Master's Blood (The Shifter Chronicles 6)

by M. D. Grimm

  It was when Nordik’s hand slipped down to cup Poe’s groin that he twisted away and stumbled off Nordik’s lap. He backed away and wiped his mouth, horrified at his lack of control when it came to the master shifter. Nordik’s eyes were glowing, and Poe knew what that meant. A shifter’s eyes and skin only reacted to extreme emotions―usually anger or lust. Poe knew that Nordik was in lust―and, indeed, there was an impressive bulge in Nordik’s jeans.

  “Stop it, Nordik,” he said, panting. “Just stop.”

  “Never.” Nordik stalked over to him, and Poe stood his ground. He lifted his chin and stared Nordik down. It was hard, considering their considerable height difference, but Poe was used to it.

  “I said no.”

  Nordik halted, and his eyes narrowed, his skin rippling. “Your scent says otherwise.”

  Poe took a deep breath. “I would have to be dead to not be attracted to you, Nordik. And I am, I admit it. But if I fuck you, I will be exiled from the Agency. I am an agent.”

  “But you’re more than that.” Nordik’s eyes dimmed, and his skin gradually settled. The bulge remained, but Poe felt more in control of the situation.

  “I was ordered here to gain your alliance,” Poe said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “But it became something more.” Nordik straightened to his full height and appeared rather superior. Poe really hated alpha males sometimes.

  “You belong to me now.”

  Poe’s wounded hand screamed in agony when he curled it into a fist. He was too pissed to care. “Watch it. You have no right to get possessive of me. You have no claim over me.”

  “Haven’t I?” Nordik said. Poe bared his teeth. “You were mine the moment you stepped foot into Sanctuary. You were mine when I first scented you, when I first saw you. You were mine when you sacrificed your hand for my life. You were mine when you entered my home.” Nordik gestured to the cave they were in. “And you were mine not a minute ago when you responded to my touch.”

  “That doesn’t make me yours,” Poe said slowly. “I will never be yours until I consent to being dominated by a pigheaded, arrogant, master shifter who thinks he’s king of the mountain.”

  Nordik fell silent for a moment. Poe didn’t know what to expect. He was completely out of his league. Sure, shifters had made moves on him before, and he’d always been able to brush them off. None had ever been this persistent. How do you dissuade a guy who believes to his core that you’re his mate?

  “Damn you,” Nordik whispered.

  Poe’s back went up. “Damn you, Nordik. Go find someone else to fuck.”

  Nordik let out such a growl that Poe was ready for him to shift. Instead Nordik turned away and paced the length of the cave.

  “Dammit, Poe,” Nordik suddenly burst out as he turned. “I don’t choose my mates, they choose me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. They choose me. All of my mates have come into my life during a radical change. Wars, famine, the journey into the western states. They find me and I scent them. They bring knowledge. They pull me from my loneliness, from my self-imposed solitude. They give me new life.”

  “And you think that’s me?” Poe didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in his voice.

  “Yes.” Nordik spread his hands, staring at Poe with frustrated determination. “Think about it. What significant event has recently happened, one you had a personal hand in?”

  Poe swallowed hard. The infiltration of the Knights.

  “And I’ve never known an agent personally.” Nordik swept his eyes over him rather intrusively.

  Poe’s stomach clenched. “You’ve made a mistake.”

  Nordik smiled humorlessly. “I don’t make mistakes when it comes to this. I have begun to think I might rejoin human society in a few years. Perhaps I will sooner.”

  Poe could only shake his head, his anger replaced by pure panic. It made his insides tremble, made his stomach twist into slippery knots, made his breathing back up. He felt the sudden fight-or-flight response. Part of his mind wanted him to flee.

  “I have long sought solace in the simplicity of the forest.” Nordik’s voice was soft. “But now I seek it elsewhere.”

  “How do you do it?” Poe couldn’t raise his voice above a whisper. “How can you keep loving and losing the way you do? Don’t you find it exhausting? Useless? All of your mates die.”

