Craved Mate: Cybermates Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Lovestruck Romance Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This book is intended for adult readers only.

  Any sexual activity portrayed in these pages occurs between consenting adults over the age of 18 who are not related by blood.

  Contents

  Story Description

  1. Mel

  2. Mac

  3. Mel

  4. Mac

  5. Mel

  6. Mac

  7. Mel

  8. Mac

  9. Mel

  10. Mel

  11. Mac

  12. Mel

  13. Mac

  14. Mel

  15. Mac

  16. Mel

  17. Mac

  18. Mel

  19. Mac

  20. Mel

  21. Mac

  22. Mac

  23. Mel

  24. Mac

  Epilogue: Mel

  Other books from Candace Ayers…

  Craved Mate

  Cybermates

  Candace Ayers

  Lovestruck Romance

  Melody Manes, the one hit wonder.

  Over forty, childless, never been married.

  Mel can’t decide which of those epithets is worse.

  At least she has a boyfriend...

  …to whom she can’t fully commit...

  …from whom she needs a vacation.

  When she tries to help a stray cat, she lands herself up a tree.

  Ironically, Mac, the firefighter who rescues her, sets her panties aflame.

  Mel doesn’t know whether to be flirtatious or mortified.

  Yes she does.

  Mortified.

  Definitely mortified.

  Mac and Mel can each come up with a hundred reasons

  to stay the hell away from each other.

  And only one reason not to.

  But when it comes to shifter mating.

  These two have little choice.

  Fate conquers, Love rules.

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  1

  Mel

  “I don’t like this shit one bit.”

  Adam’s Hummer swerved across two lanes of traffic, nearly clipping the front end of a small Toyota as we swung onto the airport exit ramp. The Toyota honked, and Adam hollered a string of curses through the closed driver’s side window.

  My knuckles were white as my fingers squeezed the door handle. I prayed we ended up at the airport, not the morgue.

  “I just need a vacation, Adam.”

  “From singing?” His derisive snort niggled under my skin.

  And from snide comments like that. I had a fleeting but delightful image of my leg swinging up and the toe of my boot lodging itself in his throat.

  “It isn’t right, Melody.”

  Abruptly, he pulled off to the shoulder of the road and brought the SUV to a halt. An angry horn blared. Adam flipped them the bird then turned to face me with the same cross look and negative energy. “It isn’t right for my girlfriend to go traipsing off on a vacation without me.”

  A furtive glance at the display on my phone told me I needed to be at the TSA gate in the next ten minutes if I wanted to make my flight. I had no time to placate Adam by listening to another of his sophomoric tantrums.

  “It’s not just a vacation, Adam. I wouldn’t be going if not for my job. The band is counting on me.”

  Adam shook his head. “No. I won’t allow it. I’m turning around.”

  My eyes narrowed. My face contorted into a threatening glower. “Drive, or I’ll get out and walk.”

  We stared each another down for several seconds. Finally, after an exasperated and overly dramatic sigh, the SUV shifted into drive and pulled back onto the road, cutting off another driver.

  Adam sped toward the departures drop off area—much too fast—and didn’t say another word until his foot slammed hard on the brake pedal, sending me shooting forward with a lurch.

  We were at the curb in front of double sliding glass doors where travelers catching domestic flights hugged, kissed, and said their goodbyes to friends and loved ones. Unless they were me. Or Adam.

  “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?” Neither the harsh words nor the accusation was all that shocking coming from him. Not anymore.

  I scowled. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Well, what the hell else would I think, Melody? You’re running off to the Keys for a gig, a week early I might add, without giving a single shit about my feelings. We’ve been together for a year, and you still don’t respect my feelings. Why do I even take this shit from you?”

  I don’t know, Adam, why do you take this shit from me?

  I searched his face, looking for something. Not quite sure what that “something” was—love, attraction, compassion, connection? Whatever it was, I didn’t find it. I wasn’t even sure who was to blame for the lack in our relationship—him or me.

  Feelings of lack and lack of feelings.

  I almost laughed as the thought popped into my head. Fortunately, I was able to keep a lid on my giggles. Laughing right now, when all I was trying to do was get out of the car and make my flight, would be counterproductive.

  Besides, how could I blame Adam for the hollowness I felt? “There’s no one else. I have a gig and I want a little extra vacation time. This is no different from the weddings, bar mitzvahs, and festivals we usually play. Ingrid and the guys will arrive in a couple of days.”

  He reached over and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, squeezing like a vise. “When you get back, we’re moving in together, right? We’re taking this relationship to the next level as we discussed?”

  A security guard tapped the window, motioning us along, but Adam merely spared a glance, waved him off, and focused his penetrating gaze back on me.

