MATCHING MATES
Timid As A Mouse
by
Bronwyn Heeley
TIMID AS A MOUSE
JUNE 2017
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Bronwyn Heeley
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Cover Art Copyright © 2016 by BonyDee Design
Cover content is for illustrative only and any person depicted on the cover is a model
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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MATCHING MATES 3
The rules of the game are simple. When the matchmaker matches you, you have twenty-four hours of heat, where only your mate will soothe you. What you choose to do is up to you, but the pain of not consummating those desires with your mate will most likely end in death. You are free to walk away at the end of your time together, but no one said it would be simple to head off home and forget what happened.
Loner crocodile shifter, Harry, meets his match with a sweet little mouse that thinks Harry’s everything he could ever want in a mate. But will Harry’s nerves and inexperience lose him the chance with someone who isn’t scared of him?
Dedication
To Harry & Luke, it’s their story after all
Prologue
Cameron sat on the throne at the top of the room, seated above the dance floor and tables the guests at the party enjoyed. To everyone else it was as if he put himself there to lord his position over all that attended, nodding at those who bowed and whispered a brief thanks for their attendance.
“Matchmaker.” One of the men guarding him nudged him awake. His eyes flickered to the left where the guard stood, for just a moment before he caught himself, and then he looked down upon the ladies curtsying in front of him. He wasn’t sure what they had said, what they wanted. Though if he was honest there was a fifty-fifty chance they either wanted to know if their matches were here, or if he’d bless their mating.
“Will you honour us?” one of the women repeated with hesitation, clearly thinking he wasn’t going to allow the match.
Taking a deep breath, Cameron sat up straighter and allowed his eyes to shift to what he’d been told was a deep-purple orb. The colour covering its round structure was only purple, no black, no whites. When he opened his eyes all he saw was colours. Pulses and ribbons danced on the floor, above the floor, reaching for the sky tangling with each other, sniffing one another out, tasting.
Cameron looked down at the women before him, they were a match as much as anyone else was. Maybe not true mates, but even he didn’t get to match true mates often, they were rare. But that didn’t mean a person didn’t get a match, wouldn’t have a mate for life. Things just weren’t that cut and dry. A heart had more love than that, a body held more need. And there were multiple opportunities for love to set, and for them to be truly happy until death pulled them apart.
“Matchmaker?” One of the women gasped, her colour spiking as she started to panic.
“Blessed be,” he whispered down at the women, nodding and connecting their lines that little bit more together than they already were. It would allow for them never to be separated by magical forces.
“Thank you.” The other one sobbed a joyful sob as they embraced with a quick kiss and hurried off.
Cameron felt a spark of joyous light hit his heart before it quickly died as he sat back in his chair. He wanted what he granted others, wanted it more than anything. Well, that wasn’t true. He’d much prefer not to be tethered to a chair and owned by a vampire, who just wanted him so he could hold a matchmaker over the rest of the paranormal world.
Before he could blink away the sight, the vampire in question walked up from behind him. He was a black ominous cloud which made Cameron want to run and find shelter, but instead, he stood still and allowed the darkness to take him over. He’d been here for a long time, understood the rules, and if he didn’t at least make a handful of people connect then he’d be sent to the dungeons, and no one wanted to go there. Especially those who knew they would be freed, in a way, by the end of the week.
“Now, matchmaker.” The darkness spoke, his voice deep and evil. His tone talked down, sneering the name rather than how the woman had spoken before him. There was no love. No hope of wonder. Just darkness, and the added bonus of pain if he didn’t do what was asked of him.
Taking a deep breath, Cameron looked out over the crowd, finding links and wrapping them up together. Each connection knew what was about to happen, if they were lucky enough to be chosen. They’d drop everything in front of them in order to search for the one Cameron chose for them. They could try and resist but all that would entail was a lust so painful it would drive them to their deaths.
No one would take that over a twenty-four-hour fuck feast they were all welcome to have. That’s what they truly came here for, even if they’d hoped for his blessing.
After he did the first step of what was asked of him, Cameron pulled the lust strands on everyone else in the room. It was important and what the vampire wanted more than anything else. The gratefulness of true connection Cameron gave him was an added bonus to the fact that everyone in the room would get laid and be happy, and would pay him more and more in order to get back into the party.
“Let the fun begin,” Master of the vampire’s mumbled, and the matchmaker felt his eyes grow lazy, his body sag. The power he’d used wrung him dry, and a guard had to put a hand under his elbow and carry him out of the room.
Chapter One
The heavy pound of lust ran around the room, a constant vibration that got under Harry’s skin, making it flush. His feet shifted under him. His cock thumped to its single rhythm as the sound of clothes hitting floor and bodies starting to thump together became an undercurrent of sound that echoed through the ballroom.
