The Chosen One Universe Volume One: An MM Paranormal Fantasy Shifters Series, page 1
Chosen One Universe - Volume One
Macy Blake
Copyright of the collection © 2020 by Macy Blake
All rights reserved.
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Formatted by Leslie Copeland, LesCourt Author Services
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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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Sweet Nothings
The Chosen One: Prequel
Santa Trouble
Nothing But Trouble
The Trouble With Love
A Nothing But Trouble Novella
All or Nothing
The Chosen One: Book 1
Nothing Ventured
The Chosen One: Book 2
About the Author
Also by Macy Blake
Sweet Nothings
The Chosen One: Prequel
Copyright © 2018 by Macy Blake
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Cover and symbols designed by A.J. Corza, www.seeingstatic.com
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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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Sam
Thunderstorms freaked the ever loving hell out of Sam, and he was man enough to admit it. When the wind battered against his windows and thunder and lightning shook the very foundation of the little house he called home, Sam wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of the fire with something mindless on television to drown out the noise. Unfortunately, in the real world, he didn't have the luxury of doing nothing. The end of spring semester meant Sam had a stack of final exams to grade before the weekend was over. His students were expecting their grades on Monday, and no one was more demanding than whiny thirteen-year-old middle schoolers. Besides, the sooner he finished, the sooner the summer would be his.
Teaching seventh grade at his hometown middle school wasn't Sam's dream job, but when his dad had been injured on the job and needed some help around the house, Sam had little choice but to go home. He’d rented a little house in one of the many suburbs that were mostly empty these days. It wasn't much, but it kept him out of his dad's hair while being close enough to support him on his bad days. The neighborhood butted up against a nice stretch of woods where Sam was able to hike, explore, and spend time outside. The rest of his hometown was more depressing than anything else. Once the manufacturing jobs began drying up, many of the town's residents had left for greener pastures. Sam had tried to do that, too.
With a grumbled sigh, he pushed out of his beat-up leather chair and headed for the kitchen. He needed to get out of his head and put aside the unsettled thoughts which had been pestering him more and more of late. Nothing like a big old glass of milk with a side of chocolate chip cookies to cheer him up and get his mind back on the task at hand. As he walked into the kitchen, a gust of wind rattled the windows and another burst of thunder sounded. Then Sam heard another strange noise, something that didn't sound like part of the storm raging outside. He glanced toward the back door and noticed the knob twisting.
Someone was trying to get into his house.
His breath hitched with a little burst of panic. Sam quietly lifted one of the copper-bottomed pans that hung from a pot rack above his counter. The heavy duty pot was the best weapon he could acquire on short notice and a gift that kept on giving from his ex who’d had the misguided idea that giving Sam expensive kitchen equipment meant he’d settle down and cook and clean. The asshole. The pots had come in handy, though, even after he’d kicked the guy to the curb. He could grab one of the Chef’s knives the same jerk had gifted him— it hadn’t been a great Christmas, especially after he opened the vacuum cleaner— but honestly, he didn't think he had it in him to stab anyone. Whacking them over the head with a pot seemed much more reasonable. And less bloody. Hopefully.
The knob twisted one more time, and then Sam heard a muffled thump. It sounded like someone had collapsed against his back door. His stomach knotted with fear, and Sam gripped the handle of the pot tighter. He took a moment to wonder why the person didn't just knock and ask for help. The light was on. He was clearly home. He should probably call the police, but it would take them a good fifteen minutes to arrive. He'd look like an idiot if it turned out to be nothing. With his hands only slightly shaking, Sam approached the back door and unlocked the deadbolt. He lifted the pot above his head, ready to swing at whatever had caused the noise outside. He jerked open the door and nearly jumped out of his skin. A small child was huddled against the frame, soaking wet and shivering against the cold rain.
“Oh, my God,” Sam said. He dropped the pot onto the counter with a reverberating clang and reached down to scoop the child up into his arms.
He wasn’t expecting the growl.
Or the flash of blue eyes.
Or for fangs to appear in the kid’s mouth.
“Oh, my God,” Sam repeated. He froze, half-knelt down with his arms outstretched. They stared at each other for a long moment, water dripping into the child’s tired eyes. Another shiver hit, and then the little one jumped into his arms. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to be just fine.”
Sam had no idea what he’d just seen, wondered if he’d imagined the… whatever it was he’d witnessed. But the teacher in him, the part of him that loved kids, leapt to the forefront and took charge. With a little face buried in his neck and tiny arms holding on tight, Sam lifted the child tighter to his chest and closed the door to block the chilling wind. He hurried back into the living room and grabbed his favorite blanket from the back of the couch before wrapping it around the shivering little body in his arms. Then he returned to the kitchen and reached for his cell phone where it sat on the counter connected to the charger. He needed to call someone for help. When he picked up the phone, the little one raised their head and snarled.
He hadn’t imagined the earlier flash of animal behavior after all.
Sam gulped and tried not to lose his cool.
