Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1, Jaime Johnesee [i have read the book txt] 📗

a cat's eyes. Then I realized my jaguar was grunting and leaping. It hit me that what I felt for this man might be more than simple chemistry. That immediate attraction I felt might mean he was a werecat of some sort.

I grinned.

Well, to those around us it looked like I smiled, but what I was actually doing was flehmening. I pulled his scent across the roof of my mouth to better understand him through his pheromones. He was a cat shifter, but more than that, he was a jaguar, like me. I gasped and locked eyes with him.

"Hiya, Sam. It's awful nice to see you again."

"D-do I know you?" Yeah, I know. I’m super cool under pressure. Don’t hate.

"How's your hand doing?” He pointed at the hand bitten by the jaguar who turned me.

"What?" I pulled my hand closer in to me.

"That's the hand I bit; sorry if I was too rough about it."

"You? Why?" My world heaved and my stomach followed suit.

"You needed the change. I planned to come back and help you through the first few shifts."

Still feeling a tad gobsmacked, I blurted, "Yeah, well, you didn't. You bit me and left me to figure it out all on my own. You forced a decision on me that wasn't yours to make! You infected me and sauntered on with your life while I was left to pick up the pieces of what I thought was a random attack!"

I was growling and I'm pretty sure my eyes had gone from their usual blue to the golden-green hue they took on when I was in cat form.

I couldn't deny there was some attraction between us, but I was sure it was due to the fact he was my maker. Maybe we were hardwired with a respect-thy-maker sort of thing, a sire bond of sorts? That could be the only explanation as to why I still felt an attraction to such an unbelievably cocky douchebag.

"That was never my intention. I planned to meet you at the hospital but...."

"But something more important came up." I sneered.

"Something came up. It was important to me, but it's not like that."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. Let me amend that, you don't need to explain anything other than why you ruined my life." I could feel my canines growing.

I needed to get my anger under control or I'd turn right here. Not exactly the best time or place. I can usually control my shifts, but when emotions run to the extreme, I falter.

"I wasn't trying to ruin your life. I'm sorry if that is the result. I was trying to make your life better … and maybe even a little more fun. You looked so miserable and so lost. I thought you could use a new direction in life."

"So, based on seeing me one time, on a bad day, you naturally decided to alter my life so completely and forever without consulting me on it? Who the fuck are you to do that? What god gave you the power over other people's lives? You didn't care what I wanted, or needed, you just wanted a playmate. You sick egotistical fucker, you stay the hell away from me." I hissed at him before I turned and used all the anger I had stored in gearing up to change in order to break this spell he had on me.

I congratulated myself for pulling away and continued moving to my table.

"It wasn't just once, Sam. I saw you every day for two years at the coffee cart," he called after me.

His voice was soft enough that the other diners wouldn't be able to make out exactly what he had said.

I stopped in my tracks.

"You were stalking me? You think that makes your decision to—” I broke off as I spun on my heel to face him.

Upon seeing all those civilian faces staring at me, I covered lamely with, "…do what you did somehow okay? Go away and don't bother me again or next time you won't be the one doing the biting.”

I hissed again and it took all my effort not to bare my teeth and growl. I managed it, mostly because I didn't want to freak people out. Watching someone turn from a human into a talking black panther is something that is perhaps best left for good friends or a Broadway version of Cats. Especially since the public, for the most part, isn’t aware of us.

"I can't. I need to speak with you about this."

"No. Not here and not now." I snorted. "Hell, not ever.” I headed for Quinn's table and ignored what came next.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to hurt you. Somehow, along the way, I fell for that sad lonely woman I saw out of my office window every day and I just wanted you to know the freedom I felt. When I came across you in the park, I thought it was fate, and then you reached out to me. I honestly just wanted to see you happy instead of so depressed all the time."

What I wanted was to jump on him and tear his throat out, but, instead, I settled for the more human and adult response of ignoring him. I have to say I was very proud of myself for not having decapitated him with a grapefruit spoon.

Go me!

I absolutely love being a jaguar, but I never consented to being turned, and I don’t know—given the choice—that I ever would have. I would never tell him he was right, that I had needed the change, mostly because I was never asked if I wanted it. He thrust it on me without my consent. It wasn't right.

You don’t turn people without permission.

A year after I was bit, a law was passed stating that you needed written consent to change someone. Under that law, this man would have had to serve ten years in prison and been forced to pay nearly a hundred thousand dollars in restitution. Unfortunately,