  Nordik looked down at his hands. His anger seemed to have calmed. “What other choice do I have? I cannot spend my entire life alone. I don’t even know how long I might live.”

  For the first time since meeting Nordik, Poe saw him vulnerable. He caught the chink in the armor, his weakness. To some, immortality was seen as a gift, a reward. But it came with a price. Even if you were immortal, you still had to contend with death. The reaper still took the ones you loved.

  “I can’t imagine,” Poe said, finding some understanding to Nordik’s persistence.

  “No, you can’t.” He met Poe’s gaze. “But you have been lonely as well, haven’t you? All you have is the Agency. Is that enough?”

  Before he’d met Nordik, it had been enough. One-night stands had satisfied his physical urges, but emotional needs? He didn’t usually have any. The Agency was all, and his agent friends filled his need for companionship. He also had his family, the large amount of kin on his mother’s side. But as he considered Nordik, really gazed at the master shifter, he started to wonder, to imagine.

  That was dangerous.

  “It has to be.” Poe forcefully shoved his fledgling fantasies away. “I’m an agent. I can’t be anything else.”

  Nordik narrowed his eyes, frustration evident in his stance. Poe looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. He winced when his wounded hand began to ache again, and he walked over to his bag to take more Advil. Maybe he should try something stronger. The pain was getting really annoying.

  “I need to think about the alliance,” Nordik said after several minutes of silence.

  Poe thought that was progress. “Okay. How long do you need?”

  Nordik snorted. “I don’t know.” Then he studied Poe, as if deciding something. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  “Um, okay.” Poe wondered at Nordik’s moods

  Then Nordik pulled off his pants, and Poe got an eyeful of an erection at half-mast.

  “Is that what you wanted to show me?” Poe was unable to stop staring. “Because, no offense, I’ve seen several before―”

  “No.” Nordik chuckled and looked genuinely amused. “No, there is something else. But you wouldn’t be making jokes about my friend if you’d experienced his skill.”

  Poe rolled his eyes. Nordik grinned before shifting, becoming the white bear once more. Sighing, resigned, he walked over and got onto Nordik’s back. He held on tightly as Nordik ran out of the cave.

  The guy was a force of nature and used to getting his way. The fact was, Poe was certain he wouldn’t mind so much letting Nordik dominate him. Being with Nordik would certainly be a wild ride.

  But why the hell was he thinking about this? Poe shook his head roughly and clung tighter to Nordik’s fur as the shifter charged through the forest. He soon lost all sense of direction and simply focused on not jostling his damaged hand too much. How was he going to convince Nordik to join the Agency? Especially when Poe had his own doubts about Chief Anu’s intentions? How could he ask Nordik to trust an organization with traitors in high positions?

  Poe didn’t doubt that Nordik had dealt with shady people in years past. He wasn’t ignorant to the United States’ past dealings with the indigenous peoples and immigrants. But he thought the idea of allying with master shifters had merit. He also thought the Agency should inform other shifter packs and herds about the leaderless knights.

  Sheriff Jack was right. Shifters weren’t infants. They were capable, and the more eyes out looking, the faster the Agency could round up the knights. The shifters were the targets after all. Why shouldn’t the
y fight?

  Frustrated and tired, Poe wanted this damn trip to end. He didn’t want to fight with Nordik anymore, and he didn’t want to feel this damn conflict inside him. He just wanted to do his job. He just wanted to be an agent.

  The sound of water met Poe’s ears, and he looked up as the trees parted and revealed a cascading waterfall with a large pool underneath. The water was clear, the air around it fresh and misty. The thunder of the falls was strangely soothing. Poe slid off Nordik when the master shifter stopped beside the pool.

  Nordik shifted and became a man once more. He stood, and Poe gazed at his butt, his long legs, and his muscled back. Old scars marred his copper skin but didn’t detract from his masculine beauty. Poe forced his gaze away, which was getting harder to do. It was hard not to surrender when half of him desired it.

  “I come here to think.” Nordik stretched, completely unashamed of his nudity. This time, Poe watched. Muscle and bone moved elegantly under the tight skin. Poe’s mouth watered. Then Nordik turned, and Poe’s pants suddenly felt very tight. Nordik had no body hair except for what was on his head and around his groin. That was odd considering he was a bear shifter.

