Savage shifter obsessed.., p.1
Savage Shifter Obsessed: Ferocious Protective Beasts, page 1
SAVAGE SHIFTER OBSESSED
Ferocious Protective Beasts
Olivia Dove
Copyright © 2023 Olivia Dove
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
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CHAPTER ONE
Daniel
“Stay the fuck down,” I snarl as I slam down my ax.
My grizzly roars back ferociously and my arms swell to double the size as he tries to burst out of me. But the jokes on him, having bigger biceps with the power of a bear behind them just makes chopping wood even easier and I snicker to myself that he’s inadvertently helping me.
Bad idea. Never laugh at an angry bear, even if it’s one you share a body with. In fact, especially if it’s one you share a body with. I may as well have flicked a match into a barrel of dynamite and then given it a good old shake around because the grizzly asshole is now furious and fighting tooth and claw to rip out of me. My skin feels about as effective as using a paper bag as a muzzle but somehow, using every bit of power I can muster, I manage to keep him inside.
Fuck. What is wrong with him today? He’s never exactly a teddy bear. Hell, he’s about as cuddly as the ax in my hand but today he’s worse than usual. From the second I woke up he’s been pacing about and snarling like somebody put tar in his fur.
I set another log onto the chopping block and swing down the ax, hoping the repetitive movement will help to calm him. Splitting wood always soothes me, it’s like my therapy. Some people do peaceful shit like yoga or meditation to relax. I’d much rather be swinging a sharp blade around.
True I probably shouldn’t be wielding a dangerous instrument when my bear is like this, but I deliver firewood to one of the old ladies who lives on the outskirts of town every Tuesday, so I can’t let her down.
Fuck knows why she needs so much at the moment. It’s a pretty warm spring but she seems to get through wood faster than a beaver on his birthday. I guess that’s the thing about being human. They get cold easily without an angry bear inside to keep their blood running boiling hot.
Thinking about humans makes my mind drift off to the place that is only ever a claw’s length away, and now I’m imagining my mate. Pretty much anything can trigger me thinking about her, and right now it’s the idea of her getting cold without me there to pull her close and warm her up. I know it's ridiculous. But somehow everything I do or think about becomes about her.
Just the thought of wrapping my arms around her soft body sends a sweet warmth through me and now I feel like I’m part ferocious bear that will rip anyone’s head off and part squishy cinnamon bun fresh out of the oven. Even my grizzly eases off a bit.
See, we’re not too different me and you, I tell him. We both want the same thing,
For a moment we are unified in peace, blissfully lost in the fantasy of holding our sweet mate, kissing her soft lips then along the delicate skin of her neck and -
“FUCK!” I yell as my bear lashes his paw so ferociously that I feel the jagged cuts of his razor-sharp claws burning inside of me. What the hell was I thinking? Fantasizing about the precious skin of my unmarked mate’s neck with a rampaging grizzly inside of me was a rookie move.
FIND HER. MARK HER! he snarls, then stomps off inside of me like a cranky teenager with no Wi-Fi password.
Like I’m not trying to find her. The only reason I moved to this ranch, away from all my family, was because my grizzly’s instincts told me I needed to come here. That she’d be in this town. But it’s been three torturous years of searching and she’s still nowhere in sight. I’m like an excited kid on the countdown to Christmas, except the big day never comes.
I start piling the wood onto the truck and suddenly my bear comes charging forward again, thrashing around wildly like a furry brown tornado. I’m about to start another internal argument with him when I feel my skin prickle and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The fuzzy fucker is right to be going mad like this, something doesn’t feel right.
I look around, sweeping my eyes across the fields. Nothing looks unusual. Asshole bear. He’s making me as loco as him. Everything appears to be fine, and yet…
I sniff the air and immediately pick up the scent of something that doesn't belong on my ranch. Smoke. And it’s coming from by the stables.
I abandon the wood and race towards it, running so fast and so furiously that Vin Diesel could name a movie after me. I hear the horses whinnying with distress and pick up my pace. As I close in, I pick up a new smell assaulting my nostrils. I didn’t notice it at first, masked by the smell of smoke but now the gut-churning stench is unmistakable. Tigers. Stinking, mangy, tigers. No wonder my bear has been acting so crazy.
I hurtle around the corner of the stables then skid to a sudden halt that kicks up a satisfyingly dramatic plume of dust.
“There better be a damn good reason why you assholes are here, or we’re going to have a serious fucking problem,” I snarl at the two thugs standing at the other side of the stables, smoking cigarettes while staring down at a crappy bit of paper.
Their lumpy bald heads jolt up in unison and they stare at me through amber eyes that match the color of their yellowed teeth and cigarette-stained fingers.
They’re big men, about the same size as me with tell-tale scars on their faces that make it clear they’re no strangers to fighting.
