by Liz Paffel
Shift After Dark
Liz Paffel
Copyright © 2020 Liz Paffel
Previously published as WINTER SHIFT by Elizabeth Otto, d.b.a Liz Paffel, 2018
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. References to real people, places, organizations, events, and products are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and not to be construed as real.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Shift After Dark
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
Chapter Fifteen
Shift and Seduce
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Connect with Liz
Dear Reader,
As a kid, I’d wander through the woods surrounding my forest home and imagine the woodland critters would shift and become my friends. For years, my imagination dreamed up imaginary fantasy worlds, animal shifters, and all sorts of fantastical creatures. Many of those ideas stayed with me as an adult.
Shift After Dark is just one foray into the fantasy that’s brewed in my mind for a long, long time. Kaleo is a dragon shifter with metallic feathers and human skin coated in gold. Luca, poor, Luca, is a Warrior trapped in his animal body, with his clock steadily ticking before the worst happens. And Gavin? Well, Gavin is the Alpha every girl dreams about.
Take a walk through the North Reserve, just be wary. Sometimes the woodland creatures BITE!
And, wait! The first two chapters of the next book in the Shock Collar series, SHIFT AND SEDUCE, is waiting for you at the end of this book!
Happy Reading,
Liz Paffel
Chapter One
Beware the big, bad wolf.
The road cutting through the thick pines became a barely discernable path as the driver navigated the snow-covered ground, taking Isla Lindsburg deeper into the forest. Is this how Little Red Riding Hood had felt—tight chested, flooded with fear—as she went into the dark, dangerous woods? Only, Red didn’t know a predator was waiting for her. Isla knew exactly what to expect when she reached her destination, and it was much, much worse than a wolf.
She gripped the handle of her canvas duffel. She’d never been this far from the city, had never seen such pristine beauty. Fluffy snow piled on evergreen branches and twinkled with tiny dots of sunlight. It was magical, and she couldn’t wait to get her first full breath of crisp, frigid wilderness air. It was the small things after all. It’s true. That saying about realizing what’s important when life becomes small and time is suddenly carefully measured instead of abundant. She wasn’t taking anything for granted. Not the warmth inside the car, or the comfort of her jacket against her back, or the anticipation of being immersed in the winter forest.
Or, the final touch of a loved one’s hand.
If only she’d spent more time on that last one.
Her cell phone beeped. Isla jerked at the sound. She’d been holding it so tightly against her thigh, she forgot it was there. Her eyes filled with tears. There was only one person who’d be contacting her, which meant it was time for a final goodbye. The screen blurred behind her tears as she read the message.
Your phone’s tracker says I’m going to lose you in about two minutes.
Two minutes until she forever lost contact with the outside world and the only person who mattered in her life. She typed a response with trembling hands.
I wish you were with me.
I know, sis. I do, too. Remember what I told you about the phone? I don’t want them to find you.
I remember. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she typed with trembling fingers. I love you, Bjorn.
Seconds ticked by as she waited for a response, but her screen remained blank. Forty-eight hours ago, she and Bjorn had the Order Enforcement Agency on their heels. They’d barely escaped. Such was the risk of delivering illegal pain medications to the sick and dying. Isla had never imagined a world where sharing acetaminophen with someone in pain could result in imprisonment and severe punishment.
Bjorn had been begging her for weeks to flee to the woods. To hide and live out the rest of her life with some freedom instead of locked up behind the Agency’s bars. After they’d nearly been caught in an undercover sting for dispensing simple pain medications to the needy, she’d finally taken his advice. But her brother? He’d stayed behind, said he had a safe place. She’d give anything to have him here.
“Please be okay, Bjorn,” she whispered as she held the phone against her chest.
She didn’t want these last seconds with him to be clouded with anything but the love and gratitude in her heart. She had to believe her brother was safely in hiding. Soon, she would be too. Hopefully.
Her insides squeezed. Safety was relative in this crazy world. She had her choice between the ruthless, often violent, and lawless Agency officers, or the creature in the woods who may help her.
Or turn out to be her worst nightmare.
Bjorn assured her that wouldn’t be the case, but the creature he’d worked with in the military and loved like a brother hadn’t been seen or heard from in years. Maybe he’d sunk so far into his primal animal that she’d be a simple meal for him. Or a plaything. Or—
The LED light on her phone flashed. She gasped in relief.
I love you, too, Isla. Tell Gavin hello for me. Twenty seconds.
Jesus, twenty seconds? No... ten now, nine... the screen started to break with static. Six... five... her tears ran as the phone flashed with brilliant light and fizzled to black. She flipped it over and removed the battery, pulled a little tab in the compartment, and put the battery back. A tendril of smoke curled up from the device, the plastic getting hot in her hand. But she couldn’t seem to let go of it.
She didn’t want to let go.
“Toss it out the window before it combusts and takes your hand with it.”
