Shifter Mate Magic Excerpt #1

Trevor Hammond didn’t think of himself as a violent man, but at that moment, with the woman his bear insisted was his true mate leaving him in a dwindling dust cloud, he wanted to go back behind the store and kick more drunk-coyote ass.

He could not have screwed up the first meeting with his mate any more if he’d tried. If he was honest, he had to admit he’d doubted he’d ever find a mate, considering his bear was one of a kind. Aunt Straya, who had raised him, had always told him to trust in the moon goddess, and be ready, but who would ever expect to run into his entirely human mate in an all-night truck stop known for its shifter customers?

He’d tracked a tantalizing smell and almost bowled her over with his carelessness. Then her overwhelmingly nuanced and fascinating scent had lit up every cell in his body. Mate, his bear had growled, then ordered him to lick her and claim her right there in the lunch-meat aisle. His human side pointed out she was likely already mated, since she was pregnant and carrying the daughter of some sort of feline shifter. His bear countered that she didn’t have a mate bond or smell mated, and no shifter would willingly leave his pregnant mate unprotected. And while he was arguing with himself, and hadn’t even gotten out a coherent sentence, the tall, diffident woman had left him.

And to top it off, instead of going after her, he’d retreated to the back alley to get control of himself and come up with an approach that wouldn’t scare the life out of her. Because the second and third things he’d finally noticed were the sour taste of her fear and the submissive body language. Someone had conditioned his proud, strong, stunningly beautiful mate into outward displays of obeisance. He’d paced off his anger in the alley behind the dumpsters while racking his brain for something better to say to her than “Wanna see my truck?”

To his shame, he hadn’t immediately noticed that the problem in the alley involved her. Shifters often went out back to scuffle. Otto, the owner, fined or banned anyone who disturbed the peace inside, and no one wanted to be gored or stomped by an oversized, pissed-off Texas-longhorn bull shifter.

All it took was for a woman’s voice to shout “No” for his bear to take control and shift. Thank the goddess his magic took care of his clothes. His bear had recognized what his human part should have, the presence of his mate. He bounded toward the trouble in time to see her use a magic weapon on the attacker, and another coyote joining the attack.

He roared his rage and brought the fight to them. Two drunks were no match for a mad bear defending his mate. They were lucky he hadn’t maimed or killed them. He’d managed to gain enough control to warn his bear that the deaths would scare his mate even more than she already was. And then he’d had to let her ride off on her motorcycle alone, or he’d be as bad as the mangy coyotes.

The only good things that came out of their first meeting were that he now knew her name, he’d found out she really was unmated despite being pregnant with a shifter baby, and she’d taken his card.

But he could feel in the depths of his soul, through the potential connection already forming between them, she was in deadly trouble and needed his help.