Wolf Heat

Wolf Heat (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance)

Dina Harrison

About this book

Continue Reading to Find Out…..

Get Yourself a FREE Paranormal Romance Story

Join my mailing list today and gain access to an exclusive FREE paranormal book that you will never forget.  You will also be kept up do date on the best book deals in the future on the hottest new romance books. 

Get FREE romance stories for your kindle

Get exclusive discounts before anyone else

Be the FIRST to know about HOT new releases

Click Here to Subscribe and get your FREE Romance Book

              Shauna drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone with the GPS up. Because of where she was driving, her reception was spotty and she was nervous that she would lose her route and end up stranded with no phone and no direction. She was close to Canada, she knew that, and was deep into some state park she didn’t know the name of. Lake Superior was on her right, so she knew she was driving North… and she knew that if she got to the Minnesota – Canada border, she’d gone too far.

              In her phone was the information for the man she’d been sent to see; he was an expert in hypnosis and holistic medicine, and Shauna was hoping he would be able to help her with… well, with whatever the fuck was happening to her.

              The camping trip had been Belinda’s idea, and Shauna had never really been on board.

              “Oh come on,” Belinda had pleaded. “It’ll be so much fun. We can kayak, hike, hang out and drink by the fire, maybe invite some townie guys over… what could be better?”

              “What part of this body suggests that kayaking and hiking are selling points?” Shauna had, since college, been what her boyfriends and dates had described as “big and beautiful,” with full breasts, a thick waist, and an ass that took both hands to control. She had loved to watch her body fill out and felt bad for those stick thin waifs that were always running to and from the gym with a bottle of water and a saltine cracker in their hands, crying if they gained two ounces from anything other than water weight. In Shauna’s experience, men liked not only a little something to grab onto, but something to hold onto once they had grabbed it. And Shauna had never wanted for a man.

              She had agreed to go camping with Belinda under two conditions: first, they would hit the townie bar every night to check out the locals. Two, if it rained, even once, they would get a hotel room and camp like civilized people. Belinda had agreed because she knew it was the only way to get Shauna to go, but Shauna knew she didn’t like it. Still, Shauna had the upper hand—the people who don’t give a shit always do—and they both knew it.

              They had found a resort just outside of Grand Marias, and, once they had dragged all their gear onto the campsite and set everything up, had gone into town to see which bars had the action. The first bar they came across, Rusty’s Tin Rambler, was the place to be. Bikes lined across the front of the patio, and music blared from the open windows. There were enough people standing outside smoking to make anyone wonder why they had bothered to go “smoke-free” on the inside. And, when Shauna and Belinda pulled up in their pickup, the crowd of smokers parted as they walked through. Shauna knew they looked like the out-of-towners that they were, and she tried to add a little extra sway in her hips to try to look less like a stupid tourist and more like someone who could hold her own in any situation. She had no idea if it worked or not, but the smokers went back to their business and, when they went to stand at the bar, someone waited on them within just a few minutes.

              The two women grabbed a table near the jukebox with their beer bottles and began to people watch. It was one of the more entertaining parts of coming up North; the entire culture was different than it was in Minneapolis. Up here, people talked like it was the 1800s and acted like you were either one of them and with them, or an out-of-towner and then you were only good for however much green you spent to support the locals.
              “Isn’t this fun?” Belinda shouted over the jukebox. “Aren’t you glad you came?”

              As Shauna was preparing to yell back a sarcastic response, the front door of the bar flew open with a force that smacked the door knob against the opposite wall. A tall man, 6’6” at least, floated in. Shauna would swear later that he was literally floating, and that she remembered that detail especially because how on earth a man that size could do anything but lumber around was a mystery. His jet-black hair was slick with the rain that had begun to come down in town, and his black leather jacket, broken in at all the right places, had small wet splotches on them. People turned their heads out of curiosity to see who it was, but the man must have been a townie because a few people nodded a greeting but the majority went back to their conversations without even trying to subtly sneak a look at this man who, tall and dark, was whatever word came after
handsome
in degree.

              He locked eyes with Shauna and he cocked his head.
Haven’t seen you in here before
, the look said. Shauna tried to look away but found she could not. Instead, she stood and walked over to the strange man, Belinda calling after her.

              “Hi,” he said when she came to stand before him. A small smile played on his gorgeous lips, and Shauna had the feeling that he was mocking her, though she had no idea why he would be since they hadn’t ever met before.
              “Hi,” she said. “I’m Shauna.”
              That interaction, for Shauna had no better word for it, had been more than six months ago. She had tried to remember the rest of the night. Tried to remember what had happened to her, to Belinda, and what, if any, connection there was to the man or to anyone else she had run into while at the bar. Doctors, therapists, hypnotists, no one had been able to get anything out of Shauna except for the physical description of the man, the name of the bar, and that she and Belinda had been together at least long enough to order two bottles of Grainbelt, the remains of which had been found near the dumpster in the back of the bar two days later. DNA tests on the bottles had proven them to be Shauna and Belinda’s, though no one could figure out why they were sitting where they were and why they hadn’t just been thrown away. Both bottles had been empty, though Shauna swore that she only took a sip or two from hers.

