Damaged Daddy Bear (Shifters of the Aegis) Read online

  Damaged Daddy Bear

  Shifters of the Aegis

  A Wellspring Chronicles Tale

  Tabitha St. George

  Leela Ash

  Copyright ©2019 by Tabitha St. George & Leela Ash. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of 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.

  Sign up for my BEASTLY SHIFTER GOODNESS mailing list here and receive This short story, The Alpha Shifter’s Mail Order Bride! Then I will only email you when I have a new release or news, or the OCCASIONAL recommendation ; )

  … also check out these stories of mine!

  Also with Tabitha…

  Dragon Dreams Box Set(Wellspring Chronicles 1)

  And my others…

  Dragon’s of Kaldernon Complete Collection

  Stonybrooke Shifters Box Set 1

  Stonybrooke Shifters Box Set 2

  Oak Mountain Shifters Box Set 1

  Banished Dragons Complete Collection

  And we would also love it if you would

  LIKE ME, Leela Ash, on Facebook!

  and

  …and if you are interested, here is another series from Totally Romance Publishing that I think you may enjoy!

  THE LOST CREEK SHIFTERS

  The Lost Creek Shifters series is a collection of novelette length standalone Bad boy romances that fit together to tell the longer story of the ancient tale of the bear and wolf shifters in a small mountain town. Enjoy!

  Lost Creek Shifters Complete Collection

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17.

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Shifter Heaven Box Set Preview

  Chapter 1.

  Breakfast, as always, was a madhouse.

  Rex Fairburn stood tall in the midst of the chaos, waving a spatula like a conductor’s wand. “Micah, phone is turned off at the table. Nate, sit down. Sam, eat your eggs.”

  “They’re raw!” the littlest boy whined.

  “They’re not raw. Eat. Micah? Phone, now.”

  At six foot four and 230 pounds, Rex could quiet a rioting bar just by walking in. One look at that square, hard face and tower of muscles silenced most men. And when he turned the laser focus of his piercing brown eyes on someone, the wildest of outlaw bikers suddenly developed manners.

  That cold gaze now turned on Sam, who was prodding his egg yolks with a knife.

  The four-year-old was not intimidated. “They jiggle! They’re raw!” he howled in disgust.

  “Samuel…”

  Light as it was, the note of displeasure in his voice was like a grenade going off in the middle of the table. With a wail of infinite sadness, little Sam burst into tears. “They’re raaaaaw! Don’t make me eat raw!”

  Three pairs of accusing eyes rolled up at him. Micah slipped his phone in his pocket, warned by the meltdown that, today, his father meant business. Nate, Sam’s brother, froze and clutched his fork. The fear in the little boy’s eyes drove a dagger through Rex’s heart. Even his daughter, Eden, the one good child at the table this morning, looked up from breakfast and sighed.

  Great. My eight-year-old daughter is disappointed in my parenting skills.

  How many times had his wife, Ashley, given him that same look? When he couldn’t bring himself to touch the baby’s dirty diaper. That evening, he let the kids gorge themselves on cotton candy and they rampaged through the house all night long. No, Rex was very familiar with the look a man earned when he let down the lady of the house.

  Which, these days, was little Eden. A fact that depressed him even further.

  “Sam, Sam, c’mon. Calm down. It’s okay.”

  “No! No! It’s raw!”

  What the hell was wrong with this kid? Who got this upset about an over-easy egg?

  Eden knew, even if he didn’t. “Dad? Last time Judy babysat us, she cooked Sam’s eggs until they were all dry. That’s how his mom made them for him.”

  And, in a heartbeat, the mystery was solved. Four months ago, Rex’s best friends, Adam and Maria Long, were murdered. Shot when they stopped to help a guy broken down on the side of the road. A man who turned out to be a drug dealer on the run. In their will, they left custody of their two sons, Nathanial and Samuel, to him.

  That still surprised him. Entrusting your kids to a single dad with two children of his own.

  Adam and Maria must have had a higher opinion of me than I do.

  This morning’s hysteria wasn’t about eggs. It was about two little boys who’d had their lives ripped apart. And about a man who knew what that felt like–and shouldn’t expect them to ‘get over it’ in a few short months.

  With a quick smile to Eden, Rex peered down at Sam’s plate. “Huh. Heck, they are jiggling, aren’t they? I think you’re right. I think they are raw.”

  That dialed the tear faucet back to a slow trickle. Sam sniffed and poked the egg. “They shouldn’t move.”

  “Gotcha. Well, that’s easy to fix.” Rex scooped the plate up and headed back to the stove. “Two well-done eggs, coming right up.”

  As he slid the offending food back onto the skillet, the kids relaxed and returned to breakfast. Nate selected a piece of toast and began to delicately nibble out its middle.

  Dammit. I forgot he hates crusts. I was supposed to cut those off.

  Ashley would have remembered. Same for Maria. But neither woman was here anymore. Just him. The sole survivor of two families.

  Eh, screw that pity-party. You’re not the sole survivor. Four little kids pulled through too.

  Kids who needed him. To protect them and love them. To raise them up to be fine adults. And, yes, to fry their eggs until they were rock hard, if that’s what it took.

