Shiftr: Swipe Left For Love (Nash) BBW Wolf Shifter Romance (Hope Valley BBW Dating App Romance Book 10)

by Ariana Hawkes

  “Harlow! They’ll see us!”

  “What if they do? It’s not like we’re on private property.” She snuck out from behind the trailer and sprinted across the open ground then hid behind the next one. Rebecca stared at her, raising her hands in exasperation, before doing the same.

  “Do you think they saw us?”

  “No. They seem real focused on what they’re doing.”

  Now they were a good twenty yards closer to the tent and Harlow had a clear view of Sawyer’s face. Those smoldering eyes; that perfect bone structure. Just looking at him made her feel lightheaded and breathless. He moved away from the tented area, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. A moment later, six white horses and a pinto one appeared from somewhere at the back of the campground and trotted over to him.

  “Ready, guys?” The horses whinnied in response. He put a big, black speaker down on the ground and some upbeat circus music began to play. Striding over to the piebald horse, he leapt onto its back in a graceful movement. It neighed and kicked with its back legs, but he seemed unperturbed, giving it a hearty slap on the neck. The other six horses began to trot in a circle, simply at first, but then their feet began to move in a more complex rhythm, as if they were dancing. They moved sideways, diagonally, changed direction, remaining in perfect formation.

  “That’s really cool,” Rebecca whispered.

  “Yeah!” Harlow agreed, too entranced to speak.

  In the middle of the circle, Sawyer spoke to the horse, giving it instructions, and it went through a series of paces, first rearing back on two legs, so high that it looked about ready to tip over backwards. Then it made vertical jumps into the air, with all four feet leaving the ground. Then it bucked as if it was trying to throw him off, but he hung on easily, talking the whole time, as if he and the horse were having a conversation. Harlow watched the man with rapt attention, fascinated by the hard, powerful lines of his body, the way his muscles bulged as they were tensed, straining beneath the fabric of his shirt and pants.

  “Look, over there!” Rebecca pointed to the other side of the site, as six white bears emerged from a trailer and loped toward them in single file. A guy put another speaker down beside them, and some different music blared out. The bears also began to move in a circular formation, but they paused often to tumble with one another, taking playful swipes at each other.

  Harlow and Rebecca were so engrossed by everything they were seeing that they didn’t hear anybody come up behind them, until a loud female voice yelled “gotcha!” and a strong pair of arms grabbed her from behind.

  “Get off me!” she screamed, fighting as hard as she could. But the woman was much stronger than she was, and she imprisoned her in her arms effortlessly. Harlow felt like she’d been snatched by a demon. She threw a panicked glance at Rebecca, and saw that she had also been captured by a statuesque female, with bulging biceps and long red braids. Her attempts to escape were equally futile, and she yelled and screamed while her arms and legs thrashed uselessly.

  The Amazonian women lifted Harlow and Rebecca in their arms, as if they were small children, and carried them into the center of the campground, shrieking and cackling the whole time, before depositing them in a heap. Harlow blinked, unaccustomed to the brightness of the floodlights.

  A man with a clown face appeared from nowhere.

  “What have we got here?” he demanded, in a voice like a shovel on grit, pushing himself up into their faces.

  “Two little spies,” the one with the red braids answered, in a silky, feline voice, and she scrubbed at their heads with her sharp nails.

  “Get the hell off me!” Harlow said, as fiercely as she could, hoping that only she could hear the tremble in her own voice.

  “Been snooping on us, huh?” the clown said, getting closer and closer. And then he began to circle around them, with heavy, lumbering steps. “Boo!” he yelled, right behind them, and they both screamed. The clown laughed and so did the other women, in high-pitched, keening voices.

  “Have you come here to steal our secrets?” the other woman said, squatting down in front of them. Her eyes were very pale green, with slitted pupils. There was something mesmerizing about her gaze that made it hard to look away.

  “No. We don’t know anything about any secrets. Please let us go!” Rebecca wailed.

