by Reina Torres
Charlie bobbed his head and gestured at him. “You?”
Gesturing to his suit he grimaced. “I feel like an ass in this.”
“Well,” Charlie gave him a good once over, “I think you’d look like an ass in anything, so who cares?”
Devlin felt anger rush through his veins, but he tamped it down, telling his tiger to relax. From the moment he’d walked through the door he’d been on edge, both of them had.
His tiger was driving him to distraction, pacing back and forth inside of him, nose scenting the air, claws digging into his gut.
“So, how long can I expect to be on the receiving end of stuff like this?” he gestured to his suit.
Charlie sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. “Either someone new comes into the station, or you do one hell of a job and shut them up. I think you’ve got the stones to-”
Devlin’s tiger leapt up inside of him, pushing up under his ribs, robbing him of his breath. “What the hell-”
“Sir, you need to calm down!”
Charlie and Devlin turned at the same time, already moving toward the front of the room.
“Sir? Sir?”
“That’s Patrick.”
Patrick Lundin. Devlin spared the other officer a look. Apparently, Charlie was on a first name basis with the Mayor.
A chorus of shouts and excited words had them at a run, moving through a crowd that had gone from a stagnant bunch of grazing animals to a near stampede of movement in no specific direction.
Charlie had his service revolver drawn, cradled in one hand, the front of the barrel leveled at the man standing at the front of the dais.
“Sir, Sylvan City Police, put your hands up!”
“Leave me alone! He’s going to get what he deserves.” The man pulled back the hammer of his handgun and the room seemed to go silent, letting the metallic click echo in the room.
Devlin looked down and saw that he held his gun as well. Mirroring Charlie’s stance, but from a different vantage point, he covered the scene just as Mayor Lundin entered the fray.
“Sir, put the gun down and we’ll talk.”
The man shook his head, waving his free hand as if shooing flies. “No more talking,” he shook the gun at the Mayor, “you’ve done plenty of talking, Mayor.” The man made the title sound like a curse. “It’s about time someone took action.”
As Devlin watched, the older man took a step forward, earning him a number of shouts and warnings from his staffers. He could also see a couple of uniformed officers hanging back. The lack of responsibility angered Devlin, made his vision swim with rage for a moment. “Assholes.”
“Sir,” the Mayor continued to talk, and Charlie tried to but in.
“Patrick, this isn’t the time to try to save him, he’s got a gun pointed at you!”
The Mayor side stepped, holding up a hand in the direction of the gunman and one in Charlie’s direction. “I’m sure we can get you to put down the gun, talk to me. Whatever it is that happened to you, sir, I’m sure we can figure out how to fix it.”
“Fix it?” The man surged forward a few steps until he had the muzzle of the gun pressed up against the Mayor’s chest. “Like they’re going to fix you when I put a hole through your heart?”
“Sir!”
Devlin could feel Charlie’s agitation like a touch on his shoulder, shaky and trembling. “Charlie, I can take him.”
“Back off, Devlin.”
“Together we can make this work, sir,” the Mayor just wasn’t going to shut up. “Give me the gun and I can assure you that no one will file charges-”
“You’re already putting a choke-hold on the police, hmm?”
Devlin saw the concern and confusion on the Mayor’s face. He knew from the involuntary signs that the Mayor was giving off, he had no idea what the man was saying.
“And maybe,” the man continued to rave, poking the Mayor in the chest with his gun, “you just need to know what it feels like…”
He knew.
Before the man even moved, Devlin knew what he was going to do and turned his head.
“…to lose everything.”
His tiger roared inside of him, clawing at his insides in a desperate bid for freedom, but Devlin could barely think. Everything he felt was instinct.
The woman standing beside the Mayor, the one person who hadn’t run away as soon as the man brandished his gun, was everything.
His everything.
His mate.
And the man who held a gun on her, turned his murderous intent on the woman whose loss would reduce Devlin to a cold-killing machine, gave Devlin a taste of what it was like to lose everything. And Devlin wasn’t going to have any of it, not while he could stop him.
He didn’t think about the consequences of his shift. Didn’t care about the roomful of people, the dozen reporters in the room, or the cameras.
Devlin was suddenly all claws, fur, and murderous intent of his own as he leapt through the air.
The gunman was caught unaware. The tiger closed his teeth on the man’s forearm, wrenching his arm away from their mate. The trigger pulled and sent a bullet into the wall as something tore into their side.
Pain stabbed through him, but he didn’t care. They needed to stop the man. They needed to protect their mate.
They fell to the floor together, the man struggling to free his arm from the jaws of the tiger, and they let him. There were other things that the tiger hungered for and fear added to the flavor.
They saw the abject fear in the man’s eyes, smelled his panic and the sudden acrid salty scent as the man lost control of his body, and they felt the spurt of blood in their throat as they feasted on the tender flesh of the man’s throat.
They heard the screams and the pounding thunder of feet as the high society guests rushed through the doors.
By the time reason began to surface in their head, he knew that the room was almost empty, and his mate was safe.
But they might not be.
As his human mind surfaced bit by bit, he heard the loud clash of voices, the cacophony of shouts and the flash of lightbulbs.
