Curvy Fate: Alpha Shifter Fated Mates Set

By Q. Zayne

He must win his life mate. Two captivating paranormal romances with hot alpha shifters claiming their one true mate!

You get Werewolf's First Love and Mr. Beast Owns Beauty in one bargain volume.

Curvy Fate is for adventurous readers 18+ due to language and detailed intimate scenes. Possible triggers. This standalone Paranormal Romance set includes multicultural love, alpha male not-gentle courtship, seduction of the untouched heroine, spanking, and power play. One-on-one true love with HEA, no cheating, no sharing, no cliffhangers..

If you enjoy strong, tender Alphas, spirited curvy heroines, and exciting romantic suspense, get your Curvy Fate now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Zayne
• Release date: Nov 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005424688

Q. Zayne

Q. Zayne often appears on top 100 author lists. Q. minored in Classical Archaeology and has an MFA in Creative Writing from SFSU. After teaching at the university, working as an editor, and freelancing, the author embarked on a wild digital publishing adventure. Thanks to fabulous readers, super promoters, and unflagging supporters, Q. writes fiction for a living from the Yucatan, Central America, and the California coast.Check out the Quin Zayne books for dirty, high-heat romance, and Q. Zayne for Erotica and naughty fairy tales.

Book preview

Teasers

WEREWOLF'S FIRST LOVE

Wyatt:

I rocked her, sliding against her slipperiness. I kissed her ear, her cheek, her throat. She moaned and I took her mouth, kissing her hard, possessing her, letting her feel my lust. I grabbed her shoulders and pinned her, her moans told me she liked it, wanted to feel that helpless under me. It was all I could do not to push into her.

Mr. Beast Owns Beauty

Belle:

I grabbed the sheet, but didn’t cover myself. I didn’t want it gripping me again, choking the air from my body. My panting made my breasts move like waves.

He was in the room. A masculine musk surrounded me. I took a deep breath.

What did it matter if he looked? He owned me now.

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see him approach, not wanting to know what would happen next.

The breathing quieted. Footsteps padded away. He must wear the softest slippers. How long had he been there?

I was alone. I longed to curl between my sisters, warm as puppies.

A long time later, I opened my eyes. Dawn slipped between the tattered velvet drapes and lit the lilies on the wall. I wasn’t home. I was in a beast’s lair.

A roar tore through the stone halls. I leaped out of bed.

Dedication

TO T

for all his help along the way,

and to you.

Thank you for your reviews.

Copyright

All Rights Reserved.

Please respect the work of authors. Do not post this book on any site.

Copyright ©2016 Hughes Enterprise. Copyright renewed 2020.

DRM-free for readers. DMCA Protected against pirates.

No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author except for brief excerpts in a review. Cover ©Deposit Photos and the photographers, all rights reserved. The use of these photos does not suggest endorsement of this work by the photographers nor the model, nor does it imply anything about the models.

Electronic book publication: March 2017, 2nd updated edition October 2020

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual businesses, entities, creatures, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All people and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. This work is for mature readers 18+.

Werewolf’s Mate

Born and bred to be responsible and keep the pack’s well-being in mind, I rarely got in trouble. But when I did, it was my curiosity that led me there.

What can I say? I was young, I was bored, and it was spring.

Nectar from the wildflowers wafted on the breeze and I stretched my big front paws, braced myself on the rocks and pushed into my human form. I could do it better than anyone in my pack, faster and more completely, losing all traces of extra fur except for the chest pelt that many found attractive.

The sun warmed my naked form, but my human shape wasn’t well suited to the outdoors. As much time as I’d spent in it, I still found the tender soles an impediment and the upright gait strange. The hands, though, the hands amazed me. I raised them in the air, rejoicing in my fingers and thumbs. In this body I didn’t have to wedge a package with my paw and snout to rip into it with my teeth.

I indulged in the heat of the rocks on sensitive flesh, front and back, rolling on the big warm slabs like a pup. A howl in the distance brought me up sharp.

Watching my footing to keep from cutting my soles, I ran to my stash. Another howl. No doubt someone from the pack already wanted to find me. Usually I’d raise my voice and answer. I could howl without shifting, well enough, anyway. Not today. I needed a change.

Being responsible for everyone wore on me. Listening to their advice tired me even more than the responsibility did. I had to get away. They could manage without me for a day or more. The nearest other wolf pack had moved well away from our range, I’d seen to that. Tabor would probably be back, but not soon. I rubbed the scar on my knuckles.

All my gear was where I left it. I’d pissed all around these rocks, making sure no one would disturb my things. The others asked questions, but I don’t think even Vira guessed the nature of my secret life.