  “We were just walking here. This is our town. If you don’t let us go, our people will come looking for you, and you’ll all be sorry!” Harlow yelled.

  “What’s going on here?” a deep voice said from somewhere behind them. Harlow shaded her eyes and craned her neck, trying to see where it was coming from. And then Sawyer stepped in front of them, gazing down at her with the same amused smile that had been lighting his face earlier. “Well, if it isn’t the two kind ladies who helped me out earlier today.” He frowned. “But where’s your angry friend?”

  “Not here,” Harlow said tersely. “But I may do a very good impersonation of her, if your people here don’t let us go!”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure tonight?”

  “We were just going for a walk, when these – these cat-faces – abducted us, and dragged us over here!” Harlow snapped.

  “Cat-faces?” red braids said and laughed helplessly. The others started laughing too, and Sawyer’s grin broadened.

  “I am sorry. These kitties get a little out of hand sometimes. Maybe they don’t have enough work to do?” The two felines looked shamefaced.

  “This is Melina, and this is Reziah. And this clown is called Vince. They’re actually nice when you get to know them. Even Vince. Now, cat-faces and Vince, apologize to these ladies for scaring the hell out of them.”

  “Sorry,” they all mumbled.

  “Now, scram.” The two women leapt to their feet and bounded away, as elegantly as big cats, while Vince lumbered off. Sawyer’s blue gaze turned onto Harlow again, and it was more dazzling than the floodlights, as if he was looking right into her soul.

  “They’re too playful for their own good sometimes. They should have been more careful around a sassy one like you, Harlow.”

  “I have my moments,” Harlow replied, her voice laced with sarcasm, as she got to her feet and dusted the earth off her pants. Now he was standing so close to her, he towered over her, huge and solidly built. Her skin suddenly heated and prickled all over, and she felt an odd, loosening sensation in her body, as if something deep inside her was calling out to him.

  “You mean they weren’t really mad that we were watching you?” Rebecca said.

  “Of course not! We’re performers. Deep down, we all love to be watched.” He held his hand out to her to help her up, and Harlow felt a twinge of envy. And then his nose twitched.

  “Are you all shifters?” Her cheeks warmed.

  “We used to be. But we kind of lost the habit, or the ability, a long time ago.” His pupils dilated fleetingly, and a thought seemed to cross his mind.

  “What kind are you? – No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” He bent close to Rebecca’s neck and took a deep sniff. “I think you’re a bear. Although the scent is weak.”

  “I don’t know what I am,” she admitted. “I’m an orphan. No-one seems to know my history.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” His tone had become soothing. “You have people that care about you and that’s all that matters.” He turned to Harlow. “And you?” His head dipped to her neck and she swallowed hard. At the same time, she picked up his scent too – deep and rich and – the scent of a bear, she realized with surprise. He got closer and closer, until his stubble brushed her cheek and his breath was warm on her throat. Her heart beat faster, and she was acutely aware how close his lips were to hers. “Mmm… definitely a bear. The scent’s stronger in you.”

  “You’re right,” she said, unable to resist a smile.

  “Are you engaged with your animal?”

  “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s not really encouraged in Windy Hollow.”

  “That’s a pi
ty. Some of us here are more animal than human.” He tilted his head in the direction of the site and they followed his gaze. The polar bears were now throwing inflatable beach balls to each other, and practicing jumping through hoops.

  “You’re all shifters here?” Harlow said.

  “Yup. That’s what makes our circus unique. We can do really cool tricks in our animal forms, with none of the brutality of traditional circuses.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “What do you do?” Harlow asked, growing more fascinated by him by the second.

  “Well, I ride Eric over there,” he pointed to the pinto horse, which was continuing to perform jumps and kicks, even without him riding it. “He says I’m too heavy for his back, but he’s just an old moaner. And I’m also the ringmaster. I introduce all the acts, and I make the lions jump through hoops. Again, they don’t love me for it. But all’s forgiven once the show’s over.”

