Shifters at Law (A Complete Paranormal Romance Shifter Series) Page 23

  That’s not true.

  Him.

  I want him.

  Wyatt makes me feel safe and cherished and adored.

  Magical.

  He makes me feel fucking magical, like I’m some sort of fairy princess he can’t get enough of. Why does he make me feel like that? What is it about him that I’m drawn to?

  It could be his gentle smile or his handsome face, but really, I think I just like him. I like the way he moves and the way he speaks and the way nothing really seems to get past him. When we spent the evening together at Red Oak, we talked and talked and talked, and then we stopped talking.

  And somehow, the whole thing seemed so perfect.

  “Joyce?”

  He whispers my name, and I step forward once more. This time, I reach for his cheek, and I press my lips to his. I kiss Wyatt like he’s the only thing that matters, like this moment is all I’ve been dreaming about. I kiss him like he’s important, like he’s priceless to me, because he is.

  He’s incredible.

  And then he kisses me back.

  Wyatt Dixon knows how to kiss. I’ve been with humans and shifters alike, and no one has ever delighted me with a kiss the way Wyatt does. I don’t know how he does it or what it is about the way he touches me, but he makes me feel incredible.

  He makes me feel like I can fly.

  He pulls me closer to him, and I can feel every inch of his body touching mine. My nipples are hard, and I wonder if he can feel them through the fabric of my shirt against his own chest. One of Wyatt’s hands is on my waist, and the other moves lower, to my bottom, and he squeezes it, pulling me even nearer.

  He kisses me over and over again, and soon everything begins to spin.

  Soon I’m not thinking about the case, or the missing girl, or my sordid past I just can’t seem to outrun.

  Soon I’m only thinking about Wyatt.

  Soon I’m only thinking about the fact that he’s perfect, and I want this moment to last forever.

  His hand moves up to my chest, and he cups my breast. Now I know he can definitely feel how hard my nipples are. He pinches one through the thin fabric of my top, and then he pinches the other one. I let out a little moan, and he chuckles.

  “Naughty girl,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t stop kissing me.

  Two can play that game, though, and when I reach for his dick, it’s his turn to groan. Slowly, I stroke his cock over his slacks, running my hand up and down his length.

  I want him inside of me, I realize, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

  “Wyatt,” I murmur, and he pushes my pencil skirt up to my hips, and then he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him and keep kissing him as he carries me over to the desk. He pushes some things off the top of the desk, but nothing important, I realize happily.

  Then I realize I wouldn’t have cared even if those were important things.

  I only care about him.

  I only care about him touching me.

  I don’t want Wyatt’s hands to leave my skin. They feel too perfect, too right.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groans. “We’re proving her right.”

  “We’re in trouble either way,” I whisper. “Might as well have some fun, baby.”

  “Fuck, Joyce, you’re so damn sweet,” he says. “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this moment?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, too,” I admit. My legs are spread and he’s standing in front of me, kissing me, touching me. It’s obvious we both want this, need this. We’re both craving this perfect release. We’re both burning with desire for each other.

  I’ve never felt this needy before. It’s like someone has taken over my body and replaced the normal, ordinary Joyce with some kind of sex-fueled goddess.

  All I know is that if Wyatt doesn’t get inside of me – and soon – I’m going to die.

  I need this.

  I need him now.

  Here.

  “Please,” I whisper, and he begins to kiss me again. My hands find his shirt and I undo his buttons as we kiss, as he grinds against me. The only things keeping us apart are my panties and his pants, and those are off soon. He doesn’t even take his pants all the way off. He just pushes them down and then, and then, and then…

  And then Wyatt is inside of me, and I cry out.

  He covers my mouth with his hand, but it’s too late for that. These walls are paper thin, and everyone else in the building just happens to be a shifter with incredible hearing. I don’t even care. I don’t care that my bosses and Matthew know I’m having sex with a police officer.

  I don’t care about any of that because I need Wyatt in a way I’ve never wanted or needed anyone else before.

  I don’t care because all I want is him.

  I don’t care because he’s filling me, and I’ve never felt this high before. The head rush is overtaking me and I feel like I’m going to faint. He fucks me on the desk, making love to me in a way I’ve never felt before. His mouth never leaves mine and our hands are all over each other.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Soon I’m on the verge of coming apart right on the desk, and I can tell he’s close, too.

  “Come for me, darling,” he murmurs, and as I do, I move my mouth from his lips to his neck, and I bite him.

  Hard.

  The orgasm sweeps over me and I feel him coming inside of me at the same time. He groans my name and I whisper his, and then, as my head begins to clear, I realize what I’ve done.

  I’ve just mated Wyatt Dixon.

  He looks at me, and his eyes are wide.

  Chapter 6

  Wyatt

  “I…I…”

  She’s looking at me like I mind, like I’m bothered that she just claimed me as her life mate. Joyce looks so terrified that even though it’s completely inappropriate, I laugh. I throw my head back, and the joy that I’m feeling completely overtakes me.

  And then I kiss her deeply.

  “I’m not,” I tell her. “This is so right, Joyce. This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “I know,” she whispers. “But we should have talked about it.”

