The Bear's Forbidden Wolf: A Hot Paranormal Fantasy Saga with Witches, Werewolves and Werebears (Weres and Witches of Silver Lake Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

weren’t for the clenched fists and his lips pressed thinly together.
    Shamus held out her chair and she sat down. Not wanting the Murdoch family to believe she had no manners, she smiled and waved. “Hi, everyone. I guess you know I’m Ainsley. Thanks for inviting me.”
    Blair sat to the left of her father, and next to her was most likely Jackson who was next to Shamus. To his left was Mrs. Murdoch, then the last empty chair, and finally Kalan who was sitting next to her.
    Yup, this was going to be a tough crowd.
    She debated shaking everyone’s hand, but she feared they’d not extend her the courtesy. Not that she’d care, but it might make Shamus uncomfortable.
    Strong, angry pulses radiated off Jackson whose negative energy was mixed with Shamus’s sensual vibes, making it hard to breathe again. Focus on Shamus . Soon, her chest expanded and the pain began to diminish—but not enough to help her relax.
    “I love your new look, Shamus. You look good with a beard,” Ainsley said with as much cheer as she could muster.
    He stroked it. “Why, thank ye. Keeps me warm in the winter.”
    As much as she wanted to study all the changes in her friend, it was Jackson, with his ruggedly good-looking short beard, who drew her attention. His flannel shirt had the top three buttons undone, and wisps of light brown hair filled the open expanse. Oddly, her stomach fluttered at the masculine view. That was not good. Despite it being late fall, his skin was tan, which brought out his emerald green eyes. His short hair hinted he might have been in the military, but she didn’t remember Blair telling her that Jackson had served.
    Perhaps his most striking feature was the symmetry of his face. His nose was straight, his eyes were wide-set, and his lips were just about perfect.
    Stop it . All the lust pouring from across the table came from Shamus—didn’t it? Of course it did. From the lines around his eyes and mouth, Jackson was looking at her as if he was waiting for her to shift or something, which would give him an excuse to attack.
    “Jackson, stop staring at our guest,” Mrs. Murdoch said in a sharp tone.
    “Sorry.” The moment he looked away, air returned to her lungs.
    What is wrong with me? Shamus came all this way to see me.
    Blair was right. He must have known all along they were mates and had waited until she’d grown up before he sought her out. That had to be it. Otherwise, it made no sense that her body was going crazy. If she and Shamus were alone, she’d ask him back to her place to have a wild Scottish fling. There could never be any biting or mating. Oh no, that could lead to his death.
    “So what have ye been up to these last eight years?” Shamus asked, as if he were oblivious to her discomfort. He must feel these strange stirrings too, so how was he remaining so calm? Then again, the man always did have control.
    Oh, I don’t know—avoiding Changelings of all kinds—including my family . Did he really think she’d talk about her life as a Changeling when Kalan and Jackson were probably looking for something to prove she was evil? “As Blair probably told you, I’m an acupuncturist now. So, for the last eight years, I’ve basically been studying my ass off while working part time for an awesome acupuncturist learning my craft.” Crap. She shouldn’t have said ass in front of Blair’s folks. Not wanting to witness more scowls, she kept her gaze on her friend. “When I called Blair a month ago and said I wanted to come for a visit, she helped me get an interview, which landed me a job at the clinic where she works. Wasn’t that nice of her?” Stop rambling . Ainsley cleared her throat and placed the napkin next to her plate on her lap. “As soon as I find my own place, I’ll officially be on my own for the first time in my life.” She smiled, but it took more effort than she thought imaginable.
    “I know of a place you might be interested in,” Kalan said, his low voice