Real Men Shift Volume Two: Paranormal Werewolf Romance Boxed Set

by Celia Kyle

  For the first time in her life, Persia had nothing left to protest.

  Chapter Four

  Warren stretched his hind legs and shook his furry head as the sun peeked over the treetops the next morning. Despite her protests, he’d promised Persia he’d be at the clinic bright and early. Mainly because he knew he’d be sleeping on the steps leading to Trina’s clinic. No way was he going to leave his mate alone, not as long as people like McNish were out to destroy their pack. Hell, he’d stay by her side twenty-four-seven, if she’d let him, regardless of what was happening in the world.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Max and Trina to be in the next room. Well, in truth, he trusted Trina and gave Max the benefit of the doubt since Trina trusted him. She’d probably slice off very important parts of Max if he so much as sniffed in Persia’s direction. But he felt more protective of Persia than anything else in his entire life and hadn’t been able to force himself away. Even so, a pang of jealousy stabbed his heart when he caught Max’s scent surrounding the cabin. It was only natural for a male wolf to want to keep his mate safe, but he no longer wanted jealousy to be part of his life.

  Your first reaction is how you were taught to feel, and your second reaction is your true self’s response.

  That had become Warren’s mantra since he’d had a nice long talk a while back with the pack’s omega, Cassandra. He’d sought her out not long after his childhood crush, Chloe, had run off with another pack’s healer. He’d thought his heart was broken, but Cassandra helped him see it wasn’t. Mostly his ego had been bruised. Regardless, he reminded himself of his new mantra on a daily basis, and he found it helped him to be more mindful of the world.

  And that wasn’t a bad thing.

  Warren took his time shifting, still drowsy and stiff from sleeping on hard wood all night. The sun felt good on his bare skin, and he took a moment to bask in it, thanking the heavens for bringing Persia to Tremble. The irony of the situation struck him as he dressed. He really should be thanking Dick McNish. If the asshole hadn’t set his sights on Wolf Woods, Persia might never have stepped foot in Tremble and Warren would never have found her.

  Not wanting to wake everyone if they still slept, Warren softly rapped a couple of times on the clinic door. He’d learned the hard way not to just barge in anymore. Seeing his sister and her mate going at it twice had been enough to teach him that lesson. He was about to turn away when the door swung open. Persia stood there, staring up at him with warmth in her eyes, clearly happy to see him.

  Yes!

  “Early riser too, huh?” she stepped aside to let him pass.

  Trina and Max stood in the pass-through to their cabin, enjoying their morning Earl Grey.

  “You could say that,” he chuckled, ignoring his sister’s smirk.

  “Want some tea?” Max struggled to hide his smile at how smitten Warren was with Persia.

  “No,” Persia answered for him, “we need to get going. Don’t need my van getting booted for sitting in the parking lot all night.”

  Eager to leave the smug atmosphere filling his sister’s place, Warren readily agreed and ushered her out the door toward his truck. When he hurried to open the passenger door for her, she gave him a perplexed smile.

  “Old fashioned type, huh?”

  “Are you telling me you don’t like a little chivalry?” Warren quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “No way, I’m just not used to it.” She climbed into her seat.

  Warren knew he shouldn’t feel overly proud about making her feel special, but he did. Biting the inside of his cheek, he rounded the truck thinking of everything she’d unwittingly told him in the clearing the day before. If he wanted to woo this woman, he’d have to take his cues wherever he could.

  The cab was silent, other than the roar of the engine, as they bumped their way off the mountain and onto the main road leading into Tremble. Persia moved her legs as if to prop them on the dash but stopped short.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he told her. “If you haven’t noticed, this rattle trap isn’t very fancy.”

  Persia laughed, kicking back as if she owned the beast. Her loud, uninhibited laugh sounded like the daintiest wind chimes, though it was anything but dainty. It suited her so perfectly, and he could tell he’d spend the rest of his life smiling every time she so much as chuckled.