She jerked at the driver’s voice. The window on her right lowered from a button he must have pressed up front.
“Goodbye, Bjorn,” she whispered and threw the phone. It landed in the snow and burst into flame. Isla watched the orange glow flicker until she lost visual. Cold air rippled across her face as the driver closed the window.
A wave of overwhelming grief filled her chest. She’d just said goodbye to her brother, her last living relative.
Forever.
“Miss?”
Isla hiccupped around the lump in her throat. She couldn’t give in to the rise of emotions inside. Wiping her eyes, she steeled herself. “You’re not supposed... not supposed to talk to me.”
She’d been instructed not to interact with the driver and assumed the same went for him. The pretense of anonymity was key for those who went to the house. She’d been curious about the driver, though, sneaking peaks at the slight bits of his profile she could see. Bjorn had told her the driver had been taking people to the resting house for four years—driving people in, but of course, never out. He, Bjorn, and Gavin Perry were the only people who knew where the Hous
e was and what went on there.
She’s be comfortable there. As comfortable as a dying woman could be.
Looking up front, she caught the man’s gray-blue eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I have instructions for you, miss.” His voice was gravely but amicable. Isla held his gaze and nodded for him to continue. Bjorn hadn’t said anything about instructions.
His forehead furrowed above bushy eyebrows. The concerned, grandfatherly look about him was a touch comforting.
“I will tell you about the SVH.”
She trembled. Gavin Perry had a reputation, not only because his human side was a decorated military officer. But because his animal side was said to be a heartless, savage monster. Her brother assured her that he’d left that part of himself behind after the war, when he was no longer required to kill ruthlessly in the name of victory. But how could anyone control a raging animal inside like that?
“The SVH hunt from dusk until dawn. The resting house sits on the far end of the Ahpret reservation. They have free reign to live and hunt however they wish. The woods are not safe in the dark. Ever. Stay inside or you’re a free meal... unless, pardon my bluntness, that’s how you’re hoping to go.”
She shook her head. Shifter-vampire hybrids, SVH, or Ahpret as they called themselves, were highly predatory in their hunting state. She didn’t intend to meet him while he was starving.
“Bjorn told you about the other risk? The hunters?” He didn’t wait for her to respond as he looked away. “They’re getting braver, encroaching on the reserve more and more in their desperation to get to the Ahpret. You may need to protect yourself.”
Something about the way he said, “desperation,” gave her pause. She crossed her arms and huffed a humorless laugh. Screw the no-interacting rule. She couldn’t sit here and have a one-sided conversation. Besides, the more they travelled, the more her melancholy spiked and made each second more precious. Isla wiped at her wet cheeks, but the trickle of tears didn’t wane. These moments held her last interactions with another human.
“My brother said that all the Ahpret have left the reserve for Canada.”
One side of the driver’s mouth twitched before falling into a serious line.
“The Alpha is still here and if he’s hanging around, I’d bet there are more. He’s in line to be their new King. The SVH are loyal. They won’t abandon their leader. You can bet there are a few who stayed behind to look after him.”
Isla had grown up immersed in rumors and grand stories about the SVH of the North Reserve. Humans were enthralled by them, but wary, a sort of like watching a lion behind iron bars. Whispers of humans trespassing onto the very edges of the ten-thousand-acre North were spooky bedtime stories. Media footage of desiccated human remains sent back to the human side were grisly reality.
Everything within the reserve was secretive, and they protected their rights to the land with an untoward fierceness.
“Is Gavin Perry the Alpha?”
She’d never met the mysterious Gavin, but her brother had relayed enough about their time together in the war that she felt as if she knew him.
He didn’t respond. Not liking the sudden silence, Isla straightened in her seat and leaned forward. “What should I do if a hunter shows up?”
Desperation made people do stupid, dangerous things. Like encroach on Ahpret land and hunt them for their narcotic-like serum.
He shrugged. “Pray.”
Hugging herself, Isla glanced out the window. “Why did you put yourself at risk by driving people here? Aren’t you fearful the Agency will find out?”
He navigated a sharp turn and turned off the headlights as the car slowed.
“I believed in what your brother and the SVH did here.”
The car rolled to a stop. A heavy silence filled the air. The back of her neck prickled. Isla squinted through the dim light. They were still on the main road, no sign of a cabin or even a path.
“This is as far as I can take you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Seriously? Do you always just drop sick people off and — “
“Pardon, miss, but you’re not that sick.”
Her nostrils flared as she scrambled for something to say. Not that sick? How could he possibly know the turmoil going on in the cryptic recesses of her brain? The debilitating pain, the ripping, searing agony... the blood.
She wanted to spit out a sharp retort, but what was the point? Sick was sick. It didn’t matter how ill she looked on the outside. She was well aware of the disease ravaging her body on the inside.