  “You know,” Poe said, still staring. “Some shifters are able to keep their clothes on, even when they shift.”

  “I can do that as well.” Nordik shrugged his wide shoulders. “But I find clothes constricting. When I shift, I want freedom.”

  “Oh.” Poe was only half listening.

  Nordik smiled, as if knowing Poe’s thoughts. Then the shifter turned and dove into the deep pool, the clear water showing him smoothly swimming below the surface. Poe walked closer to the pool and sat down. He could live here. He knew he could. He could see himself swimming in that pool, hiking through the mountains, coming home, and making love with Nordik until they were both too exhausted to move. But what about his responsibilities? His oath to the Agency? What about Josh and the loose knights and the other shifters who needed his help…?

  Poe shook his head and touched his chest, thinking of the tattoo etched into his skin. He took his oath seriously. He had signed over his life to the Agency, and he had meant it.

  He dipped his fingers into the cold water. Fantasy wouldn’t find the rest of the knights. Fantasy wouldn’t help the shifters harmed by the Knights. Fantasy wouldn’t bring Josh back. Poe needed to live in reality. It was just so hard after finding a master shifter who wanted to be his mate. Poe never had anyone so possessive of him, so determined to claim him. While his independent nature rejected the very notion, part of him, the small secret part of him who had always longed for a life partner, was thrilled and astonished that such a shifter wanted him.

  Nordik broke the surface not far from Poe, wearing a large grin. He couldn’t help but smile. Dominant, playful, gentle, and strong―how could Poe resist him?

  “Come in.” Nordik gestured.

  Poe snorted. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to see my ass.” Then he held up his bandaged hand. “Sorry, that would be a no-go.”

  Nordik winced, apparently forgetting about Poe’s injury. He wished he could. Poe considered his hand and finally gave thought to what he’d been trying to avoid. Lila might be able to give him some strength back to his hand but it would never be the same again. It would always be weaker than his right hand, and in mortal combat that would be a great disadvantage. He’d received other severe injuries while on the job, the most recent, other than the hand, was the large slice to his right calf. He had a collection of scars and bullet holes, but his hand injury took the grand prize.

  Nordik swam over and gripped the edge of the pool, treading water beside him. Nordik looked good wet.

  “How is your hand?” Nordik asked gently.

  Poe smiled slightly. “As well as you might expect.”

  “Can you move your fingers?”

  He sighed. “Not without intense pain.”

  “I am sorry, Poe.” Nordik touched his knee. “I am truly sorry you got injured protecting me.”

  Poe shrugged, embarrassed. “Hey, it’s my fault. I could have just grabbed the knight’s wrist and jerked up, sending his shot into the air. But that’s what happens when I don’t think, just react.”

  “Still.” Nordik came closer. “I am grateful.”

  Poe looked down into Nordik’s gaze. He wanted to kiss him again. His pants were still constricting his erection, and his peaceful surroundings were affecting his brain. He was beginning to daydream.

  “You have enough time to think, yet?”

  Nordik grinned. “Not yet.”

  Poe sighed loudly. Nordik chuckled and lifted himself out of the water. The water droplets slid off his taunt skin. Poe felt the sudden urge to lick them off.

  “Jesus, Poe,” he murmured to himself. “Get a grip.”

  “What was that?”

  “What?” Poe stood. “Nothing. Are we going?”

  “Not yet.” Nordik took Poe’s good hand. He led Poe closer to the waterfall and pointed up. Poe realized the rock beside the waterfall formed handy foot holes and hand holes. He held up his wounded hand again. Nordik simply smiled again and turned around, kneeling. He looked over his shoulder at Poe.

  “I’ll carry you.”

  Poe’s stomach fluttered painfully, and he didn’t have the heart to argue. Any reason to press up against that awesome body… and he was curious. What was up there?

