
Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length: 22,064 words
ABRAM
Wounded Hearts 1
Fel Fern

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
ABRAM
Copyright © 2017 by Fel Fern
ISBN: 978-1-64010-453-2
First Publication: July 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
To my readers, I was in a bad place when I wrote this, and writing the stories of these men helped me recover. Thank you for your amazing support.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Felicia Fern works as a graphic designer during the day and loves penning M/M paranormal erotic romance at night.
A sadist who loves watching her heroes and heroines break their backs trying to earn their happy endings, Fel likes throwing in the occasional dash of the unknown to the usual romantic concoction.
For all titles by Fel Fern, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/fel-fern
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Landmarks
Cover
ABRAM
Wounded Hearts 1
FEL FERN
Copyright © 2017
Prologue
One year ago
Abram padded along the ruins, tail swishing back and forth, ears on high alert. His lion didn’t like being in a ghost town, didn’t like the fact there was no sign of life. His spine prickled with unease. Despite being deployed in the desert for two years now, his lion had never taken to the barren land. Nothing in the desert but heat, sand, and despair. Empty towns ravaged by war were worst, because in all of them, he smelled old blood as if it was fresh.
He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched, but he knew Mike had his back, positioned on the rooftops of one of the still intact buildings. Grover, Dusty, and Wayne would be on their way back to the base, leaving Mike and him to explore the ghost town, sniff out refugees, and lead them back to safety.
Rescue missions hadn’t been the specialty of their unit—killing was. They were one of the few military assets comprised fully of predatory feline shifters, one of five paranormal special ops teams actively on duty. But Abram was tired of getting his hands dirty. Changing up their duties was a nice change of pace.
All of them had seen too many horrors in the war. It was all right for Abram. This wasn’t his first stint, but it was Dusty’s. War changed their inner beasts, turned them more uncontrollable, unstable, thanks to the violent environment. Abram couldn’t wait to go home, embrace the sense of normalcy he once took for granted. He might even ask the cute tabby shifter next door, Conner, if he was still single.
Life was too short to not take chances and Abram was no longer a young lion. He needed to find a suitable mate, settle down. Eventually the scars left behind by the war—both physical and mental ones—would fade to a dull ache.
He flared his nostrils, scenting humans nearby. Abram glanced behind him. The unforgiving sun bore down on him, and satisfied by the glinting metal from Mike’s rifle, he went in search of the stranded humans. The trail led him inside a collapsed building. Normally, Abram would stalk past this structure without a second glance. He walked in, claws clicking on splintered wood, the remains of the door probably.
Inside, the walls had caved in. Nothing but debris, but his nose told him there were people here. The scent was strongest in a room that once was a kitchen. Abram squeezed his huge frame inside a collapsed doorway. It was dark here, but he could see in the dark. Stairs led downstairs. He slowed down his pace, not wanting to startle the humans. Finally, he reached the bottom. Lighted torches showed a corridor and huddled at the end, were perhaps a dozen people. Two families maybe.
Four of the men rose to their feet in alarm. Two shakily pointed shot guns at him, but he doubted those were loaded with silver bullets. Abram stood his ground. The men traded hesitant looks. A brave little girl ran to him. An older woman shouted at her, tried to grab hold of her arm, but she slipped past her. One of the men shouted at the others to stand down.
The girl reached him, terrified, but there was something else aside from her fear. Curiosity. It must be his size, because she’d probably never seen a lion the size of a horse. Big brown eyes locked gazes with him, then she spotted the dog tags around his neck.
He took a step back from her and shifted. A woman cried out, but most were simply surprised rather than shocked. There were shifters here, too, but they mostly kept to their own groups and clans, preferring not to associate with humans.
“I’m here to help,” he said in their language.
Abram had made sure every man in his unit knew the basic phrases. People were more open to those who took the effort to understand their language. It took a bit of convincing, but he shifted back to his lion and led them out of the basement. If Abram had any of his gear or weapons with him, he’d remain in human form, but he preferred having natural claws and teeth in case they encountered any hostiles.
Once out of the building, he noticed some of them needed time to adjust to the sunlight. How long had they been in there? He spotted blankets, food, and supplies. Perhaps they’d intended to ride out the storm, and once certain it
was safe, they would emerge.
