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Bear My Scars
A Dark Paranormal Shifter Story
Copyright © 2016 by Ava Hunt
Cover by Florette Covers
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Also by Ava Hunt
The Wolf Hunter
Bound to Bear
Bear My Scars
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Also By Ava Hunt
Bear My Scars
Chapter One: Jackson, Morgan, and Mercy
Chapter Two: The Going Away Party
Chapter Three: Mercy's Going Away Party
Chapter Four: Settling In
Chapter Five: Bedtime Stories
Chapter Six: First Submissions and Surprise Visits
Chapter Seven: Reflections
Chapter Eight: On the Outside
Chapter Nine: The Return
Chapter Ten: Morgan Unchained
Chapter Eleven: Coming Home
Chapter Twelve: Sunday Service
Chapter Thirteen: Testing Boundaries
The Baumkuchen Recipe
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Also By Ava Hunt
Mercy Bell didn't know her boyfriend Jackson Reed was a bastard. A bastard that kept a younger woman on the side and paid his workmate to keep Mercy busy.
Deacon Morgan Rattle did agree to keep Mercy occupied, but not for the money. While his human kept running from his past, his bear wanted to grow old with Mercy.
When Morgan makes a brash choice, will it end up costing him everything - his freedom and Mercy?
*This is a standalone shifter novella retelling of "Father Figure under a pen name of Roma Dark" with a happily ever after ending and the recipe to the cake mentioned in the story. It is intended for mature readers and features explicit scenes and language*
Damn her for coming into work dressed like that and damn her for being so fucking tight.
The breeze outside MakeSoft International was the only thing that was feeling good today according to Jackson Reed. He stepped out of the close-knit community of software geeks and tried to wipe the sweat from his palms. As he slid them down the front of his tan polyester pants, he tried to remain as calm as he could be considering that everything in his life could come to a crashing halt. That is if he couldn't keep up this tightrope walk a few more weeks.
He'd been as discrete as possible when he gave in to his lust and fucked the CEO's 18 year-old daughter, Kimberly. But it wasn't my fault, really, I mean she was begging me it seemed by the way she was dressed. While he was still technically seeing his workmate Mercy, that relationship was one of convenience and not one of passion. Hell, he was not even sure if Mercy knew what passion was.
He sighed in unison with the low-hum vibration coming from his pocket. Two rapid tingles hitting mid thigh.
He slid the iPhone from its confines and saw two texts on screen; one from Mercy and one from Kimberly. He read Mercy's first:
"Just a quick note to say I love you. Risotto, tonight? I'm cooking."
And then he quickly slid the message off the screen to get to Kimberly's. There captioning an image of a perfectly placed nipple ring was:
"It's not nibbling itself, lover."
Sigh. Is it any wonder I'm in this mess?, he thought.
He counted down how long he'd have to try to walk this edge of keeping everyone happy; his boss, his girlfriend, and his side girl. Hopefully tonight while meeting Morgan for drinks, he'd have some ideas on keeping everything together just a little while longer. Morgan had become friends with Jackson this past year, after transferring to MakeSoft Central from their California department. All that time, Jackson never understood why anyone would downgrade to that office. I've been trying since I got here to get away from it and he transfers to it. Crazy.
At 30 years of age, Jackson would be one of the youngest division managers at MakeSoft. He'd prepped the entire past decade to get to this point, from majoring in areas known to be the company's favorites to brown-nosing every committee chairperson he had access to. He was considered handsome with his dark brown hair and eyes and most of the girls in the office had been known to drop their numbers when Mercy wasn't looking. He'd never taken a work colleague up on the offer, at least not women he worked in this office with, until Kimberly jiggled into a conference room right out of her high school graduation. Eighteen never looked so inviting than when she reached over the desk and flashed her perfect peach of an ass barely contained by a black lace thong.
It had started out fine. His boss, Mr. Lewis, had finally decided to transfer him to the East Coast division. The division with the highest sales. He'd be over a team of computer programmers and be making almost double what he was making here at the Montana office. There was never bonus money paid to the Central Division, but he'd be getting fat quarterly bonus checks when he was in the East Coast Division. It was finally time to get everything he'd expected his life to have; money, decadence, and women at his feet.
That's when things began to get a little dicey. Fresh off a break from Mercy, he decided to dip his wick in the company ink and take out Mr. Lewis's barely legal and yet still promiscuous daughter Kimberly. Now that he was back with Mercy, Kimberly kept taunting him with cell phone videos, pictures and text messages that would ruin everything if her Daddy saw them.
If that happened he could kiss that sweet promotion goodbye, hell he could kiss his job entirely goodbye. Mercy would kick him out and he'd be without anywhere to stay. He had to keep everything status quo, if only for a little while.
He couldn't drop Kimberly completely for fear of her blackmail, nor could he stay with her because of what Mercy and her father would do to him if they'd found out about the affair. He was truly fucked either way.
I deserve this promotion and damnit no pussy is worth losing it over.
If he could just keep it together for three more weeks, he'd be out of there and in his cushy New York condo. Three more weeks of living in the armpit of the United States and then I can finally reach the pinnacle of my life.
He slid his hand down the side of his brand new cherry-red Porsche, opened it, and positioned himself behind the wheel. After a quick check in the rear view mirror to make sure he didn't look as stressed as he was, he sped away to the Morningwood Bar and Tavern.
