North Star Shifters: The Complete Series

by Roxie Noir

  A few hours later, finally alone in the tiny attic room she was sleeping in, Leah finally got some time to think things over. Her party dress off, she slumped onto the bed in a long flannel nightgown. Her mother had sewn that, as well. In fact, her mother had sewn nearly all of Leah’s clothing, ever since she was born — though Jonah Whitehorse might rule his clan with an iron fist, it had never been in his power to make any of them rich. Most Yukon shifters were just getting by, alphas included.

  At least, as the oldest, she got most of her clothes new. Her sisters hadn’t been so lucky, having to wear Leah’s old clothes. To make matters worse, they invariably had to take them in, since neither of them had Leah’s voluptuous shape.

  Again and again, she ran through the fifteen seconds she’d had with Nathan when she caught him eating the tart. The way that, just seeing him, she’d felt like she’d always known him.

  Leah didn’t know if the North Star clan had stories and legends, but the Yukon clan did. When they mated, it was absolute. There was no way to undo a mating — no divorce, no separation.

  The story went that, thousands and thousands of years ago, when shifters were mostly bear and hardly human, the alpha of one pack stole the daughter of another alpha. He traveled with her for three days and nights, over rivers and mountains, and he didn’t notice or didn’t care that she was gravely ill and getting worse.

  When they finally arrived in his territory, the moment she stepped over the boundary, she died. It was only then that her captors realized she’d been carrying a cub all along, and it was dead too.

  The Great Bear looked down and saw this, and erupted into a righteous fury.

  He came down to earth to dispense justice. First he took the souls of the mother and baby bear, and put them into the sky, where they stayed, as the Mother Bear and Baby Bear.

  Then he took the soul of the shifter who’d done the kidnapping, and he split it in two, along with the souls of all his clan, and cast the other halves of their soul out into the world.

  Now, the story went, no shifter was born complete. They were all born with half a soul, and could only become whole by mating with the shifter who held their soul’s other half.

  Every couple who mated had found the other half of their soul, their perfect, fated mate. Leah had talked to enough mated shifters to know how they each felt when they first met their mates: an electric buzz, a sudden, soul-deep knowledge and understanding, the feeling that there was no one else on the planet besides them.

  Some of them said that, when they first met their other half, they felt like they’d known each other their whole lives, and Leah had always thought that made sense. After all, if someone had the other half of your soul, wouldn’t you know it?

  Today, her betrothal day, the day she’d finally met her future mate, she’d felt every one of those things. The shock, the almost-deja-vu, the world tilting on its axis, the bone-deep desire.

  The problem was that Ian wasn’t the person who’d made her feel any of those things. He was nice enough, sure, but he was none of that. There was no earth-shaking, no gut-wrenching.

  Those feelings had all been reserved for Nathan, who was decidedly not the person she was supposed to marry. She was already promised to Ian, the man her father had found and approved of.

  Leah wanted to feel that way about Ian. She wanted to love him, not some stranger with a hair-trigger temper who ate dessert first without even asking.

  She had to love Ian. That was all there was to it.

  Leah laid awake in her tiny bed for a long time, listening to the wind whistle through the eaves of the house where Brock had put up her whole family. She didn’t fall asleep until it was nearly time for her to wake up again.

  Chapter Five

  Nathan

  The extra pants that Brock had in the back room of the hall were just sweatpants, so Nathan put them on and left. There was no point staying around any longer, especially if he was going to look sloppy while everyone else had a suit and tie on. Violet had already gotten up his ass about it once, after all.

  All he could think about for the entire ride home was her. The way she’d looked, her red hair and the bright blue dress, the way she looked it in. He ached with the desire just to touch her, once.

  He’d never felt anything at all like it before, and it terrified him.

  For a long time, Nathan had assumed that the mated happiness that other people got just wasn’t going to happen for him. He was pretty sure that the whole one-soul-two-bodies legend was utter bullshit, but that didn’t stop other people from being happy with their mates. Look at Brock and Violet, for instance. They seemed perfect together.

  Deep down, Nathan didn’t think that he deserved a mate. He didn’t deserve that kind of happiness. He wasn’t much more than Brock’s hitman, after all.

  Sitting on his couch, having changed into jeans and a t-shirt, Nathan tried desperately to stop thinking of everything Brock had him do over the years. Just last week he’d paid a late-night call to a family in Fjords, his pistol prominent on his belt, and told the sleepy parents that their son couldn’t attend college in Seattle, like he’d always dreamed of doing. Instead, he had to stay in tiny, backward Fjords because Brock didn’t like it when people left.

  The father had started shouting at him, the mother clutching his arm, and Nathan had simply taken a step back from their front door and asked the man if he wanted to fight.

  He had a reputation. No one wanted to fight him anymore.

  Crushing kids’ dreams and offering to fight their fathers wasn’t the worst thing he’d done, not by a long shot. It was just the most recent.

  The worst was Kaitlyn. She’d been fifteen and hadn’t made it to sixteen, because of him. Brock had ordered that one, too, and it still kept Nathan up at night until he finally hit the bottle so he could sleep.

