Palm Haven Shifters: Complete Five-Part Series

by Sennah Tate

  Or worse.

  “Cancel them. I need you here.”

  Reed grit his teeth together. “For what? I’m just supposed to drop everything?”

  He thought of Monica again and the see-through thong she’d given him before leaving the office. Damn it. He’d been thinking about her nonstop for hours just knowing that it was a sure thing.

  “Since when do you need a reason? It’s about the welfare of the clan. Can you just trust me?”

  “Is it a meeting?”

  “Not with the clan. Just come to Busters, will you?”

  Reed and his bear growled in unison. “Fine.” He barely hung up the call before his fist met the bathroom wall, rattling the mirror.

  So much for his perfect fucking night.

  Smoke hung in the air like a dense fog inside Buster’s Billiards and Brew. The sharp crack of a cue ball striking its comrades punctuated the air, followed by the dull thud of marauding balls gliding over felt into the pockets at the corners of the table.

  A busty waitress carried a tray on her shoulder loaded down with a dozen more shots of whiskey.

  Reed waved the waitress off.

  “No, no, don’t give him any more. He’s already lost his fucking mind,” he growled before giving the girl’s tight ass an appreciative glance. Not enough meat on her bones for his liking. Still a fine piece by anyone’s standards, but his mind kept wandering to a particularly voluptuous co-worker. And he hated himself for it. He needed to let go of any thoughts of salvaging his chances with Monica.

  The waitress looked confused, but Callan ushered her forward.

  “Don’t listen to a thing he says, I’m perfectly sane,” he said, grabbing two amber-filled shot glasses from her heavy tray.

  “Is that what they told you before you escaped the loony bin?” Reed taunted, downing a few shots of his own before lining up to hit the ten in the corner pocket.

  “I’m telling you man, she’s incredible. I mean, I thought the first time we hooked up was something, but whoa,” Callan said, miming his mind being blown.

  Reed shook his head.

  “She’s a witch, man. Nothing good will ever come from that. Her sisters will skin you alive and lay you in front of the fireplace.”

  Callan rolled his eyes. “That’s bullshit,” he argued.

  In a high-mocking voice, Reed taunted him further. “Oh, what a lovely new rug you have. This old thing? Just some idiotic Ursa that couldn’t keep his paws to himself.”

  A low growl rumbled in Callan’s chest.

  Reed tapped him on the shoulder with the pool stick. “Hey, I’m just busting your balls, you don’t need to get all worked up over it.”

  Callan sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah, I know. It is kind of a mess though, isn’t it?” He admitted reluctantly.

  “Kind of?” Reed laughed out loud. “Kind of? Yeah, I’ll say so, buddy. I’d say you’re royally fucked. There’s no way the Coven will lose one of their own to our side.”

  Callan frowned.

  “No matter how fucking hot she is,” Reed continued, “this war is already bad enough without you turning all Romeo and Juliet on me, heard?”

  Callan frowned but didn’t answer.

  “She saved my life, Reed,” he said quietly. If it weren’t for Reed’s exceptional hearing, his words would have been lost to the bustling noise in the tavern.

  “And I’m sure that’s something her people aren’t going to let her forget any time soon. They hate us. We hate them. That’s not going to change because you found yourself a good lay.”

  The next thing Reed knew, Callan’s hand closed around his neck and pressed him back into the table. A gleam of anger in Callan’s eyes told Reed that his bear was close to the surface.

  Reed clawed at Callan’s hand, feeling the oxygen fade from his system. His friend’s fingers tightened on his throat and his vision went blurry and faded at the edges. In a desperate move, he brought his knee up into Callan’s groin, coughing and sputtering when he was released, his friend howling and clutching his genitals.

  “Fuck!” Callan roared.

  “You started it,” Reed said, rubbing his throat absently, his voice scratchy from the attack.

