Roaring for Him (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Wicked in Wilder Book 1) (14 page)

But then there was the
please
. Which was followed by
Mitchell
and then
I’m cold
.

And what had he decided was the best way to warm her? He’d seen the movies and TV shows. It was always about sharing body heat.

It’d nearly killed him, but he slid into a pair of worn gym shorts he’d grabbed from his trunk—there was no telling when a shifter emergency would arise—and then he scooted into bed beside her.
Right
beside her. So close that her lush curves were snug against him and they conformed to the hard planes of his body. She was so pink and perfect, so soft and yet hard where it mattered most. He didn’t imagine she’d had an easy time growing up taking care of her two sisters and she’d learned to stand on her own. Well, he figured their first night together was the perfect time to show her that she could trust in him.

She could sleep at his side and he’d protect her. Period.

Unfortunately, he could only protect her
if she was with him
. He’d explain the whole concept when he found her.

Mitchell ran his hand over the other side of the bed and growled when he found the sheets cool to the touch. So she’d been gone for a little while. His wolf snarled at him, as if his human half was the only one in bed with her, and he shushed the animal. Huffing and puffing wouldn’t find her.

He closed his eyes and sought calm, encouraged his wolf to chill out while he also asked it for help. It grumbled and growled, but heightened his senses anyway. He listened to the house, searching through the sounds that echoed within the large, older home. There were the normal cracks and creaks of an aged house as well as the whip of wind past the windows. A few obviously leaked air and he’d talk to Tilly about having them repaired. He knew it was too soon to move her to the pack house, so in the meantime, he’d get hers squared away. A low snuffling reached his ears, but he recognized the sound from earlier in the evening—the echoes of Phee’s bear huffing in her sleep.

As for anything—anyone—else… there was nothing.

Because…?

He had no idea, but he’d find out.

He slipped from the bed and moved soundlessly to the bedroom door. He had no reason to assume she’d been snatched or that someone had invaded the home, but… Wait, he did. Fucking Seth. If the asshole made the mistake of coming to Tilly’s and—

“For the love of God, no growling. If you two are starting up something again I swear I’m gonna…” That grumbled warning came from behind Phoebe’s door and he winced.

They had been loud. Or rather, Tilly had. Mitchell’s mouth had been otherwise occupied.

He strode across the hall and tapped on her door. “Phoebe?”

“
What?
” That single syllable was filled with more than a hint of the teenager’s animal.

He really didn’t want to tangle with a bear in the middle of the small hallway. His wolf was in agreement, but he pushed forward anyway, granting his human body more strength. He didn’t bother calling on his fangs or claws—if it came down to it, he’d run before he tangled with his mate’s sister. He definitely didn’t want to harm Phee. Holding his breath, he gripped the doorknob and slowly turned it, nudging it open a couple inches.

He peered into the darkness and found a glaring Phoebe—human shaped Phoebe—staring at him. “What?”

“Where’s your sister? I don’t hear her in the house. Do you know where—”

Phee groaned. “Really? You woke me up for that?” She burrowed beneath her blankets, reminding him that bears liked to hibernate. “If it’s after three, she’s at the bakery already. Sugar addicts wait for no woman.”

Mitchell gritted his teeth, anger rising hot and fast inside him. “She wouldn’t.”

The pile of blankets snorted and jiggled. “She so would. She probably shouldn’t have
yesterday
, but she’s good to go today. We heal slowly, but with you around, she’s like Super Healer. She’s fine. Can’t keep us mongrel sisters down.”

A growl built in his throat, one his wolf was whole-heartedly behind, and he stomped toward the mound. One tug had Phoebe’s head exposed and he met her black-eyed stare. “Never,
never
, say that about yourself or your family. Didn’t I tell you that already? Tilly is my mate. That makes you my sister. I’ll be damned if anyone—
anyone
—talks about my family that way.” He narrowed his eyes. He thought he’d gotten the point across last night. “And if they do, they’ll only say it once. Understand me?”

Her anger remained, but curiosity entered her gaze. “Why only once?”

At least she didn’t question his mate claim. “Because I’ll kill them before they can say it again.”

Phoebe’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t just… You…”

“You can make any threat—or promise—if you can back it up with muscle.” Mitchell rose to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’ve got the muscle.” He had it and was more than willing to use it defending this small family.