  And the fact she was already so comfortable in his presence gave him immense pleasure and a strange sort of joy. The view of her curvy calves when her flowing skirt fell away from them gave him other feelings. Feelings he wouldn’t be able to hide if he kept staring at her creamy skin.

  Clearing his throat and keeping his eyes trained on the road, he tried to find a safe topic. “Trina gave you the all-clear this morning, I assume.”

  “Yup, fit as a fiddle. I barely even have a smidge of a headache, just a tender lump.” Her fingers fluttered up to her head and gingerly prodded the spot that had come in contact with a table.

  “Good to hear. I just hate this was your first impression of Tremble. McNish has really caused a stir. We used to have such a peaceful and friendly community but now…”

  “If things hadn’t gotten stirred up, I wouldn’t be seeing it at all,” she pointed out.

  “True,” Warren chuckled, amused that he’d thought pretty much the same thing.

  “Besides, I’ve seen it happen before. I’ve followed McNish’s delightful path of destruction all over Georgia for… well over a year now.” Her sigh held more sadness than Warren would have expected.

  “Mind if I ask why you’ve been on his tail?”

  The mood inside the truck darkened as she shot him a sharp glance. “Because what he’s doing is beyond criminal. Running people off their ancestral lands? For what? Money? What kind of person does that?”

  “An awful one,” Warren grimaced.

  “McNish is a real piece of work. You’d be shocked how good he is at covering up his activities. I simply can’t abide the thought of him destroying so many people’s lives and never facing the consequences of that choice.”

  Her passion intoxicated him. Of course, he wanted to experience a different, more intimate kind of passion with her, but her energy rubbed off on him, exciting him at the thought of stopping McNish.

  “And that’s why I’ve dedicated my life to stopping Dick McNish from ruining anyone else’s lives.”

  “Did you see the article about him the other day?”

  She shrugged her ambivalence. “It was well-written, but it was only the start of what needs to happen to break through his armor. He’s big league, and a measly regional news article won’t affect him too much. Now if it had been a national news outlet…”

  Warren spent the rest of the ride filling Persia in on the pack’s dealings with McNish—what he could, at least—including that Max had been the source for the exposé on McNish.

  Pulling into The Lair’s barren parking lot, Warren pulled up one spot over from a battered Volkswagen Westfalia van that looked even worse than his old pickup. As she reached for her door handle, he pointed at her.

  “Don’t move!”

  No mate of his would open her own car door, as long as she was okay with it. Judging by the amused smile that turned up the edges of her perfectly plump lips, she was.

  “You’re the real deal. Aren’t you?” She accepted his hand to help her down.

  “Not sure what you mean, but I’ll take it.”

  His grin faltered with the nearness of her. Underneath the antiseptic smell from spending the night in Trina’s clinic, her true dessert-like scent caught him in the back of the throat. He couldn’t even swallow for fear of losing that addictive tickle. Leaning in toward her, Warren couldn’t help noticing she didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned in a tiny bit too, craning her neck to stare into his eyes and entrancing him like a siren, luring him in with her mismatched eyes and pure soul.

  Persia broke the spell, jerking back with a start and stepping away from the circle of their
attraction. Coughing deliberately to buy some time, she flushed scarlet and quickly turned away so he couldn’t see. A good start, as far as he was concerned. Moving slowly when his mate was inches away nearly killed him, not to mention brought his wolf so close to the surface he worried he might have sprouted tufts of hair. Hopefully the courting process wouldn’t take too long because he wasn’t sure he could resist her charms much longer.

  “What do you think of Betty?” Persia asked as she pulled out her keys and opened the sliding door to her pale-yellow antiquity.

  Blowing out a breath of frustration, he smiled. “Betty? You named your van?”

  “Sure, doesn’t everyone?” she asked, looking at him like he was the weirdo.

  “Uh, no,” he chuckled as he peered inside.