  A fight like that wasn’t out of the ordinary amongst their kind but it still made everyone in the local bar on alert. Shifter tempers were short and burned bright, but much like a firework, it was all one big burst and then it was gone. Just like that, they were friends again and everyone else went back to minding their own business.

  “She’s my mate, you can’t just insult her without pissing off the bear,” Callan retorted, still clenching his teeth against the pain.

  Reed’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t be serious.

  “Your mate? You’re serious?”

  Callan nodded, reaching for another shot.

  Things just got a whole lot more complicated. Mates were serious business. No doubt. Reed didn’t even know witches could be mates. That made all those prejudices a little more fucked up.

  “Fucking a,” Reed blew out a breath. “I thought you were just being a fucking dumbass.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy,” Callan said, downing his shot.

  “Can you blame me?”

  Callan shrugged, “I never got all that witch hate like you did. If you wanna hook up with a witch, be my guest.”

  Reed shook his head. “Not a fucking chance.”

  He aimed and took his shot, missed and leaned his stick against the wall.

  “So, we’re not here for shots and pool. What’s going on?”

  Callan shifted in his seat a little before he stood to take aim on his own shot. “I don’t know if I’d explain it right.”

  “Try me.”

  The cue ball cracked against the purple four and sent it careening into the corner pocket.

  “Things are bad. Like, worse than just wolves attacking us for territory. There’s something worse than we ever imagined trying to start a war. And it’s working.”

  Reed ‘hmph’ed but said nothing.

  “Let me guess, you’re not going to get any less vague until your mate shows up?”

  Callan’s face spread into a wide grin and he jerked his head toward the door. “Won’t have to wait long.”

  Reed gulped down the last dregs of his beer and turned, his stomach full of lead.

  Then his eyes found an all too familiar mane of unruly copper hair and he cursed. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

  Chapter 5

  MONICA

  Monica didn’t know exactly what she expected from the shifter bar – drunken brawls, bears roaming around unrestrained, testosterone clouding the air? – but it was just an ordinary place. Everyone seemed to mind their own business, busying themselves with members of the opposite sex and their beverages of choice.

  A high-pitched squeal came from her side and Monica whirled around, ready to protect her friend. She soon realized it was a squeal of delight – not distress – as her eyes landed on the strong arms wrapped around Ashley from behind. The stranger nuzzled his face in the crook of Ashley’s neck, eliciting another squeal followed by the tinkle of her laughter, bubbling up through the rowdy bar.

  The bear’s massive forearms never left Ashley’s waist as she turned to introduce them.

  “Mon, this is Callan. Callan, this is Monica, my very best friend.”

  Callan flashed her an award-worthy smile, but Monica did nothing more than incline her head toward him with a scowl plastered on her face.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Monica,” Callan said, his voice smooth like honey.

  “Wish I could say the same,” she replied.

  The smile faded from Callan’s face, but Ashley just shrugged at him.

  “She’s not convinced, yet,” she said.

  “There’s no ‘yet’ about it. I’m just here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed or excommunicated,” Monica said, crossing her arms in front of her chest
.

  “Priorities,” Ashley snickered with a roll of her eyes.

  “Where’s your friend?” She asked Callan.

  He jerked his head backward toward a pool table in a secluded corner.

  Monica’s eyes followed the movement and landed on the finest male specimen she’d ever seen. Tan skin stretched over enough muscles to make her head swim, met with sandy blond hair for an All-American look. The thick tattoos snaking up his corded forearms, peeking out from rolled up sleeves, told another story, though, giving him an air of danger. Monica’s mouth watered at the mere sight of him and her fingers twitched uncontrollably with sparks of power.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered, recognizing him in an instant.

  “He’s over there, being anti-social. Come on, I’ll introduce you guys!” Callan said happily, pulling Ashley along with him.

  Monica followed the pair, pressure rising in her chest the closer she got to the pool table and Reed. What were the odds?

  She should just turn around and run as far and fast as she could.