“Is that a threat, farm boy?” hisses the bigger of the two, narrowing his eyes as he takes another drag on his cigarette.
“It’s a goddamn promise,” I reply, clenching my fists so tightly my knuckles crack louder than splitting walnut shells. If they want to find out what this farm boy is capable of, I’m more than willing to show them.
I take a step toward them and the guy at the front immediately loses his nerve.
“Ok, ok,” he says, holding up his palms and stepping backward. “We ain’t after no trouble. Our map ain’t too good and we lost our way,” he says, waving the scrap of paper he’s holding between his thumb and forefinger. “We were just leaving, ain’t that right Brent?” he says, nodding his head toward the stable doors and turning to go.
“Whatever you say, Cliff,” Brent grunts in agreement, taking a final pull on his cigarette and then slowly turning to follow his accomplice. I keep my eyes on them, every fiber of my being on high alert. Their reason for being here smells more like horseshit than the stables.
They reach the back entrance and I watch as their huge frames walk out into the sunlight when suddenly Brent’s arm darts out as he flicks his cigarette at my horses. It all happens in a heartbeat, but I was ready.
I thunder forward, leaping into the air and catching the lit cigarette just before the burning tip connects with my beautiful chestnut horse. I squeeze my hand tightly, my skin singeing as I snuff the cigarette out against my palm.
“Hey assholes, you forgot something,” I shout as I run out behind them.
“What?” asks Brent, swinging around to look at me with a smug smirk on his face.
“This,” I shout, over the crunching sound of my knuckles connecting with his nose. His skin splits and I feel the warmth of his blood against my fist as he reels backward. I was going to let them walk away unharmed, but they just made it personal. These fuckers tried to hurt my animals and now they must pay.
Cliff rushes towards me but I’m one step ahead, ducking down to avoid his fist then shooting back to land an uppercut smashing into his jaw so hard it lifts him off his feet. As he flies backward his limbs distort and swell, then I hear the familiar ripping sound as he shifts into his tiger form. He twists in the air in a blaze of orange and black fur, then lands ready to pounce with a ferocious snarl on his face.
Within seconds that douche Brent has also phased into his tiger form and the pair of them are growling menacingly at me with their ears flattened back, their razor-sharp teeth exposed and their claws needling the ground.
I burst out laughing. Tigers look so ridiculous when they get angry. And it’s two against one, beats me why the hell they needed to phase when we could easily have fought this out like men. What a pair of pussies. Literally.
“Ok, let’s play this your way,” I grin as my body shudders and tears as I allow my psychotic bear to rupture out of me. Hell, maybe they’re doing me a favor. Having some fun ripping this pair of assholes to shreds might calm him down for a minute or two and give me some peace.
I watch from within as my grizzly rises onto his hind legs, displaying his full height and power. He lets out a deep, earth-shaking roar that has the tigers nearly s
The tigers continue with their stupid cat prance, but it’s all a delay tactic. They’ve lost their orange furry balls and are glancing at each other, willing the other to be the first to make a move. My bear and I are getting impatient now. We’ve got shit to do. If they’re not going to make the first move, it looks like we’ll have to. Let’s dance fuckers.
My bear charges at them but before the fun has even gotten started, they spin around and high tail it across the fields. What the actual fuck? We chase them as they race across the ranch, my bear making a game of it by snapping at their stupid tails and making them screech in pain.
The tigers reach the fence that surrounds my ranch, and this is the one area where tigers have an advantage over bears. We’re better fighters, just as fast and good at climbing, and far more intelligent, but a bear can’t jump as well as a tiger can.
This two-second advantage they gain on my bear as he hops the fence is just enough time for them to leap through the open windows of a waiting pick-up truck and phase back into their human form.
“Go, go, go!” they shout to the guy sitting in the driving seat, who looks even dumber and twice as ugly, and their wheels skid on the gravel as they speed away. But my bear moves faster than the truck and leaps onto the hood, slamming his colossal paw through the window and shattering the glass.
Their three human faces stare back, their eyes wide with terror and their faces drained of all color. And it’s the fact that they look like three bags of chicken shit that saves them. My bear likes a fair fight, he’s not about to rip apart shifters in their human form and I’ve got shit to do today. Shit that doesn’t involve beating three goons to a pulp outside my ranch.
My bear lets out a deep snarl that even their human forms will understand means not to set foot here again if they want to live. Then he jumps down from the hood and saunters away and back onto the ranch.
As we walk back, my bear allows me to return to human form so I can go check on the horses. They’ve seen me in bear form before and although they’ve gotten used to it, I wouldn’t go as far as to say they love it, and after the morning they’ve had, I don’t want to add to their trauma.
