Tristian: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Blackbeary Creek Book 2) Read online

  His grand home now stood tall between four smaller homes, two on each side. Facing his porch, Ethan and Tegan’s house was directly to the left, followed by Graham’s home, and Aiden and Zach’s houses were to the right.

  He was thirty years old, and for the first time in his life, he finally lived alone. Unfortunately, the joy he’d expected to feel never came.

  Something was missing, and while he didn’t want all the rooms full again, especially with full grown shifters, he did want someone to share his life with.

  Mate!

  The word flitted through his brain again, but as much as he liked the idea, he was clueless on where to start looking. He owned one of the most successful clubs in several states, but the business had been born out of necessity, and the club environment wasn’t really his scene. When he wasn’t at home, the quiet of his office was where he felt most comfortable, and finding someone who enjoyed more subdued activities, all or most of the time, seemed nearly impossible.

  Suddenly impatient, his bear roared and rammed him from the inside. The odd behavior had Tristian out of his office in seconds, but instead of following the long hallway toward the employee’s exit, he walked toward the main floor of the club.

  As soon as he entered the large open space, he cursed. He’d felt the base of the music in his office, but it was ten times as loud in the main room, and he’d forgotten his earplugs. The initial onslaught made him want to cover his ears, but he’d mastered the art of keeping his emotions in check.

  He plastered on a fake smile, and greeted several patrons with a nod as he worked his way through the crowd. His bear seemed to think his mate hid in the throng of people, and he scanned the room as he made his way to the bar.

  The bartender, a human, approached him immediately, but he waved the man off. He sat down on an empty stool, scanned the room, and stopped on a curvy beauty with thick, wavy black hair that stopped just above her ass.

  Mate!

  Even though she wore a friendly smile, her trek through the crowd was slow and laborious. Many people refused to move out of her way, or purposefully blocked her path, and his anger slowly grew until she reached her booth.

  The man she sat across from had been flirting with a woman at the next table over, and rage swamped him. A roar formed in the pit of his belly, and he fought not to let it escape. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything except the fact that his mate shared a table with another man, and that man was a loser.

  “You look like a vampire,” Zach laughed.

  The most easygoing and playful of their group, Zach, stood to his right.

  “Damnit, Zach,” Tristian scolded. “You know I hate it when you pull that stealthy crap on me.”

  “Stealthy crap?” Zach laughed. “I’ve been standing here for over a minute.”

  Shit!

  The fact that he hadn’t noticed Zach approach startled him, and he turned all of his attention toward his friend.

  “Whatever,” Tristian snapped. “What were you saying about vampires?”

  “That you look like one,” Zach said. “Who’s the girl?”

  “She’s mine!” Tristian growled.

  He glared at Zach, a silent challenge.

  “Geez, tone it down a bit,” Zach whispered, rolling his eyes. “I’m not interested, and you’ll scare her off if you go over there with that face.”

  Tristian marginally relaxed knowing Zach didn’t have plans to pursue the raven haired beauty, and he was surprised to find his canines had started to elongate. He probably did look like a vampire, and he definitely felt like one. He wanted the blood of the man sitting across from his mate.

  “I can’t believe she’s with that guy,” Tristian whispered.

  Though he’d said it more to himself, he knew Zach would hear him.

  “Yeah, he’s a real piece of work,” Zach said. “I say you go over there and give her a reason to dump that dickhead sooner than later.”

  Fuck yeah!

  “Damn straight,” Tristian nodded, and took a deep breath.

  He had no idea what he was going to say, but he needed to say something, and he needed to say it as soon as possible. If she left before he introduced himself, he’d always regret it.

  He made a beeline for the table, and ignored everyone in his path.

  Seconds before he reached the booth, the man she was with got up and wrapped his arm around the neck of the woman at the next table. They shared a quick, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, and then headed toward the door, laughing all the way.

  She grabbed an empty cocktail napkin from the table, and bowed her head, allowing her long hair to cover one side of her face.

  She was hiding, but he refused to let that stop him.

  “Hi, I’m Tristian Ryan, and I own this club,” he said. “Mind if I sit down?”

  He hadn’t planned on revealing himself as the club owner, but when it slipped out, he went with it. He’d have to tell her sooner or later anyway.

  “It’s your booth,” she said, shrugging.

  It wasn’t unfriendly, just matter-of-fact, and he took the opportunity to slide into the seat across from her. She looked up then, and her large, round, deep green, eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

  Beautiful was an understatement. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, picking up the strap of her purse. “I just needed a minute.”

  “Don’t go,” he nearly begged, waving over one of his waitresses. “How about another drink? Anything you want.”

  He could hear the desperation in his voice, but if it kept her from leaving, then he didn’t care.

  “Hey Tristian,” the waitress said, picking up two empty glasses sitting near the edge of the table. “What can I get you?”

  He motioned toward the beauty sitting across from him, and waited for her answer with baited breath. It only took a few seconds for her to respond, but in his mind, it had seemed like days.

