Her Mighty Shifter

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 C.L. Scholey

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-879-9

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  I began writing this story shortly after my husband’s eye surgery. After his surgery he had a suspected heart attack. I thought I watched him die. I stood stunned as the room filled with so many doctors and nurses it was standing room only, and I thought I’d hit the floor. So many thoughts paralyzed me. Two of my daughters waited in the waiting room. It was supposed to be a simple procedure. What was I to tell them? I of course had an asthma attack because—well—obviously my system thought it would be a great idea. Not. Thankfully he’s still around to annoy me. The road to recovery was long and hard, and each night I’d lay awake and watch him breathe.

  I worried every single day the same thing might happen to take me by surprise. I wouldn’t be caught unaware again. I grew tired, my actions repetitive, predictable, wary, until I realized I needed to laugh. I wondered how long it had been. So I opened my computer that had sat collecting dust, and I started punching letters on my keyboard. I wrote until I smiled. I then wrote until I laughed. So many things happen in one’s life that define who you are. Let me tell you I’ve had my share and then some of “defining” moments!

  This story was shelved unfinished for a while until my youngest daughter had surgery on her feet. Another long road of months of recovery. Many of my readers were encouraging, lent an ear, sent a smile and cyber hug. Many sent her cards and well wishes. Thank you for that. Every day she has a smile on her face. She makes life look so simple, even from her wheelchair, which is now collecting dust I’m happy to say. So simple in fact she makes me smile.

  So this story is for someone who needs to laugh—that’s it. Just laugh at life, wave your fist and yell “take that because I’m still laughing”.

  Connie

  HER MIGHTY SHIFTER

  C.L. Scholey

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  Posy had a wedgie. Her thong panties had crept way up between her ass cheeks, pressing tight, making her squirm, trying to find a comfortable position, until the maid of honor scowled at her. Posy dwarfed the petite blonde and couldn’t care less what she thought. Neither the bride nor the maid of honor were friends, and this wedding was the last place she wanted to be. Never in her life had Posy thought someone could be threatened into attending a wedding.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  The predicament made for a foul mood that was growing fouler by the second. The pressure on her ass wasn’t helping the situation, but she realized too late her butt shimmy had attracted a few giggles from the flower girl and ring bearer and condescending looks from the bride’s and groom’s families.

  Grimacing, she wondered if her panty line could be seen. She hated the no underwear under-fucking-wear. Why the hell did women feel the need to wear something so irritating? She didn’t, and she was female. She didn’t want to be a bridesmaid in the first place, especially under the circumstances. An itch brought her hand up—too late—Posy sneezed when her bouquet came too close to her nose. She’d warned them she was allergic to flowers and needed fake ones. Now there was an irony with my name. But no, everything had to be perfect for the spoiled, rude bride who normally went to extremes to ignore Posy. When she wasn’t ignoring her she had a vindictive streak. If Posy hadn’t been in need of her job she’d return the attitude.

  Bella had to be the ugliest bride Posy had seen. Ha, there’s vindictive, you can’t fire my thoughts. If the groom were lucky she’d keep her veil on all through their marriage. The woman was a bitch and a shrew and a…

  The maid of honor was scowling at Posy again. Posy plastered on her fake smile. The only reason she’d agreed to be in the wedding party was because her boss told her his daughter would be grateful. Of course she would be grateful. Bella had no friends. Every person in the wedding party was threatened with their job if they failed to cooperate. Talk about your hostage situations.

  Damn my ass is itchy.

  If Posy could just reach down and scratch, and rearrange the thong pressing against her butt hole. Ugh. Her hand inched closer to the desired spot until the maid of honor glared at her. The maid of honor was Bella’s mother. Posy had had enough. She glared back, and with a great deal of flourish scratched her ass and rearranged her thong panties by gripping the back of her dress.

  Oh the relief … oh the foul looks…

  The minister paused when the audience snickered. The church was full. No doubt everyone there was bought and paid for or had received the same threats as Posy. The bride shot her mother a grimace filled with a whine topped with a bubble overhead oozing with foul symbols. Posy could picture each word in her thoughts bringing a real smile to her lips.

  The groom yanked on his collar near his tie. He was younger than the bride by a few years, obese, but not too hard on the eyes. The stick figured bride would be crushed during the honeymoon. Posy pictured the image in her mind. The spindly bitch flailing arms and legs until she stopped moving, and was going, going … dead—okay perhaps that was a bit too much. Posy pictured her flailing again. Flailing was more fun to visualize.

  A distinct buzzing was coming from her bouquet. One of the little red roses was moving. Finally something entertaining. A bee poked its head out. A huge yellow and black fuzzy bumble crawled around amidst the red and yellow roses and baby’s breath.

  “Oh aren’t you the cutest,” Posy whispered. Bees didn’t bother her, and bumbles were the most curious as far as she was concerned. “You have a front row seat.”

  “What are you yammering about?” The maid of honor’s snarl whispered in her ear.

  The woman reeked of rum, and Posy’s nose twitched. Her instinct to pull back was too hard to resist.