  “Two eggs, not raw!” Rex flipped the rubbery monstrosities back onto Sam’s plate and was rewarded with a teary smile.

  For three minutes–three whole minutes–peace reigned over the table. Kids chomped eggs and bacon, slurped their cereal. Phones disappeared. Boys sat still… or still-ish. Rex savored that brief moment of sanity and sipped his coffee.

  Micah, the oldest, at ten, finally broke the quiet. “Dad, can we go to Totten Reservoir today?”

  “You’ll have to ask Judy.” The sitter still hadn’t answered the message he left her, but she was reliable.

  Or, reliable-ish. “Ish” seemed to be the operative word of the day.

  Four small faces turned up to him, dark with frowns. “Why can’t you take us?” Eden protested.

  “There’s an important meeting this afternoon. I have to go to it.”

  The boys simply looked glum. His daughter, however, planted her hands on her hips and went into full attack mode. “Dad!” Somehow, she turned that tiny word into a three-syllable howl of outrage. “That’s not the deal! The deal is, you work all week as much as you have to, but weekends are for us.”

  “Eden, this is a special event. It’s….”

  “Weekends are for family.”

  Look at her. Despite her rebellion, Rex had to smile. The spitting image of her mother
. He and Ashley were Bear Shifters, and nothing mattered more to a Bear than family. Eden might only be eight, but she was the daughter of her parents. A tiny little Cub, a Momma Bear to be, who wasn’t going to let anyone–not even her own father–mess with her home.

  And she did have a point. A developer and self-made millionaire, Rex put in long hours at work. Terrible hours. Though it killed him to admit it, that scatterbrain Judy spent more time with his kids than he did.

  I have to do that. I need to provide for them. That work puts a roof over their heads, feeds and clothes them. Someday, it will send them to college–something my parents never did for me.

  All true. But it didn’t change the fact that he was gone all day, every day of the work week.

  Or the fact that he’d promised to keep his weekends free.

  “How about this, Eden? I’ll take Monday off from work. That way we’ll still have a weekend.”

  “It’s not when weekends are supposed to be, though.”

  When did his kids get so finicky? “True. But it means I’ll only work four days before the next weekend.”

  That was the key. Eden nodded, satisfied that this was a good trade.

  “As an added bonus, how about if we head to the mall on Sunday and−”

  The chime of his doorbell interrupted his offer. Who came calling at 8:30 am on a Saturday morning? Rex scowled–then almost laughed when Eden’s face lit up with outrage too. Nobody else had better mess with her weekend!

  You watch. It’ll be Judy. I asked her to sit from 1:00 to 8:00. Instead, she’ll show up at 8:30 in the morning, ‘late’, and plan to leave at noon.

  Damn, he needed to find another sitter.

  But when he opened the door, it wasn’t to find Judy’s friendly (if vacant) face.

  A man in dusty leathers stood on his doorstep. Aaron King, the Alpha of the local Wolf Pack. Lean, weathered, and rangy, King wore his hair long and pulled back in a ponytail. Streaks of grey threaded through his hair and handlebar mustache. From long experience, though, Rex knew that age hadn’t dulled the edge of his fierce strength and independence.

  “Mr. King. How can I help you?”

  “I’d like a word about this meeting you called.”

  Pretty much what he’d expected. “Of course. Come on in.”

  Neither man offered any small talk as they strode back down the hall. Passing the kitchen, Rex paused. “Kids, I’ll be right back. I need to talk to Mr. King for a minute.”

  Thankfully, the arrival of a ‘stranger’ put them all on their best behavior. “Hi, Mr. King!” Eden chirped.

  “Good morning, Miss Fairburn.”

  Rex waved at the two smallest boys. “I don’t believe you’ve met these guys. They’re Nathanial and Samuel Long.”

  “Adam and Maria’s boys?” When he nodded, the Wolf grimaced. “I was sorry to hear about your parents. They were good people.”

  “Sam, Nate, this is Mr. King. He’s the Alpha of the Sand Pack.”

  King shot him a sideways glance. “You don’t hide Shifter business from them?”

  “Nope.” Rex met his gaze firmly, but there was no challenge in the Wolf’s face. “They’re all Bears, or Bear Kin, and I want them to know it. I won’t risk having one of my kids become Lost.”

  He almost added, ‘…if I die.’ Given what the Long boys had been through, though, that didn’t need to be said out loud.

  “Good. Nothing more messed up than a Shifter who doesn’t know what he is.”

  Yeah, that was a hell of a thought. Lose touch with the Shifter community and you grow up thinking you are nothing more than a plain, normal human… until your first Shift. He wouldn’t wish that on anybody. If his kids got orphaned, it damn well wouldn’t happen to them.

  “We’ll be down in the office if you guys need us. Micah, Eden? Make sure everyone’s plates get in the sink, hear me?”

  “Yes, Dad,” they said in unison.

  “Thank you.” Nodding to the Wolf, he gestured down the hall. “This way.”

  When people thought of Colorado, they imagined towering tree-clad mountains. Here in the southwestern part of the state, the land was dry and flat. The picture windows of Rex’s study offered wide, sweeping views of… well, a whole lot of nothing.

