Hearts Unleashed: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by C. D. Gorri

  Will the beautiful interloper crack this rugged Shifter’s heart of stone, or will self-imposed isolation be his future?

  Prologue

  Keeton’s Mountain Lion hissed angrily as he boarded the plane for the states. Three months on Moongate Island did nothing to repair his faith in people. Shifter or human, they pretty much sucked.

  True, he was no longer being blackmailed by the sniveling cretin who’d been part of his last black ops assignment. Fucker had stepped on a landmine deep in the jungles of a place Keeton was not at liberty to name. Not even in his own head.

  Fucking hell. Yeah, it meant he could return home now, but to who? Keeton had no family waiting for him. His few friends were back on the island, but that was no place for his inner feline. The beast craved the hills and valleys of the New Jersey forests he called home.

  He’d bought a hundred acres of forest off the beaten paths of New Jersey’s Panther Mountains years ago. Even commissioned the building of a cabin deep in the woods. The design was environmentally conscientious and entirely sound. Two stories high, it had its own generators, additional solar paneling, and wind turbines for power, and indoor plumbing.

  He wasn’t an animal, for fuck’s sake. But even if Keeton was going to avoid people, he didn’t have to be uncomfortable doing it. Eyes closed, he sat seemingly at ease, but he was keeping tabs on every living thing around him on the plane.

  Once a soldier, always a soldier, his two commanders, Callan McGregor, and Landry Smyth, had said that often enough. Both men were Shifters, a unique Alpha and Omega pair who’d completed their Triad once they’d found their mate in Sage Freeman, a smart-mouthed human female. That had been Keeton’s cue to leave the island he’d called home for eighty-nine and a half days.

  They hadn’t kicked him out or anything. On the contrary. But he was restless and antsy. The island could no longer contain his need for isolation.

  Memories of the disgust on Bruce Taylor’s face when he’d seen Keeton lose control of his shift during a particularly bloody battle were forever ingrained in his brain. The human male had been a new recruit in the special ops task force where Keeton had served his country for the last five years in secret.

  Dismantling dictatorships and stopping atrocities the likes of which he could hardly put a name to before they could ever see the light of day had been his job, and blackmail was his reward.

  He’d kept the fact that he’d unwittingly told the secret about Shifters to the human from Callan and Landry until the night Bruce had died believing Keeton was the only one of his kind. The two men had investigated his claims, making sure that he never downloaded or emailed the proof he’d recorded with his phone the night Keeton lost control.

  The half a million dollars he’d sent to Bruce’s offshore bank was nothing. He didn’t care about the money. It was simply the point of it all. The man had not trusted Keeton because of his dual nature. And he’d lost his life as a result.

  “We need to stick to this route, Bruce,” he growled at the human who’d become increasingly toxic to their two-man operation.

  “Think I’m gonna trust a fucking animal. I’ll go this way,” the man argued.

  After a few more minutes of trying to convince him, Keeton threw his hands up. His beast scratched at his skin, the animal sensing something was not right. The sounds of the explosion and Bruce’s bitter cry rang in his ears, but he died before Keeton could ever hope to reach him.

  It was his fault. He was the reason Bruce had died. After pledging his life to help save lives, he’d brought death instead.

  Keeton was better off on his own.

  Chapter One

  What the actual fuck?

  Lena sat behind the wheel of her SUV in the now filthy wedding dress she’d so lovingly bought in utter and complete shock. Was this real life? Like, did that actually just happen?

  She looked up and squinted at the bright headlights from the oncoming traffic, trying desperately to shield her vision from their halogen glares. What the hell was she doing sitting outside with her trunk full of her still-packed suitcases and garbage bags of clothing and other random doohickeys and nick-knacks she grabbed before hightailing it out of there? Most of her furniture and things were still in storage.

  Thank God for small favors, she thought. But seriously. How the hell had she wound up here? She retraced her steps in her mind and was no closer to an answer. After all, she did everything right. She’d started a business and was finally making a profit. Lena had found the right sort of guy and even gotten him to propose.