  Reed made eye contact with her and lightning shot straight to her toes. Then he bent over the table, lining up a trick shot, giving her the perfect view of his tight ass in those jeans. She groaned inwardly, cursing her slutty magic for being so easy. She swore she would never hook up with another shifter after the last asshole broke her heart. They had their loyalties and she had hers and they were in no way compatible. But damn if she hadn't been thinking about Reed all day. Maybe just this once…

  No.

  “Reed, this is Ashley and her friend Monica,” Callan introduced them. Reed didn’t pick his gaze up from the table.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he growled at them.

  “At least we agree on one thing,” Monica muttered under her breath.

  Ashley frowned. “Not you, too? Why is it so hard to believe that we can get along?”

  “Because,” Reed said.

  “Everything says we can’t,” Monica finished.

  He looked at her then. Piercing green eyes shadowed by his heavy brow bored into her and made her insides quiver involuntarily.

  “Exactly,” he said, his voice softening a little.

  “Well, I say, in the spirit of friendship and… new relationships,” Callan said with a husky tone in Ashley’s direction, “that we all have a drink!”

  Ashley and Callan got lost in each other for a moment, giggling, canoodling, whispering — far too busy to notice the tense situation with their friends.

  Monica rolled her eyes.

  “So, this was unexpected,” Reed said under his breath, leaning against the edge of the pool table, crossing one ankle over the other.

  Monica laughed. “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “At least I don’t have to worry about you showing up to my empty house now,” he said, bringing back all the fantasies she’d been conjuring all day.

  Damn it. Why did he have to be a bear?

  “Clearly I was going to stand you up, anyway,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

  Reed frowned, but the playful twinkle in his eyes remained and she briefly imagined clawing them out just to stop all the buzzing excitement those gold flecks gave her.

  “I thought you were pretty eager for our date.”

  Monica whipped her head around, giving him the hardest look she could manage. “It was not a date and I didn’t know what you are. You can forget all about that now.”

  Reed grabbed a shot glass and brought it to his lips before saying. “Like I’d want to hook up with a witch.”

  Her irritation was electric and one of the dim lights dangling above the pool table flickered.

  “Mon! Have a drink,” Ashley said, breaking free from Callan’s kisses long enough to speak.

  Callan nodded. “To forging new alliances!” And he nuzzled his face into the crook of Ashley’s neck as she squealed in delight.

  Then, Monica noticed the tray full of shots just waiting for them. She may not have agreed with his toast, but she couldn’t turn down free drinks, especially not if she would be spending the entire night around bears.

  “I think you’re both batshit crazy,” Reed said, raising his glass to them.

  “Hear hear,” Monica said, downing her own glass of caustic liquid.

  Her face scrunched up and she let out a long exhale only to see Reed watching her.

  “Burns,” she wheezed.

  He laughed; she couldn’t help but admire the fine lines around his eyes that told her he was one quick to laugh.

  Stop that. You dummy. He’s a bear.

  “Here, another one will fix that,” he said, handing her another glass brimming with whiskey.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes, downing it in one big gulp.

  “Oh god,” she groaned.

  Reed chuckled and took his shot at the three ball.

  “Fucking liar,” Monica wheezed again as the alcohol burned a blazing path straight to her stomach.

  Something else burned inside of her. Something spurred on by that too-confident smile and the smooth line of his jaw. Had he shaved for her? She wanted to ignore it. She wanted to distance herself from her magic long enough to act like a normal person around these shifters instead of the wanton harlot her magic made her into.

  It was definitely her magic’s fault. Not the fact that Reed was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Or the heated way he looked at her, still clearly warring with his own conscience.

  Reed missed the shot and Monica felt a swell of misplaced pride. She hadn’t made him miss the shot, but it still felt like poetic justice for making her insides feel like lava.

  “You never miss that shot,” Callan teased, one arm still draped around Ashley’s hips.

  “I was… distracted,” Reed murmured. His gaze lingered on Monica for a moment too long to be innocent. His face contorted into a scowl and he reached for another drink.

