Dark Side Of The Moon (BBW Paranormal Were-Bear Shifter Sci-Fi Romance) Read online

  Dark Side of the Moon

  A BBW Paranormal Sci-Fi Romance

  Catherine Vale

  WILDFIRE PRESS

  Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com

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  Dark Side of the Moon

  A BBW Paranormal Sci-Fi Romance

  Catherine Vale

  Copyright © 2016, Wildfire Press

  Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com

  Veronica Maxwell has never fit in. Not into the cliques in high school, not even in her own family. Her mother was only concerned about her daughter gaining, and her father wasn’t much better. So she turned to martial arts as a way of venting out that anger, and that’s how she ended up in the ring, fighting her ass off, fired up and ready to compete.

  Mikel Taso is used to fighting. He lives in a world of constant war; Clans fighting Clans and shifters fighting shifters. But when his Clan is threatened by extinction, he knows he has no other choice but to abandon his planet for a thriving one: earth. And that’s how he came face to face with our kick-ass heroine, and the one woman he believes is his one true mate.

  When these two fighters’ cross paths, it sets in motion a series of events that will not only test their will to survive against all odds, but to survive each other. And Veronica isn’t going down without a fight.

  Copyright © 2016, Catherine Vale. All rights reserved.

  Published by Wildfire Press

  Edited by: Cass Lockhart & Meghan Faulkner.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  About The Author

  Other Books by Catherine Vale

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  Chapter One

  “Pay attention, Ronnie. You’re dropping your shoulder.”

  Sweat ran in her eye, but she knew if she brushed it away, Gus would be on her about that. Blinking, she ignored the sting, concentrated on her form, and threw another right, left, right combination.

  “Better. Better. Thatta girl. Keep your mind on where your feet are.”

  She knew damn well where her feet were. They were at the end of her legs, legs that burned from this insane workout, but she liked the burn, liked how she felt, pushing herself hard, then harder. Tonight, she’d sleep like a log, then wake up. And then do it all over again.

  “Hey…”

  She ignored the voice because it wasn’t Gus, and she knew that whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be helpful. It was some guy and his friend, standing just at the edge of her sightline, doing their best to get her to notice them, but she couldn’t block them out, because they weren’t trying to be quiet. It was the tall red-haired guy, the one who bragged—and lied—about how much he could bench press. And the other one… Leo…shorter, stockier. Good on the heavy bag, decent upper body strength, but slow on his feet. Really slow, but they weren’t here to offer advice, or even ask for her help. She knew what they wanted and she wasn’t in the least bit interested.

  “Concentrate, Ronnie. Watch your shoulder…” Gus moved to the other side of the mat, which let her know that she should work around the bag. Or more accurately, that she should put her back to the guys and concentrate on what she was here for. Gus was like that, always looking out for her, or perhaps he was looking out for the guys.

  “Hey, Ronnie. I’ll work out with you, if you need help. I’ll help you watch your form.” That was followed by a raucous laugh. It was Short-and-Stocky, leaning on the wall, arms crossed. Red was beside him, looking at her like they all did, like she was some kind of a freak of nature. A short girl who hit like a guy, but who wasn’t a dyke. Like they needed to prove something by taking her on.

  “Yeah. We can go around in the ring. Unless you’re afraid of getting your pretty face marked up.” It was Red, grinning at her as though he knew a secret about her.

  “You guys, back the hell off. Leave her alone.” Gus rarely raised his voice, but now she heard the edge in his tone.

  She dropped her hands, reached out, and stopped the swing of the bag. Gus caught her eye, frowned, then shook his head. She shrugged; what else could she do?

  “Fine.” Gus muttered under his breath as he reached for her gloves. “You really want to do this?”

  She shrugged again. “It’s worse if I don’t. It gets much worse.” Gus nodded and held out a glove. She shoved her hand inside. “You know that.”

  “Yeah, but how are you going to meet a nice guy if you keep beating them all up?”

  Gus tightened the laces, tied them off. Over his head she saw the guys laughing, looking over at her, then laughing again. She tried not to let it hurt, but it felt like she was back in high school. The only difference is, now she could actually take them on.

  “These aren’t the guys I want to meet, Gus. The guys here really aren’t my type. No offence.”

  Gus laughed, lacing the second glove. “None taken. I’m old enough to be your father, and besides…you’re not my type either.” He smiled, reached out and touched her cheek. “I know this is hard, and I don’t understand it, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “Yeah.” She looked past Gus. Red was already in the ring, exchanging jabs with Stocky.

  “Just don’t hurt him too badly, okay? One day one of these juice pigs are gonna sue me.”