  Threadbare wasn’t a strong enough term to describe the front seats. Chewed up and spit out would have been more like it. The original tan- and brown-striped tweed had worn down into strips, allowing the cushioning underneath to peek through. A badly cut hunk of orange shag carpet lay on the floor behind the seats where a built-in beige-and-brown cabinet served as a tiny kitchenette. Unlit twinkle lights hung along the ceiling, which had latches that allowed the whole thing to tilt up to offer some head room. A large faded flag reading Free Tibet! lay draped over the back seat. Persia pushed a foot stool-looking box with a matching seat cushion out of the way, grimacing an apology at him.

  “What?” he asked, clueless.

  “That’s the Portapotty. Sorry.”

  Warren’s home, a small cabin just inside the woods near the pack house, wasn’t overly large, but it was a mansion compared to Persia’s camper van. Camping for a few days in such a contraption would be one thing, but living out of one was something entirely different.

  “You… live in this? For real?”

  She must have caught his look of disbelief and snorted. “Lots of people have to live in their cars or worse these days, Warren. Way I see it, I’m living in the lap of luxury, compared to them. Besides, it doesn’t make sense to pay rent on an apartment when I travel so much.”

  He grunted noncommittally, unwilling to put words to the way he felt about her living in such an insecure space. She deserved to live in a mansion with all the luxurious trappings—not that he could give that to her, but compared to a van, his cabin might actually seem like one.

  “Looks like the perfect size for one person,” he did his best not to put any emphasis on “one.” The funny look she gave him said he failed.

  After the “tour” of her van, Persia awkwardly glanced at him, then the ground, then the sky. “Well, um, thanks for the ride.” She spoke quietly.

  That was his cue to leave, but he’d be damned if he’d let her park this janky rig off the side of the road. A serial killer could stumble upon her, or even worse, she might be tempted to chill with her ex again. Uh-uh, no way. But he’d have to handle it delicately, so he didn’t scare her off.

  “You know, a friend of mine is a local cop, and he told me yesterday that they’re going to ramp up patrols around Wolf Woods to make sure no one’s camping there. Might not be the best idea for you to park at the entrance like you’ve been doing.”

  Persia’s face crumpled into a frown. “Oh.”

  She glanced around, as if trying to determine whether living in Hux’s parking lot might be an option. Luckily Warren had an alternative that wasn’t his house, which he had a feeling she wouldn’t like at this stage of their relationship.

  “I’m sure Trina wouldn’t mind if you parked outside her place. You and your van would be totally safe and out of reach from the local police.”

  “You think?” she asked, her distracting eyes lighting up with hope.

  “I know.”

  The sun glinted off her dazzling smile, and oh god, those dimples. “Back to Trina’s!”

  Chapter Five

  An hour or so later, Warren proudly pulled into the parking area in front of Wolf Woods with Persia in the passenger seat of his truck. This time her excitement got the better of her and she didn’t wait for him to open her door. It was bound to happen from time to time, but he was determined to keep trying until it became habit. Besides, her excitement was warranted. The bed of his truck overflowed with enough lumber and tools to build at least a couple of treehouses, and more was on the way.

  “Are you sure about this?” Persia questioned him for the third time. She’d worried about the cost of all the building materials and using up all of his supplies.

  “Too late now, don’t you think?” He winked, which sent a flush of pink to her cheeks. “Besides, there’s more coming.”

  The rest of the protestors laid down their signs and wandered over, curious and wary, until they spotted Persia. The skinny kid from the tarp-tent approached but lurched to a stop at Warren’s pointed glare. Warren had caught enough of a whiff to know he was Persia’s most recent ex, Leaf. Leaf! The kid spun on his heel and returned to his spot under the McNish billboard. Maybe he wasn’t so dumb after all.

  “I… we can’t thank you enough,” Persia was saying as she pulled down the tailgate.

  “Southern hospitality, Red,” he replied, brushing up against her as he reached for a sheet of plywood.

  She stiffened against the touch and the scent of her desire hit Warren like a grenade. Yes! She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Hopefully she would forget about her vow to shun men and give in to her primal needs. Soon.

