Their Shifter Princess

by May Dawson

  Josh got out of the driver’s seat of his car. Kai said something to him over the top of the car, and Josh laughed, throwing back his head. Kai ducked his head, a faint satisfied smile across his lips. God, they were both so gorgeous. Nick climbed out of the backseat, gripping the car door hard, like he was hurt. I frowned.

  “What’re you looking at?” Eli squeezed my shoulders, hard. He must have followed my gaze.

  “Nothing,” I nodded toward Nick. “New guy.”

  Josh stared at me and Eli. The expression on his face froze, as if he wore a mask. The smile was gone.

  Kai said something, and Nick turned toward us as he shut his door. Three pairs of eyes stared at us—brown, blue, green—as cold and unfriendly as the day I’d met them. It felt unsettling when they’d been so warm the last time I talked to them.

  “Yeah,” he said. “The other two guys just joined the team.”

  “Are they any good?”

  “Not that good,” he said, a sour note in his voice.

  I’d planned to break away from Eli, but I couldn’t now. If I tried to leave him, he’d think I was headed toward Josh. He would never let me get away.

  But right now, I needed to slip all of them.

  Today would be the day I saved myself.

  I slipped out of school after homeroom, keenly aware of just how much of a tight timeline I was on. I ran home and grabbed my tapes from the Nanny-cam bear. I wished I had some way to convert the old tapes to digital files, something I could email to myself. I hated that I had no way to back them up. But, the bear was the best I could do. I pulled my books out and stacked them on the desk, shoving the bear and the tapes in my backpack instead. Then I rifled through everything, taking every bit of cash I still had together in my wallet.

  When I walked up the wide stone steps to the police station in town, I felt like everyone was watching me, like my father would be called before I could even talk to a police officer, like he was going to come sweep me out of there before I had the chance to do anything.

  But by lunch time, I was in a judge’s office, with the town sheriff standing by the door. He crossed his arms, shaking his head, as the tapes played on the old TV they’d found.

  They were hard for me to watch, and I’d already lived through them. My father snarled into my face, shoved me against the wall, hit me with his belt over and over. I glanced away from the video footage, feeling my stomach tight and sick, as if he’d hurt me all over again.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” the sheriff said. “Your father took it too far.”

  I glanced toward the judge, who was quiet but looked sympathetic enough. “I’m really just worried about my sister now. Can I get custody of her? Because I’m eighteen now, and what if he hurts her too—”

  “Oh, honey,” the judge said. “Your father is never going to do that to her. Or to you, ever again.”

  “Good,” I said. Relief spread through my chest, and for the first time I realized just how much of a burden I usually did carry.

  “Do you have copies of the tapes?” the sheriff asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “We’re going to take these into evidence,” he said, ejecting the tape from the TV. “That way we have them when we need them.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So what happens for the protection order?”

  “Honey,” the judge said, “what we’re going to do is a little different today.”

  The sheriff took the tapes and the bear and stepped out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

  Anxiety wrapped so tight around my chest that I could barely breathe.

  “What’s that?” I asked, my voice flat.

  “I’m going to talk to your father and make sure he never hurts you again,” the judge said. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him about any of this.”

  I stared at him. I couldn’t even form words. How in the world was he going to ‘talk’ to my father without making it obvious I’d gone looking for help? And why should I trust him, anyway?

  “Are you going to be at my dad’s poker night Saturday?” My voice sounded distant, far-away.

  “Piper,” he said kindly. He leaned forward, folding his hands together, his elbows braced against his knees. “It’s obvious you’ve been thinking about this plan for a long time. You put together the best plan you could, didn’t you—a girl alone in the world, trying to study up on the solution to all your problems?”

  That was jarringly accurate. I shook my head anyway, although the part of me that could see myself at a distance didn’t know why I was shaking my head. It was true. I’d spent all those furtive afternoons, searching law online, clearing out the cache on my web searches so my father wouldn’t run across them, learning different ways to steal and hide a little money for a chance at a new life.

  “You did the best you could alone,” he said. “But it was never going to work.”

  His voice was gentle, and that made it worse. Hot tears stung my eyes, and I looked up at the ceiling, blinking them back.

  “No one is going to give you custody of Maddie,” he said. “You don’t have a job. You don’t have a place to live. She’s not better off with you when you’ll be homeless.”

  “I won’t be for long,” I said. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “No one’s going to believe you,” he said.

  “I have the tapes.” My voice came out hot.

  “That was a good try,” he said. “But do you know how many people would agree with your father that it was just discipline?”

  I rubbed my finger across the bruises, still vivid against my cheek and jaw. They ached under my touch, but I pressed harder, reminding myself that what happened was real. There was no video of this beating. But who could watch the video and deny it happened? Who could say my father was right?

  “We don’t live in a society where children have many rights,” he said. “You’re not going to get what you want from this…I’m trying to help you.”

  “I told you what I need,” I said.

  “I’ll talk to your father,” he said. “I’ll say the bruises came to my attention. No one will know we had this meeting, Piper.”

