Real Men Shift Volume Two: Paranormal Werewolf Romance Boxed Set

by Celia Kyle

  Warren grinned and patted the platform. “Home sweet home.”

  Persia grinned back, those dimples going all the way to China. “Exactly.”

  For the first time, she glanced around the platform, her gaze zeroing in on a pile of goods he’d dragged up the tree. A dark red eyebrow shot up and her blue-and-brown gaze turned on him with a questioning look.

  “What?” He feigned innocence.

  “What’s that?”

  “Hmm?” He glanced over his shoulder, as if he didn’t know full well what she was talking about. “Just some food and a couple of sleeping bags.”

  “And why are there two?”

  “One for each of us.” He shrugged one shoulder and went back to nailing down the railing. “There. Low enough we won’t roll off in the middle of the night. It’s also big enough to sleep two comfortably.”

  “Whoa whoa whoa, slow your roll, Paul Bunyan.” She shook her head. “What makes you think I’m letting you sleep on the same platform as me?”

  He didn’t really care if it pissed her off. No mate of his would sleep in a tree alone surrounded by randy hippies. Not gonna happen. “I told you I’d help you build a treehouse, Red. I never said anything about letting you sleep in one on your own.”

  “Excuse me? Who are you to let me do anything?”

  “Listen, I don’t really get the point of all this anyway, but if you’re determined to sleep in a wall-less tree fort, the least I can do is give you a camping buddy. Me!”

  A battle raged inside her, that much he could tell. Her pretty pink lips worked as if she was trying to form words, but the scent coming off her betrayed her arousal.

  “You think I can’t take care of myself?” she sniped, narrowing her gaze at him.

  “I don’t recall ever saying that.”

  “You thought it.”

  “Conjecture, counselor.” He flashed her a sly smile.

  She huffed her frustration. “Point is, I don’t need anyone babysitting me.”

  “Who said anything about babysitting? I’m just here as your muscle, which you haven’t seemed to mind so far, from what I can tell.”

  The color in her cheeks flamed, and Warren sensed a shift in her scent that told him he might not have crossed a line, but he had at least toed it.

  “What the hell is that supposed to—”

  Her volume had grown to the point Warren almost missed a sound that seemed out of place. Scooting close to her, he covered her mouth with his big palm. Obviously, she thought he was trying to stop her arguing, judging by the fire in her eyes, but one cautious finger to his lips stilled her. Then he pointed to the ground, where the sound of someone or something barreling through the trees echoed through the woods.

  Then came the shouts and more leaves rustling until a few of the protestors ran toward their chosen trees. Several sheriff deputies chased after them, pulling them away from their half-finished projects before they could get a couple feet off the ground.

  “You’re under arrest for trespassing, you tree-hugging asshole!” a younger deputy shouted a little too eagerly as he pushed Leaf’s face into the forest floor.

  Warren released a stunned Persia as the scene repeated itself a few more times, until the deputies escorted the last of the protestors from the woods. More shouting and arguing rippled through the air from the direction of the campsite, which could only mean one thing. Every last protestor was being evicted. Not just evicted but arrested.

  The effort was far too coordinated and far too violent for Warren’s taste. It reeked of McNish’s doing. The proud members of the Tremble PD were as honest as the day was long, which explained why the county cops had swooped in. McNish had probably greased the county Sheriff’s palm to get the job done.

  Warren and Persia had dropped low and lain on their stomachs, peering over the edge of their treehouse during the commotion. They remained silent and motionless as they watched the raid, instinctively knowing they were far more valuable to the cause if they remained in the tree than if they came down and allowed themselves to be arrested. That would serve no one but McNish.

  The sound of the last Sheriff’s cruiser driving off grew faint, and then silence overtook the woods at the same point the darkness of night engulfed them. Warren was about to say something when Persia shook her head. They waited a full five minutes before she finally sat up and rested her back against the tree trunk.