“Look, the last few miles, I’ve had a sense of being watched. If I take the access road, I risk exposing us both. You’re still upright, able to walk on your own. Go due west, half a mile or so.”
It was true; she could walk. She functioned like any healthy, able-bodied adult until the pain came and robbed her of everything. Her pulse ticked up as she wiped a circle on the foggy window and looked out. Daylight was quickly fading.
“It’s almost dusk. You expect me to walk through a forest during SVH feeding time?”
“No,” he twisted in the seat to hand her a heavy metal flashlight, and a key. “I expect you to run.”
His irises were intense with a shimmery glow from the filtered, dying sunlight. Deep crow’s feet framed his eyes. There was no sympathy there.
Hard shivers raced over her body as if she’d gone cold from the inside out.
Coming face-to-face with an Ahpret was really the thing of nightmares. They could outrun you, out stalk you, chase you down. Sink their fangs in your neck and drain your body dry before shifting and ripping you into pieces. Like they did in the war. Or so the stories went.
That was on behalf of our country—our broken, crumbling country, she reminded herself as she swallowed hard and cracked the door. The irony of that thought put a bitter taste in her mouth. The very nation the Ahpret had fought to protect had now turned against them in the worst possible way.
Plus... it was dinner time.
Isla clung to the driver’s gaze as she opened the door. As soon as she stepped out of the car, she’d sever her last tie to civilization. To life.
“Hurry now,” he urged gently. “You wouldn’t want the beast to get you.”
Lifting the strap to her small duffel over her shoulder, Isla edged out of the car. A slap of crisp air hit her face and burned down her throat. Not quite the fantasy she’d had earlier. The car edged forward; the driver’s gaze turned coldly indifferent. He accelerated. Isla jumped back; the car door slamming shut with the forward movement.
Her heart raced as he sped away.
Isla pulled shallow breaths through her nose as she looked side-to-side. Fear had become a ridiculously common element to her routine life. As doctors, she and Bjorn had quietly done whatever they could to treat the sick while under constant threat of being caught.
This was a different type of fear—the raw, primal kind that happened when you were literally at risk for fighting for your life against something that would pick its teeth with your bones.
Something snapped to her left. With a start, she fumbled with the flashlight and clicked it on. There was enough daylight that the shine of the light did little, but the weight of it in her hands was comforting. As if she could club an Ahpret and even hope to get away.
Tucking her chin to her chest, Isla hunched her shoulders and headed west. If she were lucky, she had a couple hours yet before the pain would start, and she wanted to be safely in a bed before it happened.
Her boots made a soft crunch through the snow. It sounded ridiculously loud in the stillness. Struggling to regulate her breathing, Isla focused her gaze in the direction she needed to go. Long, narrow tree trunks and the skeletal bushes jumbled together in the dying light, creating a disorienting path. She resisted the strong urge to look behind her. There was nothing behind her worth seeing. The car was gone, the driver gone. Her brother, far, far away from these woods. The only thing she had left was what lie ahead.
The underbrush suddenly thinned. Isla paused mid-step as the canopy of branches above widened. Puffs of snow fell from above, twinkling in a renewed burst of light and revealing a narrow and clear expanse of snow before her.
A path.
Certain this was a trick of light, Isla paused, uncertain, as if the canopy might snap closed and hide the path. Light snow continued to rain down like glitter, a soft breeze ruffling the branches.
The stillness around her was a bit disconcerting. She was no expert on non-city life, but as far as she was from civilization, she expected more. Birds chirping. Squirrels hopping through the branches. Bunnies scurrying about.
Cinderella’s woodland critters type stuff.
Did the lack of activity mean something ominous? She didn’t want to know; hurried down the path until it finally narrowed, its clean surface broken by a zig-zag line of small tracks in the snow. Deer tracks, maybe? Something with thin enough legs and small hooves to so delicately break the snow.
Suddenly, the snow gave way beneath her. She sank to her knees, the handle of her canvas bag snagged on a low branch. Isla twisted and pulled, momentum throwing her backward as the branch snapped with a loud crack and the bag slid free. She sunk into the snow on her butt, hands flying to her sides to support herself. Panting, she scurried to right herself but the bulk of her jacket and depth of snow made each movement slow and awkward. The still, cold air became stifling as she struggled to get up. Finally pushing to her feet, Isla exhaled a deep breath and grabbed her bag.
And stopped dead.
A tall shadow caught the corner of her eye. Whipping a look that way, she caught something darting behind the trees. Her mind raced to catch up with what her eyes had seen. It looked human—broad shoulders, a broad chest; two legs. Tall. Too tall for a human.
Shit!
She’d been spotted. Afraid any movement would bring attention to herself, but knowing she had no other choice, Isla cautiously turned back to the path and took a few steps. Side-eying the place where the shadow had been, she advanced a little more, tempted to run but forcing a slower pace. If it was an Ahpret, she didn’t want to be chased.
