Page 39 of Shifter Situations

I’d told Novak that I thought I loved him too. He was chaotic and wild, but his easy-going nature was the balm for my complicated life.

They all had traits that I enjoyed being surrounded by, though I didn’t know I was missing them until I met the guys. Stone’s calmness, Briggs’ grumbling attitude, Palmer’s sarcasm, and Vaughn’s need for planning.

It was difficult to narrow down my attraction to them, because the more I got to know them, the faster I fell in love with all the little things.

They consumed my thoughts completely.

And if I was honest with myself… I’d admit that they’d walked into my life, thawed my frozen heart too quickly, and stamped their names into it without my permission.

But I wasn’t ready to display that level of emotion yet, so I’d lie to myself a little longer.

As they rotated from the equipment to the mats, I let my greedy eyes drink up the sight of them. And gods, what a sight they were to behold. All shirtless and sort of sweaty from taking their frustrations out on… not me.

Who knew sex wasn’t the ultimate stress relief?

Apparently, I fucking didn’t.

That was a lie, too. Murder was the ultimate stress relief, but it was highly frowned upon in the human world.

Observing them as they stretched and rolled around on the mats was better than porn. I hadn’t been able to watch them train or fight without being in the middle of it myself. So I let the rest of the world fall away while I memorized their features and enjoyed the show.

York’s eyes could draw me in from across a crowded room. The greens and blues mixed with streaks of brown reminded me of a tropical island. His ebony hair was buzzed close to his scalp, fading away to bare skin on the sides of his head.

His toffee-colored skin was riddled with freckles, and veins bulged just under the surface of his forearms and calves. He’d told me several times that he had thick scars that looked like pearls and twigs under the surface of his skin in the druid’s realm.

He had two small tattoos; one of the Jolly Green Giant on his right ass cheek—courtesy of a lost bet—and the other was a starfish right above his dick to annoy me for the rest of my life. I tried really hard to ignore it.

Novak’s body was lean and athletic with the grace of a feline predator. He didn’t just walk; he prowled and stalked with purpose in every movement. I found myself oddly obsessed with the size of his hands, though.

His golden eyes swirled as if melted metal was trapped in his irises. Chestnut brown hair spilled over his forehead, tousled and unruly as it covered his eyebrow piercings. He had a ring through his septum, one in each nipple, and quite a few in his dick that I was awfully fond of.

Across his torso were colorful tattoos that depicted France and Louisiana, but the rest of them were representations of paranormal creatures. They showcased a wide range of emotions on their faces, from sadness to greed to determination and everything in between.

Stone’s hair was as soft as silk and as long as mine. He usually kept it braided and coiled neatly at the nape of his neck, but it had fallen loose, draping over his right shoulder and down his bare chest. He was the shortest of my mates, standing at six feet, but his body was all lithe, rippling muscle.

His human appearance was an attractive Asian man with defined cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. Those navy eyes of his were so dark you could easily miss the lapis starbursts around his pupils if you weren’t looking closely enough.

The strange moths on his back fluttered their wings, playing across the geometric honeycomb-patterned tattoo. I couldn’t tell if they were agitated or happy… or if they felt anything at all. I wanted to study them more, uncover all their secrets.

Briggs was the biggest of my mates. He was a good six inches taller than Stone and all thick, bulky muscles. His sun-kissed skin still had tan-lines from the weeks he’d spent camping, making his Cyprus-colored eyes appear bright against his complexion.

His hair was pulled up in a messy knot atop his head, dirty-blonde strands sneaking out to hang past his shoulders in waves. His beard was slightly darker, trimmed on the sides yet long enough to run my fingers through.

Black and gray tattoos covered the entirety of his body. Faceless monsters and moons, humanoid figures wielding white flashes of magic, tombstones, and the number thirty-one in blocky print between his shoulder blades.

Palmer seemed studious and clean-cut, but underneath those button-downs, he was dangerous for my health. His body was ripped, and there was no amount of tape that could make him look anything less than shredded the fuck up.

His eyes were a mixture of grays, shifting like rain clouds before a thunderstorm. He kept his hair neatly styled, and it was glossy with a russet, metallic sheen. Between shaves, his facial hair had an auburn tint, which made the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks stand out.

He was the only one of my mates who didn’t have tattoos, and I briefly wondered if I could talk him into getting one with me. That would be a fun trip for later.

Vaughn was so devastatingly handsome that I kind of wanted to be jealous. His chiseled jaw accentuated his perfectly straight nose while broad shoulders tapered down to his waist. His pale skin had a faint shimmer to it, giving him a constant otherworldly appearance.

His hair was longer on top, full of fat curls, and such a rich brown that it neared black. Icy blue eyes glowed with kindness and subdued violence, making him look like both the dark prince and the white knight.

A cobalt blue tattoo stretched across the expanse of his back, hugging his obliques. The intricate design was a circular mandala, filled with fae runes that I could only guess the meanings of.

It was fucking stupid of me to ogle them while they wrestled on the mats, but I couldn’t stop myself.