Taken by Moonlight: Shifters Wild & Free Reverse Harem Book 1

by Bonnie Vanak

  “You’re not a shifter. You’re human.”

  I flung out my arms. “Surprise!”

  She shook her head. “And I gave up watching Hallmark Channel for this job.”

  “Better than Animal Planet.”

  Her bark of laughter was short and hyena-like, even though I detected she was a tiger shifter. She stuck out a hand not covered in latex. “I’m Dr. Elaine Hart.”

  “Peyton Jackson.”

  We shook hands. I liked her immediately.

  “Before I examine you, I need your permission to proceed. I refuse to do this to a woman without her consent.”

  At least she asked. “Fire away,” I told her and laid back, putting my legs into the stirrups.

  The exam was quick, and impersonal as my yearly gynecological exam. Dr. Hart removed her gloves, pitched them into a stainless steel wastebasket.

  “Healthy, strong, good reproductive system, and definitely a virgin. Days away from ovulating, still, I’d like to take preventative measures. Are you on birth control?”

  When I said no, she prepared a syringe. “Emergency bc. You okay with this?”

  I nodded.

  She injected me in the arm. “Some of those shifters, especially the alpha werewolves, have super sperm. They can swim about in your womb for days until finding an egg. I doubt having a baby is on your agenda.”

  “Not exactly what I had planned for the weekend,” I said dryly.

  As she laughed, I frowned. “Don’t the males use protection?”

  Eyes wide, she laughed. “Shifters use condoms? They prefer au natural, which is why I give the girls an exam. They have to be healthy. And on birth control.”

  And what about the males and disease? I almost asked and then remembered that shifters never carried any sexual diseases.

  Not like humans.

  Dr. Hart went to the counter, removed something from her black bag. She slipped it into the pocket of my robe.

  “Here. This is a very reliable lubricant and it’s scented like natural female arousal so your partner won’t suspect a thing. Ask to use the bathroom to freshen up before you have sex and slip this up your hoo-ha.”

  I’d never heard a doctor use the term hoo-ha. It made me grin in a very unhumorous situation. “Is that against the rules?”

  She snorted. “I’d say most of this is against the rules. Those shifters get impatient and may not get you wet enough for penetration. You have a tough hymen and it’s not going to be easy. I’d hate to see you in any more pain than you have to endure.”

  I liked her, even if her words filled me with dread. I put the tube into my pocket. “There’s a first time for everything. It’s just one night of sex. At least I’ll get paid for mine, and I’ll be free of debt.”

  Dr. Hart shook her head. “Good luck.”

  Then she handed me a form she signed to give to the auctioneer. I scanned it.

  It was a paper testifying that I was untouched, a virgin. With a little red seal in the corner.

  Nervous, I laughed. “Is this like a diploma? I’ve graduated from the school of sexual inexperience and now I can get a job screwing shifters? Working in bed for minimum wage? I’ll probably make no more than I’d make slinging hamburgers.”

  Dr. Hart did not smile. “You’re a special psi, Peyton. Don’t sell yourself short, no matter what they say. Shifters like psi humans like you because you’re authentic. Unique.”

  She nodded as she glanced at me. “Don’t be surprised if you get offers after tonight.”

  “For encores?” I gave another nervous laugh.

  “For babies. You can carry a shifter’s child without trouble, and with your DNA, he’d be almost guaranteed the offspring would be a shifter.”

  I blinked. “You can tell all that by looking up my hoo-ha? What, do I have a little certification form up there as well?”

  Dr. Hart gave a mysterious smile. “I received your medical records from your regular OB-GYN a few minutes ago. She forgot to erase the footnote in your file that was meant for her eyes alone. You’ve been thoroughly checked out by someone interested in your reproductive health. I’m not at liberty to say, but trust me when I tell you he’s quite interested.”

  She refused to elaborate, leaving me in the room alone.

  Contemplating my fate.

  And what shifter would be so interested in me as to go to such measures to discover if I could carry his child?