  “What is there to say, darling?”

  “Well, you know…maybe you aren’t ready for a mate. Maybe you don’t believe in them.”

  “I believe in you, Joyce. I believe in the way I feel around you. I believe in the sun and the moon and the stars and I believe you shine brighter than any of them, sweetheart.”

  “Really?” She asks, and she’s so close to tears I can’t handle it.

  “Really, baby. Really.” I kiss her then, and she kisses me back eagerly, sweetly, perfectly. “But do you think you could close the wound for me, pumpkin?” I smile as she blushes. Obviously, neither of us has been mated before, but when she swipes her tongue over the bite mark on my neck, I can feel it closing, and I know I have an incredibly fantastic scar there now that marks me as hers.

  “You didn’t mark me back,” she whispers.

  “Oh, I will, baby.” I kiss her again. “The next time I’m deep inside of you, sweetheart, I’m going to mark you for the whole world to see. You’re mine, Joyce. Mine for always.”

  I’ve never been a big fan of the idea of mates, but with Joyce, it just makes sense. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her and now I know she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of me, either.

  Everyone I know who has a life mate has said the same thing: when you know, you know. When you find the one person who makes your heart soar, who makes you feel complete, then you latch onto that and you go for it.

  You mate them.

  Then you’re with them forever, and everything is as it should be. Joyce looks at me, and suddenly, I’m not just a man. I’m not just some guy. Suddenly, I’m hers, and that’s how I feel like it should be.

  I take a step back and look at her. She’s so beautiful, so perfect. So sweet. I pull my pants back up, sadly, r
egretfully, and I look at the way she’s still so pretty and spread-out on the desk. Joyce smiles at me like she’s never seen anyone so perfect or handsome, and suddenly, I feel like I can soar.

  And then the door bursts open, and four men come barreling in.

  “You guys had sex?” Oliver asks. His voice is high-pitched, almost a shriek.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Joyce? This guy?”

  “Yeah, seriously. What is going on?”

  “At least you waited until we were finished to come barging in here,” Joyce says calmly. She finishes adjusting her skirt and fixing her top, but the men barely seem to notice her disheveled appearance. They’re too busy looking me up and down, vying for top dog.

  Well, too bad.

  They’re too late.

  She’s marked me, and I am hers.

  “Joyce and I are mates,” I say calmly.

  Ronan, Landon, Oliver, and Matthew all look shocked to their cores.

  “What?” Oliver says. He looks from me to Joyce and back again. “What?” He repeats, and I wonder if he’s going a little crazy, or if the dude is just in shock.

  “I’m guessing she doesn’t bring many men to work,” I say dryly.

  “Joyce?” Oliver turns to her, and he looks confused.

  “It’s okay, Ollie,” she says gently. “He’s a good man.”

  “You’re rushing into this,” Landon points out, but before I can say anything, Joyce starts laughing.

  Loudly.

  “You really should take some time to think about this,” Ronan agrees, and again, Joyce laughs in his face.

  “Real rich coming from the three of you,” she says. “Do you really want to get into how long any of you waited to have sex with your mates?”

  Judging by their silence, I’m going to take a wild guess and say it wasn’t a very long wait for any of the men.

  “We don’t know anything about this guy,” Ronan tries again, and this time, I’m the one who speaks up.

  “Sergeant Wyatt Dixon, Shifter Squad,” I tell them. “I’m a police officer working on the Charlene Hill case, and unfortunately, we’re working against the clock.”

  Oliver looks from me to Joyce and back again. “I think the clock ran out a long time ago, bud,” he says softly, as if he’s trying to gently let me know that Charlene may not be alive.

  The truth is that he’s right.

  She may not be.

  She could have been killed immediately after her abduction, which would be devastating. Part of being a good cop means holding out hope, but sometimes, even the best cops still have to work knowing they could be too late. Whether she’s gone or not, I have to catch Logan Smith before he can hurt another person, especially if he’s going to go after Joyce the way she suspects.

  I’m not sure if Logan Smith really does want my mate, but I know I’m not letting him get anywhere near her. He hasn’t made a move yet, so she might be wrong. He might not be after her. He might not be trying to get her at all, but there’s a chance he could be waiting for the perfect moment, and I don’t plan on letting him get it.

  “That’s not the clock I’m talking about,” I tell him. “Remember when I said that Joyce and I had a fling a few weeks ago”

  Oliver rolls his eyes.

  He certainly remembers.

  Landon, Ronan, and Matthew all nod politely. Their expressions are neutral, and although I don’t even really know Matthew, I’m proud of the kid. He’s learning. Good.

  If he wants to succeed in the world of law, he’s going to have to be able to control his emotions and thoughts, especially if he’s around other shifters. The beautiful thing about shifters is that some of us have senses so strong we can tell what emotions someone is feeling.

  This can also be our downfall, especially if we don’t learn to control these things.

  “I’ll assume you remember,” I say to Oliver, and then I turn to the rest of the group. “I was approached by a reporter, a Marie Martin.”

  Everyone groans, and I can tell that Marie is definitely popular, especially in this group.

  “She wanted to let me know she had discovered the truth about my relationship with Joyce.”

