Paranormal Dating Agency: Shifting Fate (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Breaking the SEAL Book 3)

by Wren Michaels

  “You don't want me to stop. And I don't want to stop,” she said, flicking her tongue the length of his shaft. “Touching you, feeling you, tasting you makes the sickness go away. I can't explain it. Braxton, please. I need you inside me. Make the fever go away. Make the pain go away.”

  He pulled her up from her knees, picked her up in his arms, and laid her back on the bed. “What pain? What are you talking about?”

  “Something's going on inside me, like things are rearranging, moving, crunching and tearing. I feel like I'm going to explode. There's a fire inside me, licking at my core, and only when you're near does it ease, does the pain fade because you heat me in a different way. Your touch undoes me. Please, make the pain go away.” Tears pooled in her eyes and a knife sliced through is heart. He hated to see his mate cry, let alone in pain. He didn't know what to do and would feel like an asshole taking advantage of her in this state. Yet, she begged him to help her and if he was the only one that could…

  Brushing away the hair slicked to her face, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He wanted to take it slow and gentle, but she pulled him on top of her, deepening the kiss and swept his mouth with urgency and need.

  She worked in a fury to pull his shirt out of his jeans and slid her hands over his torso, touching, feeling like she couldn't get enough. A fiery burn blazed in his veins, and he ripped his shirt off before diving back at her lips. So much for taking it slow. He needed her, and she needed him.

  She pushed his jeans over his hips, not even allowing him time to fully take them off. He slid her thong to the side and nudged her clit with his cock. Fresh arousal greeted him, slicking him as he rubbed against her core, and the scent spiraled around him, fueling him to take her. A loud moan burst from her lips as he pivoted his hips, rocking and sliding between her folds.

  “Yes, Braxton, dear god, yes,” she cried out, clinging to his body as she neared her first climax.

  She soaked his hand as he moved his cock to her entrance and finished rubbing her clit with his fingers through her orgasm. How wet she got for him blew his mind. He thrust inside her and she nearly came off the bed. Her tight walls clutched his heavy, throbbing dick. She clenched around him, and he just about came right then and there. But he pulled out, sucked in a deep breath, inhaling her delicious scent, and she whimpered.

  “Please, Braxton, make me come again,” she begged. Drunk desire filled her eyes as she stared at him with such longing it nearly broke his heart.

  He plunged back inside her, and her loud groan led the rhythmic dance of their bodies united. A slice of pain dragged along his back, but it fused with the pleasure inside him as their bodies pressed together. Slicked with sweat, ignited by a driving heat, their bodies twisted and rocked until a primal howl ripped from his lungs, followed by her moaning climax.

  His body shook as tremors ripped inside him, as if the urge to shift was right beneath the surface. His wolf needed to claim her, right then, to make her his forever. He dove toward her neck, but stopped as he bared his teeth. His fangs poked at her skin, ready to pierce it and take her.

  No, she had to give him permission. She had to want it.

  “Sylvia,” he whispered into her ear “Will you be mine? Will you let me claim you?”

  But silence answered him as the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath him said she had passed out.

  “Fuck,” he growled, unable to hold back the defeated tone in his voice.

  He pulled out of her and rolled over, running his hands through his drenched hair. They were both soaked with sweat and sex, but he didn't care. In the last two days, he'd had the most magnificent sex of his life. Surely after this, she would know, would understand that she was meant to be his. And he was meant for her.

  He forced himself to the shower, as much as he didn't want to wash away the scent of his mate from him. She needed to sleep it off, to rest. He'd get her up in time for her game reveal later in the day, and then talk to her about the mating ritual. No one would take his Sylvia away from him.

  She was his.

  8

  Sylvia's eyes fluttered opened, and when she realized she was in her hotel room she shot straight up off the bed. Had she missed the game reveal?

  She looked at the clock and it was already one in the afternoon. The game reveal was scheduled for two. A sigh of relief flowed through her body.

  Speaking of her body, it ached from head to toe. Sylvia looked down to see her breasts staring back at her. A throbbing pain hit the inside of her skull like a hammer. And her thong—well, what was left of it—hung from her thigh.

