Daddy Shifter Read online

  Daddy Shifter

  Text Copyright © 2017 by Juniper Hart

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2017

  Publisher

  Secret Woods Books

  [email protected]

  www.SecretWoodsBooks.com

  Table of Contents

  Daddy Shifter

  Bonus Content

  Birch Mountain Alphas Origin

  Dragon Shifter Romance

  Bear & Wolf Shifter Romances

  Billionaire Romance

  Daddy Shifter

  Birch Mountain Alphas

  By: Juniper Hart

  Daddy Shifter

  Prologue

  A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her and she looked desperately at her roommate, a slew of words falling from her mouth.

  “I don’t know, Syd. This doesn’t feel right. I should be looking at other options here. Maybe I should be pursuing my master’s, after all. Maybe I should stay here and try to squeeze in a summer session to—”

  “At some point, you have to go home, Everly,” Sydney interrupted, rolling her blue eyes skyward. “It’s summer break and you’re a college grad! Embrace it for once in your anxiety-filled life!”

  “Easy for you to say,” Everly grumbled. “You have your Danny Tanner household in Austin. I’m going home to live with the Bluths in Utah.”

  Sydney laughed, her mellifluous chortle tickling Everly’s ears as she did, and the redhead could not help but join in the giggles.

  “I would pay good money to walk onto the set of ‘Arrested Development’,” Sydney chortled. “I am guessing that you’re Lindsay, then? The prodigal daughter?”

  “I’m more like Michael,” Everly groaned, shaking her head, but she still could not wipe the half-smile from her face. “The halfway normal one who still isn’t completely sane, only made worse by the rest of the dysfunction in the family.”

  But she admitted that saying it aloud made it seem funny. It almost made her forget about the impending doom facing her in the coming days.

  It was one of the many reasons Everly had bonded so closely with Sydney throughout her college career; the girl could lift her spirits in the worst of situations.

  Not that this is the worst situation, Everly reminded herself. You’re just being melodramatic. You’ve known this day was coming since you came out to New York. All good things must come to an end.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come home with you this summer?” Everly asked Sydney hopefully, the internal pep talk already forgotten. “You can teach me about the Lone Star State and—”

  “Everly, let me stop you right there. You haven’t been home in four years. I don’t care how bad you think your family is, they’re still your family. You have to face them sometime,” Sydney told her gently. “You’re not the same timid girl who came to Columbia four years ago. You’re a grown woman now. Nothing your dad can do or say can change that.”

  Everly shifted her dark blue eyes downward and stifled a sigh of resignation.

  She knew that Sydney was speaking the truth, but she didn’t want to admit that in two days, she would be returning to her roots in Ogden, and she wasn’t looking forward to all the drama that would ensue.

  Sydney always believed that Everly’s dad was not as bad as she made him out to be, but he really was difficult to handle. Everly’s father had always wanted a boy, and nothing Everly did seemed to be good enough.

  Going home this time was going to be torture. She knew it was her own fault that she had allowed it to escalate by not returning home even once. It was just that she had found the idea of seeing her overbearing father and enabling mother insurmountable.

  Sydney had happily opened her own family’s home to her for Christmases and school breaks, but not without a constant warning that she was only making things worse for herself.

  Everly always reasoned that she didn’t care, silently praying for a miracle that would extend her journey away from home and prolong that worst from ever becoming a reality.

  And now the worst is upon me, Everly thought mournfully.

  “Stop looking so devastated,” Sydney sighed. “Maybe after I’ve caught up with my family, I’ll fly up your way and pay you a visit.”

  Everly tensed instantly, the hairs on the back of her neck rising in apprehension.

  She can never come to Ogden, she told herself, glancing at her best friend with wide eyes. Sydney is the smartest person I know. She’ll figure out our secret in ten seconds flat.

  “No,” Everly replied quickly. “I’ll manage. If it gets to be too much, I won’t want to bring people into my misery—I’ll be looking for an out. If anything, I’ll hop on a plane and come to you.”

  Sydney eyed her, her brow creasing slightly as she studied Everly’s face. “Are you trying to keep me away from Utah?” she asked pointedly.

  Everly shifted her gaze slightly to avoid meeting the blonde’s gaze. “Do I need a reason to keep you away from Utah?” she replied dryly. “It’s Utah. No person in their right mind should want to go to Utah.”

  Sydney laughed. “I’ve heard Utah is beautiful, but you’re right, you’re the only reason I’d ever travel there.” A slight pause halted the conversation before Sydney spoke again. “Everly, are you going to be all right?”

  Everly nodded quickly and forced a smile onto her face. “Of course,” she sighed. “I just put it off for too long. I shouldn’t have avoided the inevitable.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you since freshman year,” Sydney joked, but Everly could read the concern in her eyes.

