Read Online Shifter's Claim (The Shadow Shifters) by A. C. Arthur - Free Book Online
Authors: A. C. Arthur
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almost painful. Bas sighed, gripping his length in one palm and jerking so hard he half expected his release to come shooting out instantaneously. Then his memory betrayed him, her scent filtering through his nostrils as if she were standing directly in front of him. When he closed his eyes in exasperation it was only to find that she was there. In his mind he could see her face, see the alluring curve of her chin, the soft mound of her cheekbones, the length of her eyelashes. Her compact body wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt as if they were custom-made.
He’d touched her. Bas growled, his hand growing tighter around his dick, teeth clenching once more.
No man could touch her. No other man could have her, could not fuck her. Because she was his.
“No,” Bas hissed. “No.”
His hand moved of its own accord, jerking upward until the bulbous head burned with impending release. Sliding down his shaft and up roughly once more he cursed and cursed some more, until release finally came in rushing jets of white dripping to the floor so loudly his eyes shot open even as his head lulled back.
“No. Not her,” he said on a hampered breath. “Not her.”
Chapter 7
Sedona, Arizona
Evening
This is not a game.
That’s what he’d told her, even though she’d been fully aware of those facts from the first e-mail she’d received. This wasn’t a game, and whoever it was that wanted her to uncover this secret Reynolds and his friends were harboring, were doing a damn good job of hammering that fact home. Right to Priya’s doorstep, to the heart of who she was, to be exact.
This morning she’d walked up the familiar cracked steps to her mother’s house, becoming instantly overwhelmed with all the memories that lived beyond that front door. Using her key she’d gone inside, walking through the vestibule, inhaling the scent of stale cigarette smoke and old grease. Her mother would be in the kitchen, no doubt, sitting at the old Formica table with its only two surviving chairs, across from the cracked counter that held the nineteen-inch television Priya had bought her two Christmases ago. She would be dressed in her robe, cotton and frayed at the collar and her hair, which she’d long ago cut short would be slicked down to her scalp with some gel concoction she was fond of. In one shaking, bony hand would be her ever-present cigarette, while her ankles crossed beneath the table, shaking as well.
“Mornin’, Mama,” she’d said.
“Hey there, you got my medicine?”
“Of course,” Priya replied, putting the bag from the drugstore on the table within her grasp.
She went to the refrigerator, opened it, and unpacked the other bags she’d brought with her, the ones with the milk, eggs, butter, and Cap’n Crunch cereal her mother loved.
“I don’t know where Malik is,” Karen had said while Priya’s back was still turned to her. “He never usually stays away this long.”
Priya stilled. No, her older brother Malik never stayed away for weeks because in a matter of days he’d run through whatever money he’d been able to scrape up, getting high with all the drugs he’d been able to find. He always came back to Karen’s though, because she always let him in. She cooked for him, and washed his clothes, and even gave him what pennies she had left out of her monthly check so that he could go right back out into the streets. Closing her eyes, Priya tried not to think about the endless circle of their lives. She tried not to think about the father who had walked out on them, thrusting Karen into the endless pit of depression and self-loathing that had created such a loving home for her to grow up in. At one point she almost covered her ears as she thought she could still hear Levi Drake’s yelling and cursing as he beat Karen and Malik like they were rodents on the street. Priya and her sisters had escaped those beatings only because they stayed away from Levi and his deadly temper, out of his reach and
He’d touched her. Bas growled, his hand growing tighter around his dick, teeth clenching once more.
No man could touch her. No other man could have her, could not fuck her. Because she was his.
“No,” Bas hissed. “No.”
His hand moved of its own accord, jerking upward until the bulbous head burned with impending release. Sliding down his shaft and up roughly once more he cursed and cursed some more, until release finally came in rushing jets of white dripping to the floor so loudly his eyes shot open even as his head lulled back.
“No. Not her,” he said on a hampered breath. “Not her.”
Chapter 7
Sedona, Arizona
Evening
This is not a game.
That’s what he’d told her, even though she’d been fully aware of those facts from the first e-mail she’d received. This wasn’t a game, and whoever it was that wanted her to uncover this secret Reynolds and his friends were harboring, were doing a damn good job of hammering that fact home. Right to Priya’s doorstep, to the heart of who she was, to be exact.
This morning she’d walked up the familiar cracked steps to her mother’s house, becoming instantly overwhelmed with all the memories that lived beyond that front door. Using her key she’d gone inside, walking through the vestibule, inhaling the scent of stale cigarette smoke and old grease. Her mother would be in the kitchen, no doubt, sitting at the old Formica table with its only two surviving chairs, across from the cracked counter that held the nineteen-inch television Priya had bought her two Christmases ago. She would be dressed in her robe, cotton and frayed at the collar and her hair, which she’d long ago cut short would be slicked down to her scalp with some gel concoction she was fond of. In one shaking, bony hand would be her ever-present cigarette, while her ankles crossed beneath the table, shaking as well.
“Mornin’, Mama,” she’d said.
“Hey there, you got my medicine?”
“Of course,” Priya replied, putting the bag from the drugstore on the table within her grasp.
She went to the refrigerator, opened it, and unpacked the other bags she’d brought with her, the ones with the milk, eggs, butter, and Cap’n Crunch cereal her mother loved.
“I don’t know where Malik is,” Karen had said while Priya’s back was still turned to her. “He never usually stays away this long.”
Priya stilled. No, her older brother Malik never stayed away for weeks because in a matter of days he’d run through whatever money he’d been able to scrape up, getting high with all the drugs he’d been able to find. He always came back to Karen’s though, because she always let him in. She cooked for him, and washed his clothes, and even gave him what pennies she had left out of her monthly check so that he could go right back out into the streets. Closing her eyes, Priya tried not to think about the endless circle of their lives. She tried not to think about the father who had walked out on them, thrusting Karen into the endless pit of depression and self-loathing that had created such a loving home for her to grow up in. At one point she almost covered her ears as she thought she could still hear Levi Drake’s yelling and cursing as he beat Karen and Malik like they were rodents on the street. Priya and her sisters had escaped those beatings only because they stayed away from Levi and his deadly temper, out of his reach and
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