  She gave him a smile. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Gus held the rope and she quickly climbed into the ring. Red was jumping up and down, shaking his arms, rolling his head, looking at her with a mix of aggression and something else. The aggression she got, but the other look always baffled her. Guys like him always wanted to beat the shit out of her—literally—and then wanted to have sex with her. And they always thought she felt the same way.

  He’d said she had a pretty face. That used to catch her off guard, made her angry that a guy would highlight her fac
e, meaning that the rest of her wasn’t appealing to him. These days, none of that mattered. She had grown to love her body, especially her curves, that even a daily regimen of boxing hadn’t changed. Oh, how she used to hate the fact that she would never have an hourglass figure, wishing instead, for a thin frame like most of the girls in high school. These days, she embraced her flared hips, thicker waist and legs. She was a voluptuous, thick girl, and she was damn proud of it.

  Gus shoved her mouth guard between her lips. She glanced at Red, wondered again if maybe this was a mistake. He caught her eye, grinned around his mouth guard and made a rude gesture with his hips that indicated exactly what he’d prefer to be doing to her in the ring. She rolled her eyes. This guy was such a douchebag.

  It was better if she didn’t think about that look too much. And it was better if she didn’t think too hard about why she did what she did. It was just easier this way, to keep them quiet for a while.

  Red was at least half a head taller than she was, with longer arms—a longer reach. She knew all about geometry and that if she got too close, he’d have the advantage. And she knew exactly what to do to keep him from having that advantage.

  He started moving toward her, gloves up, grinning. She waited, watched, until he took a swing. As expected, he stepped in, took a swing at her head. She came in low, hit him with a hard left to the body. He grunted, coughed out a lungful of air, bent forward just enough. It was almost too easy.

  She came around with a right to his jaw and he went down like the proverbial sack of bricks. Lying on the mat at her feet, the guy moaned, and from behind her, she heard Gus groan.

  “Jeez, Ronnie. I think that’s a record.”

  Out of the ring, Gus took off her gloves. “You really think this is the way you want to live your life?”

  “Since when do you dispense life advice along with training advice? You’re supposed to teach me how to throw a left hook.” She grinned at him; he treated her like one of his daughters. She’d never heard him talk to the guys like this.

  “Since I worry about you.” He tugged off one glove, then started on the other. “Since…”

  “Yeah, thanks I got it. You’re sweet to worry.”

  He snorted. “Tell anyone I’m sweet, and you’ll go a round with me, and you won’t come out on top.” He stepped away. “Now go run laps. You missed your cardio yesterday.”

  Scooping up the gloves, her long braid swinging forward, she wiped a hand across her face. “Got it covered. I pulled a swing shift today. Four hours riding around the city on my bicycle delivering packages. Can’t get better cardio than that. And I’ll be home for dinner.”

  Gus shook his head. “You’re the only person I know who works as hard as you do, here, and out there.” He jerked a thumb toward the big second floor window that looked out on the warehouse next door to the busy street below. “You need to do something fun, Ronnie. Not so much work all the time.”

  “I’m fine, Gus. Really. Stop worrying. I gotta go.”

  She tried to avert her eyes as she walked through the locker room, tried not to look at the guys wandering around with no clothes on, bullshitting each other, laughing. She didn’t mind that they were naked; that was fine with her, but they took her glances the wrong way, took it as an invitation, rather than admiration.

  So she grabbed a shower in one of the little private stalls behind a locked metal door, washing away the sweat from her workout, but no matter how long she stayed in the shower, she could never quite get rid of the feeling that she’d once again done something she shouldn’t have. She stood for a minute under the water, wondering what her life would be like if she looked like the women she saw on her route, the receptionists, the models, the secretaries, the pretty ones. If her life would be any easier. If she’d be happier.

  Damn it, she was happy. Unfulfilled, maybe, but not while in the ring. She loved the gym, loved being here, working out. The mental and physical discipline, how amazing she felt after a workout. She’d been training in some form or another since she was in middle school. Since her mom had decided she was a little too big for her age, that her daughter needed to slim down, or she’d get fat. And as far as her mom was concerned, being fat was the worst thing that could possibly happen.

  Her dad had decided that rather than diet pills, and fat camp, karate would be a better alternative, and he was right. From the very first class, where Billy Monahan had knocked her on her ass, she’d loved every minute of it. Her instructors said she had natural aptitude, and encouraged her. Her mother had been horrified that she hadn’t slimmed down. Veronica, on the other hand, had been secretly pleased with how her body had changed. Even though the number on the scale refused to budge downward, she was getting stronger. Her arms and legs had incredible curve, but those curves were made of muscle. Hard-fought, and hard-won, and she was damn proud of it.

