Love at First Mate - Badlands Territory

Chapter 1RagnarIt’s way goddamn inconvenient walking around with a hard-on half the day.

It’s been a month ago today this shit started.

I stepped out of Josephine’s Bar and Grill, with a double mushroom and bacon burger as take out for my grandmother, and it was then that I heard the rumbling exhaust, as a faded orange and white VW Bus came sputtering down Main Street.

I knew immediately, whoever was driving that creamsicle wasn’t local. The Badlands aren’t so small I know everyone, but VW Buses would be something I’d remember.

I stood there in the early September sun, the wind having that perfect fall scent, and watched as the bus puffed and lurched down to Mackie’s Garage and pulled in.

My Ford F250 was parked on the street in that direction, and before I knew it my legs were carrying me forward.

And that’s when it happened.

The thing I’ve been dreading my whole life.

The thing I hoped beyond hope wouldn’t happen to me.

I saw my mate.

It was just like everyone always said. You go along, nothing, nothing, nothing, thinking you’re going to be the anomaly, the one shifter that goes their whole life without finding their one. The one in a hundred generations that somehow skips that gene.

The one shifter I’d hoped I’d be.

Fuck. No chance. She hit me like a cannonball of lust and greed and need, and just like that a fire of possessiveness and rage lit inside of me, burning down any hope of never finding my mate.

Since then, I’ve turned into a fucking maniac. And so has my dick.

Running into her a few times around town, she’s always fucking smiling, even at me, surly motherfucker that I am. But all I do is grunt and turn away as my dick and my inner bear try to convince me to stop fighting what all three of us know to be true.

She’s the one.

The perfect shade of brunette, her hair in French braids and azure-blue eyes that make my heart convulse in my chest. The way she looks like she’s the most innocent vixen a cruel god could have created, with those pouty lips, cherub cheeks, and an ass for days. My dreams are filled with her on her knees, on her back, begging and drooling and screaming my name as I fuck her into a ragged mess, my teeth marks on her ivory flesh, growling mine, mine, mine…

Fuck, stop.

I can’t. I can’t give into that side of me. I have to fight it.

And I have my reasons.

I shake my head, gritting my teeth, trying to get the scent of her out of my mind as try to get my head back on my work. But, the vision of her ass in those painted on, too-fucking-tight jeans she wore that first day drive my hammer onto the nail head so hard it splits the oak board down the center.

“God damn it!”

But, it’s not just my out-of-control dick that’s making me crazed. It’s that my bear is ready to tear through my flesh every thirty-seconds, growling and possessive, ready to fight to the death to get to her.

Growing up in the Badlands Territory as a shifter has its pros and cons. It’s great to have general acceptance in the community. Shifters of all kinds live here and the surrounding areas. But, for me, I’ve fought that part of me for so long. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I would have left here a long fucking time ago.

The bad part is, it’s hard to pretend you are like most of the rest of the world. Hard to pretend all the things you’ve been told your life will be like aren’t going to come true. That shifters don’t have to be the way they’ve been for as far back as the stories go.

“Rag!” I hear Wayne call, and I turn around, watching him come through the front door of the house we’re working on.

I’m more than just a handyman. Sure, I can do almost anything when it comes to the building trades, but my real talent—and what I was hired to do in this McMansion—is high-end finish work on intricate mantles and book cases and shit like that. Working with my hands suits me, keeps me tired from long days and hard work.

“What?” I snap, and he smiles as he raises his hands.

“Dude.” He comes closer and my bear roars inside me, so fucking irritable with everyone lately. “You gonna get some CBD or something? Because your mood has been for shit for a month.”

“What do you need?” I bark back and he shakes his head, reaching down and pulling the thick leather toolbelt up on his hips, then he jerks a pointed thumb over his shoulder toward the toolshed.

“We’re outta gas for the generator and the air compressor. You want me to run the truck to the station and fill up the tank in the bed?”