He arrived in record time and looked around the crowded interior to check for Morgan. It was usually simple to see him no matter how packed the location. Morgan commanded attention. Known as the 'bad boy' of MakeSoft, his features were chiseled with a 6'3 lean frame and ripped abs that made him seem fierce and dangerous. It tickled Jackson how he got more ass than Morgan.
He must be shit in the sack, he thought. The fucking missionary man, literally.
There at the bar, Morgan was already nursing a dark-colored beverage that Jackson knew wouldn't be alcoholic. For all Morgan's reputation, Jackson had never seen him drink, smoke, or partake in any real vice. Hell, for all Jackson knew from that far away, it could have been chocolate milk.
"Hey Morgan, thanks for meeting me here," Jackson said as he took a well-worn seat at the bar. The leather was cracked from too many patrons and the bits stuck into his pant's thin fabric. No amount of adjustment could alter the feel, making him scowl.
"No problem. You said on the phone you had some problem you needed help with?" Morgan leaned back and swirled the small plastic pirate's sword that speared the cherry in his Diet Coke. He had heard some rumors floating around the office and already had a feeling as to what this 'problem' may be.
Jackson looked down with a furrowed brow before rising up to meet Morgan's eyes and said, "I may have ruined everything."
"I'll need a little more information before I'm viable help."
Over the next fifteen minutes, Jackson alternated between a double bourbon and telling the story of the past six months. How when him and Mercy were on one of their infamous breaks, he drunkenly dialed the boss's daughter and proceeded to nail her six ways to Sunday. How afterwards he kept meeting her, even after him and Mercy got back together.
"And now she has all these pictures and videos and is threatening to tell her Dad if we don't stay together."
"Yea, that's not good, man." Truth was, Morgan was a little happy that Jackson was finally in this position. He'd seen him fuck girl after girl while making excuses to Mercy. It was nice to see one of them taking a stand and laying down some screws to him.
Mercy is a wonderful woman, Morgan thought, one that deserves so much more than she's getting.
Truth be told, Morgan had a few secrets of his own. Secrets that his good buddy Jackson didn't need to know about.
The past year at MakeSoft had been quite an adjustment to Morgan Rattle. Fleeing the bright lights and the big city, he was finding Montana to be more soothing to his inner fire than the constant stimulation of the city. He needed to slip away, to get past old demons, and to head to something calm. What better place than out in the middle of nowhere. The pay cut was worth it.
Montana also seemed like a much better fit for his inner bear. It was quite a challenge letting it free in the city than in the wilds of Montana. Yes, perhaps this was going to be the perfect place for him to find his solace.
Even in a big city, rumors can kill your soul. All it took was two exes showing up with unexplained bruises for Morgan to be branded the neighborhood abuser. The girls never confirmed or denied the rumors, in fact they never spoke much about it at all. When the opportunity of the job shift came up at MakeSoft, Morgan jumped at it for a chance at a fresh start. While it meant leaving behind the church he had served, it didn't take him too long to become deacon of a small fellowship full of good people that still believed in second chances.
He'd graduated college eight years earlier in computer engineering, but mastered the fine art of hacking a decade ago. His old friends still called him 'Snake' from the way he'd slithered into high security systems and as a play on his surname. The old hacking habits seemed to die hard with Morgan, which is how he knew everything he needed to know to set his plan in action.
I can't help it if the plan took on a life of it's own, he thought. That's not my fault.
He knew what Jackson had been calling him for, or at least he thought he knew. It was no happy accident that now-legal Kimberly happened to wear that outfit and drop her number in to that hand. No, Morgan had known for months the revolving door of women Jackson kept. Meagan, the college freshman coffee house girl. Jessica, the blonde pet groomer that came to take care of Mercy's former dog. April, the drunk girl he nailed in the parking lot after he celebrated his first anniversary with Mercy. He even knew the ones that Jackson never told him about.
Morgan had been hacking Jackson's email and computer for months. At first it was just a theory he had. Jackson had mostly confided in him about his conquests, thinking Morgan was in on the 'bro code'. He even thought Morgan encouraged it.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Jackson always assumed Morgan was a prude from being church deacon, but he was so very far from it. If I'd been a prude, I'd never had to leave California. He just believed in treating the woman you love right. It was one of the reasons he fled the accusations to move to Montana. Jackson shouldn't have been stepping out on Mercy while telling her she was the only one. Had he been single, as Morgan was, he could nail a new girl every night. Hell, nail two a night for all he cared, but Mercy deserved better.
It was when he saw the boss's daughter come in one day, raving about her upcoming graduation and asking Morgan where "the cute nerdy one was" he set forth a plan. He took her to lunch and told her everything Jackson liked. How he loved take charge women who teased. How he loved the flash of ass. And then Morgan waited.
Sure enough, as soon as the ink was dry on that diploma which coincided with her turning 18, Kimberly strode in and Jackson fell for that lace-covered bait hook, line, and sinker.
The blackmailing pictures, texts, and videos were just icing on the cake. Jackson was finally getting a bit of comeuppance for a lifetime of asshattery. And here he was, on an uncomfortable stool at a bar he hates, telling me how miserable his life is and wondering how he deserves it. Asshat.
"Well looks like you're in a bit of a jam."
"A bit of a jam? My whole fucking life can come crashing down and you think its 'a bit of a jam'?"
"Well you could have kept it in your pants."
"Me and Mercy were on a break."