Birthright (Pale Moonlight Book 1) Read online

  When Maggie strode out of the convenience store a walking wet dream, he’d felt his blood drain from his brain to his dick. Both screamed for him to go after her, not to let her get away. The entire way to this gift shop place, his head spun and his fangs throbbed to sink into her alabaster skin. He continuously ran his hand through his dark hair in an attempt to calm the dizziness threatening to make him pull over. He’d done it so much, it laid back on his head, no longer falling down on his forehead.

  Fantasies of the goddess he’d just seen had distracted him so badly, he’d almost pulled into the parking spot next to her. Forcing himself to park at the dealership next door, he faced the store, anticipating another glimpse of Maggie.

  She had just gone inside and all he saw was a closing door.

  Blowing out a hard breath, he willed his body down from the sexual precipice before he called into the wind for the beautiful shifter to come and satisfy him.

  How the fuck was he going to go in and talk with her without a raging hard-on, panting her name?

  He’d keep Seamus’ evil face in mind at all times. Remember the burial of his father and the three shifters who’d died because they’d displayed a hint of courage.

  His dick got the message and calmed the fuck down. Porter waited.

  What kind of items did this place sell? The shaded windows didn’t allow much visual inside the store. Posters that read “Good Vibrations” and “Tasty Samples” hung next to classy lingerie posters. He hadn’t heard of a gift shop that sold underwear, but whatever. It’s not like he wore any.

  The parking lot ebbed and flowed with customers, but only Maggie’s car remained the entire time; she must have been the only one working. Porter waited until the lot was empty, hoping to sneak in before the store closed.

  At last, it was just Maggie. It was time.

  ***

  Maggie sensed the door opening before the bell dinged. The next customer’s scent hit her nose, flipped her stomach, and started a warm glow deep in the area of her body that most of the store’s toys catered to.

  What the hell?

  The fact that the next customer was a shifter registered as her eyes landed on him.

  He swaggered in, his swarthy bemused expression scanning the interior. A lock of cocoa brown hair fell over his forehead, the rest pushed back off his face. He wore a red plaid shirt that hung open over a white tee molded to an extremely cut torso.

  Gawd. Pecs and abs beckoned her attention, but the low hanging carpenter jeans promised the ridges of muscle that she wanted to rim with her tongue down to the juncture between his—

  “Mage Troye?”

  Ripped from her dreamy contemplation of the hot shifter stranger, she frowned in confusion. “Sorry?”

  “You’re Maggie Miller?”

  Straightening from the counter, she switched from swept away by the hot shifter to who the fuck is he and why does he know my name? “Maybe.”

  “Then you’re also Mage Troye, your given name. I need to talk to you.”

  “I’ve never heard of Mage Troye,” Who the fuck named their kid Mage? What did he think her middle name was? Witch? “and I don’t need to talk to you. If you’re not here to shop, you need to leave.” Her heart whimpered at the idea he might go.

  Great. So she was crazy—or this guy was.

  “Lobo Springs needs your help.”

  Now, Lobo Springs rang a bell; a faint one. She remembered her mother and Jace arguing about the place. The only reason she remembered was because when she’d later asked her mom where “Loco Springs” was, her mom’s face lost color and she demanded Maggie never speak of the town again.

  “Lobo Springs,” the hot shifter prompted, “your home.”

  “I’ve lived in Freemont as long as I can remember. I’m not the girl you’re looking for.”

  His hooded eyes drifted down her body suggesting she was a girl, and he was definitely okay with finding her.

  She really hoped the gauzy shirt she wore over her bra hid her peaked nipples because she’d hate to waste the effort of masking her sexual interest only to have it on full display.

  Stalking toward the counter, he spoke low. “Your mom took you away after the attack that killed your father and brother. Your father, Bane, was our leader, Keve his heir. I’ve already talked to Jace and he—”

  She cut a hand through the air to silence him. “Wait. You spoke to Jace? When? Where?”

