Shifter Overdrive

by Scarlett Grove

  “Hell no,” she said. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought, but things back in Portland are far from ideal right now. My staff staged a coup while I was gone. Their disloyalty has changed how I think of my job. And after today, I have a hard time imagining being very far away from the forest. The hunt was probably the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  “So, do you think you’ll move to Mystic Harbor to be close to the shifter community?”

  “Probably,” she said, her mind already buzzing with possibilities.

  “Where do you think you’ll live?” Ashton asked her.

  “We’ll be living here,” said Ronan. “Because you’ll be moving out.”

  “What the hell, bro?”

  “Look at this place. You’re letting our family’s ancestral home fall apart. I won’t stand for it. Makayla and I will be living here.”

  Ashton came back into the room with three more bottles of beer and set them on the table. He wore a deep scowl on his face. “Look, if you want to move back in and fix the place up, that’s fine, but I’m not moving out. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

  “Ashton, Makayla doesn’t want to live with my brother.”

  “No. It’s fine, Ronan. Fixing up the house sounds like a lot of fun, but we could probably use the help. I’m going to be busy figuring out what’s next for Makayla Phillips.”

  “What is next for Makayla Phillips? It sounds like you’re pretty sure about leaving the magazine,” Ronan said.

  “I am. I know I have to be near the woods, but I can’t just leave my publishing career behind. I had another idea, but I’m not totally sure how I’ll fund it.”

  “What?” asked Ronan, taking her hand in his.

  “I was thinking of starting a new magazine about Mystic Harbor and the coast, the culture, the tourist attractions, and a disguised periodical about paranormal lifestyles.”

  “Wow. That sounds awesome,” said Ashton, running a hand through his blond hair.

  “Don’t worry about money, Makayla. I have plenty,” Ronan said.

  “What?” Ashton and Makayla said at once.

  “You trap for money, Ronan. I don’t think you’ve got the capital to fund a magazine,” his brother said, laughing.

  “Our parents left me more than the house, Ashton. Money you never knew about.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. They left you money, and no one even told me? What the hell did you need money for out in the woods?”

  “They knew it would be safe and well-invested with me. And Makayla’s magazine sounds like an excellent investment.”

  “Thank you, Ronan. But I don’t know if I can take your money.”

  “Our money. You are my mate. What’s mine is yours.”

  Makayla and Ronan left Ashton in the kitchen to pout while they went out onto the front porch to look up at the stars.

  Makayla put her arm around Ronan’s waist and held him close. His warm, solid body felt like an anchor over which she could float on forever. She’d never felt so safe or so excited about where her life would take her.

  To think, only a few weeks ago, she’d been completely ignorant to the existence of paranormals and now she was one. A star fell over Mystic Bay, and she made a silent wish that things would only get better for her and Ronan.

  As if he had read her thoughts, he turned to her and smiled, tilting his head down to kiss her deeply. Her wish was already starting to come true.

  His Lion Blood

  Mystic Harbor

  When curvy hafling vampire, Isabella Amador, saunters into mountain lion shifter Ashton Harding's tattoo shop, he can't get enough of her sexy scent. Unfortunately, there's a taboo against fraternizing with vampires, making Isabella strictly off limits.

  Isabella Amador is the half-human daughter of the High Lord of the Cascade vampire coven, and she's been avoiding her father for twenty years. Preferring to spend her time shopping in Europe to dealing with coven politics, Isabella is surprised her father has taken an interest in her. He's far too interested, in Isabella's opinion, when he decides to force Isabella into an arranged marriage.

  Compelled by his inner lion and a growing sense of justice, Ashton is there to help her. Will they find a way to keep Isabella safe while resisting their urge to share blood, and be bonded forever, or will they break the taboo, putting them both in mortal danger?