  “It will be fine,” Everly said, but she knew the words were spoken more to reassure herself than Sydney. She couldn’t lie to her friend, but she could try to lie to herself.

  Sydney is right about one thing: I am not the same awkward teenager who came to New York, sheltered and scared of my own shadow. I am a woman now, a full grown—

  “Everly!”

  She jumped. “What?”

  “I said let’s get out of here. No sense in rotting away in a vacant house for the next forty-eight hours.”

  Everly nodded, her long, wavy hair swaying against her slender shoulders with the gesture.

  “Yes,” she agreed, looking around the house she had shared with Sydney for the past three years.

  Their other roommate had already returned to her home in Canada, and both of their belongings had already been shipped.

  That’s right—Mom arranged for all my furniture to go into a storage facility, so she didn’t have to move any of my stuff in the house. Another warm welcoming home, Everly thought with a huff.

  All that remained in their shared house was a stack of boxes, which would be piled into Sydney’s car, and two full suitcases that Everly would take back to Ogden with her.

  “It’s depressing being here without all our stuff,” Everly said, holding back the tears that desperately wanted to spill.

  Sydney smiled sympathetically, and she impulsively hugged her. “It’s the end of an era,” the blonde sighed. “I may not be heading into a crappy family situation, but it’s just as scary for me, too.”

  Everly looked at her pretty friend, guilt flooding her. She’s just as conflicted as I am, just for different reasons. I’m being selfish by forgetting that.

  The uncertaint
y of post-graduate life was terrifying, and despite Sydney’s stellar grades, she still had not landed a secure position in her field.

  “Come on,” Sydney urged. “We have two days to block it all out before being thrust into another reality. Let’s make the best of it.”

  Everly nodded vehemently. “Where do you want to go? Figgy’s? Almer’s?” she suggested.

  Sydney shook her head wildly, her eyes brightening with a thought.

  “I have an idea,” she said suddenly. “Grab an overnight bag. We’re going to Atlantic City.”

  Chapter One

  His dark eyes burned, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb.

  “I think it’s time we move and defend our land,” Carter continued, slamming his fist on the table. “They’re infringing on our territory and—”

  “Oh, my God!” Michael groaned loudly, interrupting the overzealous appeal of his nephew. “You’re always going on about fighting and takeovers. There’s no reason to go after the Layton pack.”

  Carter stared at him in surprise, throwing his fork down on the table in disgust. “I can’t believe how little it bothers you that they’re constantly moving north without any regard for—”

  “Honey, I think you’re getting a little worked up for dinner,” Carter’s mother, Gemma, chided. “We don’t discuss politics at the table.”

  “We don’t discuss politics at meetings either, Mom,” Carter spat. “If we don’t do something—”

  “Enough!” Michael roared, and Carter turned pale at the pack leader’s order. “You think you have more experience than me, boy?” Michael spat, springing to his feet, his face shifting slightly as he hovered between anger and control. “Do you think you can make the tough decisions when push comes to shove?”

  “Of course not,” Carter muttered quickly. “I… I’m sorry. It’s just something I feel strongly about.”

  Michael glanced at his knuckles, bulging as his claws threatened to break through, but he read the contrition on his only nephew’s face.

  “Maybe you should choose a better audience for yourself,” Michael growled, reclaiming his seat.

  Gemma gently placed a hand on Michael’s arm while she addressed Carter. “Save your hostile takeovers for your warmongering friends while you shoot pool.”

  “There’s more to being a leader than just attacking and fighting,” Michael continued, grabbing his fork and shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes between his lips. “Sometimes it’s about keeping the peace and minding your own damned business!”

  Carter clamped his mouth shut in defiance, but he kept his eyes averted to avoid any further admonishment from his uncle.

  What the hell is wrong with kids these days? Michael wondered, stabbing his fork into his dinner with annoyance. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever spoken to any elder, let alone an alpha, the way his nephew spoke to him.

  They have silver spoons and a sense of entitlement, he grumbled silently. Michael’s head jerked up suddenly, face growing slightly pale. Oh, my God… I sound like my father.

  The notion hit him full force, and suddenly his appetite disappeared entirely. Michael pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” Gemma demanded, glancing anxiously at her brother.

  “I forgot, I have work to finish at the office,” he muttered, tossing his napkin onto the table.

  “It can wait! At least stay for coffee, Mike!” she pleaded, her face laced with worry.

  Michael forced a smile and shook his head. “I’ll swing by over the weekend,” he lied. “And we can have our coffee then.”

  “Uncle Mike,” Carter called. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  The older man inhaled sharply, collecting himself before he turned. He grinned disarmingly at his nephew. “I’m not mad, Carter,” he assured him. “Sometimes I forget how painfully young you are, that’s all. It’s not your fault.”

  Carter’s face puckered into a scowl, recognizing the backhanded apology for what it was.

  “I’m twenty-one years old,” Carter muttered, but he said it low enough that Michael knew he was not meant to respond.