  His grip was borderline painful.

  The guard tapped on the window again. Adam ignored him. “I’ve got to go, Adam.”

  “I want your answer first.”

  The guard tapped yet again and raised his voice. “You need to move along, sir.”

  I struggled in Adam’s grip. “Let go of me. I’m going to be late.”

  The guard tapped his knuckle on the glass harder this time and shot Adam a harsh glare. “This isn’t a parking lot, sir.”

  Whipping around, Adam rolled his window down. “Listen, Robocop, I’m fucking saying goodbye to my girlfriend here. Give me a goddamn minute.”

  When his grip loosened, I saw my chance and took it.

  Before he could protest, I freed myself and my suitcase, leaped out of the SUV and, without a backward glance, my feet ate up the pavement into the departures terminal.

  2

  Mac

  “Come on, deadweight.” I hoisted my sister’s mate up and helped him into the wheelchair he’d recently started using to get around. “If I
didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting fat on purpose, just to give my guns a workout.”

  Warren lifted his frail arm and extended his bony middle finger. “Right here.”

  I bit back a grin and leaped out of his way as he attempted to run over my toes with his chair. “You wish.”

  My eyes followed him. He wheeled himself into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. Loaf of bread, jar of mayo, pack of sliced turkey breast, one by one he placed the items on his lap.

  My fists balled at my sides to keep from interfering, but I watched him like a hawk for signs of excess fatigue. He was about to fade.

  Despite our verbal banter, I cared deeply for my sister’s mate. He was a damn good man. He and Heather were still madly in love and possessed a connection deeper than I’d ever seen shared between two people.

  Human men weren’t built the way we were, though. Warren was fighting cancer and the chemo was kicking his ass. He looked progressively worse by the day. My heart ached as I watched the once strong, virile man wither to a bony shell. He slumped in his chair, his head drooping forward slightly.

  “I veto your role as sandwich maker. You suck at it. Your sandwiches are like eating a blob of mayo with a side of bread and a meat garnish. I’d rather dine on cat turds.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  I snickered, sidestepped him, and slapped together a couple of sandwiches for us.

  “Make sure you bring the mayonnaise jar and a knife with you. Your sandwiches are as dry as the Sahara.” He slowly wheeled himself to his empty spot and, with effort, rested his arms atop the table. “Fucking hell!”

  I slid his plate in front of him and followed his angry gaze. Through the window, I saw his daughter—my niece, Jenny—scantily clad and standing in the driveway draped over the latest punk in a long line of punk-ass boyfriends. “Sonofabitch.”

  When she swung her leg over and climbed on the back of current punk’s motorcycle, I moved fast. I was out the door and just barely caught the back of her sweater before they took off. Jenny jerked out of my grip, growling. “What the fuck?”

  I leveled a menacing glare at the current punk-ass. “Move this bike and it’s a mangled heap of scrap metal.”

  “Uncle Mac, knock it off.”

  I looked down at the young woman who, just yesterday it seemed, had been a sweet, innocent, bright-eyed little girl dressing up her dolls and serving me tea in her miniature china tea set. “Where’s Ame?”

  “In her room.”

  “In her room?! She’s a baby, Jenny. You can’t just leave her in her room alone.”

  “She’s not alone. You’re here babysitting Dad.” Jenny wrapped her arms around the punk’s middle, her cheek resting against his back. “I have a date with Joe. You can’t expect me to sacrifice my entire life and chain myself to the house like a house elf just because I have a child, Uncle Mac. That’s a little harsh.”

  With a couple of taps to Joe’s stomach, Jenny signaled him to take off. The motorcycle roared as it sped down the street while I stood staring after them. I spent a few indulgent seconds fantasizing about sitting my niece in time out while I ripped Joe limb from limb until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.

  I rushed back inside, straight to Ame’s nursery.

  My sister, Heather, had painted a beautiful mural of baby animals on the walls, and the room had a cheerful, uplifting vibe. Usually. At the moment, it did nothing to cheer or uplift me.

  Sweet chubby-cheeked Ame stared up from her crib with bright, curious eyes. She watched the mobile over her bed as it spun fluffy baby zoo animals around, and gummed her plump little fingers, drool dribbling down her chin and neck.

  “Come here, drool-dlebug. Uncle Mac’s got you.” I scooped her into my arms and carried her back to the dining room to finish eating lunch with Warren.

  One look at Ame and his face darkened. “I don’t understand where we went wrong.”

  I bit back my angry comment about my niece and tried to shrug it off. The man had enough on his plate. He didn’t need me badmouthing his family. “I don’t know, Warren. But I feel lucky as a pig in a mudpuddle getting to spend time cuddling this chubby little drool-dlebug.” I wiggled my finger against her ribs, and she responded with a three-toothed giggle.