              The memory loss was bad enough, but Shauna had been experiencing what she had come to describe as “physical trauma.” That didn’t even begin to cut it, of course, but Shauna knew that she had to be careful, especially with her regular family doctor, or she’d be sent to the psych ward. Maybe, of course, that was exactly where she belonged.  Her increased heart rate and body heat had been chalked up to the stress and trauma of the incident. The weight gain, same thing, though the doctors couldn’t explain why Shauna’s weight gain appeared to be muscle only and was actually resulting in a leaner appearance for her. As for the insomnia and the constant napping during the day, Shauna’s therapist said those were classic signs of depression and had given her prescriptions for Xanax and Wellbutrin. The Xanax she should take whenever she felt her heart rate increase—a panic attack, undoubtedly—and take the Wellbutrin each day. Nothing was helping, and, finally, Shauna couldn’t take it anymore. She had gone to Google and typed in all of her symptoms. What came up was everything from early menopause to cancer to a not-so-vague suggestion from Reddit that she was a hypochondriac… and then the name of Doctor Edmund Flyone, holistic/natural healer, who was more than happy to set up an appointment to meet to discuss her concerns. His rules: she had to come to him, and she could tell no one. Cash only, no receipts.

              It was sheer desperation that led Shauna to Dr. Flyone’s door and why she now found herself strapped to her GPS and nearly in tears as she felt her body heat up for the fifth time that day. She took several deep breaths and gripped her steering wheel through her sweaty hands. She knew that the feeling would eventually pass, though it was always a question of how long it would take. The bigger question was, of course, how long would she have until another attack, how she had come to think of them, would be upon her.

              “Please, God,” she prayed out loud. “Please let this doctor be able to help me.” The fact that she was praying to God in a non-ironic way was, for Shauna, one of the scariest parts of this entire illness. But, as she had told Dr. Flyone on the phone, she was desperate and willing to do anything.
 

***
              He looked out his office window and sniffed the air. She was on her way. Women of her kind always had a specific scent, and he had picked up on her energy when they had spoken on the phone. She was afraid, though she was not a woman that would ever admit to fear. She was also burning with desire, though he knew that she had not connected that yet to her condition. That was part of what he would help her with.
              He had prepared his office specifically for her arrival, normalizing as much as possible. Though he knew the truth about her, her truth was her own and he would not tell her what she was. He would, however, help her put the clues together so that she could figure it out on her own, and then he would be there for her.

              Edmund settled into the chair at his desk and shuffled a deck of cards with one hand, a trick he had used to focus his mind since he’d learned to do it in childhood. He thought about Shauna. He remembered her from her visit at Rusty’s earlier in the year, though he hadn’t spoken to her. Shauna was not exactly the type of woman who blended in. She was curvy and gorgeous, thick copper hair that flowed just past her shoulders. That night, she had been wearing jeans that had hugged her ass absolutely perfectly, and a v-neck men’s t-shirt from one of the big box stores. Her bra had been black beneath it and the front of the shirt strained against her breasts, which were a double D at minimum, probably larger, the cleavage created by the lace bra like a work of art. He had noticed her the moment she walked into Rusty’s and had grown hard at the thought of his hands on those breasts and that ass, of wrapping his arms around her and slapping her naked ass, feeling the firm give under his hand, hearing her cry out in pleasure as he sucked on her nipples.

              He had these premonitions often, and he figured out years ago that the difference between a fantasy and a premonition was his own action. If he did nothing to move the fantasy along, that’s where it stayed. If, however, he were to take advantage of Shauna calling him out of the blue seeking his advice, well, then he could make that fantasy a reality.

              She was getting closer. He could feel it and he could smell her fear in the air. He felt bad for her; the fear was strong in this one. He would help her first, and, assuming she was a fast learner, they would have time for other things afterward.
***
              Shauna’s GPS stayed mercifully active all the way to the small house on Apple Street in Grand Marais the doctor had told her to watch for. “Brown house, light blue trim, light blue shutters,” he had said cheerfully to her on the phone. “You’ll see it right away. All the other houses are white.”

              He was right; she turned onto the block and his house was right there. Not only was it the darkest house, it was also the biggest. An old-fashioned, 1800s-style brick structure with some hints of castle turrets. It was a gorgeous home, and the type that could only exist up North like this; any houses of this size in Minneapolis would have been divided up and converted into apartments long ago, something Shauna had always thought was a tragedy.

              She looked to the main level of the house. He had left the porch light on, even though it wouldn’t be dark for several hours. She could see lights on in the living room thanks to the large picture window. It looked like a safe place. She checked in with her gut, something she had been trying to do since the night at Rusty’s. She was convinced that her gut knew what was up, and, had she listened to it at the time, she and Belinda would have stayed at the camp site and roasted hot dogs and s’mores for another two nights and then come home.

              Right now, her gut was telling her that the light on that porch was a beacon of hope. She had felt good about her talk on the phone with Dr. Flyone and now felt even better about that decision. “Please make this work,” she said out loud as she turned off her car. “Please.”

              She walked up the sidewalk, noticing the very well-manicured lawn as she did. Before she could ring the bell, the door opened. A very tall man, 6’2” at least, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned—maybe Armenian?—opened the door. He wore dark dress pants, a shirt with a tie, and a sweater.

              “Hello, Ms. Jenest,” the man said. “Please, come in.”
              “Dr. Flyone?” Shauna asked, hesitating; his voice didn’t sound like the one she’d heard on the phone, but that wasn’t all. This man was gorgeous, and Shauna felt a draw, a connection, to him. Her body had begun to overheat the moment he opened the door, and, as she anticipated, her heart rate picked up as he spoke her name.