Dear God, he hadn’t imagined the earlier flash of animal behavior after all.
“It's okay,” Sam whispered after another deep breath to calm his fear. His voice shook a little, but he found himself reverting to teacher mode again. “I'm going to call for help.”
“No!” The child began to squirm in his arms, so Sam dropped the phone and backed away from the counter.
“Shh. Settle down. It’s okay.”
The little one stared at him, deep blue eyes blinking back tears and searching for something. While the child inspected him, Sam took a moment to take stock himself. He really couldn’t tell if the child in his arms was a boy or a girl. From the nearly shorn blond fuzz, Sam wanted to assume boy, but he’d learned not to make such assumptions after one spectacular disaster in his substitute teacher days. He waited a moment before trying to speak again.
“Can you tell me your name? I keep calling you little one in my head and honestly, you aren’t really all that little are you?”
“I’m not little,” the little one protested, as Sam had hoped he or she would. “I’m six.”
“You’re six! You are big. What’s your name?”
“Ollie.”
“Hi, Ollie. My name is Sam. I really need to call someone to come help us, okay? Someone is probably looking for you and really, really scared.”
“No! You have to get the alpha!”
Sam blinked. “The what now?”
Ollie looked at him like he was stupid. “The alpha. Alpha Jerrick.”
Sam’s heart flipped over. He was very familiar with that last name. He’d gone to high school with Vaughn Jerrick, although he’d been a senior to Sam’s freshman. Staring at Vaughn had helped Sam get a few things clear in his mind, mainly that he’d rather do naughty things with boys than girls. It had been an enlightening time in his life thanks to the hunky senior star quarterback of the school’s football team who tended to prefer tight shirts and jeans that were painted on to... but then, not all of his memories of Vaughn were from his high school days.
Sam cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Ollie. “So, you belong to the Jerricks?”
Ollie’s head tilted to the side, clearly unsure how to answer Sam’s question. “You have to call the alpha, Sam.”
“Right. Call Alpha Jerrick. Okay.”
Sam carried Ollie back over to the counter and sat him down. He didn’t have the Jerricks’ phone number—he and Vaughn hadn’t exactly swapped numbers the last time they’d seen each other— but last he’d heard, Vaughn had taken over his father’s veterinary practice. He did a quick internet search on his phone to find the number then dialed. As expected, he didn’t get an answer since it was so late, but he did get an option for an after-hours emergency line. Sam grabbed a pen and jotted the number down.
“You smell funny, Sam.”
Sam glanced over at Ollie and mock-frowned. “I do not,” he said before giving Ollie’s ribs a little tickle.
Ollie giggled then petted his arm softly. “You smell scared. Why are you scared of the phone, Sam? Phones aren’t scary. Are they?”
It wasn’t the phone that had Sam apparently smelling scared— and who knew fear actually had a smell? It was the fear of another rejection at the hands of Vaughn Jerrick. A couple years ago, a few weeks after he’d moved back to town he’d gone out to one of the only remaining bars in town to let off a little steam. His initial plan had been to have some really bad bar food and a couple beers before heading back home to face his dad’s extremely foul mood. He’d already come to the conclusion by that point that he needed to find a place of his own, but after the fight he and his dad had that day, he was making it a priority.
Sam had only been to the bar a couple times, but that night it had seemed more busy than usual. Some sort of party was going on so Sam found a seat at the bar and placed his order. The bartender had just placed an ice cold bottle of beer in front of him when he saw him. Vaughn Jerrick. The man had grown up very nice, and even though Sam hadn’t seen him in years, he would recognize Vaughn anywhere. He had more facial hair now, an almost beard that was so insanely attractive Sam had to force himself to look away. It seemed his high school crush on the man hadn’t waned at all.
As usual, Vaughn was surrounded by people, smiling and laughing. Sam sat on the outside, watching. He’d been able to find a group of friends in the city, but he’d been pretty much alone since he’d moved back to town. He wanted what they had, the friends and laughter, someone who’d listen when he griped about his dad’s bad attitude but knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. He recognized a few of the faces around Vaughn’s and considered going over and reintroducing himself… but he didn’t. He took another long pull from his beer and picked at the ridiculously greasy smothered fries he’d ordered. With only another few weeks before he started teaching at the middle school, he could wait and not interject himself into Vaughn’s circle.
He let his mind drift to the upcoming school year, excited about the plans he’d made, even if he wasn’t overly thrilled with the state curriculum. His mom had been a teacher, too, and he had a bunch of her old lesson plans and supplies. He’d found them when he cleaned out the attic a few days before and had gotten lost in the memories of the fun they’d had together in the summers. Missing her was an ache that never really went away, but knowing he’d followed in her footsteps and had the same passion for children and education that she had made it a little easier somehow. He wondered what she’d say if she knew he was back and teaching at the same school where she’d taught for nearly twenty years.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said in his ear as a broad, hot hand brushed his back. Sam leaned to the side to allow the bigger body behind him to squeeze in and get the bartender’s attention.
