Filed To Story: Secret Shifters Next Door Series PDF Free
Shit, how long had I been staring at him slack-jawed like that? I shook my head and plastered a smile on my face. “Sorry, yeah. Um, come on in.”
He held up two bottles as he stepped inside. “I wasn’t sure if you liked wine. I brought white and red.”
“Oh, I do. Like wine, I mean. What else would I mean?” I clenched my jaws before I could ramble any further.
“Okay, let’s put the white in the fridge…”
“Sure.” That was good. Short, sweet sentences. Preferably one syllable. No way to embarrass myself that way.
I put the white wine in my fridge and set the bottle of red on the counter. Miles glanced over at the food and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “Wow. This smells amazing.”
“Thanks. I still need to make the dressing for the salad, but the rest is ready. If you want, you can make yourself at home at the table,” I said, then like an idiot blurted, “I hope you like meat.”
He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned. “Oh, I definitely do. You could say I’m a carnivore at heart.”
I swallowed hard, and stifled a sigh when I saw that grin. Something about it spoke volumes. The problem was that it was written in a language I was unfamiliar with. He looked hungry, but not for food. Or was I misreading it? A flush crept across my chest, and I hurriedly started making the vinaigrette. As I worked, I repeated to myself that I needed to try and not make a fool out of myself.
EIGHT
MILES
I wandered into the living room, giving her the space she seemed to need. It was a little surprising how sparse the decor was. In the corner was whatever little craft project she had going on, but other than that, the apartment didn’t feel like her. I’d imagined a lot more color. Some bright throw pillows on the couch, maybe an Andy Warholtype print on the wall. Celina seemed like a colorful person, and I’d expected her place to be the same. Though, I had to remind myself that she’d only planned on being in town for a month. It was a little crazy to fully decorate something temporary.
My wolf whined at the reminder that she was only here for a short time. Unlike Steff and Tate, I was working with a much smaller window of time. It was worrying, especially with how timid and shy Celina seemed. It could take days to get her to let her guard down and open up enough to really get to know her, and for her to get to know me. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but I had to plan for it regardless.
I sat on the couch and glanced through a stack of books on the coffee table. Celina was a writer, and it wasn’t surprising to find books in her house, but the range of titles was a little
strange. The pile was fairly large and had everything from fantasy to horror and romance.
One title in particular made me do a double take.
Shifter Love. My eyes bulged, and I glanced toward the kitchen. Celina was mincing garlic for the dressing. I scooped the book up out of the pile and looked at the cover. It was definitely a romance novel. The guy on the front looked like he was in the middle of shifting to a panther.
The majority of the human population didn’t know the shifter race existed. But after thousands of years, there were rumors all over. Shifters were like an urban legend to humanity. I’d seen a few movies which tried to portray us, and those were usually shit. We were either immortal godlike beings, or one step from feral Neanderthals. I opened the book, flipped to a random page in the middle and started reading.
Cole pulled me close, brushing his lips across my neck. I wanted him more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life. When he pulled my bra down and exposed my breasts, I released a sigh of longing and desire. His body was lean and muscled like the panther he had hidden within. As he caressed my breasts, I unzipped his pants…
I raised my eyebrows and smiled. Blayne would get a kick out of this. I definitely had to tell him about the book later or buy him a copy as a gag gift. This was pretty steamy stuff. I skimmed down the page, and things got really interesting. It was enough for the crotch of my pants to start getting a little tight around me.
Celina stepped around the kitchen island. “Food’s ready. Oh.” She gasped and put a hand to her mouth, seeing the book in my hand.
I put it down and stood, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “Sorry. I was browsing a little. Did…did you write that one?”
Her eyes went so wide I almost laughed, but held it back. Her face went red, and she nodded. “I…um, wrote all of those.”
I spun and looked at the table again. There had to be a dozen books there, but they all had different authors. “Wait, what? All these? I don’t see your name anywhere.”
“All pen names. I use my real name for my more literary fiction stuff. I don’t like writing in one genre. So, I use a pen name for other stuff. P.M. Douglas for my scary books, Jessica Allmon for historical romance, Allen Brightworth for science fiction and fantasy, and…oh god.” Her face went bright red. “I use the name Chastity Carmichael for…the…erotica stuff.” She nodded at the book I’d been reading.
I raised my eyebrows again. “Chastity?”
“Yeah, I know.” She grimaced and looked at the floor. “I was nineteen when I picked that name. It stuck, and once the readers know it…” She shrugged. “My agent said it would be a bad business decision to change it or start writing under a different name. So, here we are.”
I grinned at her and gestured at the book again. “Why do you seem so uncomfortable talking about that book?”
If her face had been red before, now it was the color of a tomato, and her hands started doing that anxious twisting thing again. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Why?”
She gave me a look like I should know. “It’s full of smut.”
I smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Like what? Do you want to elaborate?” She went bug-eyed, and I chuckled. “I’m joking. I think I get the picture.”
Celina sighed with relief. “Oh, thank God,” she murmured.
“I think it’s awesome. I could never write this many books. Or even one book. How many have you done?”
My compliment seemed to ease her anxiety, and she was able to glance up and meet my eyes for a second. “I first got published when I was seventeen. So in eleven years I’ve published…um,” Celina looked up at the ceiling and counted silently. “About thirty books.”