  5

  There should have been a drum roll, or a blare of trumpets announcing the auction. But nothing. Not even the bump and grind hard rock that accompanied the strippers as they performed on stage.

  Instead, classical music played quietly in the background, the sound so low it could have been in the next room.

  Golden light from overhead crystal chandeliers shone down on the tableau, glinting off the gold wallpaper and the ornate gold vases stuffed with fresh flowers. Expensive oil paintings hung on the walls. It wasn’t until you examined them closer that you saw the nymphs chased by satyrs with enormous erections.

  The room could have been an expensive setting in a fancy restaurant. A round bar tucked into the corner featured mirrored shelves displaying fine cordials. Leather chairs and white-linen draped tables accented the atmosphere.

  Shifters drifted into the Dom Room, selecting tables as male staff hurried to bring them drinks.

  The more liquor, the higher the bidding. No female wait staff. This was far too risky, especially if a cranked up shifter decided he wanted the waitress instead of the goods offered on stage.

  Goods. That’s what I was. A shiver raced down my spine as I clutched my red satin robe closed tight.

  Beneath it, I wore a white flowing nightgown, something Norm had found in a back closet. The others being auctioned wore red dresses, which they would discard and show off red bras and G-strings and then…

  Nothing.

  White was more suitable to a virgin, Norm declared.

  How about black, as in the black of night, where I wanted to flee. But pride prevented me from walking away. Running away. I’d agreed to this.

  And Norm had texted me the copy of the promissory note he’d signed, so he couldn’t weasel his way out of the money. The auctioneer had witnessed it, along with Dr. Hart. Even if I didn’t trust the sour-faced auctioneer, I did trust the good doctor. No one would try to fool her.

  Red high heels on my feet, I walked back and forth off stage, pausing to peek between the curtain folds. Males settled into place. Up front, tables were reserved for the elite. All of them in elegant dinner dress, looking like billionaires.

  Beneath the finery, I sensed the wildness, the pawing internal need for sex.

  Damian, Alex and Gabriel claimed the table front and center.

  The three of them looked so different, with urbane Dante commanding the center seat, sweet, cute Alexander on his left and rugged, charming Gabriel on his right. In dinner dress, they looked amazing.

  Alexander read the program, as Gabriel scanned the room. Dante’s attention remained on the stage. A half-filled glass of whiskey dangled from his long elegant fingers. He could have been relaxing in a library, conversing with business partners, but for the heavy scent of testosterone and slight male aggression peppering the air. Even my limited sense of smell could pick it up.

  Sweat popped out on my temples. I knew these weres, maybe even considered them friends, as much as shifters could be friends. For them to watch me as I paraded out there, selling my body, my innocence…

  Scanning the well-lit room I realized there wasn’t an ugly shifter in sight. No real surprise. Unlike humans, shifters had little body fat due to their accelerated metabolism and most were striking in their looks.

  All the better to devour you with, my dear, the wolf from childhood whispered.

  I snatched a program from a passing stage hand and studied it, feeling my stomach roil.

  First, the auctioneer would announce the rules. No touching the women. Good.

  My reli
ef fell short. That task was up to the auctioneer. Oh, and the women would all discard their clothing to show potential purchasers exactly what they were buying.

  “Do I really have to take off all my clothes?” I whispered to Glinda, the second blonde auctioning herself off.

  She flashed a sympathetic smile. “Honey, it’s not a big deal. You’ve been out there stripping for them. This is just a different end result, only with more money.”

  She thought I was a stripper. Terrific. I didn’t even like taking off my clothing in front of a mirror, let alone a room filled with shifters.

  The redhead sat on a chair and began applying red glitter on her crotch. I got an uncomfortable glimpse of her vulva before looking away, feeling as if I’d just burned my retinas.

  Glinda noticed. “That’s Sheila. She has a magick vjayjay and likes to highlight it for the guys.”

  I stared at Glinda. “Magick vjaygay?”

  “It tightens around a guy’s crotch like a snake squeezing prey. Men love it. On a good night, she can command $5,000 a session.”

  TMI. I wondered if she was related to Norm and that got me thinking about Norm and bed sport and…

  Ewwww. Not a great visual image.