In moments I’d outfitted myself with the clothing and accessories humans deemed so essential, designer shoes, a trace of hair product, a smart watch, a cell phone and a shirt and jeans that clung to my movements. The jeans restricted my erection and I willed it down. I went commando. Underwear was farther than I needed to go to fit in with humans. The feel of the clothes on my skin always distracted me at first, but I was becoming more accustomed to them.

What I wasn’t accustomed to was the sound of the howling from the church in the valley. A new voice, rising above the others with a power and clarity of tone that drew me right into the town in daylight.

I had no choice. I had to see who called in that voice. It was as if a grand lupa, the most powerful in the world, called to me. Something in me matched that woman’s voice, homed to it as surely as a tuning fork vibrated to the right pitch.

I sniffed as I circled the perimeter of the neat, white church. Nothing but the urine of town dogs. Not that I’d expected wolf marking here, but I had to check.

The voice soared. Checking in all directions to make sure I was unobserved, I crouched and sped closer. At least in human form, I was less likely to be shot. My cousin Bucky still had buckshot in his haunches from the time we’d sniffed too close to a chicken coop in our wolf forms. Unless he left for another pack, he’d never shake his nickname. I’d zigzagged to the woods, having learned by observation how to evade being shot, so my butt was still intact. I wanted to keep it that way.

An image of my father’s teeth bared in rage, his jaws gripping my neck, forcing me to drop to my belly in submission—I shook it off. He died in the winter and I was master of myself.

I was master of everyone else, too. The alpha of my pack, and other than everyone continuing the old man’s rough nips to choose my mate, no one questioned me. This wasn’t the first time I pretended to go rogue, but it was the most compelling. I was ready to bite someone—hard—if they didn’t back off.

Another turning to make sure nothing approached me from the back and I extended myself at a window sill. One thing about erect posture, I could get up high with better balance, all the way up on my toes to see inside the high window.

Good thing there were no predators near.

My gaze went to the source of that sweet, powerful voice and the woman shone with beauty. There went my balance. Gripping the sill, I swayed, captivated.

Crinkly hair surrounded her shapely skull in a lovely black cloud. Her eyes sparkled, set in a glorious bone structure that would have done one of the ancient queens of Nubia or Egypt proud. I’d never seen a mouth so lovely, with gorgeous, full lips and white teeth. Her elegant throat, fine posture and shapely, curvy figure resonated with pride and power.

No stopping to think. I pulled myself away from the window and approached the door. Being inside repelled me. Only a heartbeat of hesitation. I went in.

Her song faltered for an instant as her eyes met mine. She knew I was there for her. The recognition between us formed a cord from her heart to mine as she stood at the altar and I stood just inside the door.

Someone motioned me to an empty place on a pew and I pushed against my instinct to avoid strangers and sat. Like my father, I’d schooled myself in the ways of humans. Only I’d gone much farther. Learning from a mentor and hiding my artifacts and frequent trips to watch them.

Poised on the polished wood, only that sweet voice kept me there. My nose wrinkled against all the powder, laundry chemicals, perfume and reeking products all of them covered themselves in. The cacophony of artificial scents coming from each one of them—their hair, mouths, faces, clothes, armpits, crotches and feet—made my eyes water.

I bore it for the sake of watching her move and hearing the rest of her song. An inspirational ballad that she infused with love and anguish.

Hair stood on my arms and the back of my neck as her voice soared. I longed to match her notes as she belted out a chorus of hallelujahs. Her song was more majestic, more moving, than the sounds of a wolf birth or the whole pack singing or the ocean—she lifted me, she rocked me, she comforted me, she took me back to being surrounded by fur and safety as a pup, she raised me up as a man.

Everything in me resonated to her howls and became one with her song.

She swayed at a microphone, but she didn’t need it. The clarity of her voice filled the church, filled me. I blinked seldom, keeping my eyes on her, waiting. A dress the yellow of buttercups in sunlight swayed with her music, enhancing her generous curves and glowing against her dark skin.

Everyone else in the church looked so pale. They faded to nothing as she filled my vision. With each breath her curves transformed and each bell-pure note made me want to throw back my head and howl with her.

When her voice stopped I felt bereft.

I waited. I stood when the others stood, sat when they sat, mumbled when they mumbled. An eternity passed.

At last the people stood and began to leave the church. I made for the shadows near the door.

She was one of the last to leave.

Excuse me, your song drew me to the church. I gestured to the hills. I came down from up there to meet you.

She cocked her head and stood poised as though prepared to continue walking smartly to the door, swaying on her high-heeled shoes in her mesmerizing way.

To meet me? She spoke as beautifully as she sang. I felt it as a caress in my sensitive ears and it was all I could do not to greet her and show my interest in the intimate ways I would have in my wolf form. Mastering myself, I bowed.