  “And then what?” I asked dully. “How does Maddie get out of there?”

  “She grows up,” he said. “Just like you’ll do. And you’ll move on with your lives.”

  “So that’s it? We just have to survive? Nine more years.” I leaned forward, my voice growing louder with every word.

  “That’s it,” he said. “If you try to push it—if you go to another police station in another county—your father will find out. And you and your sister will still be in his custody, in his house. Maybe Child Protective Services watching will make your father more cautious, for a while.”

  I was going to be sick. I turned away, staring over his shoulder out the window. Outside, red and gold leaves danced in the breeze. It was a beautiful, sunny fall day.

  “It was a good try,” he said. “Sometimes you lose the battle. You have to focus on winning the war.”

  He was one of my father’s friends, I was sure of it.

  That didn’t mean he was wrong.

  I stood up. “Thank you for your time.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t have better news,” he said. “Be careful out there, Piper.”

  “I always am,” I said.

  Thanks to people like him, I had to be.

  Chapter 15

  I texted my father, asking for permission to go out with Eli, and he texted back Yes.

  I sighed as I turned my cell phone in my hands.

  “Done,” Maddie said, sliding her math homework into her folder. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

  We’d been working our way through a list of the top one hundred classic romance movies, which, come to think of it, might have been breaking my sister’s young brain.

  “We’re not,” I said. “I’ve got a date.”

  “With Callum?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. />
  “No,” I said. I wish. I could just imagine tucking my arm into his big, muscular arm, feeling safe and protected as the two of us walked through town. No, wait, I didn’t wish—he was too old for me.

  “With the nephews?” she pressed.

  “With Eli Kingston.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s a long story and it’s not for fourth graders.” I didn’t smile, but I thought I was holding it together pretty well for a girl—sorry, woman as of this morning—who had been devastated earlier that day.

  “Well, hold on,” she said. “I thought we were going to celebrate your birthday together, but fine. Ditch me.”

  “I’m not ditching you,” I said in exasperation.

  “It’s all right,” she said airily, sliding off the stool at the kitchen island. “You, stay there.”

  Her sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floors as she crossed the kitchen and disappeared into the dining room. I leaned over the island, trying to see where she’d gone.

  “You worry me,” I said.

  “I’m not going to light myself on fire!”

  That brought me to my feet, out of the stool, so fast that I grabbed the edge of the island to steady myself. “Maddie!”

  She popped her head back into the kitchen, grinning mischievously. She had one hand cupped around a cupcake, protecting a small flame. “What? I’m practically old enough to smoke. Half the fifth grade does.”

  “Do not start with me,” I said. “It has been a long day and I am very low on sense-of-humor.”

  “You definitely shouldn’t go out with Eli then,” she said, carefully carrying the cupcake into the room. “Cause he’s a total joke.”

  “Well, I’m stuck.”

  Maddie let that pass, because she began to sing, “Happy birthday.”

  She set the cupcake in front of me as she finished singing. I had to resist the temptation to join in, since one person singing happy birthday sounds a little sad. Instead, I eyed the cupcake: chocolate with vanilla frosting and an abundance of rainbow sprinkles. Someone knew what kind of cupcake I liked best.

  “Make a wish!” she said cheerfully.

  I closed my eyes, just for a second, shutting out my sister’s happy face, the colorful cupcake, the flicker of flame. The wish that rose up in my chest was a powerful thing, a prayer.

  Save us.

  I opened my eyes and blew out the candle. Maddie clapped, the sound sharp in the quiet of the room, and then I pulled out the candle and set it on the side of the plate.

  “When did you get the chance to make cupcakes?” I asked, frowning at the thought. I peeled the pink cupcake wrapper away from the moist crumbs of cake.

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Misty dropped them off while you were in the shower. She knew it was your birthday.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. Misty’s birthday would be tomorrow. Our birthdays were so close, but our celebrations would be nothing alike: her parents always woke her with a birthday cake and presents in bed, took her to her favorite restaurant, gave her a party. I’d been to a variety of Misty’s birthday parties over the year: tea parties, gymnastics parties, a horseback riding party at the local stables, our first big boy-girl party where no one danced despite an optimistic DJ. That had been the last time Misty invited me; our friendship was already weakening, but she’d invited me one last time for nostalgia’s sake, I guess.

  “That was kind of her,” I said, belatedly. “She’s always been so thoughtful.”

  Maddie snorted, but that was all she said about that. Maybe one day, she would grow into bullshit, but for now, she didn’t have much interest in polite lies.

  “I should get ready for my date,” I said.

  “Since when do you care what you look like for Eli?” Maddie said, and then her eyes sharpened in a way that didn’t seem at all appropriate for a nine-year-old.

  “Well, got to go.” I wasn’t interested in pursuing that line of conversation. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to duck out entirely. I was worried about Maddie’s tendency to eat too much sugar then end up unable to sleep, coming into my room where she kicked me all night long in her sugar-inspired nightmares. “How many cupcakes were there? Don’t eat all of them.”