  “I’ll have a coke, please,” she replied, cautiously.

  “Two cokes,” he chimed, cheerily.

  The waitress smiled knowingly, and left to get their order, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  He had a mate to win-over.

  Chapter Two

  “Candi and Amber said you were fat, but I didn’t realize they really meant it.”

  Scarlett had been right; this date was her biggest mistake yet. She’d hit an all-time low two nights ago when she’d agreed to let her neighbors set her up, because the jerk sitting across from her wasn’t perfect for anyone…except maybe Candi and Amber.

  God, she was pathetic.

  As promised, the guy had called the next day, but he hadn’t wanted to talk. In less than five minutes, they’d set up a date for the following day, and he’d ended the call.

  Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she’d agreed to meet him in a popular dance club, but when she sat down across from him in the booth, his disappointment was palpable. He’d already ordered and downed two drinks, and it took less than five minutes before he blatantly started scanning the room. She’d excused herself and went to the restroom, hoping he’d be gone when she returned, but luck wasn’t on her side.

  “Yeah, well, they did,” she said, deadpan.

  “Look, I don’t do fat, but because Candi and Amber are cool, I can make an exception. If you want to know what sex feels like, we can have a quickie in the backseat of my car before I go.”

  Asshole.

  “No thanks.”

  “Are you sure?” he prodded. “No one should die a virgin.”

  “I’m willing to risk it.”

  She wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t about to tell the truth and ruin his idiotic delusions.

  “Okay, your loss.”

  He stood up, wrapped his arm around the neck of a woman at the next table, and then the two proceeded to share a loud, wet, kiss that involved way too much tongue. She knew the spectacle was meant to embarrass her, and though she hated to admit it, it did a little.

  Not the kiss—that was just gross—but her date’s words. A few onlookers close enough to hear now stared at her in either sympathy or disgust, and she glanced down, searching for the courage to leave with her head held high.

  “Hi, I’m Tristian Ryan, and I own this club. Mind if I sit down?”

  Great, now the owner wanted her to leave, or at least give up the booth. She knew he wouldn’t want her holding a table when other paying customers were waiting, but damn, she hadn’t expected anyone to approach her so quickly.

  The voice came from the edge of the table, and though she sensed his presence, she couldn’t look at him. Not yet. His insensitivity fueled her humiliation, but she refused to lash out and make a fool of herself.

  “It’s your booth,” she said, shrugging.

  Tears lingered close to the surface, but she blinked them away, and once her emotions were in check, she faced him and lost the ability to breathe.

  Holy hell, he’s magnificent.

  Wide muscular shoulders filled the seat across from her, and though a loose t-shirt covered his chest, she could see the outline of hard, defining lines. The same lines graced his forearms and face, making him look sinfully sexy, and a little bit dangerous.

  His brown hair was cropped short and styled to look like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the way his brown eyes studied her…it was as if she was the only woman in the room.

  An image of him looking up at her from between her legs, his hair messy from crawling under the blankets, flashed through her mind and sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. Her pussy tingled with need, and she squeezed her thighs together in an effort to dull the ache.

  Scarlett had never felt such a strong reaction to a man before, and the desire she felt toward him made her skittish. It wouldn’t take long for him to recognize her lust, and she didn’t want to hear his rejection. If she didn’t hear it, she could keep him in her fantasies forever.

  I have to get out of here.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, picking up the strap of her purse. “I just needed a minute.”

  “Don’t go,” he nearly yelled, waving over one of his waitresses. “How about another drink? Anything you want.”

  A drink? Why? If he didn’t want her to leave, what did he want?

  “Hey Tristian,” the waitress said, picking up the two empty glasses her date had left near the edge of the table. “What can I get you?”

  He motioned for her to order first, and she hesitated.

  As much as she wanted to leave and save the remaining thread of her dignity, she also wanted to spend more time staring at the Adonis sitting across from her. If they shared a drink, her staring would be less obvious.

  She doubted she would walk away from him unscathed, but the night had already been ruined, and she really liked looking at him.

  “I’ll have a coke, please.”

  She was so nervous, she could barely get the words out, but he’d heard her.

  “Two cokes.”

  He practically sang the words, and he and the waitress shared an awkward smile. Her heart sank. He was the owner of the club, and probably hit on women all the time. Not that he was hitting on her, although she still didn’t know what he was doing. More than likely, the waitress had never seen him sitting across from a fat chick before.

  Shit! I’m an idiot!

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sorry,” she said, burying her disappointment and sticking out her hand. “My name is Scarlett. It’s nice to meet you, Tristian.”

  He slid his hand into hers, and goosebumps shot up her arm. His hand was big and warm, and she suddenly felt protected and…normal. At five-feet, eleven-inches tall, a lot of men’s hands were the same size as hers. Add in all of her extra curves, and she felt like a giant blob next to most of the opposite sex. If his hands and shoulders were any indication of his height, she couldn’t wait to see how tall he was.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he smiled. “Your name suits you. It’s beautiful, and so are you.”