  There was no way that he could be mated to someone like Leah. She was perfect and sweet, innocence practically shining on her face. Moreover, she was betrothed to Ian, and he was better for her. Ian had never done the horrible things that Nathan had, he’d be a good provider, and they’d have a lot of cubs together.

  Yeah, he had Leah had shared a moment, but what was that, really? In the grand scheme of things, a full-body jolt and pure desire that just wouldn’t quit weren’t important.

  You have to stop thinking about her, he told himself. Whatever it takes, just get her out of your head.

  He jumped to his feet, grabbed his black leather jacket, and headed for his bike.

  Seward was even smaller than Fjords; a town with a permanent population of only a few hundred. But it was on the ocean side of the peninsula, not the bay side where Fjords was. More to the point, it was completely surrounded by the Kenai National Park — meaning it was a popular stop for tourists who wanted to see the park, as well as for cruise ships along the Alaskan coast.

  As soon as he came over the mountains, the cool summer night air whipping around him, Nathan could see the lights of a big cruise ship down below, anchored in Seward’s tiny harbor.

  This ought to solve my problems, he thought, tilting his motorcycle toward the town, knowing exactly what he was going to do that night.

  First was the Seward Seaside Inn. Despite its nice name, it was a motel at best. Clean, but a little threadbare, if you knew where to look, and Nathan did.

  As he walked in, the front desk clerk looked up.

  “Hey, man,” said the kid. Paul, his name tag said, and Nathan felt a glimmer of recognition at the name. “Haven’t seen you around here for a while.”

  He winked, still grinning.

  Nathan shrugged.

  “Been busy,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

  He wasn’t an idiot, and he knew he had a reputation in all the towns on the peninsula. Most of the late-night motel clerks knew him as the guy who stayed at their place of business once or twice a month, usually coming in late with a different hot, drunk woman on his arm.

  Lately he’d smartened u
p a little and started getting the room before the woman — that meant that once he was ready to go, there was less time between leaving the bar and getting his dick wet, and that was all Nathan wanted.

  “You want the one on the end?” the kid said. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three or twenty-four, and he had a shit-eating smile on his face that said hey man, I know you get a lot of pussy and I think it’s awesome. “Less people to overhear, you know.”

  “Sounds good,” said Nathan, barely paying attention to what the kid was saying.

  Instead he was looking at the half-beardless face that still had traces of puppy fat.

  I’ve beaten kids younger than you bloody, he thought, and swallowed hard. He needed plenty of whiskey and a woman, stat.

  The kid pushed the key and a receipt across the counter, and Nathan pocketed one and signed the other.

  “Thanks,” he said, already heading for the door.

  “Have a great night, man!” the kid yelled after him.

  Nathan shut the door quickly so he didn’t have to hear what the kid said next. It was probably something along the lines of have a totally sick night getting that pussy, bro, and Nathan just wasn’t in the mood.

  Ten minutes later, he was sipping rotgut whiskey on the rocks and standing at the end of the bar at the Moby Dick Saloon, a bar on the waterfront that was heavily decorated with a seagoing theme. It was very, very popular with the sort of single woman who went on a cruise to Alaska.

  For the moment, he was alone. Years of just hitting on the first woman to make eye contact had yielded some good results, but these days he was being the tiniest bit pickier and looking over the crowd before jumping right in with both feet.

  He sipped again, the whiskey burning down his throat, as he leaned his big, tall frame against the bar. It was still a little bit awkward. Besides the bar he’d built himself in his house, he’d never stood at a bar meant for someone his height. After all, there weren’t a lot of six and a half foot tall men in the world.

  There they were. Two blonds, down the bar a bit, both drinking colorful drinks from martini glasses and touching their hair a lot, like they wanted someone to notice them.

  Deep inside, his bear made a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh. They weren’t who he really wanted, and he knew it. But one of them might manage to scratch his insatiable itch, just for a little while.

  His bear grumbled, but Nathan quieted it and moved around the bar to talk to the women.

  He walked up right behind them and addressed the blond on the left.

  “Your tag is out,” he said with no introduction. “Do you want me to fix it?”

  Her hand went straight to the back of her neck as she twisted her head to look at him.

  “It is?” she asked.

  “I got it,” he said, pretending to flip her tag back inside her shirt.

  His fingertips brushed against her skin, and he could feel her and her friend both look him up and down, their eyes lingering just a little extra on his bicep tattoo: a bear outline with a constellation inside.

  He nodded toward the bar, where their brightly colored cocktails sat.

  “You know, they sell real drinks here, too,” he told them. “Not just candy in a glass.”

  “These are alcoholic,” the one on the left said, a little defensively. She was wearing a bright pink tank top, a short skirt, and those shoes that were high heels but the bottom was all one big triangle. Nathan had no idea what they were called, and really, didn’t care.

  “They’re totally alcoholic,” her friend said. She was wearing a blue tube top that showed off a prominent collarbone under tanned skin. Nathan could smell hairspray, fake tan, and soap on both of them. Nothing like the deep, sweet scent that Leah had.

  Stop it, he thought.

