A deep, possessive rumble starts in my chest and I growl into the wind. Mine.
I don’t even know her and I want to protect her with everything I have. I want to call my brothers to me, and announce to the entire Club that she is under our protection while our pod gathers. She is our mate. I know it.
The only thing that concerns me is that I can’t get a read on her. Humans can’t find us without help and the Matestones only work on other Supes. But she doesn’t smell like anything I have ever smelled before. She’s not a shifter. She’s not on fire, so clearly she’s not a vamp. She doesn’t feel like a witch. Ronnie is a mystery who doesn’t seem to know anything about the stone she wears around her neck.
In Misty Cove, mysteries aren’t something we encourage. Mysteries mean trouble. And the arrival of a mysterious female could mean war.
Seeing her wearing that fucking crystal like some sort of accessory just about did me in. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one that I was beginning to think they were a myth. A Matestone? Worn by an unclaimed female who seems to have no idea what she’s wearing?
Shit’s about to get real in Misty Cove. Ronnie may be a firecracker, but she’s no match for what’s coming at her.
It’s a delicate peace we have achieved. Shifter populations are less now than they used to be. Supernatural creatures in general are experiencing a population decline. There’s no one to blame. Well, no one but the obvious: humanity. With their fixation on systematically destroying everything good in the world, we’re losing our few remaining safe places to hide. That’s why the founders of Sea Lion MC established the settlement at Misty Cove in the first place.
We wanted a safe haven. A place where Supes could live in peace without human interference. In our heyday, the MC were seen as town heroes—the law and the order in the community.
But those were the good old days. We still guard and protect, but our little colony is getting smaller and smaller. Mates are in short supply and often require long distances of travel to find. There are often 5 males to every one female in our communities and, out of necessity, we’ve become matriarchal. Our women are protected and our pups are defended by the entire colony. We form brotherhoods within our pods and we wait for Fate to grant us the chance to complete our clans. One woman. Multiple men. Happily Ever After.
It’s easier said than done and that’s without a Matestone coming into play.
Being around an active Matestone is like throwing gasoline on the fire. I can only hope it doesn’t incinerate us in the process.
CHAPTER THREE: RONNIE
I HAVE A PROBLEM AND his name is Darren. He’s about 6’3 with chestnut hair, a dash of silver at the temples, rides a motorcycle, rescues strange women off the side of the road, and... something about him has lit my fire. Being snuggled up against him makes me want to do very, very bad things. Deliciously naughty things.
It’s like it’s own special, delicious form of torture. Maybe it’s the freedom from Adam. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s like the picture of a Silver Kit, not quite old enough to be a silver fox, but old enough to call Daddy, and that works for me. Hell maybe it’s because today is Saturday and an opportunity has presented itself. I don’t know. But my pussy is throbbing, my nipples could cut glass, and every single thought I’ve had in the last 20 minutes has been an addition to an already impressive fantasy sequence that ends with me riding him into the sunset.
Like I said. Problem.
The rational side of me says I should be more concerned about the fact that I let a stranger talk me into hopping on the back of his motorcycle in the middle of nowhere rather than my libido. Adventures that start like this have a funny way of ending up as a feature on a true crime podcast years later. It’s not like I don’t know better. I absolutely do.
Yet, my intuition doesn’t spark. I didn’t get any creeper vibes off him. He’s been nothing but polite with the one exception of when he checked me out. But I can forgive him staring at my tits because they were definitely glowing. Glowing tits are worth staring at. And mine aren’t half bad even when they aren’t glowing. My intuition is usually correct. Unless I’m dating someone. Then it is woefully, tragically broken. #LessonsLearned. Darren feels safe, and I believe him when he says that he won’t harm me.
We accelerate and I can feel the wind whipping at me. I have an irrational desire to spread my arms out, but I’m not stupid enough to try it. Motorcycles have always freaked me out, but this is more fun than I thought was possible. If nothing else, this trip was worth it for this moment—complicated horny feelings and all.
I lean my head against his back and let my mind wander through the series of events that led me here.
I was with Adam for four long, emotionally laborious years. We were great on paper, not great in real life. I guess I’m not that surprised that Adam cheated. I doubt it was the first time. But I have always been the staunchly monogamous one. The one who, no matter how few of my needs are being met, stays and tries to make it work.
If you ask Terra or, god-forbid my therapist, they will