  “I love this!” Harlow said, full of enthusiasm.

  “Come on, I’ll show you around and introduce you to everyone.”

  “I should go. I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” Rebecca said.

  “Oh, sure. I’ll go with you then,” Harlow said.

  “Don’t be silly. Enjoy yourself.” Rebecca winked at her and lifted her hand in a goodbye wave.

  “Wait – I’ll walk you home,” Sawyer cut in.

  “Don’t worry. The only thing I’ve got to fear around here is the circus. But now that they’re all afraid of Harlow, I think I’ll be fine.”

  “I give you my word that there’s nothing to fear from us simple circus folk,” Sawyer said, with a little bow. Rebecca rolled her eyes, but Harlow could tell that she was as charmed by him as she was.

  “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

  “Make sure you do.” They hugged goodbye and Rebecca headed back to the town.

  “Want to help me light the camp fire?” Sawyer said.

  “Sure.”

  They walked across the camp ground, Harlow’s attention turning in all directions, toward the different groups of shifters practicing their routines. Sawyer explained who was who, often laying his hand on her shoulder or her forearm to direct her attention this way or that. His touch was electric, somehow setting her nerves on fire through a thick coat and two sweaters. She glanced at him sideways, wondering if he was doing it deliberately. It was hard to tell. Maybe he was like that with everybody.

  There was a big stack of wood piled up for the campfire, and she got to work on it, having lit more during her lifetime than she could count.

  “You’ve done this before,” he said, as the first tongues of flame began to lick at the layers of dry wood.

  “Once or twice,” she said, deadpan.

  “Wait – I’ll be back.” She stepped closer to the fire, enjoying its warmth on the front of her body while he bounded off to one of the trailers. There was a scent of barbecuing meat in the air and a clattering of pans from inside one of the trailers. He returned, carrying a bottle, two cups, and two folded chairs. “You drink whisky?”

  “Sure,” she lied. She’d tried her dad’s rough, homemade spirit once before, and that had been enough for her to swear off the hard stuff for life. He poured the whisky out into two cups with a flourish. As she lifted it to her mouth, the scent was enough to make her eyes water. She tipped it back, pretending to sip it, but the vapor burned her nostrils and she somehow ended up taking a gulp instead. She coughed hard as liquid fire ran all the way down to her stomach and her eyes watered some more. Sawyer laid his large hand flat on her back.

  “Steady,” he said. Immediately, her discomfort eased. She looked at him, startled. “Sorry, it’s a little stronger than the stuff you can buy in the stores. Did it burn your lips?” She automatically touched a finger to her lip, testing it.

  “No, I think I’m good.”

  “Let me see.” He lifted her chin with his thumb and peered at her mouth, eyes narrowed. And then he chafed the lower lip with his thumb. She repressed a sound of surprise, and a sharp little sensation ran all the way through her, as if there was a direct connection between her lips and her clit. “You’re good,” he concluded. “I shouldn’t have let you drink it straight though.” He turned to the trailers and yelled Melina’s name, asking if she had any soda. The feline appeared a moment later, handing him a plastic bottle of cola with a flirty grin. But when she glanced at Harlow, her lips curled into a sneer, and Harlow could practically see her hackles rising.

  “Soda for you and your lovely guest,” she said, and disappeared again.

  “I’ll mix it up good and long,” Sawyer said, and poured the cola into her drink. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  Other shifters began to join them by the fire, pulling up chairs, beer crates and upturned buckets, and gathering in small groups. Sawyer greeted each of them by name, introducing Harlow, until there were too many, and the conversations got loud enough that he had to yell. So far, Melina was the only one who had bristled at her presence. The others greeted her in a friendly, casual way. As the space by the fire became increasingly crowded, she and Sawyer moved their chairs back and closer together, until they wound up sitting at a small distance from the others.

  “Are all the bears in your clan?” Harlow asked. He stretched his hands out to the sides.

  “Everyone here is my clan. We have a tight bond, and we’d die to protect our clan mates. But I’m not a blood relative of anyone. I’m kind of an orphan.”