The roar of a vehicle engine had some of them talking in alarm, but it was Mike driving at the wheel of the military truck. Mike kept the engine running and poked his head out, smiling at them.
“I’m with Abram. Get in. Going by truck is faster,” he said. Abram always envied Mike’s ability to make everyone around him feel at beast, although Mike was no less a predator than the rest in the Feline Force 5 unit.
Once their passengers got on board, he hopped in beside Mike and shifted. Mike had a change of clothes for him ready. He dressed quickly, checked the rifle Mike had for him, then glanced at the passengers at the back. The little girl beamed at him. He returned her smile, despite himself. Abram seldom smiled. When he did, most people remarked it looked creepy, out of place, like Abram wanted to eat them, so he stopped.
Mike glanced at them through the rearview mirror. “Cute little bugger. You ever think of having kids, Abram?”
Back when the unit had been formed, Abram discouraged talk like that. Mentioning families, lovers, and the lives they left behind only served to distract his men when Abram needed their extra a hundred and ten percent focus. Unnecessary emotion was weakness. He trained his men to be disciplined and loyal as fuck.
He trained them so only the mission mattered, but they were going home. Some of the soldiers called him a hard-ass, but he wasn’t completely soulless so he didn’t reprimand them anymore. Mike’s question nagged at him though. Once, the thought of having a mate and children horrified Abram. He’d been a military man, through and through, even before a lion shifter bit him ten years ago during a mission.
Back then, Abram decided anyone who mated him would be cursed. Abram placed his work first, above all things. When he was human, he’d honed his body into a weapon. When he became a shifter, he’d only become deadlier. Love wasn’t in the cards for him, although with his strength, he could easily walk up to any lion pride back home, challenge the ruling Rex, and win.
All Abram wanted was peace, and lately his lion had begun yearning for a soulmate, a partner to quiet the screaming demons in his head. A peaceful life.
“Okay, keep your secrets,” Mike said, rolling his eyes.
Abram was okay with Mike addressing him like an equal, being Mike was his second-in-command.
“How about you, Michael?”
He knew Mike hated it when Abram called him by his full name. Mike snarled, the white tiger inside Mike near the surface. Abram frowned. Lately, all the beasts of his men seemed easily provoked. The return home would hopefully heal whatever wounds the war had inflicted on their souls, their inner animals.
Mike tightened his grip on the wheel and breathed in and out. The tiger calmed down.
“Sorry about that. Jared’s waiting for me back home. We’re going to do the full works—wedding, house, car, dog, and kids.”
Mike just sang the same song from two years ago, although Mike lacked enthusiasm when he said it now. Abram knew Jared had moved on months ago, married another man, and left the engagement ring Mike gave him before he left in the apartment they were supposed to share. Abram said nothing. The others knew it, too, but kept their mouths shut. False hope was better than none. Mike wasn’t the first man in his unit whose lover had gotten tired of waiting. Grover had been more upfront about it. He’d laughed abandonment off and said he’d have plenty of other willing men to fuck back at home.
Abram didn’t care about the lies his men told themselves, or their problems, as long as they got the job done. The rest of the drive remained a silent one. He checked on their passengers twice, making sure they were comfortable. Mike had been prudent enough to pack supplies, so he distributed water, food, and blankets.
“The base will take care of the rest,” he said, rejoining Mike back at the driver’s wheel. The little girl had beamed at him again, and not for the first time, it amazed him still how people could still smile, despite the nightmare they’d been through.
Mike’s casual mention of children made his mind wonder. It would be nice to have a sweet little girl like the one riding in the back to fuss over. Male cubs were trouble but a sweet little girl on the other hand—fuck no. Abram couldn’t think of the future, not when they were still stuck here.
Besides, if he really went for the ideal fantasy, there would be a mate fawning over their daughter, and him, too, providing warmth and guidance where he couldn’t. He and his men sacrificed plenty to their jobs, probably severing vital parts of their hearts, their humanity, doing deeds they hadn’t been proud of. Abram knew something in him was no longer right. Like Mike’s tiger, his own beast had grown more savage, hard, like him.
The truck rolled past more or less the same monotonous landmark, rocky patches, and sand.
