The bus snaked its way through the country roads and then to the lavish
development that backed up to the woods behind his house. Upperclassmen from this
neighborhood had their own cars. This bus collected the underclassmen: those few who
weren’t chauffeured to school, as minions of the privileged.
Jake leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, not looking at
the kids coming down the aisle. None dared to ask if they could sit in the empty space
next to him. They’d sit three to a seat rather than make that request. Just the way he
wanted it.
The over-filled bus pulled to a stop midway down Belmont Circle. New stop? Jake
looked out his window at the estate with a circular drive. Huh. It finally sold. He watched
as a single figure headed toward the bus. What, so now they get door-to-door service?
He rolled his eyes.
Seconds later, she stood in the aisle waiting. From his seat, his eyes skimmed up
passed her faded jeans and plain, loose sweater, and his breath caught in his throat.
Her long blond hair was pulled to the side in a loose braid. Her face? Ethereal. But then,
his flustered gaze became an annoyed glare.
Her bleak gray eyes seemed to look right through him before they darted to the
space next to him. Did she even register his indignation? She must have. Yet, she stood
there in the aisle twisting the loose adjustment strap on her backpack tightly around her
fingers.
“May I sit here?” her meek voice broke the silence that had fallen around them.
Noticing the hush of conversation, Jake’s eyes skimmed the crowded bus. There
was no doubt he and this new girl had an audience. Not something he relished.
His eyes swept back to her. He could tell she was nervous. He heard it in her
quavering voice and saw it in the way she avoided his eyes. He could just say no. But
so long as she was standing, the bus wouldn’t budge.

Last night Aidan heard the agonized cries of a recent inmate in addiction hell. God, had he acted
the same when coming off the poison? He could not recall, but what little he remembered chilled his
black soul.
He entered his room and stopped short at the sight of Cristyn. She was her father’s most trusted,
loyal assistant and nurse. Her presence always caused his heart to skip a beat. It made him fully aware he
was a man, and she a woman. Cristyn’s beauty never failed to capture his interest. She had a coal-black
shade of hair similar to his, and violet-blue eyes he could happily become lost in. This glorious young
lady was far too stunning to be toiling away in a country clinic for addicted reprobates.
Cristyn was making his bed, going about her chores efficiently and cheerfully. Early in his stay,
there were times when she had annoyed him with her sunny smile and optimism; then he’d learned to
bask in it, savor it. But nothing had prepared him for her touch. Even the lightest brush of her fingers
seized his breath. He was shameless, being attracted to her while in such a pathetic state.
Could he be drawn to her because she was the only attractive woman around for months? Perhaps,
for surely it could not be more. Despite his poor health, the rake still lurked under the surface. Yet during
his horrible first few weeks here, Cristyn had stood at the vanguard, coaxing him to eat and attending to
his every need. She’d spoken to him in soft, reassuring tones, all the while acting compassionate and kind
and encouraging him to embrace his recovery. My angel. My savior.
One particularly vivid memory recalled him as a crumpled heap of tears and self-pity. Cristyn had
held him, speaking soothing words of support. She had called him cariad more than once. Aidan found
out later it meant “love” in the Welsh tongue. A term of endearment? Did she refer to all her male patients
as cariad in her sensual, musical voice? What made him worthy of her special attention?
Beyond such questions, his blatant display of emotion and weakness embarrassed him the more
his condition improved. In increments, he slowly tucked away such vulnerabilities and allowed the old
Aidan to emerge, at least in her presence. The cool, detached, I-couldn’t-care-less rake. It was a solid
shield to hide behind. You damned coward.

Shifting Destiny Anthology Genre: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance with stories by: Lashanta Charles Zoe Parker E.E. Andrews Beth Hendrix Reiki Eli Miki Ward Garrett Ward K.B. Wheelock Aspen Winters Helene Gadot C.B. Morrigan Tabitha Barret Ivy Fox Jaliza Burwell Grace McGinty India Kells Zara Stark Lacey Carter Andersen Vanessa Ross Helen Scott Saskia LeBlanc Cece Rose E.M. Moore Blake Blessing Kay Elle Parker C.R. Jane. E.M. Daniels Suzan Lee Elissa Ryan Lidiya Foxglove C.J. Strange

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LaShanta Charles is from South Carolina, but currently lives in Tacoma, WA. She’s married, has three tiny humans who constantly mooch off of her, and is active duty in the US Army. She’s a homebody who adores SLEEPING, reading (romance, especially RH, paranormal, and sci-fi), eating, white chocolate mochas, SLEEPING, Reese’s PB Cups (but only the ones stuffed with Reese’s Pieces), and writing. Oh, and she hates spiders; why do they need EIGHT legs? Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

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