  Chapter 1

  Ashton Harding smiled as he finished the last shade of gray in the middle-aged tourist’s tattoo. His gleaming grin had the intended effect on the lady. She batted her eyelashes at him and smiled shyly before pursing her lips. Ashton squirted salve on the fairy tattoo on the woman’s shoulder and smoothed it into her raw skin. “I’ll recommend you to all my friends,” she cooed. That’s just what he wanted to hear. He placed a bandage on the fresh tattoo and helped her up from the chair.

  The lady sauntered over to the cash register, her eyes flicking over Ashton’s six foot three form, his broad shoulders, and mane of wavy blond hair. “It looks great,” he said. Of course it did. It was one of his tattoos. He preferred to draw things that were a bit bolder, mountain lions for example––one of the last great predators of the Pacific Northwest. He did so enjoy drawing his own portrait. “Remember what I told you about taking care of it while it heals,” he said as he ran her credit card.

  She smiled again as she signed her recipe and waited for a breath. He could smell her arousal. She wanted him. Ashton looked out the window and saw a balding, middle-aged man waiting in the car. Husband. He grinned again and gave the woman a wink as he closed the register drawer. “Next time you’re in Mystic Harbor, come by for a touch up,” he said. She let out a long sigh and said she would before turning to go. Ashton watched her full bottom twitch as the glass door closed behind her. Not bad for a lady in her forties. Ashton rubbed his jaw. He was only twenty-six, but he liked his women mature and curvy. Something about the worldly experience mixed with those luscious curves turned him on, but he never messed with the married kind. No sir. No thank you.

  He went back to his drawing table and began working on a sketch for an appointment he’d made over the Internet. The client wanted a mass of skulls and blood with daggers and such. Not really his style, but he aimed to please. He looked down at his design. Not bad, he thought, a grin curling on his full lips. A motor rumbled outside, and Ashton looked up to see a motorcycle drive into the parking lot of his tattoo shop. The leather clad biker kicked down the kickstand and pulled off her helmet to reveal a cascade of dark brown hair that tumbled down her back and around her shoulders.

  He sat stunned as he watched her march into his shop. Her full breasts practically spilled out of the tight black tank top she wore under her leather jacket. And the leather pants hugged her generous hips so alluringly, Ashton felt himself stiffen. Down boy, he told himself. His inner lion roared. He liked what he saw. When the mystery woman entered his shop, he could see her face clearly for the first time—pouty red lips, almond-shaped Spanish eyes the color of caramel, creamy white skin, and high angular cheekbones. She was stunning in a way that left him breathless. He gulped, almost unable to speak. His cock twitched, and his heart thumped. Her smell hit him like a ton of bricks. What was it? Spice and steel. Honey and jasmine. He licked his lips, his fangs protruding ever so slightly.

  “I’m here for an appointment. I booked online,” she said in a low sultry voice. He stood to find the woman was almost a foot shorter than he was, in a petite, curvy little bundle of sexy. “Isabella Amador.” She revealed a line of gleaming white teeth between her wine-stained lips when she spoke. Ashton had to resist the urge to lick those red, pouty lips. He forced himself to cool down. He didn’t want his new client to see his cock hard through his tight jeans. That just wouldn’t be professional.

  “Right,” he said, after clearing his throat. I finished your design.” He grabbed the sketch and put it on the counter in front of her. She gazed down at it while he beamed. His chest expanded as
he let out a satisfied purr.

  “Hmm,” she said curtly. Ashton’s self-satisfaction tumbled into his stomach and caught there like a chicken bone in the throat.

  “What is it?” he asked, not able to believe someone didn’t approve of his work.

  “I just expected more,” she said with a shrug. She turned and looked out the window, a wistful look in her eyes.

  “More what, exactly?” he asked, irritated. He’d spent all morning on this design.

  She turned to him, anger rising in her eyes. He could see a hidden power lying behind the caramel irises. Her inner fire ignited and she sneered. “I won’t have it tattooed on my skin if it isn’t right, lion.”