“Oh.” Her voice was tiny, but the hope that crossed her features… it fucking broke his heart.

“Go back to sleep. I’m going to get your sister and haul her ass back home.”

That had the younger girl snorting, breaking the moment. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck. I have a very particular set of skills. Skills that make me—”

Phoebe slapped her hands over the blanket, completely uncovering her upper half once more, and sat up. “Are you seriously quoting
Taken
to me? Really? Because you’re hot, but you’re no Liam Neeson. Just saying.”

Mitchell took a deep breath and… fought the laugh that threatened to jump from his chest because he actually was quoting
Taken
. Life with Tilly and Phoebe wouldn’t be boring. Especially if she had no problem calling him on his shit. “Yeah, yeah. Liam Neeson’s too old for you, anyway.”

“That’s why the drug gods created the little blue pill. Now, no one’s too old,” she grumbled and yanked the blanket back over her head.

“I’m pretending you didn’t just say that.” Especially since he had the urge to hunt down the much older Liam Neeson and ensure the man never got his hands on Phoebe or little blue pills. Permanently.

“And I’m pretending you didn’t bang my sister in the bathroom last night. I’m also pretending you aren’t here. I’m still sleeping and you’re nothing but a Liam Neeson-hating dream. Leave before you start killing my Sean Connery fantasies, too.”

Well, now he wasn’t just hunting Liam, but apparently Sean as well. “You having these feelings about any other older actors with accents?”

“Depends, you gonna kill them all?”

“Maybe.”

“Then, as an FYI, I definitely don’t have a thing for Hugh Jackman or Colin Farrell. Now, leave. Otherwise my bear will decide that my sister’s sexy mate would make a great breakfast in a very uncooked meat way.”

Okay, he’d add Hugh and Colin to his list as well. He needed to solidify his mating with Tilly so he could get on that.

But first, he had to find her.

* * *

It took fewer than ten minutes to catch up to her at the bakery. Yeah, he found her, but he was livid at what he found.

Li. Vid.

Not only because his mate ditched him back at her house. No, this new, magnified wave of anger was due to a strange woman pulling and yanking on the bakery’s back door while Tilly fought to keep the stranger out.

“Matilda McBride!” The woman banged on the door and jerked on the handle, pulling it away from the frame an inch or two before Tilly managed to heave it back into place.

Those lightning fast glimpses told him all he needed to know about this female. Tilly was scared, worried, and furious—a magical trifecta that had his wolf aching to rush forward to protect her.

The woman still hadn’t finished shouting at Tilly. “You better open this door. I’m not leaving until—”

Between the words and the tone, Mitchell definitely heard a threat. He broke into a jog, quickly crossing the wide swath of pavement and he let his wolf out as he moved. Not a lot, not enough to expose his true nature to the woman—just in case she was a shifter-hating human—but the animal did lend him added bulk. Enough to force the woman to retreat as he slid between her and the bakery. He pushed his boot heel against the door, ensuring it remained shut while he faced off against the female. She’d stumbled when he cut her off, but she gathered herself and looked ready to lay into him at any moment.

“You’re leaving now.” Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest.

She glared at him. “Who do you think you are? That’s my—”

“I’m Tilly’s ma—boyfriend.”
And soon-to-be husband.

The glare intensified. “No.” She shook her head, gaze flicking over his body and it enveloped him from head to toe. “That’s not what you are.” She snorted. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” The woman chuckled and shook her head. “The little bitch has been on my ass all these years about you people and
now
she takes after her old mom.”

Mitchell absorbed her words, took them into himself and gave his brain a chance to catch up before he tore this woman into tiny pieces. No one—
no one
—called Tilly a bitch. Except him when they were getting down and dirty. Add the “you people” comment and he understood he was facing Verity Collins… He figured he’d be doing the world a favor if he took her out. He was pretty sure the sheriff would agree with him, too. The male was an old friend. A few whispered words and—

“I can’t believe you!” Tilly’s roar bounced off the concrete as she strode around the corner and he realized she’d snuck out the front door. Her eyes blazed bright gold, her pale cheeks peppered with the yellow fur, and her fingers curled, tipped with delicate claws. His mate’s lioness was riding her hard, not just changing her physical appearance, but her voice as well.