  The shifter gave her a sidelong look. “Several months ago. At Pale Moonlight.”

  She’d heard of the club. No humans knew it was a shifter club, but its loose reputation made it popular with the crowd looking to score. Males and females flocked there on the weekends to find out how many orgasms could kill them. Maggie had never been there, but maybe she should plan a visit, especially if this dude hung out there.

  “Yeah, and what’d he say?” Her question held an air of nonchalance, not like she was hanging on the guy’s every word that he’d seen her brother.

  A calculating gleam entered his deep chocolate eyes. “If I tell you, will you let me tell you why I’m here?”

  He smelled her eagerness. Hopefully, just about information about her brother, and not regarding her body’s reaction to him.

  “You tell me about Jace first.”

  The side of his mouth—that sensual, full mouth—twitched. “As I was saying, I talked to your brother and he refused to come back and claim his birthright of leading the village. He’s dedicated to his position as a Guardian and doesn’t want to put his human mate’s life in danger.”

  Jace was mated.

  Tears threatened to well. She wasn’t even sure he’d gotten out of jail. Suspected he wouldn’t want anything to do with her since she was the reason he was incarcerated. Her mother had driven him away, and he continued life without them.

  Regret was a dish best served by herself. She and her mother were truly alone. Her little girl fantasies that her brother would come back and just be a brother shattered.

  “So,” Maggie cleared her throat to keep from choking up, “he’s a Guardian?” What’s a Guardian?

  The male’s gaze softened. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

  “Been awhile,” she hedged. “Anyway, you were saying? Lobo Springs?”

  “The male who won the fight for leadership is an evil bastard, destroying our village slowly year by year.”

  “If he’s destroying the village, then there wouldn’t be anything left for him to rule.”

  He blinked. And blinked again. “By destroying, I mean he’s slowly taking control of our assets, our finances, and anyone who disagrees with him.”

  “And then what?”

  His mouth quirked again. “And then he has total control, his pick of the females who won’t have a choice, and no one will know better because he’s technologically controlled the village so effectively, no one could leave if they wanted to.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a finger, shushing her. “Let me finish, there’s another customer coming in.”

  Of course there was. It was almost closing time.

  “The TriSpecies Synod passed a law to let the clans of each colony vote in their leadership as a way to integrate them into the new world. Seamus has intimidated everyone into agreeing to let him remain head of Lobo Springs.” He took a deep breath, pinning her with his unnerving, engaging stare. “But if a Troye were to come back and claim birthright, Lobo Springs would be theirs by blood. Seamus wouldn’t have a say.”

  The door dinged announcing another customer and Hot Shifter stepped back, pretending to browse the shelves. Good luck with that. The section he was in catered to the BDSM crowd.

  There was so much disturbing about what he said. He thought she was Mage Troye. Her mom had only ever called her Maggie, which meant her name was just Maggie, or her mom had been very careful. Porter had tracked Jace down, who would’ve been old enough to remember another name, but she’d been so young. Too little for clear memories.

  When
he talked about the shifter world, she didn’t know what the fuck he was saying. Guardian? TriSpecies Synod? Clans and colonies and birthrights, it was all second semester Latin to her. The class she’d failed. And wouldn’t Seamus just kill her if he was as awful as Porter claimed?

  The late arrivals were two girls giggling in the lube aisle. Maggie wandered over to them in hopes to get them moving. She needed to close the store and track down Wally.

  “Can I help you ladies with anything?”

  Hot Shifter meandered away from the whips and cuffs section looking a little bewildered. The girls noticed him, eyes tracking him the whole way. The wild part of Maggie didn’t like that. The wolf in her wanted to pick them each up by the scruff of the neck and haul their Zumba’d asses out. Then she’d go take her aggression out on Wally the pervert because she hated feeling…territorial?

  “We were just deciding which one to get.” One girl answered. Maggie was surprised they’d even noticed her presence. Hot Shifter dominated the room, and their attention. “Um, what do you recommend?”