It never took long for these things to escalate, only the sheet of magic the matchmaker cast, and the beat, and everyone in the room looked around for the one they’d eyed all night. People might have come here in hopes of getting a mate, but that didn’t mean they weren’t already expecting the same letdown as every other time they’d been here.
Harry’s hand reached across his hips on its own accord, rubbing against the heavy bulge waiting there for him. He rocked into his hand, and his body gave a little hum.
“Mmm…,” a voice said next to him, making Harry jump slightly. “That’s a nice piece you’ve got yourself there.”
He looked, couldn’t really stop himself, and what his eyes found was the prettiest little thing on two legs. Fragile and slim, blond, big brown eyes, and all smelling of food. Not something Harry would eat, but prey on all the same.
The little blond cocked a hip, eyebrow raising, a perfect arc over those brilliant eyes.
“You like?” The pretty man’s eyes flashed. “’Cause I sure as hell do.”
Harry was struck dumb, just flat-out rendered stupid. He’d never been great at the whole one-on-one conversation, but then people tended to give him a wide berth in either human or animal fo
rm, like they understood the danger they were in. Not this wee one. He had a bravery to him unlike anything Harry had ever seen before, and it made him ache to be something other than what he was.
“Shy?” The male cocked his head slightly, only a touch, his lips changing from something cocky, to maybe thinking Harry was adorable. Like Harry was anything other than the big-arse predator he truly was.
“You know what I am, wee one?” Harry’s voice already naturally deep, seemed to disappear into the ancient stone walls he was standing against.
“Yep.” This vision before him smiled so brightly, seeming absolutely tickled about the whole moment, like having Harry talk to him was more then he’d ever wanted out of life.
“And….” He swallowed hard as his body curled in on itself, getting him closer to the wee little man. “And that doesn’t scare you?”
“Nope.” He rocked up on his toes, their breath mingling together. “You don’t scare me at all.”
Everything about him screamed truth in his words. Harry couldn’t help but smile. He’d never met anyone like this man in his life. Harry wasn’t a catch, or at least that’s what he’d deduced after years of his own kind keeping their distance, and from coming here event after event, hoping in vain he’d find someone who’d not only glance at him, but actually want to come in contact with him.
Harry was breathless as the wee little man pushed closer, his small-boned fingers coming to rest against Harry’s barrelled chest, right before soft lips brushed against his own, startling Harry once more. He’d never been kissed before. Never felt the brush of another’s lips against his own. Which naturally, anyone would realise what he’d meant by not kissing, because what the hell else would that mean?
Harry’s fingers came up to brush against his lips, even as the wee man stayed braced against his massive form waiting, watching. Harry couldn’t look away from those eyes as he brushed his calloused fingers against the plumpness of his lips. He felt it, the soft brush of lips, even though the moment was over. Or was it? Harry didn’t think it was; he felt as if he was locked in a time, just them in a sea of nothingness that would last as long as they wanted it to.
“What’s your name?” Harry asked.
“Luke.” His smile was as bright as the sun, and twice as beautiful.
“Luke…,” Harry repeated, softly, reverently, his fingers still touching his lips, rubbing across the bottom one. He wanted another kiss. Wanted those lips right up on his, but didn’t know how to get it. Didn’t know how to ask. Not with words—or without. His only knowledge of other people was what he saw, what he’d watched as he spent life on the outskirts. Hell, he’d been to these balls for the last three years and still not joined in on the orgy going on outside of Luke and himself.
“Are you okay?” Luke asked, his voice as soft as a whisper, his feet now flat on the ground.
Harry followed him down as much as he could, curling his back, the stretch registering—though he couldn’t seem to care too much about it. Hell, he thought, even if he started cramping he still couldn’t have moved out of this wee man’s—Luke’s—space.
Luke… what a name. Something that spoke of a small mouse pulling a thorn out of a lion’s paw. And being as Luke was a mouse—at least that’s what he shifted into—it made Harry wish he could shift into something as noble and pleasant as a lion, not the crocodile he actually became.
“You want me?” Harry just couldn’t understand it. Out of everyone in this room, why was this beautiful man in front of him?
“Oh yes.” Luke grinned, large and beautiful with a spark that lit Harry up from the inside. His whole body vibrated from that one little look.
“Uh….” Harry licked his suddenly dry lips, and Luke’s followed along on his own. Harry’s mouth trembled, wanting to have Luke’s tongue against his own, on his lips, then in his mouth, like he’d seen others doing over and over again. He wanted Luke up against him, wanted to feel that body against his, skin to skin, heat to heat. He wanted to know what it would be like to enter the little man, to be all wrapped up in that body. For them to be soul to soul in a way that only came with the most intimate of ways.
You want to kiss me?” Those lips moved, words came out as Luke came up onto his toes again, bringing them oh so close. That head tilted, those lips lined up, breath brushed against his face. It smelt wonderful and Harry wanted more. Wanted to pull Luke closer and take what was offered, even if he wasn’t really sure what he was getting himself into.