  Cary was a lawyer. Smart as a whip and a real smooth talker. She’d agreed to go out with him immediately, flattered as she was by the tall, slender blonde’s attentions. Hell, she’d even given up carbs for the fucker. He’d insisted her weight was a negative reflection on him, and he was up for partner. Had to make a good impression.

  After he’d proposed and laid out his plans to “fix” her, Marilena had simply smiled and agreed. Her mother told her for years she was too chubby to appeal to any man. At the time, Lena had simply ignored her. She’d always relied on her brains and optimism to get her through the tough times, but the truth was she’d always been a bigger girl.

  She was a chef, for fuck’s sake. Food was a lot like life. It could be vibrant and fun, but there were consequences. Such as those to her hips and belly from a love of all things chocolate. Sigh.

  Still, she tried. For Cary and for her mother. Yes, Marilena loved blending cuisines from all over the world to create tempting and tasty treats her customers loved for their parties and events. She worked damn hard at it too, despite her mother’s criticisms. For some reason, her trim parent thought fat equaled lazy.

  But Lena was not lazy. She’d even agreed to Cary’s demands to work out five times a week, despite not losing a single pound over the last few months of killing herself. She enjoyed exercise, chub and all, but honestly, she preferred nature walks to spin class.

  “I don’t have time to go hiking with you,” Cary said every time she brought it up.

  “Okay, dear,” was her only reply.

  And yet. It wasn’t enough. Nothing she did or sacrificed was enough for the golden fiancé she’d been so proud to bring home to her disbelieving mother. That same parent who’d refused to let her come home tonight, insisting she apologize to that scoundrel.

  “Try to work things out, Lena. Who else is gonna want you?”

  Imagine that? Lena apologizing for Cary sticking his dick in another woman. Ha! That would be the day. Her mind wandered to the events that led to her pulling up at the Oasis Beachside Resort down in Maccon City.

  The Jersey shore town had been her home away from home during college. She’d always felt good there. Accepted. Even lusted after by the many handsome locals. And that was something out of the ordinary for all her experience during her years in culinary school in Connecticut. But back to her reality as of a few hours ago.

  Marilena Sorelli walked into the apartment she shared with her fiancé on her tiptoes. She was so excited to surprise Cary. Switching her flight to the redeye, just so she could show him the incredible gown she’d bought while she was away, had taken most of her savings, but it was worth it.

  Her fiancé was overly concerned about her weight. Especially with their upcoming nuptials, and she really couldn’t blame him. Lena was a size sixteen on a good day, but try as she might, there were some things she could not lose. Like her thick thighs, big butt, and larger-than-average breasts. Go figure she’d go for a guy who wanted runway model thin in his significant other.

  But he’d asked her to marry him, so she must mean something to him. Right? She was determined to make Cary happy. Luckily, the Las Vegas Foodie Con she’d attended, hoping to learn how to expand her catering business, was also home to a famous plus-size designer whose gowns were to die for.

  She was so lucky to run into Ava Marrow in the lobby of her hotel. The vivacious woman had agreed to see her last minute, claiming she had the per
fect dress for Lena’s figure. And boy, did she ever!

  The gown was incredible. Marilena looked fabulous in it if she said so herself. Yes, she knew it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, but that was just an old superstition!

  Slipping inside the door, she stripped out of her travel clothes and donned the dress, hoping to catch Cary as he woke up. He was a real stickler for schedules and insisted the alarm be set for the same time every single day. Weekends too.

  While she expected the chimes of the antiquated alarm clock, she did not expect the sight that greeted her when she walked into the room.

  There he was. Her neat as a pin, perfectly poised, and often boring if she were being honest, fiancé. He was laying in the middle of their king-sized bed with a bucket of ice holding an empty bottle of champagne, a dish of strawberry stems, and Dawn. His stick-figure secretary.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You had food in bed?”

