Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1 by Jaime Johnesee (libby ebook reader txt) 📕

food, talking, and making fun of the TV was the most normal and fulfilled I had ever felt in my life. I wasn't used to feeling this way. Mostly I felt broken and alone, but when I was with Ben I felt whole, alive, and like the stains of my past didn't matter.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew that they would if we ever got to the point where my past came out. It was at that point even the most heroic and stoic of men ran screaming. I learned with steady boyfriend number three not to talk about it. Carl was a good man, but he had led a very sheltered and protected life with parents who adored him. He couldn’t understand how I could live with the things that had been done to me. I told him I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m no quitter.

I glanced up and noticed Ben staring at me. There was an understanding in his eyes that I wasn’t ready for. I gasped and he looked away. It was as if he knew what painful secrets I was harboring.

I suppose it wouldn't be hard to figure out something horrific had happened to me, but most guys tried to push it. Then they very much regretted the answers that awaited them. Ben seemed to understand and that in itself was weird for me.

The reactions I got from the men I dated was why I had stayed mostly single. Though I often wondered what could have been. I gave myself a quick five minutes to fantasize about what it would have been like dating someone like Ben if I was a clean and undamaged teenager. We probably would have been good friends. I can see what an amazing life he could have with the right woman.

I didn’t believe I was that right woman. I wasn’t sure how much of that disbelief was real and how much was my own insecurities that occasionally cropped back up when dating was involved. I stopped right there and reminded myself that I wasn’t dating Ben, that I didn’t want to date him, and it was just the sire bond causing my attraction. No matter what he said about sire bonds not existing, I knew that was what it had to be.

We were just hanging out and I was keeping him from being killed.

That’s all.

Yeah, right. That was all. I cast a sidelong glance at him and though he had gone back to looking at the TV the tips of his ears were red. Almost like when I caught him glancing at me he hadn’t expected me to catch him and he was embarrassed by it.

I’m not one to duck out of an honest conversation so I figured what the hell, I’d tell him my worst deepest darkest secrets and run him off now before I got attached. I had to face it, be it a sire bond or not; this chemistry between us was electric and a large part of me wanted to feel it and test it out.

“You’re right, I didn’t have an easy childhood.” I steeled myself.

“Okay….” He wasn’t going to push and waited for me to continue.

I figured this might just be the bump in the road I needed to stop him from being attracted to me. I took a deep breath and spilled my guts.

“My mom often sold me for drugs and my dad wasn’t around much. When he did come around he pretty much just used me as a punching bag.” I refused to look at him while I blurted out the most painful memories I possessed.

I’d had a lot of practice stating the facts of my abuse. I’d put the emotions in a box in my head a long time ago.

“Oh, Jesus. I am so sorry you went through all that.” He moved closer to me and I backed away.

He stopped moving the second I backed up and held his palms out to show me he wasn’t going to harm me, then he slid back to where he was sitting.

“I’m okay now,” I lied.

I think it was pretty obvious to both of us that I was quite far from okay.

“Sam, I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. I promise to stop pushing and we can take this as slow or as fast as you want. I will let you set the pace of our friendship, or more, if you like.”

“Friends would be good. I can’t deny an attraction to you, but, until I research sire bonds, I really don’t want to explore it.” I felt embarrassed and a tad broken.

I always did when I revealed myself to people, even with all those emotions boxed up. Many of my exes had tried to understand, but I knew it was difficult.

My past had formed me into a bit of a nympho. I had a hard time finding an off switch and it turned out to be rather intimidating to the men I let into my heart and bed.

A couple of them accused me of lying about my past because they believed someone who had been raped and molested would be cold and incapable of passion. It hurt like hell whenever someone I trusted with the pain of my past accused me of lying, but I was who I was.

Some women reacted as I did after the traumas they suffered. I didn’t go out and sleep with everyone. I never allowed myself to do that, but when I was in a relationship I did like to get a bit kinky and I preferred having sex several times a day, every day. Many guys had a difficult time keeping up with that and some got angry at me for it.

I was often called a whore or tramp when those men left our relationship. It hurt then and it still hurts badly today. I’m sure there is a shrink or two that can explain why I am the way I am, but most