I pick up my pace to a gentle jog and as the sun warms the skin of my naked body, I realize this actually feels kind of nice if I ignore the reason I’m in this situation. I feel like I should be in some cheesy commercial for vitality pills or something. Although the rhythmic thwacking sound of my dick slapping against my thighs as I jog definitely isn’t suitable for daytime TV.
When I reach the stables, the horses seem to be ok, just a little jittery. Their nostrils slightly more flared than usual and their hooves worrying against the ground as they try to pace out their agitation.
“Easy now, you’re safe,” I say, in a low soothing voice as I move calmly around them, stroking and reassuring them until they are completely at peace again.
I walk back out of the stables and glance up at the position of the sun to figure out the time. Shit, I need to be at Mrs. Healey’s house soon to deliver her firewood. Fighting with those idiots has put me behind schedule.
On the ground in front of me are three shredded piles of clothes left over from the fight. There’s no way in hell I’m touching their clothes with my bare hands. The disgusting yellow armpit stains on their shirts and the marks of shit decorating their underwear will cause me more damage than their terrible fighting skills. I’ll come back later with a rake and put them into the furnace. They’ll have to stay put for now. Hell, they might have their benefits. They’ll probably keep the crows away for today as I bet they’re not too keen on the smell of tiger shit either.
I walk over to my clothes and the crumpled paper they were holding gets picked up by the light breeze, dances along the floor towards me, and presses against my foot. I pick it up to take a look. Sure enough, it’s a map of the town with marks and crosses on it. My ranch is circled along with a few other parts on the outskirts of town, but there are no notes that can help me make sense of this. All I know for certain is that their excuse of being lost was total bull. They were here for a reason, and whatever that reason is, I don’t like it.
My bear feels the same and I feel him surge inside me with a renewed ferociousness. I try to quell him by promising we’ll get to the bottom of this and absent-mindedly go to stuff the map into my pocket, remembering as my hand grazes my thigh, that I’m butt naked and have none.
I snatch up my jeans and shirt from the floor to see if they are in any way salvageable. Wishful thinking. They’re fucked. Completely shredded which is annoying as hell as they were good jeans.
And something tells me from the way my bear is raging inside of me that I’m going to be ruining more jeans soon. I’ve never felt him like this before. So wild and ferocious.
Perhaps I could get jeans that split open at the side? Like with poppers or Velcro or something. Is that what male strippers do? Maybe I should get jeans like them?
I shake my head violently. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to get a hold of myself because a few seconds ago I was seriously debating if I should get stripper pants.
It’s not actually the ruined clothes that bother me. Not really. I am just pissed because a part of me was hoping that the reason my bear was so wild was because my mate was close by, not because of tigers trespassing.
I want her so desperately. It’s a constant torturous yearning. She’s all I want and the fact that I haven’t found her yet is just about killing me.
My brothers all travel around the country in search of their mates, but I came here and stayed put because my bear insisted we’d find her here. I live on the outskirts of town, it’s safer for the regular people that way, but I’ve searched every inch of the area for her and have come up drier than a cat’s tongue in the desert.
I’ve begged my bear to let us try somewhere else but the stubborn fucker won’t budge. I’m pretty much in my own version of a bear trap. Except a normal bear trap would be easier because I’d be able to escape. Sure, I might lose a foot or something but at least I’d be free to look for my mate.
Plus it’s kind of demoralizing following the rules of a grizzly bear, but I have to trust his instincts. I have to trust the process but with every day that goes by, the hunger for my mate grows stronger. I hope she’ll be able to handle it because when I find her, I’m going to want to wrap her legs around my face and eat her pussy like a buffet.
Now my dick is seeping with pre-cum at the thought of eating out a person I’ve never even met before but know in my soul exists.
Fuck. What is wrong with me today? I can’t control either my bear or my dick.
There’s no way this hard-on is going away without me taking things into my own hands and even though Mrs. Healey is expecting her wood delivery soon, this is not the kind that sweet old lady is expecting.
I march into the house and head straight to my bedroom where I’ve got two jobs to do. Get some new clothes and release this tension while fantasizing about a woman who I already love more than words can express. Please God let me find her soon. Then I won’t need to worry about controlling my body anymore, that will be her job because every part of me will be devoted to her.
CHAPTER TWO
Samantha
“Well Samantha, have you convinced her to move yet?”
“Oh hi Mom, how nice of you to call! Great Aunt Jacky and I are both really good thanks. And how are you?” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Don’t get cute with me Samantha. Just answer my question.”
“We haven’t spoken about it,” I admit, biting down on my lip as I await the fury I know is going to explode out of my mother like a soda can that’s fallen off a cliff and then been opened by an unsuspecting hiker.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Samantha? Can’t you do anything right? What the hell have you been doing all this time?”