  “Is it for you or him? There’s flavored lube and flavored condoms.”

  “Him,” both replied in unison. Hot Shifter disappeared into the X-rated video room.

  Maggie snickered before turning her attention back to the women. “I’d go with a condom. It’s got the normal plasticy undertones, but a pleasing flavor overall, and they catch the mess so you don’t have to. I think strawberries and cream is the most popular flavor, but we do carry a variety pack.”

  The women each snagged a variety box. When they left, Maggie locked the door, shutting her in with the stranger. Hot Shifter didn’t smell like a danger to her. Physically at least.

  He ambled into view when he heard the door shutting.

  “So what’s your name, anyway?” She feared she’d accidently call him Hot Shifter.

  “Porter Denlan.” The low timbre of his voice stroked her every nerve ending.

  Maggie changed her mind. He was physically dangerous. “The store’s closed. You need to leave.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Um, no, Mr. Denlan. We don’t.” She hated to drive him away, but what he asked of her was ridiculous. “Let me lay it out straight. I was raised human. Mage Troye, she doesn’t exist.” Determination poured from her. Continuing to argue with her was futile, and he needed to realize that.

  Porter’s nostrils flared, his gaze hardened. “Many of us in the village strongly suspect he’s behind the deaths of three shifters who talked of challenging him to become leader. If Seamus is allowed to continue, he’ll only get more blatant. You’re going to allow a lot of innocent shifters to get killed.”

  Ouch, that one hit her weak spot. Protecting young women from people like Wally called to her. Working at the daycare didn’t suit her, but she was ferociously protective of the kids. The idea her inaction threatened innocents unsettled her. Yet, following Porter because he insisted she was the answer was foolish. “And how would I not end up getting killed?”

  “The village would back your claim because it’d take the pressure off of them. And I’d be there to protect you.”

  She scoffed at his offer of protection. He waltzed into her work and claimed she must go back to a village to save people, who may or may not accept her, if what he said was true. Then he didn’t quite come out and say there was danger involved, but alluded to shifters perishing at Seamus’ hand, the guy she was supposed to challenge, and he offered protection. Him, an unarmed dude looking like he just walked off a construction site.

  Crossing her arms, she studied his appearance. “Are those paint smears? Is your weapon a paint brush?”

  His jaw flexed before he answered. “It’s mud.”

  “White mud?”

  “To seam sheetrock.” He answered as if, duh, wasn’t it obvious?

  “So you what, work in construction? And your weapon of choice is a saw? Hammer?” Who said bitchiness wasn’t a great defensive tactic? What he asked of her plucked all of her inadequate shifter insecurities. Like how she knew she was different from everyone around her, but understood next to nothing about how her people lived. Call it her gut, intuition, but she wasn’t the one meant to rescue Lobo Springs. “You need to leave, Porter. My answer is no.”

  He approached. She refused to back up. The closer he got, the more her body urged her to meet him, press into his strong frame. Tilting her head back as he towered over her, she wished she wore her heels. Then he’d only have a couple of inches advantage.

  “Do you really want me to leave?” He spoke softly, heat radiating off his body, warming hers in the right places.

  She drew in a deliberate breath, licked her lips, instantly regretting the movement. His eyes zeroed in on her lips, pupils dilated, his breaths slow, intentional. He was controlling his own body’s reaction as carefully as she was.

  Did she really want him to leave? Her pebbled nipples, tingling core, and raging hormones screamed no. “Yes.” She exhaled, the word requiring more effort than she’d put into speech her entire life.

  Disbelief lightened his expression. He peered down at her, drifted an inch closer.

  Hastily, she stepped back. Hurt and confusion permeated the air.

  “If you were raised by humans,” he said, “what do you know about shifters?”

  She shuttered her expression, hoping to hide her lack of knowledge. “I know enough.”

  He coughed out a laugh. “I doubt that. I’ll give you time, Maggie. But I’ll be back. I promise you that.”