  He wrapped his arms around Nordik’s neck and his legs around the shifter’s waist. Nordik stood. Poe pressed his nose to Nordik’s hair and took a deep breath. He became harder and he knew Nordik felt it as well. But to Nordik’s credit, he didn’t say a word. He simply climbed.

  And climbed. And climbed. It was a very tall waterfall. Poe glanced over his shoulder and felt slightly ill. He wasn’t fond of heights. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against Nordik’s back. As he clung tightly to Nordik, he realized that he trusted the shifter with his life. One wrong move and they would plummet to the jagged rocks below. But oddly, Poe knew in his gut that Nordik would never let him fall. This was the first time he’d trusted anyone but an agent and his family to have his back.

  Nordik had never once lied to him. He’d been up front from the beginning. Poe could be no less honest.

  “We’re here,” Nordik said. Poe felt the spray from the waterfall and dared to look. Nordik took them into a small cave behind the falls. Nordik crawled farther inside, since the roof was very low, and Poe was still on his back.

  “Let me off,” he whispered, since it felt like he should speak quietly in a place like this.

  Nordik stopped. Poe slid off, sitting on the damp floor.

  “Why are we here?”

  “Do you have a match?” Nordik asked.

  Poe frowned and dug out a box of matches from inside his jacket pocket. Nordik took the box, lit one, and placed it close to the wall. Poe scooted closer, squinting. Upon the rock were primitive drawings. Depictions of a hunt at first, and when Nordik moved the match farther along the wall, there was a depiction of a shifter shifting―into a bear.

  “Your tribe?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Nordik said, just as softly. The match went out, and they sat in the semidarkness, the thunder of the water strangely muffled in the cave, even though it was right outside.

  “You miss them.” It wasn’t a question. Poe thought of his parents.

  “Of course I do.” Nordik sat, leaning against the wall. Poe sat next to him, feeling more comfortable in the dark. “But I have my memories. And there is evidence of them everywhere in this land, if you only know where to look.”

  “Were there other white bears in your tribe?”

  “No. I was the first. And the last.” Nordik’s voice held a note of sadness that touched Poe’s heart. His eyes were adjusting quickly to the dark, and he managed to find Nordik’s hand and hold it. Nordik tightened his grip, linking his fingers with Poe’s.

  “When other tribes saw me as the bear, they called me mooksgm�
��ol. It means ‘spirit bear’.”

  Poe remembered hearing something about that. That word was from a tribe that used to reside in British Columbia. He couldn’t remember what tribe, though. “Yeah, but aren’t those black bears who are born white?”

  “A bear was a bear during that time.” Nordik shrugged. “But I was larger than the other white bears, and I was seen as their leader. My tribe made me chief when I came of age, and I stayed chief through years of change.”

  Poe was soothed by this place. It was amazing to think that long-dead native peoples would have sat where they were sitting at that moment. They would have been talking like he and Nordik were. They were in a place where history was alive on the walls.

  “Would you like to know why I won’t contact the other master shifters?” Nordik asked, stroking his thumb over the back of Poe’s hand.

  “Yes, I would.”

  Nordik’s eyes were actually glowing faintly in the dark. “Because Merlin told us not to.”

  Poe’s jaw dropped open. “M-Merlin? He’s―you mean he’s real?”

  “Very.” Nordik regarded Poe. “He was the very first shifter and the only one who can choose which primal spirit to shift into.”

  “I thought he was a myth,” Poe managed to say. He was a little dizzy with the revelation that Merlin, the Merlin, was real. Well, Genii was right and she’d never let him forget it.

  “Many believe he is,” Nordik said. “But I have met him several times over my life. While he is father to all shifters, master shifters have a more direct link to him. That is why were are immortal.”

  “What’s he like?” Poe asked, fascinated.

  “Lonely. Ashamed of his past.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He’s never told me. I don’t think he’s told anyone.” Nordik paused. “But I know it was a terrible thing. An unforgiveable act. He searches for redemption.”

  “But why would he want the master shifters to stay apart?”

  “We are vulnerable when we are together,” Nordik said. “We become weaker, our quick healing, our lengthened lives, fade.”

  “Why?”