They were hurt, bleeding. A subtle shift of their body drove the truth home. Three bullets embedded in their flesh, a long slide of pain along the flesh of their hip.
A soft gasp of sound beneath him was followed by a gurgle of sound as blood erupted from the open mess of the gunman’s throat.
“Take the shot! Kill the fucking thing!”
Devlin knew they were talking about him.
Turning his head to look for his mate, he saw her struggling with the Mayor, trying to pull free from his arms.
They didn’t care that he was the Mayor. He needed to get his hands off their mate!
Their muscles hurt, but they didn’t care. Crouching, they were ready to jump.
“Dad, let me go!”
Father. Their mate had a father. They couldn’t kill her father.
“Paige, please. You need to get out of here.”
They roared, willing her to look at them. Willing her to see what they had done… for her.
“Will someone please kill that beast!”
The yelling started again, and he heard Charlie’s voice in the chaos as well. Charlie, pleading for them to wait.
The other officer must have seen him change, must know that it was him inside the beast.
“Dad,” she broke free of her father’s restraining arms, “he saved my life!”
She stumbled closer and they matched her movements, padding closer, scenting her in the air.
“Get them out,” the Mayor’s voice was somewhere in the distance, the words making some kind of impression, but not enough to distract them from her. “Get all of these people out of here!”
Their wounds were bleeding, but they wanted her touch more than they wanted healing.
“Paigey, careful.”
They swung their head at Charlie and saw his confusion etched in his features. They liked Charlie, but if he tried to get between
them-
“It’s okay, Uncle Charlie. I don’t think he’s going to hurt me, you saw what he did.”
They turned back to her, saw the smile on her face, saw the curious light in her eyes. And saw her curves hidden underneath the shapeless sack of dress that she wore. Curves made for his touch. For their pleasure. For his cubs.
Their mate.
The change began before he could stop it.
And then he didn’t want to.
She had her hands on them and her scent was heaven.
Devlin pushed the tiger back and reached for her, touching the side of her face as his body worked to push the bullets from his flesh and complete the healing of his wounds.
“Oh my God,” he heard someone scream, “did you see that?”
And then he didn’t see anything.
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Sylvan City Alphas - Too Much to Bear
Boone Wayland was a shifter, a problem solver, and a protector, not always in that order. When he decided he wanted to find his mate, there was only one place to go… the Paranormal Dating Agency masterfully run by Gerri Wilder. He’d visited the website in the few minutes that he’d managed to wrest control of his computer from the teenaged shifters he fostered and read a number of her reviews… okay, all of the reviews. He contacted the Agency because it was the boys that he’d been thinking of.
Mostly.
Partly.
Okay, not really.
He wanted a mate.
Hungered to hold her to him, make her smile, lose himself in her eyes and her body for the rest of his life.
But, finding a mate when he had a store to run and a houseful of boys to raise made the traditional model of ‘dating’ nearly impossible.
It seemed like a Hail Mary pass one might make in a sporting game, but if there was one thing Boone didn’t have in his life it was time. So, he picked up the phone and asked Gerri for her special brand of help.
Chapter One
Willa Barnes wanted a family so bad she could almost taste it. The future would be as sweet as the fruit pies that she was known for at her boyfriend’s Diner, and it was all within her grasp.
But that was before Charlie ran off with the hostess at the diner, leaving Willa to watch the shop while he was on his honeymoon in Las Vegas.
Hearing her woeful story, her favorite customer has a crazy idea. It turns out he knows a matchmaker and that feisty matchmaker just might know the perfect man for Willa.
Only, he’s not just a man.
Willa’s fascinated by the idea of meeting a bear shifter, but it’s not just becoming a wife that’s the offer on the table. He’s got a whole bunch of teenaged shifters that are waiting for her too.
Is this ‘insta-family’ just what Willa wants or will the reality of it be Too Much to Bear?
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Kitchen prep at Charlie’s Diner was almost Willa’s favorite time of day. It was extremely satisfying to be busy and productive, checking one thing after another off her list. With a lopsided smile on her lips, she caught her reflection in the surface of the walk-in fridge. She may have been years and years out of elementary school, but she still liked the concept of stickers and stars. Accomplishing things felt good. Felt right.
Satisfying and soul deep.
She just wasn’t used to doing the diner’s kitchen prep all alone. Normally her boyfriend, Charlie Calvin, was there working alongside her, but over the last few weeks she’d seen him less and less at the diner and at her apartment.
Looking up at the clock she realized he was likely going to be a no show again. With a huff, she pushed her bangs off her forehead with the back of her hand. Mimicking Padme Lakshmi, she ground her back teeth together. “Today, Chefs, your Quickfire is the mise en place relay… all by yourself. You have a long, long list of things to do… and no one to help you! So, let’s get ready and ‘go’!”
The onions in the bowl beside her cutting board started to disappear under the rapid descent of her knife. Chop, chop, chop, she’d stopped crying from onions a long time ago, or she’d have died of dehydration. As she methodically crunched through the bulbs, very aware of the ticking clock on the wall over her head, she almost missed the front door of the diner opening.
