Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

  Aspen swallowed the lump in her throat. “Jacob, meet Hope.”

  “I have a baby sister?” he asked with a grin. Before she thought to warn him against physical contact, he reached out to caress his sister’s cheek.

  Hope grasped his pinkie finger. Her baby blue eyes took on a beautiful golden hue. A soft light spilled from her small hands, setting Jacob’s arm aglow before spreading through the rest of his body.

  Aspen watched as Jacob closed his eyes and silently began to cry. After several minutes, he opened them and met Aspen’s gaze. “It’s okay. Hope just took me to see my mom and dad…one more time,” he said with a quivering chin. “I got to say good-bye to them. I’ll be staying with Dillan and his folks now.” Jacob paused, and Aspen could see he was trying his hardest to be brave. “My mom said it has to be this way for the good of our people.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jacob.” Aspen didn’t know what else to say as the boy kissed his sister on the cheek and turned to walk back the way he had come.

  * * *

  Tora moved on to the next delivery, her heart still heavy from losing Hope’s mother. Harmony had entrusted Tora with her life, and she had failed her, plain and simple. She’d hemorrhaged immediately after giving birth, just like countless Shrouds before her. Despite exhaustive research, Tora still hadn’t found a way to stop this from happening.

  With great effort, she set the loss aside. She’d return to Harmony’s body later to hold her hand and mourn, just like she’d done with every Shroud patient she’d lost over the years. Now wasn’t the time to indulge in her own grief. She had six other babies to deliver and six other moms to keep a close eye on.

  Every Shroud she’d ever met possessed an intuitive understanding of the greater good within the Shroud community. Even though they knew their chances of survival were fifty-fifty at best, every female Shroud who was capable of reproducing eagerly jumped at the chance to bring new life into the world.

  All Shrouds felt the immense weight of responsibility to do their part to increase the Shroud population. At the rate humans were killing them off, extinction of their species was inevitable. All Shrouds were aware of the need for a Myriad. Their only hope for survival as a species was to bring a new Myriad into the world by giving birth to one.

  Shrouds were selfless creatures. Tora couldn’t say the same for humans. Deep down, she loathed humans—a prejudice she was keenly aware of that she constantly fought to keep under control. All of the humans she knew were self-centered, narrow-minded, ego-driven, and consumed with finding the quickest and easiest route to self-gratification. Humans could learn a thing or two from Shrouds. She had always believed the world would be a much better place if humans were more like Shrouds.

  Her thoughts returned to Aspen as she prepped for an all-day marathon of deliveries. She froze as the memory of Aspen reaching over to hold her hand returned. Still reeling from Harmony’s death, Tora hadn’t resisted. At all. She should have pulled away, made it known in no uncertain terms that she was off limits.

  She shook her head, chastising herself. Hadn’t she just vowed to maintain a professional distance from Aspen for the good of her people? She searched for reasons to explain her sudden lack of self-control. Self-discipline had never been a problem in the past. Once she made up her mind to do something, she did it. No exceptions. Unwavering focus and the determination to see tasks through to completion had always come easy to her. Why should this be any different?

  She did a quick internal check. Physical and mental exhaustion. That explained it. Her resolve to keep Aspen at arm’s length was compromised by lack of sleep. After this was over and all the babies were safely delivered, she would make it a point to get some rest. With sufficient sleep, she’d be back to herself and better equipped to resist any temptations that came her way. In fact, she’d probably find Aspen just as irritating as when they’d first met.

  * * *

  Back in chamber one, Aspen lifted Hope from Skye’s arms and made her way to the kitchen where everyone had gathered for breakfast. All fifteen Shrouds were seated around a mammoth bench table with enough food to feed a small army—which was kind of what they were, Aspen reminded herself.

  Oscar was at the head of the table with Miller on his right—he was literally and figuratively Oscar’s right-hand man. Beckett, Johnston, and the other five pack members were seated in a row after Miller. To Oscar’s left sat Helga, Mrs. B, Liam, Hank, Tony, and Pierre. Everyone was engaged in conversation. No one seemed to notice as she and Skye approached. Aspen looked around and smiled to herself. It felt good to see everyone gathered around the table like family.

  Her stomach growled at the tantalizing aromas. Chocolate chip pancakes, cinnamon buns, bagels, hash browns, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, fresh fruit. She practically drooled when she spotted the crepes near the edge of the table. Their close proximity made it difficult to focus.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?” she said as the conversation ebbed to an awkward silence. Forks paused in midair. All eyes shifted to her. She leaned over and whispered to Pierre, “Are those your famous chocolate-strawberry crepes?”

  Pierre nodded with a wink and a half smile that made his handlebar moustache tilt to one side.

  “Focus, Aspen,” Skye whispered beside her.

  She straightened and cleared her throat. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to our newest Myriad, Hope.”

  Murmurs of excitement coursed through the room like adrenaline. Oscar shot up from the table at the other end and made a beeline for Hope. He was drawn to the baby like a magnet. She’d seen it happen countless times throughout her life. Without fail, Oscar would drop whatever he was doing just to have the chance to look at a baby. If he was lucky enough to catch a toothless smile or a coo, he’d be all sunshine and rainbows for a week.

  Hope wriggled in her arms as Oscar approached. “Another Myriad,” he said in wonder, peering down with the goofy grin he reserved for anything cute. “She’s gorgeous. Who does she belong to?”

  “Me,” Aspen replied.

  “Very funny.”

  “Not kidding.”

  “I thought we had this talk already. No boys.” He frowned. “You pinkie swore.”

  “That hasn’t changed—”

  “Then how’d this happen? I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Oscar looked from Aspen to Skye. His eyes grew wide.

  Skye took a step back. “Don’t look at me. I don’t like boys, either.”