  Lena’s shriek of outrage over the fact that he’d fed his other woman a bowl of plump strawberries in bed when he freaked out if she so much as drank water while sitting beneath the covers might have seemed irrelevant. But it was all in the details. Which was why, after she caught the two of them in flagrante delicto, she grabbed the bucket of ice and upended it over Cary’s cheating head.

  A few choice words, and okay, yes, she might have tossed the bowl of strawberries at him as well while Dawn went running for cover.

  “Lena! I thought you weren’t coming home 'till this afternoon,” he yelled while she hurled strawberries, crackers, and the bottle of spray cheese the SOB had been feasting on at his head.

  “I wasn’t you, big jerk!”

  “Dawn and I just happened, it wasn’t planned. You are being unreasonable—”

  “I’m being unreasonable? You had your dick in another woman, Cary. I don’t think I’m unreasonable. Goodbye.”

  “You can’t do this! What will the partners think?”

  “Honestly, Cary, I don’t give two shits what they or you think. It’s over.”

  She’d tossed his ring at his head, grabbed whatever she could, then left. Filling her trunk and pulling over on the side of the road to call her mother, whose only response was that Lena shouldn’t have surprised him.

  Sigh. Thank goodness the motel had a vacancy. She wiped her face as best she could, grabbed her suitcase, and checked in.

  “One room, Miss Sorelli?” Joelle Flint, Manager, her nametag read, furrowed her dark eyebrows as she handed Lena her key.

  She was young and sweet, Lena thought as she signed the credit card slip. The woman did not mention Lena’s current state. Or the fact she was wearing a strapless wedding dress at ten o’clock in the morning in late Autumn in New Jersey and had obviously been crying.

  “Hey, is everything alright?”

  “Yes,” Lena said and sniffed softly. “Well, I mean, I just dumped my lying, cheating fiancé. My mother thinks I should apologize to him, and I hung up on her for the first time in ever. All my stuff is in storage. And I have no idea what I am going to do. But I am okay. I think.”

  Her smile faltered, but that didn’t stop the young woman from coming around to the front of the desk. She took one look at Lena, then wrapped her up in a surprisingly strong and quick embrace.

  “You look like you needed that,” Joelle said, and Lena couldn’t stop a sob from escaping her lips.

  “Sorry,” she said, trying to stem the flow of tears that fell even faster.

  “It’s okay, really. Now, I don’t recall my mother because she and my dad died when I was young, so, I really don’t know what one is supposed to act like, but I can guarantee from the way my sister Maggie raised me, that your mother sucks.”

  “Ha! She does,” Lena replied, laughing through her tears.

  “Look, I can tell you’re a good person, and this guy, hell, you’re better off without the rat!”

  “Thank you. Truth is, I feel kind of relieved,” she whispered her secret and covered her mouth immediately. Oh, my! Did she really just say that? And worse, did she mean it? Yes. She did. Her eyes widened at the truth behind those words.

  “Sister, I don’t blame you one bit,” Joelle replied, smirking as she handed Lena her key card. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Yes,” Lena thought, eyes roaming around until they landed on a stack of shiny new brochures.

  “May I please have one of those pamphlets for Panther Mountains?”

  “Of course. You know, there are some lovely trails there this time of year. The foliage is beautiful.”

  “I bet.”

  “Here you go,” Joelle said, handing her the tri-fold paper. “You’re gonna be okay, Marilena Sorelli.”

  “You know, something? I think, I am.”

  Chapter Two

  What the actual fuck?

  Keeton stalked through the woods, feline senses on high alert. The sounds of soft whimpers and bitten back moans reached his sensitive ears. This patch of forest high in the Panther Mountains was his domain.

  My territory. His Mountain Lion snarled loudly. The sound caused the source of those devilishly intriguing noises to stifle a gasp. He wanted to laugh, would have if he wore skin and not fur, but regardless of the person’s attempts to quiet themselves, Keeton was very much aware of their presence.

  The notes in the air turned sour with fear and he puffed out a breath, scrunching his feline nose in distaste. Lemony tart was not his favorite flavor. He was more a rosewater and honey type Mountain Lion. Aptly named the ghost cat, Keeton crept forward. Really, he should just roar and scare the piss out of the trespasser, but something elusive about the man held his interest.