What she didn’t miss was Charlie’s voice piercing into the kitchen from the pass-through window. “Willa!”
“In the kitchen!” She shot the words back at him before she mumbled. “Like you didn’t know that.”
“Can you come out here?”
The knife continued to crunch through the onion again and again. “I’m doing prep. Hurry up and get your apron on.”
“Don’t worry about that, just come out here, I’ve got news!”
A quick glance up at the clock told her she had to worry. Their usual early morning group was likely to start showing up in a few minutes and she had more to chop. “Charlie, come on, this isn’t funny.”
The front door opened again, the bell above jingling its usual jovial tune. “Morning, Mr. Poston!”
Willa’s head sagged down until her chin almost touched her chest. “Perfect.” Moving over to the sink she washed her hands and dried them before pulling the order pad from her apron pocket and the pen from over her ear. Stepping out of the kitchen she saw the dining room was just as she expected it. Charlie was standing in the middle of the floor and Mr. Poston was walking himself to his usual booth in the corner. She transferred the order pad to the other hand and picked up the coffee pot on the way to his booth.
The older gentleman had been coming to Charlie’s before it was Charlie’s and all he had to utter was, “The usual, please, Willa dear.” She poured him three quarters of a cup to leave him room for his cream and sugar and headed back toward the kitchen.
But Charlie had other ideas, stepping in front of the doorway to the kitchen. “Look, Willa, we need to talk.”
“Go ahead and talk,” she told him, “but I need to get an order started, and I still have a ton of prep for lunch.” She tried to edge around him, but he took hold of her arm.
“I came in to tell you that you’ve in charge of the kitchen today.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. She always had the charge of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going on a trip to Las Vegas for a few days.”
Jealousy cut through her. “Is this a last minute thing?”
He had the decency to look a little ashamed. “Not really. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, but now I’m ready to take the leap.”
“The leap? You planning on bungee jumping or something?”
The idea seemed to have some impact on him. “That’s an idea too, but not what I was talking about.”
She forced down the disappointment she felt and focused on what she did have control over. “Well, you have a good time, Marie and I can keep things going until-”
“Well, that’s another thing.”
Willa tried to read Charlie’s sheepish expression. “What? Don’t tell me she quit!” She groaned and shook her head. “She’s such a flake.”
“Marie’s going with me.”
The words hit her like a wall of cold air, robbing her of her breath. She didn’t really want to ask- no, she did. If anything, Willa was kind of a masochist in that way. “Why?”
His color deepened until it looked like his cheeks were burning. “Marie and I just… click.” He snapped his fingers and smiled like it was supposed to be cute. “She’s so bubbly and effusive-”
“She’s fake, and a kiss-ass.”
“She’s positive and upbeat.” Charlie shook his head. “I’m not saying you’re not sweet, but… you’re always so-” He seemed frozen in place for a moment as if his brain had become that big spinning beach ball of death on the computer screen and Willa wanted to fill in the blanks just so they could get to the point.
She was always so… pleasant? Helpful? Willing? Agreeable? Amazing?
“Complacent? T
entative?” He seemed to be searching through a thesaurus.
Willa’s own brain stopped searching for the right word and pondered over his solution. “Tentative?”
“Hmm,” he obviously wasn’t convinced, “oh, I know. Mousy.”
“Mousy?” Well that had gone downhill fast. “Why would you say that?”
Pleased with himself, he smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, I think that’s the word I was looking for.”
You want to know the word I’m looking for?
“And that’s great if you just want to be a line cook all your life, Willa, but that’s just not me.”
She nodded. It was the truth. As long as she’d known Charlie, he had a singular focus on his dream. Culinary School – Check. Stage at a fancy restaurant – Check. Own his own restaurant – Check. So far Charlie Calvin was batting a thousand.
“And you’re just happy to help.”
It felt like a smack hard across her face. “Isn’t that what couples do, Charlie? Help each other?”
“Oh, wow.” The air rushed from his lungs, hunching his shoulders ever so slightly. And then she heard the tone of his voice. Add that to the look on his face that said, ‘Oh, isn’t that so cute!’ She felt like she was about to lose the breakfast she hadn’t even had time to eat yet. “About the couples thing…”
The front door flew open and Marie stepped inside like a ray of sunshine. From the top of her wide-brimmed straw hat, to her button-front sundress, and down to the strappy little sandals, she looked like she’d walked right off the front page of a spring catalog. “Charlie, are you ready to go?” She looked at the blingy little beaded watch on her wrist. “We have to hurry to catch our plane.”
Go. Plane. Hurry.
Yes, Willa was absolutely sure she was about to throw up. The usually saccharine sweetness of Marie’s voice was now at an extreme. Diabetic insulin shots were definitely in Willa’s future.
“One minute, baby.”
Oh, it just kept getting better and better. Even Mr. Poston in the corner booth was actively hiding behind the newspaper to avoid the carnage.
Charlie took her by the shoulders, his lanky form looking more and more like Shaggy every minute, so surreal was her life. He gave her a smile that she’d once seen on the face of a summer camp counselor right before they told her that she’d always have her personality.