  Ashton frowned. She knew his true nature and he didn’t know hers. He’d never seen her around town, and he wasn’t familiar with her scent. “Look, lady, tell me what you want and I’ll fix it. Revealing someone’s paranormal identity isn’t done in Mystic Harbor, by the way. I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but we respect each other’s privacy around here.”

  “I am from here. Just… Before you were born.”

  “Vampire…” he said narrowing his eyes at her. Great. He’d so wanted to bang this chick. No way was he banging a vampire. If she’d even let him. He wasn’t about to risk his neck for sex with the undead.

  “Half vampire,” she corrected, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.

  “I thought you smelled different.”

  She inspected the sketch, running her finger over the bloody skulls. “Just make it more violent,” she said, looking up into his eyes.

  “More violent?” he asked, stunned. It was the goriest drawing he’d ever done. He didn’t go for blood and guts. Even the human bikers didn’t request such gruesome tattoos. Ashton liked strong, bold statement pieces. He was even partial to intricate, well done tribal tattoos, but he didn’t like gore.

  “Just make it twenty percent bloodier,” she said, holding her palms up. She shrugged. “That shouldn’t be hard for a man of your…talents,” she said, showing her fangs.

  Ashton narrowed his brow. Was that an insult? He couldn’t tell. Something about this woman irked him and aroused him at the same time.

  “Fine,” he said. “Twenty percent bloodier.”

  Chapter 2

  Isabella watched the mountain lion correct her drawing. Her eyes ran over his sleek, muscular form. He was an impressive specimen for one of his kind—tall, broad at the shoulders and slim at the waist. He had a wild riot of blond hair that waved around his face when he spoke and crystal blue eyes, the color of the clear sky after the rain.

  He’d tried to hide the erection he’d been sporting when she walked in the door, but he’d done a lousy job of it. For one thing, it would be hard to hide something that…big. For all his six foot three stature, he obviously had a cock to match.

  Isabella frowned. She longed for the feel of a man’s skin against hers and the thrust of his cock between her legs. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a little one-on-one with the tattoo artist. Copulation between her kind and his was looked down on by most of the vampire covens. In hers, it was outright banned. Living in Mystic Harbor, a town practically overrun by shifters, the taboo against intermixing with shifters had become a law.

  She’d been away from home for twenty years, hiding out from her father in Spain among the ancient ruins of their ancestral home. With her motorcycle and the ability to nourish herself with human food, she’d been able to blend right in. Her vampire side had called her home, to her father. Her human mother had long since departed this world, and she was alone to navigate her half-breed existence on her own.

  She hated her father’s rules. She hated that he looked down on her for being what she was. Half-breed. Weak. She didn’t even need blood, though she could drink it with the best of them.

  The lion, Ashton Harding, sighed and picked up his sketch. She wanted the tattoo as a reminder of what she was. Immortal. Bloodsucker. Vampire. She couldn’t get away from it, even if she wanted to. If she’d been human, she most likely already be dead.

  “What do you think of that?” he asked her, presenting a far bloodier, more gruesome design. She smiled, showing her fangs.

  “Perfect,” she purred, winking at him. He pursed his lips, looking annoyed. She enjoyed getting under this one’s skin. Why? She didn’t know. Usually, she chewed up and spit out men without a thought. Maybe it was the taboo, the law forbidding intermingling with shifters, that got her going. She wanted to bait the lion, tease him, and tempt him into her trap. That would serve her father right for treating her like a second-class citizen for a hundred years. If he didn’t want half-breed children, he shouldn’t fuck humans. Period. End of story.

  She smiled at Ashton and ran her finger up his taut forearm that was lined with intricate tattoos of mountain lions amongst forest groves and ocean waves. Interesting. She wondered if he looked like that shifted.

  He glanced at her, stunned, his erection climbing up inside his pants again. She cocked her head and grinned. “Should we do this?”