  The fever, the heat, the pain searing her body—the sex. The amazing sex flooded her mind and her arousal already pooled inside her again. Sylvia gasped as the memory of what happened sharpened in her mind, despite the skull-splitting headache. As well as the embarrassment of begging Braxton to have sex with her. She'd never be able to face him again. How desperate was she?

  She walked to the shower, passing by the open door to their adjoining room. Braxton lay passed out on his bed, face down with his gorgeous naked ass in the air. Air whooshed from her lungs at the sight of him, and the urge to satiate herself was impossible to ignore. Every inch of her tingled just looking at him. Hadn't she had enough?

  She had a feeling she'd never get enough of him. That beautiful, kind man who saved her life, took care of her, looked at her with affection and desire, made love to her like she was a goddess—she almost started to believe in the whole mating thing.

  Yet, a twinge of regret hit her. When it was all over, and they went back to the real world, would he still want her? Was this just a Vegas fling? Though she couldn't ignore the strange fever that took over her body earlier that morning—a sex fever, and the only thing that made her feel better was Braxton. It was all so hard to comprehend. But what she needed more than anything was a shower, and to get this game reveal over. Then maybe they could have a talk as she came to grips with what was happening.

  After a cold shower and change of clothes, she sucked up her pride and went to wake Braxton. She placed kisses along his head and whispered his name in his ear. He didn't even stir. Worry hit her heart that something had happened to him, until a loud snore ripped from his throat. She tried to nudge him awake once more, but he was out cold.

  She looked at the clock, and a heavy sigh left her lungs as she wrote Braxton a quick note and left it by his bed. With twenty minutes to spare, she headed to the convention hall.

  Every couple of steps she double-checked her surroundings, but the further she got in the convention center of the resort, the more people crowded around her, making it impossible to discern any stalking or stealthy movements. Red ball caps were everywhere, and that's why the assailant probably chose it. They were giving them away at one of the tables in the convention hall. It now could be anyone.

  She all but ran to the safety of her booth. Rows and rows of tables filled the room. What little space was left was marred with people. Thank god she wasn't claustrophobic. No, she just had to worry about a stalker.

  “You must be Sylvia Schneider,” a man's voice said to her across the table. He extended a hand.

  “Yes,” she said, returning the handshake.

  “I'm Doug, from Gamingpalooza. I'll be introducing you on stage at the reveal. If you want to follow me.” He beckoned her to follow.

  “Wait, on stage? I thought I was just doing it at the booth.” Her heart jumped to her throat. While she wasn't claustrophobic, she hated being in the limelight, in front of all those people on a stage. Noah never mentioned that part, and she'd knee him in the balls for it later.

  “You're the spotlight of the con. You get center stage. The hour is yours. I can't wait to see the beta version!” Doug seemed giddy as a school boy, and she was just as nauseous as she was before the fever hit earlier. She prayed to sweet baby Jesus that she wouldn't puke on stage.

  She could do this. Blowing out a hard breath, she set up her laptop and loaded the beta ve
rsion of the game on the screen. Doug handed her the microphone, and gave her a hearty slap on the back. At least it wasn't on the ass.

  A sea of staring faces gathered below her on the hall floor. She swallowed hard and gripped the mic as a lifeline. This was going to go one of two ways, she'd rock it or she'd pass out. Again.

  Something unlatched inside her at the thought of passing out again. When did she become a damsel in distress? She never used to be. She never used to be a shut-in, a basket case of nerves and anxiety. She never used to fear people, places, and things. Sylvia used to be a fighter, not a doormat. And somehow, she let fear enslave her in the last two years. Threats would always be around her, the world was a shitty place. But if she continued to give in to that, she wouldn't be living life. She'd be running from it.

  Sylvia looked into the awaiting crowd, unsure of what she wanted to find. Maybe Braxton. Maybe her stalker. Maybe her courage.

  She was tired of running. Tired of missing out on what life had to offer. Like Braxton. She refused to let that chance of happiness pass her by. Instead of being a prisoner of her fear, her anxiety and her past, she wanted a future with Braxton. Something warmed her heart, and a flutter hit her belly at the mere thought of him. Tonight, she'd let him claim her.