His hands came up around the wee man. His mouth went to where the arrows pointed and linked, just settled for a long moment before they both gasped in air, and then a soft tongue ran along his bottom lip. Harry’s tongue went in search, licked against the same line, coming in contact with that warm muscle. The moan was his undoing. His hands went in tight, pulling Luke up close, getting those feet off the ground—and of their own mind, being that they were attached to someone else’s body but he’d been imagining the action, those legs lifted and wrapped around his hips, putting their bodies closer together. Harry’s mind short-circuited.
Chapter Two
Luke chuckled against Harry’s lips as the big man turned them around. Luke’s back ended up against the rough edge of the stone wall that made up this fancy ballroom. His body begged to be naked and in the same position, a lot more fluids and friction working together to give him the high he needed after he was struck with the lust bug. However, he was more than sure it was going to take them a little while to get to that point.
Luke’s attention had been caught by the giant of a man the moment he’d wandered into the ballroom. A sign only he could see, large arrows and flashing lights, had drawn his eyes to the shadowed figure hiding against the wall, watching the goings-on in the room. Hunger and fear seemed to linger around the man, and it hadn’t been until Luke continued watching Harry as he made his way slowly over to him, that he got an impression that watching was the only thing Harry had ever done. Which was a shame considering the lead pipe of a cock the man seemed to own.
Oh, it was large and hard as it snuggled against the fabric of his clothing, and the closeness of their bodies. Luke wanted nothing more than to take it out and play the night away. And wasn’t it something special that he couldn’t, that the inexperience of his partner made it almost impossible, at least in the way that Luke didn’t want to be seen as just anything more than a first fuck.
No. He wanted Harry, wanted him for life, and he was going to do everything needed to make this night something Harry wasn’t likely to forget—even more so Harry wouldn’t mind Luke following him home and claiming Harry’s house as his own. As theirs’.
A heavy shiver worked its way up Luke’s spine at that thought, moved his whole body, causing Harry to break apart the kiss that was both demanding and gentle. Such a beautiful mate Luke had, and the fact the crocodile looked at him as if he was something special—not the sewer rat everyone else witnessed, even though Luke was a field mouse—added to his appeal.
“Are you okay?” Harry’s voice was soft, bordering on worried, and wasn’t that the sweetest thing in the world. Something so special that Luke wanted to take him into a small corner just so no one else could see even one second of the passion he was giving off. Only Harry was too big for any corner Luke knew of, so he was going to have to settle with letting go of that waist his legs were clinging to, and the thick hair his fingers were lost in, and take the man back to his room.
“No.”
“What’s— What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
Oh gods, Luke was melting, truly. “No, just want to go somewhere private. Do you have your own room?”
“Yes,” Harry answered, and nodded along with the world, like a teenager getting the green light finally after twelve sessions of blue balls in a row.
Good, ‘cause my room will probably, well, look like this.” He pointed out towards the people around them, all fucking and switching and fucking some more on the cold floor of the ballroom. Which w
as something Luke had partaken in once or twice. Other times he’d been in the room all the other rodent-like shifters ended up in, like the vampire’s couldn’t be arsed to make an effort for something they knew couldn’t hurt them. Unlike Harry, who instead of looking out towards the crowd, just looked at him, and didn’t that make you lose your thought process completely. Not having a clue what he’d been thinking about, or how to say it, he just stared for a moment into those eyes that didn’t seem to ever want to look away from him.
His heart beat so hard, a pattering which took his breath and made his eyes water. He’d never been seen. Not really. Never been looked at as if nothing else mattered in the world. Gods, he hoped it lasted. Hoped he could give a good enough show so Harry would want to be his mate, and he’d be able to go home with him.
“So are you going to take me there?” he whispered not wanting to break the tension tightening around them, be a flirt screaming that if they didn’t get naked soon he was going to stroke out. Which honestly could happen if they were one of the lucky true mates in the room that had been matched. Oh, wouldn’t that be something else.
“Of course,” Harry said dazedly, taking a few seconds to blink, like he had to shake himself of the view of Luke in order to even concentrate on moving his feet.
This guy, this crocodile, gave the best fucking compliments known to man—beast or shrub.
It didn’t take Harry long to get them out of the ballroom, even if he seemed to not want to look at what was happening in the room, like he was suddenly shy and awkward around sex. This made Luke smile, and take another leap into the idea that this giant crocodile had never had sex before, and like the looks he’d been giving Luke, it was one of the best things Luke could hope for. It wasn’t that needed virginity in his partners…. Oh, fuck it, who the hell was he apologising to? Himself? He wasn’t talking out loud, wasn’t even thinking of anything but the moment he was in right now, with the person he was with. If Harry had been someone else, had a different past, he wouldn’t have even given it a second thought… still why was he explaining himself? He didn’t needed to, no one was hearing any of this.
Timid as a Mouse (Matching Mates Book 3) Page 1