  “Well, shit,” she breathed, looking stunned, as far as he could tell in the dim light. “I can’t believe my father did that. You know he was responsible for this. R-right?”

  “I figured,” Warren replied, leaning back next to her.

  “I also can’t believe none of them ratted us out. They knew we were up here, but they didn’t say anything. Even after all the terrible things I said to them.”

  “Maybe those circle-jerkers like you more than you realize.” He absently pulled out their sleeping bags.

  She stared at him with a confused expression when he handed over hers. “H-how did you know about…” she started.

  Oh shit. She’d spilled her guts to his wolf not him. A good offense was always the best defense, he decided.

  “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Red.”

  She seemed to buy it. “Guess not. Not a great trait for a lawyer, huh? Should we go bail them out?”

  “Only if you’re sure the Sheriff has the slightest inkling to set them free before all of this blows over in your dad’s favor, which I can guarantee he doesn’t.” He was grim as he rolled out his sleeping bag.

  She watched him with incredulity for a moment before responding. “You’ve got to be kidding me with that.”

  He grinned as he sat on the relative cushiness of the sleeping bag and pulled a bag of potato chips from the food stores he’d brought up. “Here’s the way I see it, Red. You’re not going to give up your advantage of leaving this tree. I’m not leaving you up here alone. Which means we’re gonna be here for a while. Might as well get comfy.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Persia’s legs dangled off the edge of the platform as she watched the embers of a few dying campfires flicker into oblivion. Just like her protest. A few minutes either way, and she would have found herself in the back of a squad car, just like Leaf and Summer and all the rest. Her father would be pissed she hadn’t been tossed behind bars for the night, or longer, if he could somehow have managed it. Nothing made him happier than teaching her a lesson.

  “How bad are the local cops?” She glanced back at Warren, who’d managed to find his shirt, much to her bitter disappointment.

  Warren’s big hand dragged through his mop of sandy hair, slicking back the part that was still damp from his sweat. When it was dry, his hair seemed pretty straight, only curling at the nape of his neck and temples when he’d been working hard. Darkness had fallen so heavily in the canopy of the woods she couldn’t make out those kinds of details very well, and suddenly she wished for a lantern.

  Spinning around, she focused on the silhouette of a nearby tree, trying to not think about the way her body reacted every time he came into view. Hell, every time she even thought about him. No stranger to animal attraction, Persia had never been so irresistibly drawn to anyone before. It was almost as if he was a bonfire and she was a hapless moth. With a firm head shake, she reminded herself—just as she had many times over the last day—she was there to do a job, not a local boy.

  “The town cops are good guys,” he finally answered, “but those county jerks…”

  “So, they’re evil?”

  Warren snorted. “I’d say ‘evil adjacent.’ From what I’ve heard, your dad’s had the sheriff and some of his deputies in his pocket for a while now.”

  “That sounds right,” Persia sighed. “My dad has always used money to grease the wheels of what he calls progress. No matter where he goes, he manages to sniff out the people in charge who are most susceptible to taking bribes and breaking their oaths. It’s like his superpower.”


  “Dirtbag,” Warren sneered, then quickly added, “No offense.”

  Persia shook her mane of red hair. “You’re joking, right? He’s been a cold shadow looming over me since the day I was born. I think ‘dirtbag’ is too good for him.”

  Anger was herbal tea compared to the fury that pulsed through her veins at this latest salvo by good old Daddy Dearest. He’d gone too far this time. Eh, who was she kidding? He’d gone too far many times, but this was the last straw. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her harness and strapped in.

  “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Warren’s voice was full of alarm.

  Persia clipped the carabiner to her harness and gave it a good tug. “Duh, I’m going to bail them out. I can’t just sit up here and twiddle my thumbs while they rot in some nasty backwater cells. No offense.”

  He didn’t seem to hear the accidental insult as he scrambled to his feet and grabbed her belaying line. “Like hell!”

  “I can’t just sit here!” she fired back.