  I have socks older than you, Michael told him silently, and Carter’s angry expression deepened as he understood the unspoken message.

  “I will see you both later,” Michael promised, and he reached for his long overcoat, pulling open the front door before Gemma could catch up to him.

  “Mike!” his sister called as he gingerly made his way through the snow toward the carport where his black Mercedes SUV was parked.

  He turned to address her, his brow raised. “Gemma, go back in the house,” he urged. “It’s freezing out here.”

  She shook her dark head quickly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Of course I am,” he replied lightly. “You know Carter pushes my buttons on purpose. Regardless, I have work to do—”

  “I know what you said,” his older sibling replied gently. “But you haven’t been yourself these last few months. You’re quicker to snap than you ever were, and you seem a million miles away most of the time.”

  Michael shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “Everything is the same as it’s always been.”

  And therein seemed to lie the problem. Everything was the same as it had always been. Gemma wasn’t wrong.

  He had been on edge over the past few months, a subtle change that had begun mounting just after his fortieth birthday.

  Michael had never been one to combat the inevitable process of ageing, but it seemed like the day he had blown out the candles on his surprise birthday cake, at that party that Gemma had spent months planning, a sickening new reality had befallen him.

  I’m getting old, he thought, and the idea had almost made him laugh.

  If he was to talk to anyone about his innermost thoughts, they would invariably tell him the same tired clichés.

  “You’re not old! You’re at your prime!”

  “Forty is the new thirty, Mike!”

  “If you’re old, I’m ancient!”

  “You run circles around all of us, Mike. That’s why you’re our pack leader!”

  Truly, they would all be accurate.

  Michael had more going for him than most of his friends: he was the pack leader, and his marketing company was thriving. He didn’t have the stress of family obligations like his married buddies or the taxation of children with which to contend.

  And yet, there was a growing unease in his bones, a disquiet that he could not simply cast aside and ignore.

  “Mike, please talk to me,” his sister begged as he seemed to lose himself in thought. “Are you feeling all right?”

  He flashed her a charming grin, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek.

  “You’re imagining things,” he assured her. “If I seem distracted, it’s work related. I am thinking about expanding and it’s weighing on my mind. Don’t worry about me, Gem. Thanks for dinner.”

  Michael didn’t allow her time to respond, dropping a kiss on her cheek and jumping into the driver’s seat. He slammed the door as Gemma folded her arms over her chest, worriedly peering at him.

  He waved cheerfully and backed out of the driveway, even though his black SUV had not had time to warm up properly.

  Gemma’s scrutiny was only adding to his angst.

  He needed to be alone.

  Michael steered the vehicle out of the cul-de-sac and onto 20th Street toward I-15.

  Sunday dinners had become a fixture at Gemma’s since their father had died two years earlier, and while Michael appreciated his sister’s need to keep the family close, he was beginning to find the task of dining with Gemma and Carter increasingly stressful.

  You really are becoming a grumpy old bastard, he warned himself. You’re just looking for a reason to curl up in a cave and become a lone wolf.

  He drove along without thinking, almost as if the car had taken on a mind of it
s own. He turned onto one of the side streets well before his quiet road appeared and parked in front of a brightly-lit Tudor at the end of Fowler Avenue.

  The Christmas lights were still lit despite it being mid-January, and Michael swallowed a smile as he sat staring at the front of the house.

  This is what married life does to you, he thought, shaking his head. It forces you to celebrate a holiday that contradicts everything about yourself—even when your wife doesn’t believe in the sanctity of Christmas. I should be grateful for small favors. This will never be me.

  Still, a pang of nostalgia ripped through him as he stared at the colorful entrance, his heart pounding for some inexplicable reason. Something felt different about the house, like it held a different energy, but he couldn’t put his finger on why his heart continued to pound, raising his anxiety.

  The front door opened, and Michael felt his head drop lower as he sunk into the seat of his SUV, as if to hide from the woman exiting the stoop with a bag of trash in her hand.

  Her red hair gleamed against the gentle white lights illuminating the darkly painted house. Michael straightened, realizing that it was not Cynthia who made her way to the curb, where the garbage cans sat ready for Monday morning pick up.

  It took Michael several seconds to reconcile at whom he was staring.

  Is that… it can’t be!

  As if hearing his thoughts, the woman’s head jerked up, and her eyes rested on the black SUV parked directly across the street.

  Their eyes met, and Michael felt a fission of excitement as he stared at her.

  She cocked her head to the side curiously, her lids narrowing slightly as she tried to place him.

  Knowing he’d been caught, he rolled down the window.

  “Everly?”

  She nodded slowly, dropping the bag of trash inside the metal can, and approached him.

  “Oh!” she gasped as she finally recognized him. “Mr. Vanier!”

  Michael cringed, his face coloring scarlet at the title.