I’m Wyatt Hunter. You are—your voice—beautiful. I had to meet you. I’ve never heard anything so wonderful in my life. I —. My thoughts and voice failed me. I drew in her scent. Lovely. I smelled her fresh, clean womanliness, not all the foul acrid products of most of her kind.

She smiled, her lips quirking like she was trying not to laugh.

I’m Charity. Charity Washington. Fragments of history came at me with her name. Achievements, heroism, perseverance against oppression, racism, inhumanity and foulness that made the worst animal behavior rise in decency by comparison. I shook off the impressions. Years of study made me infuse everything human with associations. She didn’t deserve the burden of those impressions any more than I deserved the burden of human perceptions against me as a shifter, shapeshifter, werewolf or whatever term might be trending on social media or their TV or movie screens this week.

I nodded. A pleasure to meet you. Will you walk with me? I had to get her away from the others. Even as we spoke, a cluster of older women eyed us and slowed their progress to the door to eavesdrop. They were doused in what was aptly called toilet water. Even a sick wolf didn’t have a reek that foul.

She glanced at them. Yes. for the first time her voice had an uncertain note. I didn’t allow her time to change her mind. I presented my arm and gestured for the ladies to proceed us. Agog, they walked to the door with dragging steps, but like my pack members, they had conditioned responses.

They finally got through the door and moved aside to let us pass, standing with their heads so close together their church hats overlapped in a tapestry of birds and flowers.

A buzz followed our exit as Charity held my arm and went with me down the steps and into the church yard. I took a deep breath of sweet air. The church women had perhaps more reason to speak and be alarmed than they imagined.

I didn’t want to imagine the females of my pack commenting on my behavior, so I kept my back to the clusters of women in front of the church and led Charity through the garden, not so far away from the church as to alarm her, but far enough to evade her nosy neighbors.

The thought of myself as the big, bad wolf came close to disrupting my composure. My old man read me that story when he first took me to the home of his human friend. The story delighted me and made me more at ease my first time indoors. My gaze kept sliding to the woman beside me. I caught her glancing at me and we both looked away at the tumult of roses, tulips, dahlias and flowering vines that surrounded us.

This was as close as I’d come to a date in my life and my thoughts rippled with instincts hard-wired from a life as a predator after prey. Her position as an outsider, as someone not of my pack, not of my kind, triggered other instincts. There was no wolf in her and I hadn’t expected there to be. My instincts fought with my human manners; I wanted to nose her, bite her or mount her. Damn, acting a man came harder than I expected, despite all my practice. I wanted to make a favorable impression but had no idea what to do.

At least I’d succeeded in separating her from her pack. I took deep breaths, cleansing my nose and lungs from all the church smells and becoming intoxicated with her sweetness.

Blowsy roses tipped in the wind on each side of the path. Her yellow gown glowed in the sun against the deep brown tones of her skin. In the sunlight, she gave off prisms all over her skin and hair, red, orange, blue, purple, yellow. I wanted to breathe her, swallow her, eat her up. All my senses feasted on her. I wanted never to stop. I probably should have said more to her, made a gentleman’s attempt at conversation, but her company satisfied me so much I savored the silence. I listened to her heartbeats, her breath, the rush of blood in her body. Her breath smelled good. I wanted to feel it on my ears, on my body. I wanted her to lick my face. I swallowed, mastering myself.

Thank you, I said, drinking in her presence, her loveliness. As quiet as she was, her alert expression intimated a keen intelligence. Her hand on my arm impressed me with her strength and gentleness. The world over, women of courage with the honor and pride she exuded were the heroes of their people. She stood, strong in frame, only a head shorter than me in her high heels. Overcome by her nearness, I peeked over her shoulder. Her hips flared with dangerous, hot curves and flowed into a gorgeous heart-shaped ass.

She arched a brow, glancing up at me. Her shapely brow spoke plenty.

Thank you for walking with me. I had to meet you. I’ve never been struck like that. Your voice —. I clawed for words, snapped at them wolf-jawed in my mind, but they refused to come. Nothing prepared me to be entranced like this.

She lowered her lashes, her thick, curled, jet lashes, and spared me from continuing the struggle. The warmth of her arm through mine became the focus of my body.

We walked the garden’s meandering path out of sight of the church and Charity seemed content with the silence. Squirrels set up an alarm with their tails ratcheting and jays scolded us for our encroachment. I wanted to stay there all day with the sun on my enlivened body and Charity at my side, her tantalizing hip brushing me as we walked.

We meandered through a jungle of roses, neat bushes, tree-sized ones with saucer-sized blooms, trellised baby roses dropping pink petals that I brushed off Charity’s springy hair as she gazed up at me with her deep, dark brown eyes.

There. Pardon me. I brushed off the petals, I stammered.

The trill of her laughter set birds to flight. Flashes of black and blue wings all around us. "It’s all right. If I thought