  All the women were shifters with considerable assets. Sheila the boa shifter had a vagina that squeezed tight. Maybe shifter men liked danger with sex.

  Maybe I could get away with telling the audience I was a praying mantis shifter. The kind that ate my lover after sex.

  Somehow I doubted anyone would believe me.

  The auctioneer began his introductory speech.

  The first woman stepped on the block with a spring to her step and a smile to her face. The auctioneer rolled off the opening bid in a bored voice. Dismay filled me. These women, who were perfection, were commanding the room with their wide smiles and their flirtatious attitudes.

  And commanding the prices, too. Glinda, the second one on the block, fetched a staggering amount of $90,000.

  Almost six figures, for one night of sex.

  Maybe they all had magick hoo-has.

  By the time Sheila with the glitter stepped up to the dais, I sensed the energy in the crowd rise to a fever pitch. Last chance to bid on a beauty.

  The auctioneer praised the woman on stage, explaining in vivid detail her flexibility and acrobatic ability in bed.

  “Sheila here is a boa shifter, and trust me, all her parts coil tight to give you the maximum pleasure in bed. She’s a sinuous beauty who is flexible in ways you can only imagine. Show them, Sheila,” the auctioneer rumbled.

  The woman did a handstand, and spread her legs apart, twisting her body. Her vulva glittered like a disco ball. I halfway expected “Staying Alive” to start playing in the background.

  Hoots of approval and cheers followed.

  And I was supposed to follow that up? I felt like I was back in seventh grade in the talent show audition, following Becky Gunther and her fiery twirling baton with my Robert Frost poetry reading. No one cared about Robert Frost when there was a chance the entire school could catch on fire.

  Who cared about an inexperienced human psi as a lover when you could have a gymnastics snake shifter with a magick hoo ha?

  As I watched the shifters raise their bidding cards and the price soared, my heart sank. No one would bid that much on me. Even though Norm guaranteed me $25,000 cash, I couldn’t be certain any shifter in the house tonight wanted to spend that kind of money.

  Not on a Plain Jane human girl who didn’t know bed tricks.

  Finally, after commanding the highest amount - $120,000 – Sheila shimmied away.

  Glitter worked.

  “Now, for the finale, gentlemen. A special last minute addition to tonight’s program for your viewing pleasure,” the auctioneer announced.

  Viewing pleasure? Was I a movie, a flicker across a screen, a porno vision in white?

  At least this crowd was more refined. I hadn’t seen one shifter playing one-handed pocket pool. Shifters were good at that, reining in their primitive urges to save them for the final act.

  Someone pushed me out onto the stage. I blinked at the bright lights, wishing the floor would open and swallow me.

  Maybe being homeless wasn’t such a bad thing.

  Heels clunked against the wood stage as I clumsily navigated my way to the dais and stood there, facing the crowd. I felt like a doll on display, or a horse.

  “Item number five, a human psi female, approximately 23 years old, fresh off the farm, untouched. She has been certified as a virgin by my personal physician only moments ago. We’ll start the bidding at five thousand.”

  Silence. Heat suffused my cheeks. Guess fresh off the farm wasn’t what this crowd liked, unless it was prime beef.

  “Show ‘em some skin, Peyton,” Norm hissed from the sidelines.

  Tempted to flip him the finger, I stood stiff, fists clenched, my lips compressed. Maybe I’d been pressured into this, but I wasn’t about to have Norm push me into baring it all.

  The auctioneer was clever, good at his game. “Gentlemen, as you can see our blushing rose is quite shy. She will be yours for the night, exclusively yours to deflower and have your wicked way with her. You will be her first and she will never forget you.”

  Okay a little purple prose. But at least refined.

  Then the auctioneer droned on. “Imagine her quivering pussy snug against your cock. There’s nothing as tight as a virginal pussy, gentlemen.”

  Refined, right. Quivering pussy? I’m not a cat.

  “Do I hear five thousand?”

  Someone must have raised their card because the auctioneer nodded. “Five thousand. Do I hear ten?”