  “How long have you been with the circus?”

  “Since I was too young to remember. It’s all I’ve ever known. This huge, crazy, mixed-up family of mine. I love them all to death. Even Vince.” Vince heard his name and shot him a scowl, his cracked, white clown make-up extra sinister in the fire light.

  “A lot of us in the town are orphans too.” He leaned forward, his eyes becoming more intense.

  “How come?”

  “Most of us don’t even know. It’s another one of the town’s many secrets. I’ve got a daddy, but not a mom. I don’t know what happened to her. Carly has a mom, but not a dad. And Rebecca is all by herself.”

  “You know why there are so many secrets?” She shook her head.

  “I wish I did. Our parents do, but they don’t talk about it. I think some bad things happened long ago, and the elders are bent on making sure no-one finds out about them. It makes life hard though. Everyone is reclusive and gloomy. We don’t have celebrations and fun times. We don’t even get to have Christmas.” His eyebrows shot up.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. We don’t mark it at all. December 25th is just another day.”

  “I thought your friend was just trying to scare me off. But this is real? No decorations in homes? No Christmas carols? No giving of gifts?” She shook her head and he fell silent.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer,” she said. “You’re probably thinking that it’ll be hard to sell tickets to your Christmas circus.” He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it.

  “No, it wasn’t that. I was feeling bad for you folks, missing out on the best celebration of the year.”

  “It’s not so bad. You don’t miss what you don’t know.”

  “I don’t think you believe that in your heart, Harlow. I can tell you have a very joyous spirit. I can see it in your eyes.” She looked up and met his gaze, realizing at the same time that he hadn’t let go of her hand. The firelight flickered in his eyes, and he was everything she’d never allowed herself to want – excitement, adventure, celebration, passion. A wave of need coursed through her body. Very slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her. Her body responded faster than her thoughts had time to move, her lips parting to the hunger of that soft, yet firm mouth and her nipples hardening. He drew back, his eyes deep and searching, and then he dove in again, his lips crushing on hers, his velvety tongue dancing around her own, as he held her close, close enough to feel the beating of his heart. When they pulled away from ea
ch other at last, her breathing was ragged. Her lips felt bruised, and her cheeks smarted from his stubble, but every bit of her was alive. “You look like I slapped you instead of kissed you,” he observed. She giggled.

  “No, you took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “I should probably apologize, but I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I first saw you.” His voice was low and growly, and his finger ran along her jaw, along the inch of skin above her scarf. “To do more than that, to be honest with you. Come back to my trailer.” He played with the zipper of her coat, teasingly, and she wanted nothing more than for him to unfasten it and run those big, strong hands all over her body.

  “I – I should get home. It’s late. And my dad’s not expecting me to be out of the house. There’ll be hell to play if he finds out I’m gone.” Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he got to his feet immediately and helped her up.

  “Of course. I shouldn’t have kept you out so late. I’ll walk you home.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will, but I want to walk you.”

  “Okay.” To her surprise, he put his arm around her shoulder and they began to walk toward the track that would lead her back to Windy Hollow. She fitted right under the crook of his arm, and for that fleeting moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation. He’d be gone soon, and she’d never see him again, but right now it felt wonderful to be held like that. Guys in the town weren’t chivalrous, or protective. They just wanted to mate – hard and rough and easily forgotten. Sure, they took a mate eventually, usually when their parents kicked them out and they needed a woman to take care of them. And that’s why she’d never wanted a mate for herself. Her dad took enough looking after.

  “What do you do for work, Harlow?” he asked, and she told him about her job in the bakery.

  “I guess I enjoy it. But I don’t have Carly’s love of it.” She giggled. “If you could call it love. Carly hates everything and everyone. I guess it’s more of an obsession with her – she makes sure everything comes out perfect. Not that half the town would notice if their bread was two days old anyways. I do tattoos as well to make a little extra money.” She heard his breath catch.