Mated in Forbidden: Forbidden Shifters, #5

By Keira Blackwood and Liza Street

What's worse than finding out you have a doppelganger? Finding out you have a doppelbanger. And he's impregnated half the town.

In search of a new place to live, Moira finds the perfect home only to discover that her nemesis, Caleb, has also put in an offer.

The last thing Moira wants to do is deal with him. So what if his skills in the sack are legendary? So what if she's spent more than one night fantasizing about that crude mouth of his?

If there's one thing Moira has--that he lacks--it's self-control. And access to lots of batteries to fuel her fantasies.

Caleb can't always remember who has enjoyed the delights of his prowess in the bedroom. But he's pretty sure he'd remember if he'd bumped uglies without protection.

How is a reformed Casanova supposed to prove he's changed and win over the woman of his dreams when everyone keeps claiming he's their baby daddy?

Mated in Forbidden is the fifth stand-alone book in the Forbidden Shifters series. Do you love hot alphas, feisty heroines, and steamy love scenes? Of course you do. ;) One-click Mated in Forbidden for a suspenseful, hilarious shifter story you won't want to put down!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liza Street
• Release date: Jun 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393277262

Book preview

Introduction

Forbidden, Kentucky—where mates meet, and monsters make mayhem.

Chapter 1

Caleb

The woman sitting across the booth from me in Hellfire Bar & Grill could barely fit into the seat. Her hard stomach pressed against the table.

You look good, I said to her. Pregnancy suits you.

The truth was, I wasn’t sure I recognized her. Jill was younger than me, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of years between us. We’d probably gone to Forbidden High together. Her hair was the kind of blond that likely came from a bottle, and it curled in gentle waves around her shoulders. Her make-up was impeccable, but she didn’t use a lot of it. She didn’t need to, because her skin practically glowed. Blue eyes, set beneath dark blond brows, showed intelligence mixed with a smidge of annoyance.

You played soccer, didn’t you? I asked.

She blinked. What?

At Forbidden High.

Um, yeah.

Thought so. I grinned, feeling proud of my good memory.

The door opened. I could see those who entered and exited clearly, just over Jill’s shoulder. A couple with a flailing toddler headed out, leaving the restaurant a hell of a lot quieter than it had been.

After they left, in stepped James O’Malley.

More importantly, Jill said, emphasizing each word, "we need to talk about the baby. Your baby."

Right, I said, still trying to do the math. She had to be seven or eight months along. I’m just trying to remember what could’ve gone wrong. I don’t remember a condom breaking or anything.

My OB-GYN says they have a two percent failure rate at preventing pregnancy.

I shrugged. Then it was probably about time I’d had one fail. If I’d screwed around with a hundred women in this town, and many of them more than once, it was a wonder Jill was the only pregnant baby mama sitting across from me in this diner.

Then again, doubts rose in my mind. I wanted to ask her if she was certain the baby was mine, but that would’ve been supremely uncool.

Why’d you wait so long to tell me? I asked.

Her eyes flashed. I just found out last week.

It was my turn to blink in surprise. Last week? Surely you’d have noticed… I waved in the general direction of her protruding stomach. You’d have figured it out before last week?

No, I didn’t. I wasn’t pregnant last week. Last week was when we had sex.

Impossible. I hadn’t been with anyone in a week—a fact which had been irritating before, but now was puzzling me. Why wasn’t I out at the Watering Hole every night, searching for the next woman to warm my bed? Nothing had been the same since I’d been magically aged by a malevolent spirit. I’d been an old man for the space of a couple of days.

Everyone said something had happened between me and Moira O’Malley, but neither of us had any recollection of it. After the spell had been broken, James O’Malley had been extra pissed at me, with darker than the usual threats about staying away from his sister. I didn’t remember anything happening between me and Moira, but I didn’t remember anything at all that had happened while I’d been trapped in a geriatric body.

As if the bastard could sense my passing thought about his sister, his hard gaze flashed to me from across the room. His lips curled into a sneer as he masticated a bulging mouthful of what I could only guess was pie, given his weird obsession with baked goods. Cheeks puffed out like a squirrel with two acorns, he lifted two fingers in front of his eyes and then pointed at me. I wasn’t sure if I should quake in my boots or laugh in his face.

You were with me, Jill reiterated. Last week. We had sex. Now I’m pregnant.

