by C. D. Gorri
The clan were planning everything so they could bury Claw in the cemetery. Darla didn’t look our way but I felt her hatred radiating off her in waves. I ignored her.
“Ava,” Ash said, pulling her into an embrace.
I stood with a mouth full of teeth, I was not expecting that greeting from him. His eyes glistened when he turned to me, bringing me into an embrace. I allowed him his comfort and tapped his shoulder to let him know he could let go of me.
“You saved my boy.”
“Well, it was my fault, so,”—she shrugged,— “I couldn’t leave him there,” she grinned.
“Ugh,” Darla moaned and spit near our feet. “You make me sick, you know. She isn’t even one of us. She’s a weak human.”
“Darla!” Ash yelled, that one word a silent warning.
“Don’t Darla me, Ash. And when she has your pups,” — she pointed a finger at me, — “she’s going to die. Just like your weak mother.”
“Darla!” Ash stormed her, picking her up by her upper arm. “This is your last warning.”
“You know, I’ve always wanted to tell you what really happened that day. Your mom was alive,” she said, glowering at me. “I helped clean her, dressed her wounds. But the moment she carried on about your father and how the three of you were going to live together like one big happy family, I couldn’t take it any more. I’d loved your dad but he chose her. He wanted her. She was so weak, she couldn’t even clean herself. And you know what I did—“
“Don’t say it,” Ash said, his voice breaking. He stepped away from her and threw something into the fire.
Other clan members joined behind us, wanting to hear Darla’s confession.
“And I smothered her. There, I said it. It’s out.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Just kill me now.”
I fisted my hands, ready to give her her wish when Ava caught my arm. I stared into those honey-colored eyes, she shook her head and mouthed, ‘Don’t’. I pulled her into the curve of my shaking body. Rage filled me, gnashing my teeth as I thought of ways to hurt Darla. She’d killed my mother and had stolen those precious years from me. I wanted her dead.
Blaze and Miles approached Darla, each taking an arm.
“What do you want to do with her?” Miles asked Ash.
Ash’s shoulders sagged and wiped away tears. “She doesn’t deserve the easy way out. She needs to suffer for the rest of her life. If she wants to die she can do so by her own hand. But I refuse to be the one offering her death.” Ash approached Darla, stared down at her and added. “Grab your stuff and leave. I don’t want you near our people ever again.” He went back to the fire and removed the branding iron from the flames.
“No, Ash, please. I’d rather you kill me.”
Ash shook his head. “Keep her still.” Blaze and Miles did as he asked and he pressed the branding iron with the words, impius, onto her chest, a symbol marking a saber who couldn’t be trusted, was wicked, disloyal, and sinful.
Darla’s shrill cries echoed around us. Her tears staining her cheeks.
“And take your son with you.” Ash turned his back on her and entered his hut.
Everybody turned their back on Darla and went to their respective huts.
I took Ava by the hand, taking her to her new forever home.
*.*.*.*
Ava had quit her job and moved her things into my small hut. She would fill her days taking pictures of wildlife and finish her portfolio.
Now that Ash had accepted her, a human, into our clan we were no longer bound to secrecy. I attended a meeting with Ash with the WAA, where they welcomed us and agreed to us remaining in this part of the forest. But, we had to behave. If any one of us stepped out of line they’d force us out.
Ash had agreed to step down now that I had bonded, and would live the rest of his life fishing.
I made Blaze my second in command and head of security, while Miles was content being my third. Now that our presence was known, the rest of the clan were free to go into town without having to mask their true selves.
I traced my hand down the sides of her curvy body. They were my curves now. I smirked at the thought.
She pressed her ass against my cock and wiggled. I slapped her right ass cheek, positioned myself behind her, gripped her hips and slammed my body inside. Before I’d been holding back, I was gentle. But now I knew what her body could handle, and I was no longer hurt—or afraid I’d hurt her. I crashed into her over and over with sweet delectable thrusts inside her heated sheath, she coated me in her slick juices and we floated into bliss.
Her hands pressed against the wall as I brought us over, she squeezed around my cock and I released my seed within. I let go of her hips and trailed my hands up to her breasts and eased my strokes, slowly bringing us back to earth.
She fisted the walls as she came again with one final thrust.
“Oh gods,” she mumbled as she caught her breath. “I love them quick and dirty sometimes.”
I pulled out and she turned around slowly.
“I love you.” She clutched my shoulders and I kissed her with my everything.
“I love you, too.”
Thank you for reading!
*.*.*.*
Continue to the Shifter Days, Vampire Nights, & Demons in between Series https://www.ngraybooks.com/paranormal-romance
*.*.*.*
Signup to my no-spam newsletter and get a free copy of The Hunter
*.*.*.*
Read More from N Gray
Follow her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ngraybooks/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/n-gray
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16...
Twitter: https://twitter.com/NGrayBooks
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ngraybooks/
*.*.*.*
If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy...