  After Doug announced her, the audience roared and cheered as he handed her the mic. No time to back down now.

  “Good afternoon, folks. I'm Sylvia, and are you guys ready for the next Noah Wright video game?”

  More roars and cheers from the crowd echoed through the room in approval. A smile twitched on her lips. She could do this.

  “Let's get started then. I give you SHIFTING FATE.” She hit the video play button introducing the game.

  Something whirled out of the audience and scraped the side of her cheek. “What the hell?” Sylvia clamped a hand against her face, pulling away a dot of blood. Another object flew at her from the crowd, but this time she ducked and it lodged into the giant flat screen behind her.

  Screams and shrieks cried out through the room, and the crowd fled like roaches in the light. People pushed, shoved, and trampled each other to get away from the stage. Another knife launched through the air, this time catching her in the shoulder, dropping Sylvia to the floor.

  “Braxton,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  * * *

  Something tore Braxton from a dead sleep. He rolled over and looked at the clock before launching himself upright when he realized it was nearly two-thirty in the afternoon. Shit, he missed waking Sylvia up for her two o'clock game reveal.

  He high-tailed it to the closet, pulled out a pair of jeans, and ran to Sylvia's room. “Sylvia, sweetie, we need to get downst—” Braxton jerked to a stop, finding Sylvia's bed empty.

  He ran back to his room and found a note on the bedside table.

  “Fuck,” he yelled out as he crumpled the paper in his hands. “Why the hell would she leave without me?”

  He marched down to the convention hall, sans shirt and shoes. He didn't care, he had no time to waste. As he tore out of the elevator on the casino floor, screams echoed through the hallway outside the convention center.

  “Shit,” Braxton said, breaking into a run.

  He was like a salmon swimming upstream against the masses exiting the convention hall. Dodging elbows and asses, he plowed through the people and finally into the room.

  “Sylvia,” he called out as he ran to the booth, only to find it empty.

  Braxton sniffed the air, locating the scent of his mate before launching into a run toward the stage. He skidded to a stop as he caught sight of a woman holding a knife to Sylvia's throat.

  “You killed him. You took him away from me and then got him killed, you fucking, bitch. You know what happens to thieves in other countries?” The woman tightened her grasp around Sylvia's shoulders, pressing her against the psychotic woman's body as she pressed the tip of the knife into her skin.

  Braxton's heart lodged in his throat as he smelled the anxiety and fear on his mate. And worry. Worry washed over her eyes the minute she saw him. But why was she worrying about him? He was the one worrying about her.

  “Drop the weapon,” Braxton demanded as he approached the stage. He needed to play it safe so the crazy bitch wouldn't freak and slash Sylvia's throat in the process.

  “Fuck you. Did she rip you from the arms of another woman, too? The whore. She'll just end up getting you killed.” The woman dug the knife further into Sylvia's throat. “Mark was mine, bitch. You took him from me. Now I'm going to send you to hell with him.”

  “What are you talking about? Mark and I were engaged. I didn't steal him from you!” Sylvia's eyes no longer cowered with fear, but fired with anger.

  That's it, Sweetie. Get angry. Be the fighter I know is inside you. Make her keep talking and distract her so I can sneak up on her.

  “Those are Ka-Bar military issue knives. Were you in the Navy with Mark?” Braxton asked, trying to help keep her distracted and off focus.

  “Stand down, SEAL. This is between this bitch and me. But trust me, if I have to take you down as well, I will. I stand up for what's mine, and I will avenge Mark's death.”

  “I stand up for what's mine as well, and that's my mate you're holding a knife to. So if you just step away, we'll let you go. No questions. You go on your way. We'll go on ours.”

  The trampling feet of a swat team pounded through the hall. Braxton held up his hand. “I'm a Navy SEAL. Just hold off, she has a hostage.”