  “Let me show you how it’s done,” Monica said confidently, lining up the shot. She bent over right in front of him wriggling her ass as she closed one eye to aim.

  She made it and turned with a big smile, only to collide with Reed. He had been right behind her apparently and Monica shot a glance to Ashley who only raised her eyebrows and smirked.

  Each shallow inhale pushed their chests together and the intensity in Reed’s eyes made her squirm.

  “You cheated,” he said. “You have magic.”

  Monica narrowed her eyes, squeezed between him and the table to grab another drink and grinned. “Nah, I reserve my twitchy fingers for computers.”

  The night went on, drinks flowing as Callan and Ashley tried to convince them to trust one another. The more intoxicated Monica got, the more friendly she and Reed got with each other. His steady presence somehow put her at ease with the situation.

  They all seemed to have forgotten about their real reason for coming together: Esther. But maybe it was best to avoid serious subjects like that when Monica felt so effervescent. She didn’t know if she could manage to be serious right now.

  After a few hours of drinks and games, Monica was ready to concede that maybe Ashley had a point. Maybe they could get along.

  “I think he likes you,” Ashley teased her, bumping their hips together. The boys were on the other side of the table, and by the looks of it, Callan was subjecting Reed to the same teasing.

  “I think you’re crazy,” Monica answered, squinting over the table at them. He was sexy as all get-out before she started drinking. Now, with his identical twin there, he was irresistible — okay so maybe that was just double vision, he was still scrumdiddlyumptious.

  “I think you might like him,” Ashley giggled. “Just admit it. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

  “Hmph,” Monica answered. She hadn’t bothered to tell Ashley about their workplace flirtation — or the ‘date’ they were supposed to have — that would only make the teasing worse.

  Besides, she wasn’t ready to admit the fluttery w
arm feelings she got around Reed. She didn’t want to acknowledge the stuttering of her heart beat or the tingling between her legs.

  And it had nothing to do with the hungry look Reed kept sending her way or the way his presence made her sizzle. Nothing to do with the way his gold-green eyes devoured her or how every time he said something to her all she heard was ‘I’m going to do terribly dirty things to you and you’re going to love it’.

  “Earth to Monica,” Ashley said, waving a hand in front of her face, breaking whatever spell there was between them that kept her eyes glued to him.

  “What?”

  “It’s your shot,” Ashley said with another knowing giggle.

  Monica looked over at Reed and Callan and noticed the satisfied smirk on Reed’s smug face.

  She wanted to smack it right off of his face… or kiss it off. Maybe both.

  She couldn’t decide.

  She bent over, lining up her shot, narrowing her eyes to focus on the balls on the table, all floating in triplicate. Monica wobbled a little in her heels and bent over a little further, sparing only the quickest glance to confirm that Reed’s eyes were buried in her cleavage.

  Small victories.

  She drew back her arm and completely missed the cue ball. “Whoops,” she laughed, falling forward on the table, dissolving into giggles.

  “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she said, her cheeks flushed with drunken excitement.

  Reed came up behind her, pressing his body into hers. It took all of her restraint to keep herself from grinding back into him. He was so warm, so strong and capable and she could feel how much he wanted her.

  His arms wrapped around her, fixing her hand placement on the cue stick and she caught a whiff of his scent: pine needles and rich soil. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs. How could he affect her like this?

  Damn magic.

  “Here, let me help you,” he whispered in her ear, his lips barely brushing against her lobe. His hot breath sent shivers down her spine. A calloused hand brushed her hair to one side — hot Tom certainly didn't have wonderfully rough hands like that — exposing her neck to Reed. It made her feel vulnerable and excited. He nestled his chin against her shoulder and goosebumps sprang up over her flesh.

  Reed’s hands trailed down her arms and she tried to memorize the feel of his thick fingers, roughened by hard work that had nothing to do with IT, his nails were clipped and clean, but she could only imagine these powerful hands transforming, growing into deadly claws.