That yell still echoed off the walls of the building and he wondered how long it’d be before they drew attention. “You do not talk to him like that. You come here, you take from me and—”

“Oh, you come out now all high and mighty when you’ve got your toy out here, don’t you?” Verity sneered.

“Don’t you call him that,” Tilly hissed, bolting toward her mother. Mitchell managed to catch her at the last second, wrapping an arm around her waist, halting her progress. That didn’t mean his spitting mate didn’t have a reach, though, and her arms whistled through the air as she fought to attack Verity. “Don’t you even talk about him.”

Verity cackled. “Baby, don’t you know they’re all the same? They’re a fuck ’em and leave ’em bunch.”

Tilly roared and yanked against his hold, battling his grip in an effort to get to her mother. “Fuck you! You don’t know
anything
!”

The scent of rage and agony overwhelmed his senses, pouring from his mate like a waterfall that threatened to drown him. And it had one source: Verity.

From her, he smelled pleasure and joy. The bitch took joy in her daughter’s pain.

Well, he’d revel in her blood as he tore her apart for hurting Tilly. They’d be even.

First he had to get his mate under control. Well, his mate and his dick. Because—fuck, now wasn’t the time, but she was so damned hot when she was angry. He spun them around, putting his back to the she-bitch who’d given birth to his mate, cutting off Tilly’s line of sight.

“Baby… Tilly…” he murmured, quietly calling for her attention. But still she fought him, pushed and pulled on him. Where moments ago she’d been trying to hide from Verity, she now wanted to tear the human woman apart. “Tilly…” He released her arms and cupped her face, forcing her to focus on him. “Tilly, listen to me.” She blinked, eyelids fluttering, and finally gave him her attention. “I want you to go inside, and I’ll deal with this.” She tried to shake her head, but he held her still. “Yes.”

“But she’ll—”

“Leave.” He ignored Verity’s snort behind him.

“But she said…” His sweet mate sounded so lost. It was odd to call her sweet after he’d watched her attempt to kill her own mother, but he figured… extenuating circumstances, what could be done?

“Whatever she said to you doesn’t matter. She’ll tell me and then she’ll leave. Go into the bakery so we can be alone when I convince you to come home.” Her eyes slowly bled from gold to green, her human side rising past the lioness. “Okay?”

The soft scrape of shoes on asphalt reached him a split second before Tilly went wild and furious once again. She jumped and attempted to leap past him, but he managed to keep hold of her writhing body.

“Dammit,” he growled, his wolf furious over his mate’s emotional state. Holding tightly, he stomped toward the bakery’s back door and wrenched it open. He immediately pushed Tilly into the building’s back room and filled the doorway with his bulk. “Stay here, Tilly.” His mate glared, those human eyes feline once again. “You have no reason to trust me, but I’m asking you to do it anyway. Stay here.”

Mitchell would kill Verity for the pain filling Tilly’s gaze on principle alone.

His mate nodded, shoulders slowly slumping. “But—”

“Trust me, Tilly. I’d die before I did anything to hurt you and I’d kill for your happiness. So lemme kill this bitch and then we can fuck and make up.” His words had the effect he was hoping for and a small smile teased Tilly’s lips. He stepped back and gripped the door’s edge. “Lock it behind me. I’ll come around front when I’m done.”

His mate nibbled her lower lip and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he mirrored her nod, stepped back farther, and pushed the door closed with a soft nudge. When it finally swung home, he stayed in place until the lock engaged. There. His mate was safe from this human she-bitch. Now it was his turn. Mitchell spun slowly, coming face to face with Verity. “Now that we’re alone, what the fuck do you want from my mate?”

* * *

Holy shit. Before Mitchell showed up Tilly called her mother a cunt-faced whore.
Holy shit.
She’d called her
mother
a
cunt-faced whore
.

She still hadn’t wrapped her mind around that part of their confrontation. Hell, she hadn’t really comprehended any of it. Not when rage and adrenaline continued to flood her veins, and her heart raced as if she’d run for miles in human form. She leaned against the bakery’s back door—
locked
back door—and fought for a calm that remained elusive. Every one of her mother’s words, every single gesture, replayed in her mind over and over again.