  “Okay, we’ll go with that, country boy,” she whispered and then moved away far too quickly.

  A crowd gathered around the truck and Persia startled him by clapping loudly as she turned to face her friends. “Alright, everyone, listen up! This is my friend Warren. He’s doing us a big favor by offering up a load of lumber and tools for our cause. He’s also called in some backup to help. You know what that means—we’re getting some tree-sitting platforms set up today! I want every able pair of hands we’ve got working on the platforms. If you don’t know how to build, help move materials. Let’s go!”

  To his surprise, the crowd immediately obeyed Persia’s orders, lining up to help unload the truck. That such a tiny woman could command so many people so skillfully impressed him. But as soon as the bed was empty, a handful of the younger protestors wandered away, trying to melt into the woods so they wouldn’t have to do more manual labor. At least the older ones—mid-twenties, tops—tried to figure out which was the working end of a hammer.

  By then a few more trucks loaded down with supplies had arrived, and out tumbled two of his pack mates per truck. Persia rounded up the lazy stragglers and assigned them to different duties, as if she’d done so many times before. From the sounds of it, she had.

  The guys he’d borrowed from Zeke’s construction company worked with their assigned teams of protestors, a few shooting him dirty looks for roping them into teaching basic carpentry. They could grumble all they liked, but it was for a good cause. The pack could certainly survive without access to Wolf Woods, but after McNish’s hired hunters had shot poor Little Hux, the seven-year-old son of Hux Davenport, when he was in his wolf form, the Soren pack had considered themselves at war.

  Warren didn’t follow Persia around as she organized everyone, but he also never let her out of his sight. She moved with an agility that belied her stature, which got him thinking about how flexible she might be. A flash of an image of her with her knees up near her ears brought on a coughing fit he couldn’t control. It was better than walking around the group with a raging hard-on, but just barely. Turning back to his pile of supplies, he discovered Persia strapping a tool belt around her waist and giving him a big thumbs-up.

  “Ready?” She was so full of energy and enthusiasm.

  Strapping on his own tool belt and hefting a pile of two-by-fours onto his shoulder, he jerked his head toward the trees. “After you.”

  Warren enjoyed following her into the woods as she looked for the perfect tree for her treehouse. About a hundred yards in, she found it. It was a
sturdy old sycamore that had plenty of space in its branches for a platform. Maybe not a big one, but it would be temporary at best anyway.

  “Ooh, she’s perfect,” Persia crooned as she gazed up at the gnarled branches and lush canopy. “What do you think?”

  “Perfect,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving her lush curves and fiery hair.

  She must have heard something in his tone because she turned a curious blue eye on him. Whatever she saw on his face—pure, unadulterated lust, most likely—sent an adorable pink flush high on her cheeks, and she turned back to the tree quickly.

  “Let’s get started.” She grabbed a two-by-four and then stood there, looking at it with no idea what to do next.

  Working side by side with his mate was Warren’s idea of heaven. Persia took instruction well and caught on quickly, almost as if she’d worked on job sites a time or two in her life. Pretty soon she didn’t even need any direction from him. As the other teams searched for their own trees, Warren and Persia had already found a rhythm.

  Generators and power tools found their way to the general area the protestors were building in, and then construction really got underway. Climbing the tree freestyle, he wrapped a few climbing ropes over a thick, sturdy limb and sent the bitter ends down to Persia to set up a lift system using pulleys to haul up the wood and themselves. Without hesitation, Persia strapped herself into a climbing harness, clipped into the rope, and pulled herself up with the pulleys. A couple of guys remained on the ground to send up their supplies.

  “Phew, hot up here,” Warren commented as he pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Uh huh,” she murmured absently, which drew his attention. Persia stood with a hammer hanging loosely from her hand as she stared at his bare chest.

  “You seem to know your way around a hammer,” Warren teased, giving her a wink as she shook herself back to reality.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she laughed, settling onto a branch. “I might know what to do with a hammer and handsaw, but that’s about the limit of my skills.”