  She pulled on her spandex shorts, and a tank top, then her work shirt. It had the logo of the messenger company stitched on the pocket. It pulled across her shoulders, and she’d never been able to get it buttoned and it pulled across her shoulders. As many times as she’d complained, they’d never managed to find her a shirt that actually fit her physique. That made her sigh; in a world where she believed she do anything – be anything – no one had yet to design this style of shirt for larger women like her. Maybe she’d take up fashion design for bigger girls one day. That thought made her smile.

  Her bike was still safely locked to a steam pipe in the lobby of the building. One thing Gus wouldn’t let her do was bring it up into the gym. Leaving it always made her so nervous, so she’d take the seat thinking if someone stole it, at least they wouldn’t be able to ride it comfortably. After having three bikes stolen in the last four years, she had t do something. The bike was her life. She slung her bag across her shoulders and jammed the seat back on. She adjusted her helmet, and then headed across town to her job.

  Chapter Two

  Wind tugged at the end of her braid as she sped down Forty-Second Street. It was a month before Fashion Week, and she’d been up and down this street more times than she cared to count, ferrying slim envelopes between designer’s offices and modeling agencies. The morning shift was brutal; everyone wanted their packages by 10:00 a.m. Now, she was picking up the signed documents, taking them back to where they came from. Still the same number of documents, but the pace was slightly less harried. The traffic easn’t; it was brutal.

  Elite Models was the last stop on her route. She’d been there enough to know she wasn’t comfortable leaving the bike on the street. The receptionist, Nicole, was a slow-moving, languid girl, and she wouldn’t sign for anyone’s package. The wait was interminable. So she rolled the bike through the door and into the lobby.

  Nicole looked up, flashing her white teeth in a professional smile, but as soon as she recognized Veronica, the smile faded.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She reached for the phone. “I have to call Ian. He has the contracts still. I can’t sign…”

  Before Veronica could say anything, the phone started ringing. Nicole punched the button, gave Veronica an eye-roll, and launched into a conversation with whoever was on the other end. Veronica shifted her canvas bag, reaching inside for the electronic signature pad, calling up the right entry so when Ian appeared, she’d get the signature and be on the street in minutes, headed back to her job, and then home.

  Veronica tapped her fingers on the counter. She really wanted to leave, but she couldn’t, not without the package. Knowing Nicole, she’d be on the phone complaining to the messenger company faster than she was about calling Ian. But it was near closing, and Veronica had the sinking feeling Ian may have cut out early.

  The lobby doors opened, and a trio of models sauntered in from the street, jostling each other, laughing, cell phones on display. Veronica tried to hold her ground, tried to edge her bike out of the way, but they crowded around the counter, all talking at once. The radio playing behind the desk added to the rising noise level. At
this rate, she was going to be pushing to get back to the agency on time. So much for thinking the swing shift would be less hectic.

  Nicole hung up the phone and turned to Veronica. “Have you ever thought about getting your nose fixed? It’s been broken, right? In boxing or whatever it is you do?” Classic Nicole, going for the perceived vulnerable spot. Some days it was the nose, some days it was the hair color, or wearing make-up, or something else that was vitally important to Nicole, but that Veronica could care less about.

  Veronica sighed. It wasn’t really necessary to explain, again, that her nose wasn’t broken, again. “No, Nicole. I haven’t thought about it lately.” Or ever. She liked her nose. Sure, it wasn’t straight, but her father had told her it gave her character and Veronica agreed. Her mother would have agreed with Nicole though. Veronica sighed; this was getting ridiculous.

  Shrill voices suddenly rose around her, the models apparently upset about something, all in unison. One held up her cell phone, a look of horror on her face.

  “I lost my call. It was Eduardo.”

  Eduardo must have been important. Nicole gasped; the other two models blanched white. There was a moment of respectful quiet, and then the models started up again, offering advice, their phones, commiseration.

  “Nicole…” Veronica leaned over the counter. “I’m kind of in a hurry. Can you call…”

  Nicole looked up at her, and for a moment Veronica thought the girl was going to burst into tears. “Veronica, you need to wait a minute. Satasha lost her call…Eduardo…” Nicole looked at her with wide eyes. She had trouble getting the words out. “Just a minute…”

  Apparently Nicole needed a moment of grief for the lost call. The model—Satasha—was punching buttons frantically, trying to reconnect with Eduardo. The other two women were talking loudly, apparently under the impression the louder they spoke, the less likely they’d be to lose their connections as well. The desk phone started ringing again, and Nicole grabbed the phone.