  “I met Mark long before this bitch stole him away. We were lovers the whole time we were enlisted together. He only tapped her ass one night when we had a fight. Then it turned out she was gonna have his kid. So he bucked up like the fucking man he was and was gonna marry this whore, so her kid could have a father. But she couldn't even do that right and miscarried, and he was fucking stuck to marry her. Hell I think she was faking the whole thing, so he wouldn't leave her ho-ass. Isn't that right, Sylvia?” The psychotic woman clutched Sylvia's windpipe, choking her.

  Fury bled through Braxton's veins at her words and the sight of her choking his mate. Hell, if only he had his buddy, Shadow, there, he could snipe this bitch's ass and be done with it. But Braxton had to think on his feet and defuse the situation.

  Sylvia snarled and jabbed an elbow into the woman's gut, freeing her from her grip. Braxton took the opening and shifted mid-leap onto the stage and plowed down the woman. They tumbled across the floor. Something sharp plunged into his side, and warm blood dribbled onto his fur. She fucking stabbed him.

  Oh wrong move, bitch.

  At least now, he could end her. He would never kill a human, let alone hurt a female. But now his life was at stake, as much as Sylvia's. He could take her down.

  Another knife plunged into his shoulder, knocking Braxton backward, and he rolled off the stage. The cold blade sliced through his muscle like butter.

  Fuck, that hurt.

  The woman jumped down after him and raised her arm, readying for another strike. But something flew through the sky at both him and the psycho woman.

  What the hell was that?

  9

  Blood trickled from Sylvia's shoulder, and she pressed a hand to her skin to slow the bleeding. Mark had never once mentioned a psychotic ex. Though, from the sound of it she was never really an ex. Could Sylvia have really been the other woman? Rage boiled in her gut at the thought of Mark cheating on her with this psycho, or worse yet, cheating on this psycho with her!

  She watched as Braxton rolled along the stage floor, swiping at the woman. But as he raised a paw, she sliced at his ribs with one of her blades. Then another she sunk into his shoulder.

  “Braxton, no!” Sylvia scrambled up from the ground, just as he tumbled off the edge of the stage. The woman jumped down after him, ready to plunge a final blow.

  The rage already burning in her veins grew hotter, smoldering inside her until her whole body felt on fire. Loud crunching rang in her ears as her bones realigned
in her body, changing, rearranging. She dropped to the ground as searing pain inundated her, and a fiery surge of adrenaline fed her new limbs. She raged as her eyes narrowed to slits and a pair of wings unfurled from her back.

  Sylvia pushed herself up from the ground on new legs and charged at the bitch attacking her mate. She tried to tell Braxton she was coming to help him, but only fire roared from her mouth where her voice once did. What the ever-loving hell? She didn't have time to think about it. Right now she needed to save her mate.

  Sylvia leaped into the air and flew through the room, as if she'd been flying all her life. She soared into the rafters before circling back around, dive-bombing the woman. Extending her claws, she clutched the woman in her talons and swung her up onto the stage, far away from Braxton. With heavy legs, she landed with a thud, stomping her way toward the raging woman. But Sylvia was beyond rage. She was pissed. Pissed at the psycho, pissed at Mark, and pissed at herself for not seeing all that happened before her eyes. For letting her life be dictated so long by fear, by other people. No longer was she the shut-in, the grieving fiancé. She was Sylvia Schneider, all woman, and a little bit dragon, apparently.

  She had so much she wanted to say to the woman, but every time she opened her mouth, fire sprung from it. Instead, Sylvia seethed and smoke puffed from her nostrils. Sylvia growled, stomped forward and huffed a funnel of fire up the back of her throat, ready to rain it down on the bitch. She took another step forward, but the lady cowered, throwing her arms over her head as she screamed. Sylvia swallowed back the fire. She couldn't have killed her anyway. It wasn't who she was. She'd never be able to take a life, human or otherwise. She hoped the psycho was down for the count and turned back around to check on Braxton.

  “You're a fucking freak. No wonder why he didn't want you.”

  Sylvia spun back around, swinging her tail with her, knocking the woman clear off the stage. Oh shit, she didn't actually mean to do that. She had to learn her new size. But the SWAT team dashed to the woman, checked her for injuries, and then carted her off in handcuffs. A sigh of relief puffed from her chest.