  Warren let his eyelids fall shut as he took a deep breath, giving her the chance to take in the sharp line of his nose, the light stubble on his cheeks, the way his lips pressed together when she frustrated him. Damn, that would be heaven to see every day.

  “Listen to me, Persia.” He softened his tone and slipped his hand down to cover hers. It took all of her concentration to focus on his words after that. “We already talked about this. You can’t risk getting arrested. If you go down there and some errant deputy is stationed out there somewhere, you’ll join everyone else behind bars. Their sacrifice will mean nothing. You can’t save Wolf Woods from a jail cell.”

  “I know, but it feels like I’m hiding up here instead of facing my dad head on.”

  Warren gently unclipped her from the harness and helped her out of it before she really knew what he was doing. All she knew was that his body was so close to hers, his knuckles skimming random spots on her body and causing her brain to spin around inside her skull like a top.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you have to pick your battles wisely. Getting your pals out of jail may seem important, but they didn’t rat you out for a reason. Even if they were angry with you, they knew you’re the only person who has a snowball’s chance in a Georgia summer of winning against your father.”

  She gingerly stepped out of the harness, one hand grasping Warren’s taut bicep for leverage. Yeah…leverage. He dropped the harness to the platform and gripped her shoulders, turning her into a yearning pile of mush as she stared into his eyes—what she could see of them, anyway.

  “Persia, we didn’t build this spectacular treehouse just so you could sit in jail. If you get arrested, you have to know I’ll come after you, even if that means I get arrested too. That would leave the forest vulnerable. No one would be left to defend it from the bulldozers your dad is itching to bring in here.”

  The urge to stand on her tiptoes and lay one on those luscious lips nearly overpowered her. Clearing the lust from her throat, she sidestepped him to put some much-needed space between them.

  Then she smiled. “You keep surprising me, Warren.”

  There was plenty of light to see his sexy grin. “Good. Hope that never ends.” Then he clapped his hands, dug around in his boxes of supplies and turned back to offer her a can. “Beer? After today, I know I need one.”

  “No,” Persia glanced back to where the last bits of red glowed in the campers’ fire pits. “Eh, screw it. Gimme.”

  She snatched the beer from his hand and sat on her sleeping bag, back against the tree. As the ice-cold IPA slid down her throat, she groaned with relief. A shot of tequila might have flooded her with warmth more quickly, but nothing beat a good beer at the end of a long day. Beer and chips weren’t the only things Warren had hauled up to the platform, which she discovered when he passed her half a turkey sandwich.

  “Wow, you really came prepared.” She accepted the sandwich gratefully.

  “What can I say? I’m a Boy Scout.” He dug around again in his stores and whipped out a faded, tattered Free Tibet! flag.

  “Is that my—”

  He grinned. “Yup! Thought you might like a touch of home.”

  As they munched and drank their beers, another complication popped into Persia’s head. “What am I going to do tomorrow? I need to file that injunction first thing. If I don’t, we won’t have a chance in hell of beating my father.”

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head. It’s not like this is the Ritz. Pretty sure you’ll be awake at the crack of dawn. I’ll call Zeke so someone can distract any deputies still on stake-out and I’ll stay here. No problem. But you’ll want to get your sweet ass back up this tree ASAP, just in case.”

  Persia took a long draught of the bitter ale and winced. Not at the taste, but at what still lay ahead of her. “I just can’t stand the thought of that asshole winning again.”

  She felt Warren’s eyes on her, studying her. “Mind my asking what’s up with your relationship with him? I don’t mean to be blunt, but it seems sorta fucked up.”

  Persia snorted at his observation. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  Where to start? She drained her beer and when she handed him the empty, it was instantly replaced with a fresh one. A few sips later, she finally had the nerve to continue.