  Her gauzy shirt rippled as a shiver whispered through her. Porter snatched the keys from her hand, marched to the door, and unlocked it to let himself out, leaving the keys in the deadbolt.

  Exiting Porter was just as mouth-watering as Entering Porter. Those baggy pants couldn’t hide an ass like that. Each step adjusted the thick material enough to tease her with hints of muscular thighs. Nothing could make her glance away. She remained mesmerized until he drove away.

  How could she not have followed anything Porter said about their people? Muscle memory saved her while closing the store. Her body felt like an empty conch shell—the warm life that had once resided inside was gone, leaving an echoing cavern. Three times she counted the cash register because she’d drifted off, Porter filling her thoughts, leaving her a little less bereft, until she forced herself back to awareness.

  So much precious night had been wasted on her scattered thoughts and old regrets. She needed to shake it off. Hunting Wally should do the trick.

  Chapter Four

  Porter drove down the street and parked, keeping a close eye on the store and Maggie.

  His mind was scrambled after his encounter with the gorgeous shifter.

  Raised human.

  What the hell had Armana Troye—Miller—whatever the fuck she called herself these days—been thinking?

  Raised as a human.

  Was that why she acted like she didn’t know who he was to her. Didn’t give a rat’s furry behind about what happened to his home, to the shifters there. He’d built half that town. After the attacks, he utilized what his father had taught him and, board by board, rebuilt what had been taken from them.

  And Maggie had no interest in returning to save it all.

  She wasn’t totally clueless about their connection. He affected her. Not with anger, not with fear, but with pure lust. She’d wanted him and wouldn’t admit it—to him or herself.

  Jace had been completely tight-lipped about his family. Porter wouldn’t have guessed they were estranged, and he wanted to know why. Hell, he wanted to learn everything about the knockout in the strappy red sandals, body-hugging clothing, and dominatrix ponytail.

  Sex shop, he snorted. He’d been bombarded by her sex appeal and surrounded by erotic images. Yeah, they might’ve been tasteful, but they filled a male’s mind with ideas. Like how blue her eyes would be wearing nothing but skin and that pale pink collar he saw hanging in a display, her breasts pushed up high by…nothing.
He instinctively knew they’d defy gravity.

  Groaning against the pressure in his pants, he shifted, seeking relief. Nothing short of driving into Maggie’s sultry body, savoring the dampness he scented on her encompassing his cock, would help him feel less strung out.

  She was perfect. Not just for him, but for the colony. He sensed strength and more than a dose of stubbornness. With his help, she’d develop into a fine leader.

  No, he wasn’t giving up on Maggie Miller.

  And where was the object of his surveillance going?

  He didn’t follow her immediately, wanted to remain hidden as he trailed her through town. There wasn’t much traffic this time of night which made it both easier and harder to remain undetected. He circled around the block to avoid getting too close and still be able to distinguish her headlights when he returned to the proper road.

  After one go-round, he worried he’d truly lost her only to notice her car creeping through a popular club’s parking lot. He waited until she exited and resumed tailing her.

  She did that two more times before parking down the street from the fourth club.

  Either she was really picky on venues or she searched for someone.

  Contemplating that someone being male summoned a deep rage Porter hadn’t known existed within himself. He was the calm one, possessed a rare level head found in male shifters. She had asked if his weapon was a saw or hammer. No, if she sought male company after meeting him, the only weapons he needed were his hands and fangs.

  Except she remained in her car.

  Young men and women staggered randomly out of the club. Some left individually, a few in groups. His keen eyes picked up a young girl weaving into the parking lot. She dropped her keys, almost fell picking them up, walked a couple more steps, dropping her keys again.

  Sweet Mother, she wasn’t thinking about driving was she?

  Humans and their liquor.

  Then Porter noticed an average-looking male running up to help her. And Maggie was heading toward the couple.

  Porter frowned. She was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt with the hood up. A pair of Nikes replaced the sexy sandals. She wasn’t wearing that when she left the store; she had to have changed while driving. He regretted having to keep his distance.