  “I told you I’m allergic to flowers,” Posy whispered back.

  “Suck it up, buttercup.”

  Suck on this, bitch.

  “The display is so beautiful I guess this huge ole bee couldn’t help itself. I bet it’s got a mother of a stinger.”

  The bridesmaid screamed when Posy lifted the bouquet. Bedlam broke out. Bella’s mother declared both she and Bella were allergic to bees. If stung they’d puff up like marshmallows.

  You don’t say? Posy hadn’t any idea but wondered why on earth either woman would subject themselves to possible harm. The groom grabbed the bouquet, dropped it, and stomped on it until the petals were crushed. The bee flew away into the back of the church.

  Bella was snarling, teeth gritted. By this time, she’d grabbed the minister by the arm and told him to finish the ceremony. The little man looked affronted until the father of the bride growled from the front bench. Business-like the two were married, and told to kiss. Posy grimaced when their lips puckered and met. She’d seen better action between a near sighted great-grandma and her great-grandson. She swore there was a collective ew in the air. Everyone filed out of the church as fast as they were able.

  Next came the grueling task of the wedding pictures. A cross between the Beverly Hillbillies meets The Addams Family. Posy was crunched somewhere between Lurch and Jed with Morticia scowling at her and Cousin It. The new bouquet
she was given, double the original size, bee-free, was making her eyes water and her nose run. She was handed a Kleenex to mop her face until she realized it was part of the bride’s veil and Cousin It was grinning like the Mad Hatter. Gaze shifting left and right she dropped the veil and stepped back, right into a hand that squeezed her ass.

  Little creep.

  Not a fan of violence but a huge fan of equal rights and what goes around comes around, Posy stepped on the man’s foot, gave a shove and half of the wedding party toppled over in a domino effect. Legs flailing with the groom on top of her, as Posy had imagined, Bella lay flapping for help. Posy dropped her bouquet to offer aid. She was a wee bit responsible. They managed to roll the groom off and sit them both up. Bella growled she’d had enough and needed a drink.

  Thank God.

  The sun was just starting to dip when Posy stopped for a moment. The large shadow of a huge cat came into play. Posy blinked, her gaze searching, and goosebumps rose. There was nothing to be seen. Weird. She was hustled inside along with the other guests. The reception wasn’t much better. Posy didn’t feel like having a drink with what was offered. She disliked champagne, and there wasn’t a beer in sight. The food was fantastic, when she was able to taste it, but everyone continued to clank their glasses. Why anyone wanted to see these two kiss was beyond her. The salad was limp by her last bite. The next course was cold mid-meal. Her annoyance was growing. As she was sitting at the head table, eyes were on her as well to be the doting, smiling bridesmaid and hold her glass high when she wanted to dump it on Bella’s head. Each time the groom kissed his bride Posy fought the bile that built and the headache that was starting. Her appetite gone well before dessert, she snuck out a back door the second the lights were dimmed and the first dance was over.

  It was dark when she put her keys into her car ignition. For a second she rested her head on the steering wheel. She leaned down a bit to tug her heels off. Her feet felt swollen and numb. By her side were slippers she was grateful she’d thought to pack.

  “Well that’s six hours of my life I’ll never get back,” she mumbled.

  Settling back, Posy turned the car on. She froze. Beneath the dim parking lot light she thought she saw the cat-shadow again. Her gaze intense, focused, she waited for another glimpse. Nothing. Posy began to wonder how fast food poisoning took effect and if it caused hallucinations. Shaking her head, she left the parking lot to head for home. She sent up a silent prayer her finicky car wouldn’t overheat during the long drive. An hour and a half later Posy sighed as she pulled over to the curb while steam swirled from under the hood.

  She grumbled when she realized her cell phone was dead. It took her a second to muscle her protesting feet back into her heels. Her swollen giant sausages screamed in indignation.

  “Sorry, lasses, but I’m not walking anywhere in tiger head slippers.”

  The car door creaked when it was swung open, and she winced when her shoes connected with hard pavement.

  “Ouchie ouchie,” she whispered as she stood.

  Pins and needles assaulted her tired feet. No doubt if they could they’d be swearing. The night was warm, the street was damp from a recent shower, and the streetlight barely flickered. Picking a direction Posy set out to search for a phone. Her feet continued their protesting throb from being stuffed back into her heels and a decided wince, step, ouch, took her into the dead of night.

  “I look like a drunk hooker.”

  The area she was in was quiet and deserted. There was nothing to do except walk until she reached a phone. She thought she’d at least give the car a few minutes before she would give in and call for a tow. If not she vaguely recalled a bar or diner of some type, and she was certain it wasn’t too far.

  ****

  “Hey baby, you look like a sweet side of hot damn. What do you say we blow this joint and if you’re lucky you can blow me at my place.”

  It had taken only half an hour before Posy had seen the small bar. Every head had turned to gaze at her, then immediately gone back to their own business, except the creep who was speaking to her. Posy looked at the frumpy man leaning against the sticky bar spattered with nutshells leering at her. He looked slovenly. Posy wrinkled her nose. Funny he had mentioned blow. She had seen him get blown off by three other women.