  “You can’t say don’t eat all of them without even knowing how many cupcakes there are.”

  “How many are there?”

  I headed for the stairs, and she followed me.

  “I’ll tell you if you tell me who you’re really dressing up for.” Her voice was teasing.

  I ran up the stairs without looking back. “It’s the nephews.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “You don’t tell anyone about all those cupcakes I’m about to eat.”

  “Maddie!”

  In my room, I combed my hair and put in earrings. I started to pat concealer over the black-and-blue bruises that marked my stubborn chin and ran up the side of my face, vivid across my cheekbone. But it caked over the bruise, turning it green instead of making it less-hideous, so I ran hot water and gently washed it off.

  I was bruised, almost broken, and there was no point in trying to hide it. I was who I was. For some reason, those bruises attracted Eli, who wanted someone to hurt more.

  And for some reason, those bruises drew in the strange men who’d suddenly entwined themselves in my life, even as they tried to stay away from me.

  I gazed at myself in the mirror, tucking my hair behind my ears. I wasn’t going to hide the bruises or fake smiles.

  “Happy eighteenth birthday,” I said softly to myself. Some birthday.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say happy birthday, Piper. Kai wasn’t wrong. The name I’d worn all my life suddenly felt awkward, strange on my tongue, as if it wasn’t supposed to be my name at all.

  But I didn’t have another name I’d chosen, or even the chance to grow into a new name yet. That would have to wait until I escaped.

  Somehow, someday.

  My cell phone dinged with a text message. Eli. Before I could even read it, a car honked outside.

  I rolled my eyes—well, maybe Maddie got her annoying habits from me—and threw my cell phone into my purse as I ran downstairs.

  “Bye, Maddie!” I called. My dad was coming in the door as I reached the entryway.

  He nodded hello, but his gaze lingered on the bruises on my face. “Happy birthday, Piper. Aren’t you going to do your makeup before you go out?”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I wasn’t going to…hey, Eli said there’s a party after the game. Is it okay if I go?”

  “No drinking,” he warned.

  “Of course not.”

  “And if Eli drinks, get a ride home with someone else or call me.” His gaze softened. “I’ll pick you up if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said again.

  Once, things like that used to really confuse me—how could my father seem like he cared sometimes, and be so harsh at others? He taught me to ride a bike; he bragged about me to his friends; he told me I was pretty.

  Maybe that was why people got so confused, thinking it must be okay to hurt kids. Parents’ love seemed so complicated.

  Eli honked the horn again. I winced.

  “Your boyfriend is a dickhead,” he said frankly.

  It made me smile, and I touched the split in my lip, which was healing but ached when I smiled suddenly like that. “I don’t know if I’d go all the way to boyfriend. It’s one date.”

  “Well, good luck.” He headed into the house.

  “Curfew?” I called after him, wanting to make sure I didn’t do something to get myself in trouble without even knowing.

  “Whenever you want to tell him,” Dad called back. “Whatever you can stand.”

  Happy birthday to me, indeed.

  “Oh hey,” Dad said, turning back. “I won’t hold you back now, but I have a birthday present for you. Birthday breakfast tomorrow?”


  “That would be nice.”

  “I’ll take you to Frenchy’s,” he promised. “Make sure you and Maddie are ready at nine.”

  And despite everything, I felt guilty when I said goodnight and closed the door between us.

  Being alone—like the judge had pointed out I was, over and over, so very helpfully—was hard. But I didn’t think anything could be as hard as trying to figure out other people.

  Chapter 16

  Eli took me to the local coffee shop on our way to the football game. As he parked in the lot, he said, “I hate that I have to leave you for the game. But at least you can have something hot to drink. It’s going to be cold in the bleachers tonight.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “White chocolate mocha, right?” When he pushed the door open for me, the bells chimed and a blast of pleasantly warm air rushed out.

  “You know me,” I said.

  “What do I drink?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

  I had no idea. “Before a game? I would think you’d stick with Gatorade.”

  “Normally,” he clarified. He took my hand and led me through the warm, vanilla-scented coffee shop to the counter. “You’re a white chocolate mocha and I’m…”

  “Iced coffee?”

  He shot me a disappointed look. To the barista at the counter, he said, “We’ll take a white chocolate mocha, and I’m just going to grab a Gatorade from the case.”

  I kept my eye-rolling internal. He paid, and then caught the sleeve of my coat, tugging me toward him as he stepped backward toward the other end of the counter.

  “I guess you’ve never been that interested in me,” he said, his voice cool. “I’ve always noticed stuff about you.”

  “I’m not that observant,” I lied. “What is it that you like?”

  His lips pursed. He was really a good-looking guy, his lips nicely-shaped over a determined jaw. It was his personality that made his face so unattractive to me I could barely stand to look at him. I turned my back, running my fingertips over the ceramic travel mugs that lined the shelves.

  “Half-coffee, half-espresso, one pump of simple syrup,” he said, his voice low over my shoulder, just before his hand pressed against my stomach, holding me against his waist. “It’s a little bit bitter, with just a tease of sweet.”