  Unable to resist, he snarled once more, even louder than before. The stranger yelped, then gasped again, as if the sudden movement jarred something out of place. Whatever. A man could crawl with a broken leg. He’d seen it often enough when he’d been on active duty. He listened for the rustle of leaves, nodded satisfactorily as the interloper started moving off his property. Then crash, boom, thud, and more whimpering.

  Hmmpf. Served the ingrate right. Keeton would harbor no intruders in his inner sanctum. He sniffed the air, hissing at the decidedly human scent that reached him. But where he expected some hot-shot male foolish enough to walk onto his property despite the warning signs, he’d posted every hundred yards since his return to US Soil, the floral notes on the air told him it was a woman who dared invade his domain. A woman who he was fairly sure had injured herself on the rocks hidden beneath the layers of slippery leaves that had fallen between bouts of rain the last week or so.

  Shit. He couldn’t leave a woman out there all night. The sun would set soon, and he still had to go back for his change of clothes before he could let her see him. First, he’d better make sure she was not in any real danger.

  He leapt onto a sturdy limb from a nearby birch tree. Creeping forward stealthily, Keeton balanced his long, muscular body on the branch that dangled over the rocky patch of ground the woman had stumbled upon. Hair the color of a desert sunset, a sort of rusty gold caught his eye, but that wasn’t the only thing about her that dazzled.

  The female wore a pair of well-worn jeans that hugged her curvy frame. She was leaning over a backpack, its contents now spilled across the forest floor, and she tried earnestly to gather them up silently. From what he could see she had a toothbrush, shampoo, some clothes, bug spray, and fuck, was that a taser gun?

  She was completely adorable. Everything inside of him swelled with the need to go to her. To make sure she was unhurt, keep her safe from harm. Once she had her belongings, he feared he missed his chance. But the sweet-looking woman bit her lip and cried out as her ankle refused to support her, and she slumped back to her knees.

  Grrr.

  He fought his cat’s urge to run to her, turning back instead for the nearest of his secret stashes of clothes spread throughout the mountains. He would give her the aid she required, but he needed to be dressed t
o do that.

  The sooner he helped her, the sooner she would be gone. Off his property. Out of his life. Then Keeton wouldn’t have to worry about the very real dangers she posed to his lifestyle. No, he wouldn’t think about that now. Refused to even say it aloud.

  He shrugged on his jeans and flannel, using his long stride to his advantage just in case she managed to try to wander off. Foolish woman could get herself really hurt. True, he was the fiercest beast in the land, but not the only one. There were plenty of black bears, a few wolves, and several coyotes in the Panther Mountains.

  Wild creatures who were generally wary of his turf, but the area she’d fallen was near the edge of his territory. There was no telling who or what she’d run into if he didn’t get to her in time. Keeton inhaled a deep breath, picking up the floral hints of the female’s scent along with the distinct tartness of fear.

  His Mountain Lion roared inside of him. The beast didn’t want the woman scared. He pressed against his skin, scratching, and clawing for Keeton to move faster. He didn’t want to startle her any further, so he purposely made noise, changing his stealthy animalistic tread for that of his noisier, less graceful half.

  “Hello? Is someone there?” she cried out, and her husky voice was like a balm to his soul.

  Grrr.

  Keeton paused, allowing the dulcet tones to wash over him. Something was different about this woman. Sure, he had his fair share of trysts. Nothing but bodies in the dark to satisfy an itch, a natural urge he could no more control than he could his need to shift.

  He should not think such thoughts. Could not afford to even imagine indulging in the seductive female who needed his help. No. He would simply walk her back to her camp. She must have come on a tour or some such thing. They were frequent this time of year, but never came this far out.

  He should know, having spent the last eighteen months alone in his cabin. No one for miles except the occasional hikers who wandered too far from civilization to prove something to themselves. Keeton had no time for those people. No time for liars and fools.