He looked up to reply and found himself staring into Vaughn’s crystal blue eyes. Vaughn glanced at him, his mouth open for a friendly reply, but then he froze. He made a little puzzled sound and tilted his head a little, searching Sam’s face.
“Hi,” Vaughn muttered after a moment, his voice low and deep. It sent a flutter of desire through Sam that he had to bite down to hide. “This is totally going to sound like such a line, but have we met?”
If only Vaughn were using a pick-up line on him.
“We went to high school together,” Sam replied. “Sam Baker.”
Vaughn did the head tilt thing again, but his smile grew wider. The hand on Sam’s back twitched a little. “Sammy Baker.”
Sam didn’t bother correcting him. He’d tried for years to get people to stop calling him Sammy, but the nickname refused to go away.
“I heard about your dad,” Vaughn said. “How’s he doing?”
“It’s tough, but he’s getting by. I moved back to help him out since he’s still having a lot of trouble getting around.”
Vaughn’s eyebrow twitched, some hidden meaning in the action Sam only wished he understood. “I’m sorry to hear that. We should look after our community better.”
Sam wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily the bartender chose that moment to come their way. Vaughn rattled off an order, his hand still a warm presence on Sam’s back. Sam wondered if he even realized he was doing it, wondered if he knew how much that brief moment of connection was helping to ground Sam’s thoughts and emotions after the incredibly shitty day he’d had. He sucked in a deep breath, letting the calm wash over him. Then Vaughn’s hand drifted a bit lower and an entirely different sensation flowed through Sam.
God, he was horny. He’d known he was giving up any semblance of a sex life when he moved back home. There wasn’t exactly a thriving LGBT community in their neck of the woods, and any like-minded individuals had more than likely left town anyway. He’d have to find a way to make a quick trip into the city before school started because there was no way he was going to make it another few months with nothing but his hand for company.
Vaughn’s thumb began stroking along Sam’s spine, soft even caresses that had Sam biting his lip to hold back a whimper of need. “Sammy?”
Sam grabbed his beer and chugged some back, hoping the cold brew would cool him down. It didn’t.
“Hey, yeah, so… good to see you.” He had to move. Had to get Vaughn’s hand off his back or he was going to do something that would embarrass them both. “I’m just going to, uh, go now.”
Luckily, he’d paid for his order already so he slipped off the bar stool and scooted away from Vaughn. He didn’t look back as he wove his way through the other patrons and outside. He took a deep breath of the crisp night air then blew it out.
“Sammy? You okay?”
Fuck. Vaughn had followed him out. Sam plastered on his everything is fine smile before turning to face the other man. The words died in his throat when he noticed Vaughn’s eyes drift south… and stay there. Sam’s reaction to him was very visible in the tight jeans he wore.
It was Vaughn’s turn to gulp as he lifted his gaze from Sam’s crotch to his eyes. Sam braced for revulsion, anger, disgust, or some other horrible reaction. Vaughn surprised him by stepping forward without breaking their stare. Sam couldn’t even blink. He was half convinced he was having a really hot dream.
“Sammy,” Vaughn said again, this time his voice a husky groan.
Sam shivered and his cock jumped in his pants. He automatically moved to adjust himself, but Vaughn caught his wrist in a tight grip. “Come with me.”
Vaughn spun and made his way to the back of the parking lot at a fast clip. Sam was practically running to keep up when they suddenly stopped beside a huge SUV. Vaughn turned Sam around and had him pressed against the side of the vehicle before he could blink. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Vaughn growled.
And then he kissed Sam like he’d never been kissed before.
Sure, Sam was desperate and lonely and maybe a little needy, but he’d never had anyone take command of him like Vaughn. No doubt, no hesitation. Vaughn demanded entrance into Sam’s mouth and he opened on a sigh for him. Vaughn’s tongue immediately dove in, tangling their tongues together as the scruff of Vaughn’s beard roughened his skin.
Sam whimpered and tugged Vaughn closer, thrusting his aching cock against Vaughn’s and nearly passing out when he found an answering hardness hidden beneath Vaughn’s jeans.
Vaughn growled and grabbed Sam’s hips, pushing them together and thrusting desperately against Sam. He tore his mouth away from Sam’s, searched Sam’s gaze for something he apparently saw, because in the next moment he’d dropped to his knees and was tearing open the front of Sam’s pants.
“Fuck,” Sam groaned and thumped his head back against what he hoped was Vaughn’s vehicle. “Is this real?”
Vaughn tugged Sam’s boxers down and freed his cock before wrapping his work-roughened hand around it. “I’m asking myself the same question.”
Then he sucked the tip of Sam’s dick into his mouth, and Sam lost all ability to think or reason. He might have forgotten how to breathe. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he splayed them against the cool metal of the SUV. He bit his lip and dared to look down to watch as Vaughn opened his mouth wider and sucked him even deeper.