  Make it four.

  “I’m not interested,” Posy said and turned away.

  “I’m doing you a favor, you sweet marshmallow,” Frumpy said. He moved in closer and tried to touch the back of her hand, which she snatched away.

  “Why do you think so?” She turned back to offer him a scathing glance. His leer and smile faltered. Posy knew his type immediately. He brought bile to her throat.

  “Well, look at you, pumpkin cheeks. You’re what six feet? One eighty? Two? But I don’t mind a voluptuous woman. More of her to hold onto.” He winked at her.

  Posy stood up and matched his height. He was drunk and reeked of stale booze. “I’m five foot ten and not one eighty or two. Neither question is any of your business regardless. You aren’t doing me any favor by talking to me. I have done you a favor by responding to you. This is the most action you’ve seen all night.”

  Tired of the lack of ambiance in the bar after just thirty minutes Posy was ready to leave. She winced when her feet hit the floor. Damn heels. She left her three quarter full glass of beer on the bar and walked away listening as the frumpy ass called her a bunch of names. Posy had heard all the name calling before. It would be nice if someone came up with something new for a change. Although “thunder boobs” made her snicker.

  Yeah, my tits have thunder all right—ka-boom.

  As she left the building the door closed blocking out frumpy and his name calling. She hadn’t gone to the bar in search of hooking up. She’d walked the block around her car, and it hadn’t cooled, and her cell couldn’t be charged. Reluctantly, she realized she needed to call for a tow and decided to have a beer when the only pay phone in sight was occupied. The bar was full of drunken men and a few bored looking women. Not her scene. The entire bar stunk, and the bartender sounded like he had pneumonia and a gastro problem.

  Can this day possibly get any worse?

  In order to avoid a few of the drunken men Posy slipped out a side entrance. The only light in the alley flickered to dim. She headed for the road. The alley was slick with fresh rain, and dampness hung in the air. Posy lost her balance for a few seconds in her one inch high heels, her arms becoming a pinwheel of motion to right herself. Inches from a puddle her momentum stopped. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief a tiny gray-black mouse scampered into her path as though being chased by the hounds of hell. The teeny, tickly, wispy feet grazed her open toe heels. The fur on its belly slithered across her bare flesh, giving her goosebumps. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stretched taut enough for her to assume they were attempting to flee. There was only one thing in the world that could frighten Posy—mice.

  Posy dropped her handbag and screamed as if someone was about to kill her. The acoustics ricocheted off the surrounding walls to echo Grand Canyon style. The mouse jumped a foot in the air, barely missing the puddle, little feet flailing in terror. It landed belly down, spread eagle, spinning across the wet pavement before regaining its feet and scampering off. Posy turned and blindly ran in the opposite direction, her heels clicking and clacking on the wet ground in her haste to be away. She was stopped by strong arms wrapping around her.

  “Well, look what I caught,” drawled a big beefy man. His beady dark eyes settled onto her. He began feeling her up. Posy struggled, but he refused to release her. She ordered him to let her go, yet he continued to grope her. She then held still and glared at the man. He was at least six foot two, maybe three hundred pounds. “Baby doll, you got curves in all the right places.”

  His hand was kneading her ass. She grinned at him in a sultry fashion—she had run into his kind before too many times. His kind responded to either a woman’s fear, or immediate interest in him. He
r tone was sexy, her lips pouting.

  “Baby doll, you have only one curve a woman is interested in,” she purred.

  The man ground his hard-on against her. “You like this curve, do ya?”

  “One part of me likes it more.” Posy brought her knee up hard and fast connecting with his stiff cock. The man released her on a fast amount of expressed air and fell back onto his ass with a high squeak. He rolled to his side, both hands cupping the family jewels. Two more men grabbed her from behind.

  “Get off me, you freaks,” Posy ground out.

  “That’s gonna cost you,” the man on the ground said through gritted teeth.

  Posy stood with her shoulders back, head held high. If they wanted a fight they chose the wrong woman. She wasn’t afraid of these rodents.

  “Three against one, boys?” a voice said from the darkness.

  The man on the ground rose to his knees and peered behind his buddies. “Get lost.”

  “I already am,” a man’s voice said and directed his words to Posy. “Ma’am, my name is Maximus.”

  There was a deep growl to his tone, and for a second Posy thought she again saw the image of a massive cat. A tiger, out here? And at the wedding? Not possible. Posy couldn’t help but blink when a man stepped from the shadows. She managed to get a hand free and slapped the face of one of her aggressors.

  “Damn you, bitch,” the man yelled.

  He made a move to slap Posy. Before he could make contact or Posy could fend him off, the man’s fist was grabbed and a crunch resounded in the alley when Maximus broke his arm. The man screamed in agony and fell to his knees.

  “I can take care of myself,” Posy insisted. She slapped her other aggressor in the face to make him release his death grip.