  Here we go!

  The euphoria she’d felt moments ago vanished.

  “Thank you,” she said, pulling back her hand. “I’m often told I have a pretty face.”

  Damnit!

  “Pretty is too tame a word, but I wasn’t just talking about your face. Your whole body is gorgeous.”

  If only that were true. She hated this part, but she had to warn him.

  “That’s sweet,” she said, forcing a small smile, “but you haven’t seen the whole package yet. This table is blocking a ton of curves that most men want nothing to do with.”

  “Good,” he said, smiling. “That’s less competition for me. I saw you walking around the club earlier, and I’m sticking with my original assessment. You’re beautiful.”

  His honestly jarred her, and she felt her cheeks warm as she forced out a small reply.

  “Thank you.”

  The waitress set their drinks down, and scurried to the next table. In unison, they both lifted their glasses, and took a drink of the dark liquid. She sipped a tiny bit from the stir stick that acted as a straw, and he put his mouth on the edge of the glass and gulped down half its contents.

  Images of what else he could do with that perfect mouth flooded her brain, and she looked away from him and scanned the room. Surprisingly, no one stared at their odd pairing.

  A slow song filtered through the speakers, and it seemed as if everyone in the club moved. Singles and their friends left the dance floor, and couples flocked to it.

  Tristian scooted out of the booth, and extended his hand.

  “Dance with me?”

  Yes! A thousand times yes!

  “Okay,” she said, shyly.

  She grabbed her purse, scooted out of the booth, and placed her hand in his. She half expected him to let her go like he would a hot potato when she revealed all of her curves, but he simply closed his hand around hers and led her through the crowd.

  Several women, and men, tried to get his attention, but Tristian wouldn’t be deterred. He returned some acknowledgements with a smile or a nod, and others he ignored completely. Scarlett kept waiting for the right person to interrupt them, the one that would cause him to let her go, but it didn’t happen.

  When they reached the dance floor, he placed his hands on her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and in return, she let the short strap of her purse fall into the crook of her elbow and rested her hands on his shoulders.

  He was taller than her by at least five inches, and she’d been right about his chest. Solid muscle laid beneath her hands. He took a step closer, and moved his hands to her lower back, pulling her against him.

  She liked the way they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces, and the feel of his hard muscle under her soft curves set her on fire. She could feel his erection pressing into her tummy, and the length and thickness sent another surge of electricity straight to her core. Her pussy clenched air, desperate for his cock, and her essence soaked her panties.

  He was rock hard—for her—and she wanted more.

  As the song ended, she placed one hand on the nape of his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

  Their lips touched gently at first, chaste and full of reverence, but when the first kiss ended, and he didn’t pull away, she kissed him again and didn’t hold back.

  Neither did Tristian.

  She slid her hand into his hair and fisted the short strands as she crashed her lips into his. Her other hand slipped around his waist, and Tristian caressed her upper back with one hand, and then pulled her closer. She licked his lips, and he darted his tongue into her mouth. The first beats of a fast dance song blared through the speakers, and their tongues stroked, tangled, and retreated in time to the music.

  Scarlett had never been one for public displays of affection, and they were clearly making out in the middle of the dance floor, but with Tristian, she couldn’t bring herself to care. He was so damn hot, and she’d never been so turned on from a kiss in her life.

  People packed the dance floor as they recognized the new, popular song, and as Tristian suddenly broke the kiss, a noise that sounded like a growl rumbled in his chest.

  Without a word, he grabbed her hand, and pulled her through the crowd toward the back of the bar. Just like before, several people tried to get his attention, but this time he ignored them all.

  He moved with a speed she almost had to run to keep up with, and his movements were controlled, abrupt and decisive. She understood his anger, after all, the club was his place of business, and she was grateful he planned to tell her off in private.

  He pulled her down a hallway that housed the restrooms on one side, and three unmarked doors on the other. When they reached the last door, Tristian pulled a spiral keyring from his pocket, unlocked the door with the only key on the ring, and ushered her inside.

  The room was minimally decorated with a desk, three chairs, a bookcase, and a filing cabinet. The top of the desk was empty except for a laptop, pen, and a pad of sticky notes, and the bookcase held a few books and pictures on the first two shelves, but the bottom shelf was empty. When he closed the door to the hallway, she turned to face him.

  Might as well get this over with.

  “I’m sorry for the kiss,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  ***

  “You don’t have to ever apologize for touching me,” Tristian said, taking a step toward her. “I loved the kiss, but what I want to do next requires more privacy.”

  “What do you want to do next?” she asked, playfully.

  She knew, or she thought she knew, but she wanted to hear him say the words.

  “Strip you down and make love to you.”

  He stalked her like a wild animal approached its prey, and she retreated until her ass hit the edge of the desk. Normally, she’d refuse to have sex anywhere but in the privacy of her own home, but she might never get an opportunity like this again.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Okay? Meaning, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unbutton your shirt or I’m going to rip it off.”

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