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Chapter One
Ava
A clammy hand palms my ass.
I’m just finishing up at work. The doctor's office that employs me as a receptionist is a great place to work. It has good hours, great pay, and vacation time. The only unfortunate fact about my job is the doctor I work for. He’s a plastic surgeon and a slimy asshole.
I had just bent over my desk to shut down the computer when I felt his wandering hand.
“Move your hand, Brice, before I break it.” I twist my head over my shoulder to glare at him.
“Oops.” He smirks at me and then gazes at my ass before shrugging and sliding his hand away.
“It gets old, threatening you every day.” I sigh. I stand and turn to him. “Are you ever going to stop?” I place my hands on my hips.
“I just can’t help it, sweets,” he licks his lips, “it’s such a delicious-looking ass.”
I stare at him sternly. He’s not unattractive. He’s a plastic surgeon, so he has easy access to the tools and skills to keep up his looks. Looking at him, it’s obvious he had taken every advantage of that fact. His skin is free of any wrinkles or scars. His hair is blonde and slicked back neatly. Thick black lashes frame his bright blue eyes. He keeps his body in shape and is pleasing to the eye. He has many women falling at his feet, grateful for his boyish charm and hefty bank account.
He does nothing for me, though. He’s too perfect. Too plastic. He reminds me of a Ken doll with a fake smile always in place. Plus, he’s my boss, and I’ve seen his douchebag ways in action. Unlike the doll, his junk works just fine, according to the females who enjoy telling me.
But like I said, I have great benefits, and it’s a pain in the ass to look for another job. I also have taken on the responsibility of protecting any new girls by warning them of his pervy ways.
“Well, this ass will never be up for grabs where you are concerned.” I pick up my purse and sling it over my shoulder. “I’m leaving. I’m off tomorrow, so I’ll see you on Monday.”
I don’t wait for a reply. As I walk to my car, I swear I feel his dirty eyes on me.
I gratefully sink into my seat and lock the doors. I can never be too careful. I’ve seen the horrors of being careless of your safety.
My back hurts, and my feet ache. I should go home, run a bath, and have a beer in front of the television. But I promised Marie we would start her “coming out of her shell” plan tonight. We’re going out for drinks.
I met Marie through my friend Serenity, and in turn, through her friend Harmony.
Harmony is a panther. My best friend, Serenity, is a vampire, recently turned. I know; it still blows my mind too. Marie is human but worked for Harmony’s mate, so she is aware of the world of shifters and vampires.
For a while now, I’ve known of shifters and vampires. I didn’t think I would be thrust into their world like I was a few months ago. I was fine as an outsider. I didn’t have anything against them, but I liked my boring, normal life. I lived it on my terms, depending on myself and no one else.
Marie was a relationship that came out of that time. She was timid, smart, and adorable but didn’t know the power of her allure. I want to show her how badass she can be if she lets herself.
I know all about being trapped in a box of someone else’s making. That’s why I transformed myself. I broke out, figuratively and literally. I was stuck for years in a life I didn’t want for myself until I woke the fuck up and decided to forge my own path. I follow my rules now. I worked hard to pay for my house and my things. I fuck who I want when I want. I buy pretty dresses and skirts that made me feel beautiful.
Growing up, my life was anything but conventional. My parents died when I was ten. My brother was eighteen. He took over, raising me as his own. In most cases, that would be an admirable thing. At the time, I thought it was. I was grieving heavily and needed the security of a full-time parent. Bartlett, my brother, was struggling with suddenly becoming a parent to a young girl. Before my parents died, we had a good relationship and were as close as siblings could be, considering the significant age gap between us.
We struggled along for a few months, not thriving but surviving. I hated the world that took away the two people that I loved desperately. Then he met Jason. Jason was fifteen years older than Bartlett and a welcome influence when my brother was vulnerable. Jason convinced my brother he needed religion, and his actions convinced me never to let a man control me.
I shake off the memories. I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole tonight, or I won’t leave the house.
I pull outside my house and walk to the door. It may be small, but it’s all mine. My last roommate was murdered (that’s a story for another time). I saved enough over the last few months and demanded a raise to be able to be the sole occupant. It has two bedrooms, one bath, and a small entryway leading into the living room, which is connected to an even smaller kitchen.
After moving in, I painted it like a madwoman, slashing color on every inch. I lived in the dark and dull for so long, so now I was determined to live in a rainbow.
I set down my keys and purse and shed my clothes on the way to the shower. I didn’t plan to take one, but I needed to scrub from head to toe after Brice's move.
My shower may be small, but it streamed hot water and did its job. I wash off quickly. The only thing I take a little extra time with is my hair. For years, it was down to my waist. I cut it to the middle of my back when I moved here. Then, a few months ago, I decided I needed another change and chopped it off to my shoulders. I love the carefree feel of it. It is easy to maintain, and the length brings out my natural wave. I think it’s sexy. It was “just fucked” hair, in my opinion, without the hassle of finding a man.
I towel off and bring out my makeup kit. When I could do what I wanted, I bought every makeup brand I could. I loved it. I love dark and mysterious eyes and shimmery skin. The darker, the better. I used to hate my brown eyes, but with the help of a dramatic palate, I saw the beauty in them. They shined with life and determination.
I suppose I have a well-put-together body. I was tall at five-six. I had boobs that looked good in most tops, a slim waist, and hips that flared out just the right amount. My long legs had good definition from hours spent at the gym. Obviously, I had a sexy ass. I could attribute that to thousands of squats. In many of my previous relationships, my ass had been a favorite. High and tight, but plump enough to get a good handful.
