Page 2 of Shifting Hearts

She quickly opens the door and allows me entrance. My mind is blown the moment I walk inside. I was expecting atiny apartment, but this place is massive. Beautiful wooden flooring, light grey walls, and lots of windows allowing in the natural morning light. The one-bedroom apartment is furnished sparsely and bigger than most people’s houses, and I can’t believe I will be living here.

“Um…” My words peter out. I don’t know her name.

“Shit. Sorry, I got overexcited,” she says with a bright red blush, extending her hand toward me. “My name’s Arina. But everyone calls me Ari.”

“Akasha,” I say shaking her hand. “There must be a mistake, though.”

“Mistake?” A frown mars her perfect features.

“I’m just going to bartend. This apartment must be for someone else.”

She pulls her cell phone from her pocket before showing me the screen.

Name: Akasha LaVey

Position: Bartender

Apartment: 3C

“I don’t think so,” Arina says with a smile. “Is there something wrong with the apartment? Aldron doesn’t mind if you change anything as long as you don’t burn the building down.”

Uncontrollable laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it. Memories of the fire in my ex’s apartment pop into my head.

“This place is bigger than the house I grew up in.” She stares at me in confusion. “It’s perfect,” I say with a smile.

“Awesome! Let me help you unload your car and then I will show you around.”

Chapter Two

Korvin Slater

Enough is Enough

My skin feels too tight across my frame when I wake up. I had the same dream again. A woman in a translucent white dress beckons to me, a siren singing her song and luring me to her. Confusion swirls in my mind as my painful erection begs for attention.

For weeks I have woken up in a state of arousal. The thing that pisses me off is the fact that I don’t even know what the woman in my dreams looks like. It’s like there is a permanent shadow obscuring her face from my view.

I do know that she has a body made for sin. The dress she wears does nothing to hide her from my hungry gaze. Caramel skin, thick thighs, large breasts, and a softly rounded stomach are always visible. Other men might consider my dream siren to be fat, but all I see is a woman built to be fucked. As a black bear shifter, I must be careful when it comes to choosing sexual partners. Even in my human form I am a big motherfucker and could easily hurt someone.

Wrapping my left hand around my engorged erection, I stroke slowly, remembering every moment from my dream. The way she said my name, the sway of her breasts as she walked closer to me, the smell of sunshine and lavender that I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. I know I am dreaming of my fated mate. I also know that until I find her in my waking life, the woman in my dreams will remain faceless.

Closing my eyes, I allow my imagination to take over.

The flimsy white material drops from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her naked before me. Her nipples are large, a dusky brown color, tempting me to suck on them untilthey turn dark. Her pussy is covered by a smattering of perfectly trimmed hair but that doesn’t stop me from seeing the moisture gathering there.

My hand moves faster, harsher over my length as I imagine her touching me, and moments later my cum explodes, landing on my stomach.

“Fuck,” I grumble.

This shit needs to end, sooner rather than later. Not that I know how to do that. I will continue to dream of her until I have her in my life, and I don’t even know where the fuck to start looking for her. Even if she is in New York, I may never meet her. Hell, she could be in Brooklyn, and I still might miss her. There are just too many people in the city for me to go searching for her. Perhaps if I had her scent, it would be different.

Someone knocks on the door to my apartment, and I can’t help the anger that surges through me. Everyone knows to leave me the fuck alone. I’m a loner and I prefer it that way.

That’s a lie. I constantly watch the people around me, wishing to have what they have. I want love, family, friendship. But at forty-five, I have all but given up on having any of those things. I am everything black bears are known for—ornery, short-tempered, aggressive. It’s why I am so good at my job. I constantly have to fight to keep my beast under control, never allowing him a moment to take over.

Swinging my legs from the California king, I slide a pair of grey sweatpants up my legs, grab a towel, and clean the mess on my stomach before heading through my apartment.

“What?” the word falls from my lips as I open the door, and I instantly regret them. Arina stands on the other side with a massive smile.

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