  I glanced downward and saw Dante sitting front and center. His gaze met mine; calm, thoughtful, assessing. And then he took a blush pink rose from the centerpiece, inhaled it.

  Stunned, I watched him leave the table and walk over the stage. He reached up, handing me the rose.

  “For the beautiful lady,” he said in a deep, distinctive voice.

  I was beautiful?

  I glanced down at him. He rested his hand on the stage. “Don’t be scared, Peyton. You are beautiful.”

  Something flickered in his dark gaze. “I want you,” he murmured.

  Then he resumed his seat.

  The most powerful alpha wolf in the room wanted me. Me, Peyton with the wide hips and the human blood.

  Confidence filled me. I can do this.

  Dante resumed his seat, the glass of whiskey on the table. He and his betas looked at me, but not with the cynicism on the faces of the other males.

  Anticipation filled their expression as they leaned forward.

  Lifting the rose to my mouth, I took a long whiff, letting the fragrance override all else.

  A bear shifter stood. I knew him. Had waited on him and his den mates in the club. Rodney stood seven feet tall, with cropped brown hair and golden eyes. His aura glowed gold with flashes of crimson.

  Definitely I had something he liked.

  “Hey honey, show us your best asset!” The bear shifter bellowed.

  Screw this. I might be a virgin, but I wasn’t a shrinking violet. I could play the part.

  I clutched the rose between my teeth. Toying with the belt of the robe, I swung it and sashayed across the stage. Then I removed the rose from my mouth and waved it like a magick wand.

  “Honey bear,” I sang back, “You really want to see my best asset? I’ll let you in on a secret about us psi females I’ll bet you never heard before.”

  A hush draped over the room. You could hear the males breathing, staring at me as if I were about to divulge the most sexual secret about Skin females.

  Leaning over, I said, “My biggest asset is tech stocks. They’re white hot.”

  Silence. Crickets. I wriggled a little, hoping to draw away the attention from my burning face.

  And then a loud laugh broke out, from whom, I don’t know. It rippled through the crowd and the laughter erupted, al
ong with applause.

  I did have something the other women lacked. A self-deprecating sense of humor, and a willingness to use it.

  Confidence filled me. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Friday night and certainly not how I wanted to make love for the first time, but damn, it was my body.

  I was not some hapless human offered for sale.

  I was in charge of my own sexuality.

  Maybe this was what Carmen and Kelly liked about stripping – commanding the attention of a room filled with males.

  Norm had ordered me to remove my clothing for the bidding, but I ignored that. Part of the mystique was not knowing what lay under the outside packaging. I didn’t have any shifter assets to display and my acrobatic ability was poor, but I would entertain.

  Kicking off a high heel into the crowd, I purred, “Okay boys, who wants the other shoe? Betcha never scented real human female feet before. Keep it as a souvenir when you feel like chasing Jimmy Choos. Or give it to your pups to gnaw on when they’re teething.”

  More hoots and hollers followed. Emboldened, I began to have fun. I slid the robe a little down my arm, showing the barest glimpse of skin.

  The auras in the crowd flashed redder, except for the trio up front. Odd. Was I boring Dante and his friends? Their auras remained cool blue.

  If I had anyone in the crowd to choose as my first lover, it would be one of those three. At least I knew them, and sensed they wouldn’t be grunting, inconsiderate in bed.

  Gentle, no.

  Considerate, yes.

  The bidding rose to twenty thousand.

  “Look gentlemen,” I purred, lifting the hem of my gown up to my calf, “real human skin. Not shifter. No fur in sight on these legs. Unlike the other ladies, I wax.”

  Someone guffawed and bid twenty-five thousand. Relief filled me. At least I’d reached the amount Norm promised.

  “Five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Staggering backward, I stared into the crowd. Surely I’d heard wrong. No shifter in his right mind would pay that exorbitant amount for me. Not when he could get ten virgins for that amount.

  My gaze dropped down to the center table. Dante stood, not raising his card, his hands folded behind his back, military stance. His commanding presence warned the other males away.