  Warren slid his sandwich away. He’d only taken a single bite. “Hand her to me.”

  “You eat. I got her.” I sat her little diapered butt on the table and took a bite of my sandwich before booping the tip of my finger to Ame’s nose.

  “I am capable of holding my own fucking granddaughter, Mac. I’m not dead yet.” His hoarse growl belied his frustration at his situation. Warren was a proud man, a strong man. He’d withstood so much already, and life was still beating the shit out of him.

  “You’re not going to die, asshole. Not on my watch. I forbid it. I am not putting up with my sister if anything happens to you. So, pull your head right on out of that shadowy place and eat your fucking sandwich.” I growled back at him, my wolf growl far more menacing than his human growl. “I’ll hand her over when she’s done playing with her favorite uncle.” I turned to Ame. “You want to be with Uncle Mac, don’t you? Yes, you do.”

  He yanked his sandwich back and made a production of taking a huge bite. His narrowed eyes were on me, anger oozing from his pores. I didn’t care. I could take it, and I knew most of that anger wasn’t about me anyway. “There are days I’d like to kick your ass back to Ohio.”

  “There are days I’d like you to shut the fuck up. Wish in one hand…” I played a tickle game with Ame. Poking my finger into the belly of her pink frilly dress and accompanying it with a squeak like she was the Pillsbury Dough Boy. It made her laugh every time. “Why does your mommy insist on dressing you like this?”

  “It’s Heather’s doing. She did the same damn thing to Jenny. Dressed her up like a china doll from the day she came home from the hospital.”

  A rare, sweet memory of my niece surfaced. “I remember. She was in pink lace and ruffles until she turned ten and finally learned to put her foot down.”

  “I wish she’d learn to pick it back up once in a while.” Warren sighed. “My daughter’s head is not on right.”

  No disagreement from me. When her family needed her most—her parents and her nine-month-old daughter—she was so wrapped up in her own selfishness that not only was she not a help, she was a hindrance. She treated her ailing father like a burden and hurled a disrespectful attitude at her mother and at everyone else within her immediate vicinity.

  My temper began to spike just thinking about it, and I looked for a way to diffuse it. “Want to see if there’s a game on TV?”

  Warren laughed, the sound so rare these days that it was sweeter to my ears than a Beethoven concerto. “Hell, yeah. You’re finally becoming tolerable to have around. Thought the day would never come.”

  I waited until he swallowed another bite of his sandwich before I handed Ame to him. Weariness and stress showed in his eyes. Warren was in no shape to take on the responsibilities of being a dad to a youngster again. He needed to focus his strength and energy on himself and his health. Heather needed to focus hers on her mate—and herself. Jenny was going to get a piece of my mind when I caught up to her.

  “Well? You comin’, old man?” I grabbed the handles of his chair and wheeled him, with Ame on his lap, to the living room. “I think the octogenarians at the old folks’ home move faster than you.”

  “What’s the big rush, bow-wow? In a hurry to chase your tail, or can’t wait to lick your testicles?”

  3

  Mel

  The bell over the door rang as I entered the B&B. A young man in his late teens sitting behind the front desk offered me a friendly smile.

  “Welcome to Rise and Shine Bed and Breakfast. I’m Jacob. You must be…” He scanned the computer screen in front of him. “Miss Melody Cameron.”

  “Call me Mel. Nice to meet you, Jacob.”

  He reached out and I slipped my hand in his
for a quick shake before he stood and rounded the desk. “We’ve already got all your information, so I’ll just show you to your room. Mom put you in the Swan Suite. It’s our honeymoon suite, but when she heard that you’re performing at the Richardson-Bennett wedding, she wanted to spoil you. They’re personal friends.”

  He led me down a hallway and through a set of swinging doors. “It’s pretty sweet, excuse the pun. There’s a private patio leading out onto the beach, with a jacuzzi.”

  My hand flew to my heart. “Your mom is an angel from heaven.”

  He snorted. “Demon from hell, maybe, but only on a good day.” Then he looked back at me with wide eyes. “Don’t tell her I said that. It was a joke.”

  I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Secret’s safe with me.”

  Jacob showed me around the suite that had a spectacular view of the water.

  “Well, have a pleasant stay. Breakfast is served from 6:30 to 11:00 every morning, and you’ll see Marvin shuffling around here and there. He’ll help with anything else you might need.”

  Jacob paused at the door, looked over his shoulder, and winked. “Or you could ring me, since he’s like two hundred years old and I’m always available.”