Hours passed. They left the ruined town around noon, but now, the air was cooler as the sun began to set. The base loomed ahead of them. His inner lion sprang to life inside of him, scenting danger. Something wasn’t right. He leaned forward in his seat, scenting the smoke before seeing it.
“Fuck,” Mike said in a low voice beside him.
“Stop the truck.” Grover, Dusty, and Wayne were still in there. Mike didn’t argue. He hopped out of the truck, tensing as they heard the drone of a plane. A few of the men got out, looking frightened.
“Mike, give them the keys. It’s a war zone in there,” he said. Mike handed the keys to the nearest man. They didn’t hesitate. Abram heard the buzz of the engine being turned on, and the truck began heading in the direction they’d come from. He could only hope they would find a safe place.
He spotted the planes, sleek silver and black blurs in the air. There were two of them and they carried nukes. With a snarl, Mike shifted, clothing ripping as a tiger replaced the man. Mike didn’t wait but ran toward the sight, to certain danger and death.
Abram tore at his clothes and reached for his lion. He refused to think about how many folks were at the base, about his men, who were probably involved in the evacuation. Once back on all fours, Abram sprinted toward assured death.
Chapter One
Present
“Mr. Stone, if you don’t speak, we’ll never get anywhere,” Dr. Briggs reminded him in that same gentle voice that grated on his nerves.
Abram stared the younger shifter down, pleased Dr. Briggs looked away first and cleared his throat. Oh, the handsome and slender little thing certainly had all the right credentials hanging on his wall, but judging by the year the young shifter graduated, Abram didn’t have much confidence Dr. Briggs could help him at all, much less fix him. No one else could and that was fine with him.
“Call me Abram,” he stated.
Now, why did he do that? The only reason he kept going to this shit little clinic that specialized in providing counseling services to army vets was to see Dr. Briggs look unsettled. Besides, what else waited for him back at his one room apartment? Bare walls and unpacked boxes. His place looked like it belonged to a man who’d recently moved in, not to someone who’d lived in that shit hole for almost a year.
Back when he was on active duty, each minute bled onto the next. Time became fluid, but here, every second dragged on and Abram’s mind remained trapped in its own little prisoner. His left shoulder ached and he was tempted to look at his loss, what the explosion had taken from him, but he didn’t dare to, for fear Dr. Briggs might notice and make him try to talk about the incident again. Well, Briggs would have to try a lot harder, because Abram wasn’t giving an inch to anyone, least of all a shifter trying to play head doctor.
“Very well, Abram.” Briggs let out a breath and shifted his glasses further up his nose. “You can call me Kane.”
“That’s your first name, Kane? Doesn’t suit you.”
Kane shifted in his seat, a nervous gesture, then stopped. Abram had found out what animal was inside of Kane during their first session—a submissive tabby shifter. In other circumstances, a less dominant animal would offer their neck to his lion, but this was a professional setting.
Very much, but he didn’t say it out loud. Playing the silence game with Kane during their sessions was fun and all, but that was all. It was better being in Kane’s office than brooding back at his place while his old demons haunted him. Besides, his lion liked Kane, despite the fact Abram wasn’t planning on opening up to Kane anytime soon.
“I like it when you smell a little scared, like now.”
Kane stiffened at that, which didn’t help his lion at all. Scaring the man trying to help him fight his PTSD wasn’t doing him any favors, but he couldn’t help it. Something about Kane riled him all up.
“So yeah. I come here to look at you.”
Kane swallowed, clearing his throat—a gesture Abram noticed Kane resorted to when he was nervous.
“W-what?” Kane shook his head and tried again. “Excuse me. I’m usually more professional than this.”
Abram raised his eyebrow. “Are you? You graduated a year ago, according to your certificates. I don’t exactly have much faith in your abilities.”
Finally, he’d managed to grit the words out.
Kane stared at him, clenching his fists, as if trying not to argue back. Finally, Kane unclenched them. “I can help you, Abram, only if you let me.”
“Help me? Tell me, Kane. Do have any actual combat experience?”
“No, but I’ve helped other patients like you.”
The word patient annoyed the fuck out of Abram, like he had an illness Kane wanted to cure. “Patients, plural.”