  “Honestly, it’s not really all that complicated. Sitting here in this tree, I see my life as two parts. The first half was when I was young and naive. Happy. Convinced my father could do no wrong, that he truly meant all the bullshit he spouted about doing good. Throughout my childhood, he encouraged me to be ambitious, to put all my energy and focus into my future. Looking back, a solid work ethic is the one positive thing he taught me. Of course, he couldn’t have known all my hard work would turn around to bite him in the ass.”

  “And your mom?”

  Persia sighed and drained her second beer just so she could talk about her mother. “She’s… around. Well, not really.” She sighed again, giving him an amused grimace. “It’s a whole deal. My dad’s talent is working hard. My mom’s is playing hard.”

  Warren waited patiently as she figured out the best way to explain her twisted family dynamic. No one on this planet she was trying to save could ever accuse her of having a hard life. She’d grown up white, straight and more privileged than most. So many people had it so much worse than she could ever imagine. But, as the saying went, everyone had shit to deal with.

  “We were never close, my mom and me. She always maintained a solid distance from me, both literally and figuratively. While Daddy worked his ass off, Mother traveled. It’s her passion. I think she only had me because Daddy expected offspring. After I was born, that was it for her. She took off on cruises, yoga retreats, European tours, you name it. For my sixteenth birthday, she flew me to Paris to go shopping and I hated every minute. If it’s not obvious, haute couture wasn’t made for my body type.”

  Warren’s gaze traveled the length of her body, turning her insides to hot mush. “Looks pretty perfect to me,” he mumbled, barely loudly enough for her to hear.

  “Anyway.” Her brain struggled to keep them on track while her body reminded her they were alone… in a forest… in a tree… with sleeping bags, chips and beer. “Mother likes luxury and Daddy… well, I guess he likes keeping her busy elsewhere.”

  “So, were you close to your father growing up?”

  “More than with Mother, but it was almost like a business relationship. From my birth, I was always Daddy’s Little Girl. He spoiled me some, I won’t lie, but mostly he taught me to follow in his footsteps. I think he was hoping I’d become a mini version of him.”

  Warren choked on his beer and then chuckled, wiping his face dry. “Yeah, that didn’t work out so well for him. Did it? You’re nothing like him.”

  Her heart warmed at that. “Thanks for that, but even I know we have similarities. But I’ll be honest, there was a time when my deepest desire was to be just like him. D
uring Part One of my life. Part Two started when I learned the truth.”

  Warren sat up a bit. “About what?”

  “About him. My father. About what his actual business model looks like. During my youth, he’d been involved with all of these environmental agencies. If you can believe it, he pushed me to go into environmental law. As far as I knew, he was an esteemed philanthropist, the kind of wealthy man who uses his money for good causes. I held him on such a pedestal, he could have touched the sun.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’d just been hired as a junior associate at a well-respected environmental firm. My job was basically to stuff thousands of pages of documents into file folders in these massive shelves that moved with a push of a button. It was deathly boring, and the hours were grueling, but I loved it. I was on my way! One night, a bunch of us younger staff members went to happy hour at a nearby bar. When I broke off to hit the bathroom, this woman followed me and started chatting. Turns out she was a reporter, and I was completely unprepared for the bombshell she dropped on me. She told me, not so politely, about my father’s strong-arming tactics, how he only pretends to be environmentally conscious to keep the tree huggers off his back, that basically he was the exact kind of guy I wanted to fight against. At first, I thought she was just trying to pick a fight or something, but she had documentation and eyewitness accounts to back up her claims.”

  “Damn, some happy hour that turned out to be.”

  Even during a hard talk, Warren somehow managed to lighten her mood. “After that, my world flipped upside down. It all became clear. My father wanted me to be an environmental lawyer to help him, not the planet. He’d used his influence to get me the job, so the first thing I did was quit. The people there seemed dedicated to saving the planet, but I couldn’t allow my future to be tainted like that. Before he officially cut me off, I stopped taking his money. I used my last paycheck from the firm to buy Betty, and I’ve spent the last few years being a thorn in his side. And that’s pretty much my tale of woe. Are you crying yet?”