  “But until about five minutes ago, you didn’t have a relationship!” Oliver says.

  “Hey now, that was way more than five minutes,” Joyce protests on my behalf, and I smile at her.

  “Well, we’re definitely mated now, boys, so I’m here to stay, but you’re right. Until Marie approached me, I didn’t realize Joyce was the woman I’d been intimate with after the investigation began.”

  “You didn’t realize it?” Ronan looks confused. “How is that possible?”

  Joyce meekly raises her hand. “That would be my fault,” she says. “Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I saw a picture of the main investigator on the case and I realized we’d been together. I didn’t want to mess up the investigation, so I stayed away from Wyatt and I made up excuses to keep from seeing him.”

  “She met with my associates,” I explain. “But the two of us have not interacted face-to-face since that night.”

  “What does any of that have to do with Marie Martin?” Matthew asks. “Why does she care?”

  “She’s going to run a piece in the newspaper about our relationship tomorrow,” Joyce says. “Of course, we’re mated now, which complicates things further, but the short answer is that we need to figure out what Logan Smith has done, and we only have today.”

  “Because as soon as the story runs, you’re off the case,” Ronan says, realizing what’s going on.

  “And there’s no way it’s going to be a priority to the next officer,” Oliver says with a sigh. “It’s been a month and you guys aren’t any closer.”

  “Fuck,” Landon runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “This is messy.”

  “Where are you in your investigation?” Matthew asks Joyce, and now it’s my turn to look at her.

  “Investigation?”

  “I may have…uh…been doing some research on the case,” she says slowly.

  “Joyce, we don’t have time for pleasantries or modesty,” Oliver says. “Stop acting like you haven’t been getting into trouble and just give him everything you’ve got.”

  “Oh, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. She moves and picks up a stack of papers we knocked off the desk and hands them to me.

  “How did you get these?” I ask her. She has copies of both official and unofficial police reports and notes on the case. She’s got evidence lists, copies of interviews, and tons and tons of photographic evidence.

  “I won’t name my sources,” she says, shaking her head. “But I will tell you that Logan is definitely behind this.”

  “The problem is that we don’t have motive and we don’t have him grabbing her. Yeah, he was with her, but that’s it.”

  “He was the last one to see her,” Oliver points out. “And then they both seem to have left the school.”

  “The parking lot doesn’t have cameras,” Joyce says. “And Charlene didn’t have a car. We know that her bike is gone, but it could have been stashed anywhere.”

  “What about the school?” Matthew asks. “Cameras?”

  “We have cameras in the halls near the professor’s offices and in the commons,” I tell him. “And we’ve all poured over that footage about a million and nine times.” I shake my head. “All we know is that they were together at one point in the evening, and the next day, her roommate reported her missing.”

  Joyce nods as I’m speaking, and I know she has all of this information memorized.

  Poor Joyce.

  I hate knowing this has affected her so deeply. Of course it would. Logan is her ex-boyfriend, after all. I don’t care that she dated him. Not at all. We all have our pasts. We all have our secrets. What I care about is the fact that Joyce is scared, and she’s tired, and she’s been searching for this guy on her own, and I had no idea how much she was struggling.

  I should have
known it was her.

  I should have known she was the woman from the Red Oak.

  I wish I had figured it out earlier without intervention from Miss Martin, but I’m just happy and satisfied that I know now. I’m content that now, after all this time, Joyce and I are finally mated and together.

  Did it happen completely unexpectedly?

  Yes.

  Do I regret it?

  Not at all.

  Joyce and I had an instant connection that can’t be explained except that us coming together is destiny. I should have claimed her as my own that first night. I should have promised her we’d be together for always. I should have swept her off her feet instead of walking away, but I did.

  And now, the universe has decided to give me a second chance.

  This time?

  This time, I won’t screw it up.

  Chapter 7

  Joyce

  We spend the next two hours going over my notes, pictures, and video clips. I have copies of all the security footage that the college had available, which, to be fair, isn’t very much. Apparently, campus security isn’t nearly as good as people like to assume it is.

  Great.

  I’m frustrated because I feel like we haven’t been making very much headway on the case. After two hours of talking and looking over documents, we aren’t any closer to finding out what happened to Charlene Hill.

  “Let’s read the interview from her mother again,” Wyatt says, and Oliver finds the transcript and holds it up.

  “Got it,” he says, and begins to read.

  Charlene’s mother’s statement says that Charlene is a good girl, or at least she was. I have the interview completely memorized, and my lips move as he reads the grieving mother’s words.

  “She loved school, and her job. You know, she had a job at the supermarket on the weekends.” Oliver looks up from the paper he’s reading. “What do we know about the job?”

  “She wasn’t working the day she was taken,” I say. “She only worked on Saturdays and some Sundays. Her shifts were limited, but everyone at work the police interviewed thought she was a sweet, hardworking girl. No one had a single bad thing to say about her.”

  “This sucks,” Landon growls, looking up from a stack of papers. “We aren’t any closer. From what I can gather, the person who had the biggest motive to hurt her was you, Joyce, and we all know you didn’t hurt her.”