Chapter One
Another day working on the landing stripping lumber, another night at Sammy’s Bar looking for her.
The one.
The mate that would fill the hole in Matt Barns’s middle.
He touched the condensation on his half-empty glass of beer. A drop of water dripped down, gaining speed until it made a tiny splat on the napkin below. He and the water drop were on the same path to destruction.
The search was the only thing that kept his bear even, though, so he’d keep doing this—searching and failing—until his animal ate him up from the inside out. Until his alpha had to put him down when he’d gone mad. That’s what happened to shifters like him. The bad ones.
He glanced up as the front door swung open. Two blondes and a brunette with bodies like goddesses strolled in on long stem legs. Matching cutoff jean shorts barely hid their asses as they walked toward a table near the stage. They looked around like they were on the prowl for trouble, oversize purses hooked in the creases of their elbows, and shirts so tight they were like a second skin. Lucky fabric. Two of them looked like they had fake tits.
Matt stood and downed his beer, never taking his gaze off a blond who’d locked eyes with him. Could his mate be one of them? Only one way to find out. He might be going down hard, but he was going to enjoy the shit out of the journey.
****
Willa Madden glared at the behemoth walking toward her friends. She’d clearly underestimated Brittney, Kara, and Gia because it was now abundantly obvious they weren’t in Saratoga for a girl’s campout like they’d been planning since middle school.
This was a werebear hunt. Her frown made her glasses slide down her nose, so she shoved them back into place primly. Shit on a cracker. She’d been hosed.
“Do you think that’s him?” Kara asked in a rushed whisper. “It looks like him.”
“Who’s him?” Willa asked.
“Matt Barns,” Gia said, flipping her long chestnut tresses off her shoulder. “He’s on social media.”
“Please tell me we aren’t here for you to sleep with a shifter.”
“Bucket list, baby,” Brittney murmured, eyes on the approaching giant.
“Fan-friggin-tastic,” Willa hissed out, angry at the epic dooping she’d fallen victim to. Her friends weren’t even that smart, and they’d still managed to trick her into forsaking beach destinations for this hole-in-the-wall town.
She’d waxed her hoohah for this shit.
“You look tense. Why don’t you go get yourself a drink, Willa?” Brittney asked …because clearly no one in here will buy you one.
Brittney didn’t have to say that last bit out loud. It was implied by her tone and her love of subtle dominance battles. She was queen bee, always had been, and Willa was the peon who was lucky enough to be invited anywhere.
Why had she put up with this crap for so long? Answer: she hadn’t. She’d pulled away from their quartet in high school when their popularity rocketed to the moon and they didn’t have time for her. But they’d all gone to the same college and kept in touch, and this was their follow-through on the blood pact they’d all made in seventh grade at Gia’s tree house slumber party. Friends forever and a girl’s trip after they all graduated college.
And somewhere in those five years at university, the three bombshells had grown an obsession with shifters. They’d stalked the Internet and signed up for alerts when any new ones registered to the public and…oh my God, she was so dumb for not figuring out sooner this was a shifter booty-call trip.
Three more men were approaching the table from across the room where the titan had been drinking, and now was the time to make her escape. She gave zero figs about shifters. Leave the poor things alone was her motto.
“Anyone else want a drink?” she asked as she turned around and shuffled backward in the direction of the bar.
“Nah, I think we’ll get our drinks from these sexy boys,” Kara said, winking at someone over Willa’s shoulder.
She stumbled and ran into a solid brick wall. Or she thought it was, but when she turned around, Matt-What’s-His-Face was steadying her with giant hands on her shoulders and a look on his face that said he hadn’t even noticed her before now. Of course he hadn’t. No one ever did when she was with the bombshells. “Oh, just great,” she muttered, swatting at his hands. “Ignoramus,” she huffed as she jerked away from him and stomped off toward the bar.
“Did you just call me an ignoramus?” the man asked in a deep timbre that sent a shudder down her spine.
“You best believe it, mister.” When she cast him an angry glare over her shoulder, his eyebrows were lifted high and a surprised smile had curved his lips.