Blaire Thorne Series;
Ulysses Exposed
Voodoo Priest
Butterflies & Hurricanes
Salvation
Underworld Legacy
Shifter Days, Vampire Nights, & Demons in between Series;
Dark Tarot
Wolf Retreat
Lady Hawk and her Mountain Man
About N Gray
N Gray lives in Cape Town, South Africa with her daughter. She's an analyst and provider profiler for a medical insurance company during the day. At night, she types on her curved keyboard creating fictional characters some may love, and others you want to kill yourself.
For fun she paints, takes walks on the beach, and indulges in wine tasting since there are so many wine estates near her.
She writes in four genres: urban fantasy, thriller, horror and paranormal romance, with a series out in each.
Sun-Burnt By Lori King
Sun-Burnt © 2021 Lori King
Edited by: King’s Press
Sun-Burnt
Shifters forced to unite, or risk exposing each other.
Sebastian Jameson has secrets he doesn’t want the world to know, but his career as an artist is taking off making the world want to know everything about him.
Paige Harth has her own secrets she’s keeping, but she can’t seem to keep them from the devastatingly handsome Sebastian.
An art heist will bring these two shifters to the forefront of the news media, and whether they’re forced to unite, or risk exposing each other.
Chapter One
Trembling, Paige held her breath as her boss pulled up to the valet. An art showing. A simple night out. It shouldn’t have been so stressful, and yet knowing she wore a wire under her elegant red dress had her sweating. She only needed Arnie Glasson to slip up once, and she could escape his creepy leering self forever. Hopefully, tonight would be the night.
Arnie stood to the side and waited, allowing the second valet to open her car door and usher her out into the sweltering night air. Even in the mountains of Colorado, summer was hot. The art gallery was lit up inside and o
ut, and Paige could see dozens of people milling about through the massive picture windows. So much for keeping a low profile, she thought.
For two months, she’d been trying to gather enough evidence for the FBI to prove her boss was dirty, but he was slicker than snot and she’d been forced to endure his disgusting presence. As his personal assistant, she was in close proximity, making her stomach turn daily. She just kept praying for a chink in his armor.
As she shook the wrinkles from her skirt he stepped forward and offered his plump arm. “Did you review the information I sent you regarding the event?”
She nodded, “Absolutely. Sebastian Jameson is the son of Michael Jameson, land baron and businessman. He owns a significant art collection with several pieces you would like to purchase from him.”
“Right, and Sebastian’s current position in the art community means he has access to collections I could only dream of. I hope to gain an invitation to the Martinsburg Showing next month via this event.”
Paige wasn’t big on art or artists, but she knew Arnie’s “keeping up with the Jones’” attitude left him lusting after a massive art collection he could flash about willy-nilly. She had no idea why it mattered so much, but she was attempting to absorb all the information she could, so she could put the pieces together with the FBI.
For nearly three years, various art vendors in the Midwest had had their collections pilfered, expensive, irreplaceable works of art had been stolen, but not before being carefully reproduced so the fraudulent copies could be left behind in their stead. Until a few months ago, there had been few clues, and no witnesses. Until someone in the FBI realized that Arnie Glasson had attended every art show in every location that was hit by the thieves. Thus, they’d reached out in secret to Paige who’d just hired on as his PA. She’d been on the verge of quitting just days after she began, unable to tolerate the lascivious looks and disgusting sexual comments Arnie made constantly. Instead of escaping the situation as she’d planned, she’d agreed to help the FBI, and found herself walking into an art showing tonight.
“Head up, tits out. I want everyone to notice we’re here tonight.” Arnie instructed as they stepped into the brightly lit building.
She had to bite the inside of her lip to avoid rolling her eyes at him. A few steps in and she wanted to stomp on his foot and feed him his balls. Instead, she focused on the nearest display, it was a massive piece of tree trunk carved into a mother bear and her cub. The love that emanated from the piece was nearly tangible as the mother’s paws carefully cradled her child. It was stunning.
“I should have known his work would be trees.” Arnie grumbled beside her, “Backwoods hillbilly.”
Paige frowned in confusion. Everything she’d read about the Jameson’s indicated they were wealthy and privileged, not backwoods hillbillys. Moving on to the second piece, she admired the tiny sparrows seated on a nest, three eggs in the basket. The work was so delicate it almost appeared lifelike, and once again it was made from a solid piece of wood. She found it moving and was about to say so when Arnie jolted at her side.
“There’s Michael. We must say hello.” He pulled her along on his arm as if she were an accessory to his outfit. They promptly approached a massively built man with shocking platinum colored hair and beard, and artic blue eyes. “Michael, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
“Glasson.” Michael Jameson clearly didn’t feel the same way, as his cold eyes grew even colder, and he shifted his champagne glass into his right hand to avoid a handshake. His scent tickled her nose, and she felt chill bumps on her arms as she realized Michael Jameson was a shifter.
“Your son’s collection is…inspiring.” Arnie said, his plastic smile growing wider. “Wherever did he get his artistic talent from?”
“His mother was an artist, so it’s no surprise he is as well.” Michael explained. His eyes bounced to Paige and warmed slightly. “Michael Jameson, father of the artist.”
“Paige Harth,” she responded, smiling back awkwardly. She didn’t come into contact with other shifters often and she wondered immediately if he would place her scent. “It is a beautiful collection.”
