My Shifter Showmance (Shifting Reality 1)

“What part of alone don’t you understand?” She sent him a meaningful glance and the bronze skin of his cheeks darkened. He backed away, nearly stumbling over his duffel bag and giving them a wide berth as he headed inside. She caught Chi staring at the fit of his jeans and winked. “Men, huh?”

Chi shook her head, biting her lip. “No. I mean he’s not…he’s not my type.”

Margo caught the glint of a sharp tooth and whistled. So the camerawoman was another player. “You too? I suppose everyone in that house is going to be like Mr. Lyons and the others, for the sake of continuity.”

Chi chuckled. “That is the general idea. Everyone but you folks.” She came closer, lowering her voice. “I’ve been instructed to take you around the back way.”

“The back way? What back way? Why—”

Margo heard the screams, looking up in time to see Karen Stevens and that Erin woman, whose last name she couldn’t recall, run out of the castle’s large front doors like the devil himself was at their heels. “It’s haunted. The cas-castle, it’s…” That’s all she heard before Dugan opened the bus doors, and they leapt inside to safety.

The old man snorted, shaking his head. “That was quick. Humans. I’ll be back for the next batch later tonight. Tell Liam.” He hopped onto the tour bus and drove away, taking the two ashen women with him.

“They must have insulted Esther. She’s the sweetest woman, and the world’s best housekeeper, but very particular about formalities. Between you, me and the goblins? I wish she’d decided to scare that Ms. Blaze instead. But I’m not that lucky. Now follow me, Ms. Sheffield.” Chi turned before Margo could argue.

“Please, call me Margo. I didn’t realize we’d started the games already.” She picked her way through the taller grass as Chi led her along the side of the castle, and up an outer staircase. “I’m a little surprised. Karen was a huge fan. She had tattoos and everything. I’m sure she’s going to be kicking herself all the way home. She didn’t even get to see her idols.”

“Being a fan from a distance is one thing. Dealing with the reality of what we are is entirely different.”

Chi reached behind her and lifted Margo’s carryon along with her own camera, not even breathing heavily as she continued to climb up the circling stairs. Margo was panting behind her, wishing she hadn’t worn her heels. “Is that what this contest—this show is about? Reality? And not to complain or anything, but why am I coming into the castle this way, when everyone else went through the front door? Is this some sort of tower or turret?”

Chi disappeared through the door with her luggage. Margo was relieved that they were finally there and she could catch her breath. She lost it again when she saw where she’d been taken.

The room took up the entire top floor of the tower. Not at all what she was expecting a bedroom in an old, drafty Scottish castle to look like. It was sinful. The bed was decadent, something out of Arabian Nights, with a silken coverlet in varying shades of rust and gold. The carved headboard was exquisitely detailed. Margo would guess Moroccan or African, matching the bureau and dressing table. “I think there’s been some mistake.”

“No mistake, Margo.” Chi smiled kindly. “I had very specific instructions. Take a shower. Relax. I have to go make sure Liam isn’t getting into any trouble—the dog.” She chuckled. Margo tried to protest, but Chi held up her hand. “If you have any more questions you can ask Esther, or Thomas when he finally shows himself. My best advice to you? I know Thomas Lyons well. Unless you wa

nt to be caught…wear comfortable running shoes.”

She opened what looked like a bookcase and disappeared down the hallway. A hidden door. Now that was more of what Margo had been expecting. She plopped on the bed and looked in the mirror on the dressing table across the room. What the hell was going on?

Did they know? It wouldn’t be that hard to find out what she did for a living. Maybe this was all it was after all. Actors with a unique idea, and fantastic marketing skills. She slipped off her heels and headed to the bathroom. Why was she disappointed?

Thomas. Margo barely acknowledged the luxurious, modern bathroom, going directly to the shower faucets and turning them on. Slipping off her clothes in an absentminded way, she finally admitted the truth. A part of her had wanted it to be real. Had wanted Thomas Lyons to be real. Wanted his growled promise and private flirtations to be on the level.

Had he always known who she worked for? Saint created games for a living, he must know about tracking IP addresses and discovering things about people they didn’t want known. It would have been easy enough for him to find out and fill Thomas in.

She stepped beneath the hot spray and dipped her chin, letting the water beat down on her aching neck muscles. Maybe this was better. It would make it easier to do her job if she wasn’t really a part of the show. If they already wanted the same thing her boss did.

Fame.

Still, she wasn’t quite ready to let go of her fantasy. She almost dreaded meeting the Shifting Reality star, dreaded having the last of her illusions shattered. She closed her eyes and saw him so clearly she almost gasped. He stood before her in the shower, that dangerous smile, those brilliant green eyes studying her body.

“So beautiful, my Kittysnapdragon. Sweet Margo. I wish that I could touch you.”

Her eyes opened. That voice didn’t sound like a fantasy. “Thomas? Thomas Lyons?” She looked through the steam, along the walls for speakers. She opened the shower curtain, but no one was there. It had echoed off the tile, sounded so real. “I have a good imagination. But not that good.”

No response. “Seriously, I was told the bathrooms were private.” Nothing.

Margo shook her head. She supposed tequila mixed with jet lag could have her mind playing tricks on her. That, along with her natural paranoia of hidden cameras. But she could have sworn she really heard that familiar, growling drawl.

God, she loved his voice. The first time she’d heard it, her thighs had actually trembled. One of the regulars in the chat room, an amateur deejay, created a club mix with Thomas describing how much the male of his species enjoyed oral sex. Margo had listened to that song with her vibrator in hand more times than she wanted to count, imagining him acting out his words on her. She’d always been a sucker for dirty talk.

Thankful for the loofa she’d unwrapped before she came into the shower, she poured lavender body wash on the hard sponge and scrubbed her body briskly. I’m gonna wash that shifter right outta my head.

Little voice, if you don’t stop singing I won’t be responsible for my actions.

Touchy, the little voice inside her huffed, still humming.