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DEX CARSON LOWERED his beer bottle and nodded at the T.V. in the break room of Blackclaw Ink, Simon’s tattoo shop. The ink master was an internationally renowned tattooist, and Dex ran a mechanic shop off the other side of the building.
The news went on repeat about the ‘missing heiress’, Celia Tannehill. Despite the bears’ run-in with her father, he hoped the girl was safe.
Daniel was a real bastard, and Dex wouldn’t put it past him to be involved in her disappearance. After the asshole realized his obscene monetary offer meant nothing to the shifters, Daniel’d resorted to underhanded tactics to steal their land. Poisoning one of their lakes had nearly resulted in Dex taking the fucker’s head off—for real. His bear had taken over, and he’d shifted, intent on bashing Daniel’s head in. And he was the non-violent one of the trio. Nick and Simon had managed to reach his bear and talk him down from that murderous rage.
Probably our twin flame connection.
In the end, Nick had put it to the bastard by stealing fifty acres from Daniel, prime real estate adjacent to their land.
“You think her dad’s involved?” Simon asked as he glanced up from a tattoo sketch he was prepping for an upcoming client.
Nick lowered his legal document. “Rumor has it the reward is a bounty sanctioned by Daniel.”
Simon shook his head, but remained silent as his pencil swished across the sheet of paper.
Dex voiced what he figured everyone was thinking. “He killed his wife. No telling what he’ll do to her.”
“That’s a rumor,” Nick said without looking up from his work.
“Assume it’s true, and it is a bounty. What’d she do to piss him off?” Simon cocked his head and studied Nick as if their alpha held all the answers.
“No one seems to know, except the Feds are involved.”
“Fuck.” Dex rubbed at the twin flame mark on his wrist. A bad habit he had when agitated.
No one but those with similar marks could see the symbol. Soul mates were often mistaken as the one true love of individuals, but that was an erroneous assumption. Legend told twin flames were one soul torn apart, forced to endure numerous reincarnations until they found one another. Oftentimes they rarely met in a lifetime. When they did, the chemistry was explosive. Humans that found their twin flames created great works together. When paranormals found their flame, it wasn’t just magical and cosmic, but prophetic, evidence the world was gearing up for a big change. Best Dex could tell, it was unusual that twin flames came in threes, but not totally unheard of, and almost never without a female pairing.
Simon, Nick, and Dex were twin flames, and the identical mark on their wrists proved it. The three of them had found one another twenty years ago when they’d been brats on the playground. Nick and Simon both came from decent families, and they saw the good in humanity. Dex was a foster kid. He’d learned a long time ago there was little decency left in the world.
Being bisexual, Dex and Nick enjoyed their union, but Simon was a straight bear forced into a male threesome thanks to cosmic intervention. Simon’d suffered the most from their union. Sure, the trio enjoyed women together, but Dex knew Simon craved a woman to call their own, and that longing had grown exponentially in the last few years. Maybe some day they’d find the right woman to meet all their needs. He wanted Simon happy, but not at the expense of disrupting their family unit. And—
“Your mark itching too?” Simon watched him with a cagey stare.
Dex nodded and tossed his beer bottle in the trash.
“Every time I look at her photo”—Simon indicated Celia Tannehill—“my mark itches.”
Nick set his file aside. “Mine too.”
“You think that means she’s ours?” The hopeful look on Simon’s face crushed Dex. While a twin flame threesome was rare, he’d bet hoping for a foursome set Simon up for disappointment, but Dex kept that to himself. Having the enemy’s daughter join their cosmic union could end in disaster, and their ruin, thanks to her parentage. No, if he had his pick of women to join their union, it would not be a Tannehill.
Judging by the headshot on the television, she’d grown into a real beauty. Olive complexion, black hair, and pale blue eyes, and the prettiest red, plump mouth he’d ever seen beckoned to him. Dex would delight in watching his dick thrust between those lips.
Given her heiress status, he bet she’d be as thin as a young boy. Not their type. That’s what society demanded of her, a reedy-thin frame with little to no extra weight, ruining all possibilities of a voluptuous figure. A damn shame. He preferred curves on his women. And with three bears sharing her, she’d have to be tough enough to endure a foursome.
“We don’t even know where she is to put the theory to a test.” Dex snagged another beer from the fridge. Possible heartache, and even ruin, aside they couldn’t not investigate the likelihood. One thing was certain... If her dad gets her first, we’ll never find out.
“I’ll call in some favors. See what I can find out.” Nick picked up his cell, his fingers flying across the screen. If anyone could get to her before her dad, Nick’s contacts stood the better chance. As their alpha, a council member on the Blackclaw board, and a well-established attorney in the state, he had connections high up.
It was Simon with his family connections that could produce the most results. Being a descendant of the first and founding alpha of the Blackclaw werebear clan Simon’s status achieved that of royalty among them. Nick might run Blackclaw Matos, an offshoot of the bigger Blackclaw clan, but Simon’s power went back generations.
Nick and Dex’s gazes met. A hint of hope sparkled in Nick’s eyes. Seemed he hoped right along with Simon. If Celia Tannehill were theirs, Simon would truly become a part of their union. They both wanted that, and not in the sexual sense, but mentally and spiritually.
“I have a few notorious clients that might could help.” Simon ditched his sketchpad in favor of his phone. “I’ll call my dad too.”
With a groan, Dex retrieved his cell. As one of the few foreign mechanics in the southern part of Bama, he knew almost every-fucking-body in a hundred mile radius. “Yeah, I’m on it too.”