Okay, Jill was crazy. I knew it was a dickish thing to call an ex hook-up crazy. I also knew I was a dick.

I also knew she was actually crazy. There was no way that we’d had sex last week—my memory wasn’t always great about who I screwed, but it wasn’t that bad. During my memory lapses, I’d been locked down in the B&B, someone watching me at all times. I hadn’t slept with anyone since that time at the B&B. And also, there was no way that if we’d had sex last week, she would show up eight months pregnant seven days later.

You’re such an asshole, she said. "I can tell you don’t believe me. Here. Here."

She took her phone from her purse and tapped the screen a few times, then thrust it into my face.

An image took up the frame. I had my shirt off and she was in her bra and we were cuddling—cuddling—on what looked like her bed. I was kissing her cheek and one of my hands was just beneath one of her tits.

She was very much not pregnant in the photo.

Look, she said, tapping the image. Here’s the time-stamp on the photo.

Sure enough, it showed last week. But I wasn’t a total idiot, I knew those kinds of things could be faked.

Okay, Jill, I said. Okay. That is us in that photo.

I had zero recollection of the moment, but I couldn’t deny the evidence. She was confused. The date was definitely wrong. I’d gone straight home after work, fixed a broken screen door for Ms. Cortez, and nursed a beer before bed. Alone. Maybe she was totally nuts about this accelerated pregnancy. But it was me in the picture. I could sense she wasn’t lying, because as a shifter, I always knew. She truly believed I was the father, and her belief would have to be enough moving forward.

It was time for me to be responsible.

Which was a hilarious idea. I could just imagine Moira’s laughter, or anyone else’s, at the thought of me being a dependable dad-type guy.

Okay, I said. I’ll help out. What do you need?

She sniffled and I looked up in alarm.

You were so much nicer last week, she said in a voice choked with emotion. Kind, considerate. Now you look like you’re going to open your wallet and give me some money to go away.

I had in fact been reaching for the wallet, but I stopped and acted like I was itching my ass instead.

I’m going to try to do the right thing, okay? I said.

She nodded and blinked rapidly, probably trying to hold in tears. Oh fuck, I hated it when people cried. Tears were never a good thing. Men, women, kids—it didn’t matter. When the waterworks started, instinct told me to run.

Oh hell, what was I going to do when Jill had her baby? I shivered. Those fragile little gremlins cried the most.

Chapter 2

Moira

Cold, dark, industrial—the equipment trailer was starting to look mighty appealing. There was a little cot, plenty of space to sleep. Since my oldest brother Declan had moved into the B&B with his human mate Daphne, no one was using it. There wasn’t much else in here, only a mini fridge and supplies to make the world’s shittiest coffee. But there was no Brody.

Also, there was no heat.

I flexed my fingers, stiff from the frigid morning air, and poured almond milk into the reusable cup I’d brought from home. The carton was suspiciously light.

A few measly drops hit the bottom of my cup.

No chance I was getting instant coffee to dissolve in that. And I’d only just opened the carton yesterday. I tossed the empty container, which clearly had my name on it, into the bin and opened the fridge again.

There was still plenty of milk. All four of my brothers drank regular milk. Why did men always have to be dicks?

I shut the fridge, flicked off the light, and headed out. Morning sun crept through the trees, pushing darkness from the sky.

Movement caught my attention. Delcan was on the porch swing, his dark hair wet and slicked back away from his face. Alpha of the Forbidden Pack and oldest of our sibling crew, Declan had a quiet confidence about him. His posture was relaxed and non-threatening, yet he still managed a demeanor of control. I could feel it in the air as I watched him sip on his hot cup of much better coffee with a smug look on his face. Though maybe I was just imagining the smugness.

I started heading in that direction when I heard the rumbling engine of an approaching truck. Each one of the O’Malley work trucks sounded a little different. This one was puttery, like it had a lingering cough that it just couldn’t shake. It had to be Finn.

What’s wrong with you? Declan asked.

I met him on the porch. Nothing.

It was the easier answer. I was agitated for a number of reasons. One—I’d woken two hours before sunrise to a slap in the face. My hand, slapping my face. There was shaving cream on my palm, and a feather next to my head.

Two—Brody ran away before I could show him exactly what I thought of his prank.

Right. Declan leaned back and gave me a look that said he knew better than to believe that. His lip twitched. Does it have something to do with the mustache?

I glared at him. "What