  “It’s fine if you like kid drinks,” he said, shrugging slightly. Blue Tube Top had a pretty nice rack, and didn’t look like she was wearing a bra — a sure sign that she’d come here to meet someone and have some fun.

  Really, all that was left was to decide.

  Pink Tank Top looked at her drink, then looked down at Nathan.

  “What’s a real drink, then?” she asked.

  One hand went to her neck, fluttering near her collarbone, and Nathan knew it was all but over.

  He forced a grin.

  You’ll be enjoying this in an hour, so just shut up, he told himself.

  “Whiskey,” he said, and stepped between them and up to the bar.

  “The room’s not too impressive,” he told the women, one on each arm.

  That part, at least, was a surprise. He’d only had a threesome once before, and he hadn’t really liked it — the women were friends, but they’d been subtly fighting over him the entire time, making him feel like he was always doing the wrong thing to the wrong person.

  Much easier to stick with one woman.

  Tonight, though, he was feeling reckless. Maybe two of these cruise ship blonds would erase the thoughts of Leah better than just one. After all, that was four boobs, two vaginas, two mouths to suck his cock.

  “I don’t care what the room looks like,” said Blue Tube Top, a little too loudly. The women were slightly drunk but not too much, and Nathan had to untangle himself from them to unlock the door to the room.

  “All we need is a bed,” giggled Pink Tube Top. “Looks like you got one of those, at least.”

  They went in, pulling him along, and he shut the door after himself.

  “We’ve never done this before,” simpered Blue Tube Top, her erect nipples brushing against his arm through her shirt. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscle there.

  “Ooh,” she said. “We’ve got to get this off of you.”

  “This too,” said Pink Tank Top, sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  Nathan didn’t have an erection, not even a little. He knew if he took his pants off, both women would be incredibly disappointed.

  Trying to act cool, he took Pink Tank Top’s hand out of his pants and put his hands on both women’s hips as they looked up at him.

  “How about you two do stuff for a while?” he said, trying for his most rakish grin. “I love to watch.”

  Normally, it was true, but even as he sat on the bed and watched the two women, whose names he still hadn’t learned, kiss each other with lots and lots of tongue, he could barely make himself pay attention.

  Blue Tube Top pressed her breasts against Pink Tank Top’s and let out a little moan as she pinched the other woman’s nipple through the cloth.

  “Touch me, baby,” Pink Tank Top said, a little too enthusiastically.

  In one quick motion, Blue Tube Top took her shirt off. Nathan had been right — she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her round, full tits bounced free.

  Down below in his pants, absolutely nothing.

  Come on, Nathan thought to his dick. Come on come on come on.

  It wasn’t working.

  “You like it?” asked Blue Tube Top, turning slightly to face him and rubbing her hands over her tits, hefting them for his pleasure. Pink Tank Top bent down and flicked her tongue over one theatrically, and Blue Tank Top made an exaggerated sigh.

  Nathan tried to imagine his face in between her breasts, their weight pressing against the side of his face, but he couldn’t.

  All he could think of was Leah, the way it might feel just to touch her, his hands sinking into her warm, yielding flesh. Biting her shoulder and sliding inside...

  “Just like that,” he said, his brain on autopilot, and Pink Tank Top’s shirt came off. She was wearing a serious pushup bra beneath it, and now it looked like her breasts might be ready to strangle her.

  “Let me see those pretty titties,” said Blue Tank Top, sounding like an actress in a porno. Normally, Nathan was really into the dirty talk, but his mind was a million miles away right now, with a woman who’d told him to stop eating her chocolate tarts.

  “You wanna see?” Pink Tank Top
asked him, and Nathan didn’t answer for a long moment.

  There was absolutely no movement in his dick. It was practically asleep, even watching two horny women rub each other silly.

  I shouldn’t be here, he thought.

  “Baby?” she asked, both women frozen and waiting.

  “I gotta go,” he said, practically leaping off the bed.

  He grabbed his jacket from where he’d left it slung over a chair, and turned the knob.

  “Wait!” shouted Blue Tube Top. “What the fuck?”

  “Sorry,” he said, opening the door. “Keep the room, it’s cool.”

  Both of their mouths were little pink O’s of surprise, and then he shut the door, practically ran to his motorcycle, and drove off into the night before either of them could even get their shirts on.

  Chapter Six

  Nathan

  Nathan crouched in a kitchen, carefully pulling the silverware drawer in and out, when the door swung open and Brock was suddenly in the room with him.

  “I thought you might be here,” he said, crossing onto the paper-covered floor that served as Nathan’s workspace.

  “Watch the nails,” Nathan said, only half-paying attention to Brock, despite the knot that had suddenly formed in his stomach. When Brock found him suddenly, like this, it was rarely for a good reason. Usually, Brock wanted something bad done to someone.

  “You could have called,” Nathan pointed out, finally sliding the drawer smoothly back into the cabinet face and standing.

  “I did,” Brock said. “You didn’t answer.”

  Nathan patted his pockets and realized, for the first time all day, that his phone wasn’t there. His eye fell on his jacket, draped over a chair in the next room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, brushing sawdust from his hands. He could feel a single bead of sweat work its way down the back of his neck.