  Ashton cleared his throat, sweat breaking on his brow. “Yes. Right over here. This is a back tattoo, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  He messed with the chair and flattened it out to a little bed. “Go ahead and take off your shirt and lie down,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. Isabella chuckled inwardly. She had him right where she wanted him. She pulled off her leather jacket and the tight tank top, revealing her lacy black bra underneath. Her generous curves popped out from under the tight shirt, bouncing slightly in front of his eyes. His mouth dropped, and he picked it back up, turning away to arrange his inks.

  She slid over the faux leather chair, her round ass curving up toward the ceiling inside her tight, black leather pants. He turned back, his hands covered in rubber gloves, his eyes wide with desire. She could feel him scan her body. Her skin tingled as his eyes burned over her luscious form.

  “This is going across the entire back, correct? From the shoulders to lower back area?”

  “That’s right,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. He brought the stencil and sat down beside her on his stool. “Unhook your bra, please,” he said, business like. Isabella pouted. He was getting his control back. She leaned backward and unhooked her bra, the straps spilling over her shoulders as she laid back down on the chair.

  He placed the stencil on her back. She could feel his hands press against her flesh. Enticing. She’d sworn off men three years ago after a bad experience with a full-blooded vampire. Maybe this hot-blooded lion was just the thing to get her going again. She bit her lips as he pressed the design into her skin.

  “Take a look,” he said, handing her a mirror as he held a second one over her back. She could see the stencil on her skin through her mirror. It looked good. Skulls, daggers, blood, death. Just want she wanted.

  “Perfect,” she said, handing him back the mirror. Her breast slipped out of her bra cup, showing off her round, rosy nipple. Ashton’s eyes caught on the sight and then he looked away as quickly as possible.

  Isabella fixed herself and laid prone on the tattoo chair, waiting for Ashton Harding to poke her with his needle all day long.

  Chapter 3

  Ashton could tell the vampire was messing with him. If she didn’t smell so damn good and look so completely fuckable, he wouldn’t care. He saw women’s bodies all the time, and it never affected him like this. He had his pick of the hottest girls in town and out of town. Heck, a new batch of tourists came through on the regular, and those girls where available to him too. Tall ones, short ones, curvy ones, skinny ones, old ones, young ones, shifters, humans, witches, Ashton had had them all. And they all wanted him.

  This curvy little halfling vampire though, she was something else. His human instinct told him to stay the hell away. A vampire was a hundred times more dangerous than a witch, and those women could mess your shit up big time. But a vampire. She could drain the life out of you in two
minutes flat and walk away like it was no big deal. Too bad his inner lion had other ideas.

  The sight of her curvy round butt had him hard as a steel rod. His lion paced around inside and showed him visions of gripping the vampires hips and thrusting between the soft pillows of her ass. Grr… He fixed his tattoo gun and began the outline of her gruesome tattoo.

  Her taste in tattoos alone should be a warning signal to stay the heck away. This woman was nuts. She probably kept men prisoner in her dungeon basement like some kind of crazed serial killer. He’d heard stories of vampires growing up. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did have prisoners in one of those vampire mansions up the coast. No. He would not be surprised at all.

  He pushed the needle into her skin, and she gave made a little moan like it excited her. Not only is she gruesome, she gets off on pain. He wiped away the excess ink and blood as he drew the outline, trying to keep from looking at her big round ass. It was practically pointing in his face.

  He gritted his teeth and continued to work. This would take a long time, and he had to get himself under control if he expected to finish it today. Usually, he’d book a few sessions to do a tat this big and complex, but the woman insisted on completing it in one sitting. He’d need a break, that was for sure, even if she didn’t need one.

  After working for almost two hours on the intricate outline, Ashton put down his gun and snapped off his rubber gloves.

  “I need a break. You probably could use one too,” he said, running his hand through his blond mane.

  “Nope. I’m good,” she said, looking over her shoulder. She kicked her leg up, her black leather, high-heeled boot rising over that ass of hers.

  “Suit yourself,” he grumbled and went to his mini fridge for a bottle of water. “Thirsty?” he asked her.