  Still, he liked the desert with its scruffy, stubborn resilience. So did King. The Wolf eyed the scrub and stone, drinking in the sight of the wilderness.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, King cut straight to the point. “Why did you ask the Dragons of the First Flight to come here?”

  “Mesa Verde National Park has seen twenty-four cases of vandalism over the last−”

  King cut him short with a chop of his hand. “I can read the news. We’ve got a rash of teenage jackasses this summer. So what?”

  “I think it’s more than that.”

  “Pot thieves? Sure, happens all the time. But why involve outsiders? Even if this turns out to be Shifter business, no one knows this place better than the people who live here.”

  “Who I’ve also invited to this meeting,” Rex countered. No damned Wolf was going to challenge him!

  “But why the outsiders?”

  “I think there’s something going on, something bigger than greedy treasure hunters. And I think the First Flight might know something about it.”

  “Why?” the Wolf sneered. “Not one of them has ever set foot in this land.”

  “No, but they have a Wellspring. A living one.”

  “Really? You believe the First Flight has a magical fountain? A gateway to the Other Side?” His lip curled back even farther. “Aren’t you a bit old to believe in fairy tales?”

  Anger set Rex’s brown eyes alight and he straightened to his full height, glaring down at the smaller man. “You come into my home and insult me?”

  Wolves backed down before few things. Yet, only a fool confronted a Bear in his den. “I chose my words poorly,” King admitted.

  Not a full apology, but Rex relented. “You did. I have a cousin from Ohio who says he’s seen this Wellspring. I won’t have him called a liar.”

  “Hmm.” The Wolf wasn’t persuaded—but he wasn’t brazen enough to push the issue. “There’ll be problems, you know.”

  “I expect so.”

  “The Dragons of the Snow Flight won’t come.”

  “I invited them. If they choose not to come, that’s their business.”

  “I won’t go,” King added.

  Now that did surprise him. “Why?”

  “There are debts of blood and honor between my Pack and the Snow Flight. I will not break bread with their enemies.”

  “Are they truly enemies?” That was something he didn’t need: two warring Flights of Dragons!

  “There’s bad blood between them.”

  “Do you know what caused it?”

  King shook his head. “No. Not my Pack, not my problem.” Without another word, he headed toward the door.

  “That’s all you wanted to know?”

  “Yup,” the Wolf said. “You’re not a Wolf, but you’re sensible. Couldn’t figure out why you’d drag outsiders into our business.”

  His eyes raked over the Bear once, hard and cool. “Still not sure it’s a good decision.”

  “I guess we’ll find out this afternoon.”

  Chapter 2.

  Twenty festive paper plates. Twenty birthday hats. Twenty sets of party favors, ready for fun.

  And one small, very sad boy.

  With a sinking heart, Paige Hall gazed around the room she’d rented at Play Time Pizza. Crepe paper streamers bounded about the ceilings. From every wall, posters of cartoon characters yelled, “Happy Birthday, Jake!” A lovely chocolate cake, eight candles circling its edge, waited in the kitchen.

  Only one thing was missing.

  Guests.

  “Mommy? What time is it?”

  Late. More than a half hour after this ‘party’ was supposed to begin. But how could she tell Jake that?

  This was suppos
ed to be his day. In April, they’d arrived in Cortez, Colorado. Two months was nowhere near enough time for a boy to make friends–especially not a shy child, like Jake. Paige thought she’d come up with a fix for that. Cake, presents, pinball machines, and a ball pit to bribe classmates to come to his birthday party. Twenty phone calls to twenty sets of parents. Twenty assurances that yes, of course, Little Johnny and Susie would be delighted to come.

  Now, on the Big Day….

  Nothing. Not one child or parent. No calls to cancel. Not even a text or an email to warn her that her dreams for her son were collapsing, silently.

  “It’s… late, honey.” She stroked his hair, hoping to take some of the sting out of those words.

  Jake wasn’t comforted. A tiny ball of misery, he stared bleakly at the cheerful decorations. Tears rose in his eyes. “Nobody’s coming, are they?”

  “Well, we’re coming, right?”

  Lame. Horribly lame, even to her ears. Her son hung his head. “Why do people hate me?”

  “Jake, no.” Paige dropped to her knees and swept him into a hug. “Nobody hates you. They just don’t know you yet. You’ll make friends in the fall when school starts again.”

  Most kids would bawl. Jake just sat there, stiff and silent, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  The waitress caught her eye and held up the cake. Paige shook her head and mouthed, ‘Box.’

  “You know, it’s the first week of summer. I bet a lot of kids are going to camp or they’re on vacation.” If so, their parents could have mentioned that–instead of pretending they’d show up. That was an issue for another day, however. Right now, she just wanted to salvage at least a tiny shred of happiness for her boy.

  “Why did we have to come here?”

  Because Los Angeles was too expensive and dangerous. Because cockroaches scurried about their nasty apartment, the only thing she could afford. Because she’d been mugged walking home from work one night. Because drug dealers lurked around the one rusty playground in their ‘neighborhood.’