“You know Michael, I’ve been meaning to set a meeting with you regarding that piece you own, River Frontage,” Arnie said. “I was hoping you would consider selling it to me. I have a particular fondness for landscapes, and it would be perfect in my collection.”
“Excuse me, I see someone I need to say hello to.” Without another word Michael extricated himself from Arnie’s presence and disappeared into the crowd.
Arnie’s frustration was obvious. “Damn it. I’m not going to let him avoid me forever. That man knows I want that piece.”
“When did you take up art collecting?” Paige asked, feigning innocence. She was honestly relieved that Michael hadn’t seemed to notice her own shifter scent—or at least hadn’t acknowledged it.
“Shut up.” Arnie snapped. “Learn to keep your mouth shut. I want it because I want it. I deserve it.”
Paige accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and settled in for a long night of listening to Arnie piss and moan while her anxiety tumbled in her chest. She wasn’t cut out for this espionage shit.
*.*.*.*
His shoes pinched his toes, and sweat itched under his collar, but Sebastian kept a smile plastered on his face as he greeted fans and critics alike. Each person had something to say, and he tried not to let any of it sink into his psyche. If he let the compliments fill his head, he’d never make it out the door, and if he let the critiques break him down, he’d never create another piece of art. This wasn’t his first showing; he knew the drill. He smiled, and pretended to absorb everything, while letting every word roll off as though it were never spoken. As an artist, he loved seeing people enjoy his work, but he wasn’t naive enough to believe that everyone would. So, he kept his feet firmly planted on the ground, and milled about the audience murmuring thanks to those who would stop and speak to him.
Halfway through the evening a sweet scent filled his nose and made his palms sweat. It was delicious. Sweet flowers, with a hint of tangy citrus, and an undercurrent of vanilla. It was the scent of another shifter, but it was so mild it could have easily been a child who’d yet to reach maturity and shift for the first time.
He searched the crowd trying to pinpoint the fragrance. His eyes landed on the back of a female with copper colored hair down to the middle of her back, and an ass that begged to be held in a man’s hands. She was the source of the sweet fragrance. It took several long minutes to weave through the crowded gallery, dodging people who would have delayed his progress.
She still had her back to him when he closed in on her, but he saw her spine stiffen as though she were cognizant of his approach. When she turned to face him, and their gazes locked, he saw her blue eyes widen slightly with awareness.
Unfortunately, she appeared to have a date at her side. An old business acquaintance of his father’s, and a man he resolutely disliked.
“Arnie,” he said politely, holding his hand out to the other man, his practiced smile stretched across his face, “What a surprise to see you here tonight.”
“Sebastian, you’ve put together quite the show. I didn’t realize the depths of your talents.” Arnie said, holding a hand out in greeting. “Your father put me on the guest list.”
“I’m glad he did.” Sebastian lied cleanly, “And who is your charming companion?”
“This is my personal assistant, Paige Harth,” he patted the hand that was cupping his arm in a way that indicated familiarity. It burned in Sebastian like an unquenched flame. No one should be touching Paige but him.
“Ms. Harth,” he murmured. Holding his hand out was a two-fold gesture. She’d have to release Arnie to shake it, and Sebastian would get the opportunity to touch her. Skin to skin a jolt of electricity slid through his palm and up his arm like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. Again, her eyes widened, and he knew she recognized the connection. I
nhaling deeply, he tried to figure out what type of shifter the pretty woman was, even as she spoke for the first time.
“Mr. Jameson, your work is exceptional, thank you for sharing it tonight.” Her voice was light and airy as it danced in his ears.
“Sebastian, please, I’m not a formal kind of man.”
“Then please call me, Paige.” She smiled as he released her hand finally, and immediately she cupped it with her other, her fingers stroking over her palm as if memorizing where they’d touched.
A loud pinging sound interrupted their conversation, and Sebastian was forced to turn his attention to his agent, Davos, who was standing a few steps up the stairs, looking out over the crowded room. Sebastian nodded to Paige and said softly, “That’s my cue. I look forward to speaking with you more soon, Paige.”
Walking to the stairs was embarrassingly hard. Not only did it mean leaving Paige behind, but it also meant standing in front of the crowd.
“May I have your attention for a moment, please.” Davos called out, “Sebastian would like to say a few words.”
Climbing the steps, Sebastian turned and gazed out at the people who had come. His family made up a good portion of the crowd, as their numbers were large and they were extremely supportive, but this show was unique in that there were many in the art community from Denver that had come to check him out. “I’d like to thank you all for coming and embracing this collection so warmly. Five years ago, when I carved my first piece, I had no idea it would lead me here, but I’m forever grateful. The artistic community has opened its arms to me, and I couldn’t be more honored. This collection is representative of new love, and opportunity. From the piece “A Child’s Heart,” I started following my muse as she built around new life, and love, and ultimately, she led me to the last piece, “Reception,” which symbolizes the acceptance of changes and transitions in the family. A special thank you to my cousin, Quinn and his wife, Aubrey, along with their young daughter, Samantha for inspiring this journey. I hope you enjoy the collection, and I look forward to bigger and better things in the future.”