  Aspen made a mental note to ask Skye about that later. “Hope’s mom and dad are both dead,” she said sadly.

  “Oh.” Oscar let out his breath. “For a minute there, I was ready to make another hasty departure with a heart attack.”

  “Glad you didn’t.” Aspen transferred the baby to Oscar. “She needs you.”

  He accepted the tiny Myriad, supporting her head like a pro. Hope looked even smaller and more vulnerable in Oscar’s muscular arms.

  Hank came up alongside them and slapped Oscar on the back. “Sounds like congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, little one.” He reached out for Hope’s hand and jumped back in surprise as the sound of a live wire sizzled in the air. “Ouch,” he yelled, massaging his hand in earnest.

  “Thanks for the reminder, Hank.” She turned to Oscar. “I should also mention she won’t let anyone but you, me, Skye, and Tora near her.”

  “You could’ve led with that,” Hank said, still rubbing his hand.

  “I still have six other newborns to bless. They’re due any time now.” Aspen glanced at her watch. “I need to head back.”

  * * *

  Twelve hours and six blessings later, Aspen and Tora shuffled out of the closet like two old ladies. They collapsed on Aspen’s bed, side by side.

  Aspen lay there, exhausted and unable to move. Six additional Myriads were born healthy—all girls. Unfortunately, four out of eight moms hadn’t made it. Even though Tora had explained that
the Shroud maternal mortality rate was high, Aspen could hardly believe it. In today’s day and age, those odds were staggering. But she reminded herself that these were Shroud mothers, not human.

  “Do I still have feet?” Tora asked.

  Lifting her upper body with Herculean effort, Aspen balanced on her elbows and glanced down. “I think that’s what they’re called,” she said, delirious from exhaustion. “Those are the things at the end of your legs?”

  “Yeah. Those. I can’t feel them anymore. Good to know they’re still attached.”

  Aspen sank back down to the bed and kicked her sneakers to the floor. “So you do have a sense of humor.”

  “I wasn’t being funny. When you’re a Shroud and you’re this tired, sometimes body parts can shift on their own.”

  Suddenly feeling wide awake, Aspen imagined herself in human form with furry black paws in place of both feet. “How often has that happened to you?” she asked, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Never.” Tora grinned as their eyes met. “I’m kidding.”

  “And the sense of humor finally pokes its shriveled-up self out of the dark hole it’s been hiding in.”

  “I had you there for a minute, didn’t I?”

  “Not a full minute. A few microseconds, maybe.”

  Tora sighed. “We should practice melding.”

  “You want to do the naked thing? Now?” Too tired to lift her arm and check her watch, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s ten fifteen at night. We’re both totally wiped.”

  Tora sat up and removed her sneakers, setting them neatly on the floor beside the bed. “Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than sleep right now. But these are ideal conditions for melding. Chances of successfully shapeshifting during a melding session increase substantially when you’re this tired.” She yawned. “Physical and mental exhaustion push you closer to your animal instincts.”

  “My animal instincts are pushing me toward eight hours of hibernation.”

  Clad in blue scrubs, Tora stood from the bed and loosened the knot at her waist. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Once you shapeshift for the first time, you’ll forget all about these melding sessions.” She slid her pants down long legs.

  “Sessions? As in”—Aspen stood and unbuttoned her jeans—“more than one?”

  Tora nodded, slipping out of her shirt. “We’ll continue these sessions nightly until you feel confident in your shapeshifting abilities.”

  Before Aspen knew it, Tora was facing her in nothing but a sports bra and underwear. With a deep breath, she told herself it wouldn’t be weird. She wanted desperately to shapeshift. This was nothing more than a quick stop on the road to getting there. Just ignore the weirdness of getting naked with this beautiful doctor. Focus on learning how to shift.

  Tora reached over and grabbed a hunter-green throw from the end of the bed. Unfolding it, she shook it out flat to cover the floor. “Once we remove the last of our clothing, you’ll lie down first. I’ll lie on top of you. We’ll take several deep breaths together, and you’ll mirror my breathing. When our hearts start beating in sync, you’ll hold on to my body as tight as you can while I shapeshift. I’ll try to slow it down as much as possible to let you feel my body as it’s changing. We’ll repeat this process several times. Any questions before we start?”

  Tora’s gaze was forthright and strong. No games. No hidden agenda. Not even a hint of self-consciousness. Impressed with the leader standing before her, Aspen hesitated. Getting naked with another woman had never been an issue. But as soon as she removed her shirt, Tora would see the scars on her stomach from her suicide attempt eighteen years ago. Whenever someone asked about them, Aspen always handled it with a made-up story about emergency surgery for something or other. All the women she’d dated over the years had taken her at her word. No one ever pushed for the details, and she’d never once felt guilty for lying to them. But today with Tora felt different. Aspen was surprised to realize she didn’t want to lie to her.

  “Something’s wrong. What is it?” Tora asked, looking suddenly concerned.

  “I have scars.” Aspen met her gaze. “You’ll see them when I undress. I always lie about how I got them.” She pulled her shirt and sports bra over her head.

  Tora glanced down to look at Aspen’s stomach before resuming eye contact. “What happened?”

  “When I was twelve, I tried to kill myself.”

  Tora sighed, looking concerned. “Things had to have been pretty awful for a twelve-year-old to do that to herself.”

  “They were. But Oscar saved me. That’s how we met.”

  “And that’s how Skye met you. She was going to jump from the building to commit suicide, wasn’t she?”

  Aspen nodded. Separated by just a few feet, she locked eyes with Tora. They held gazes for long seconds.

  “Are we sharing a moment?” Aspen set her hands on her hips. “I’m only asking because standing here half-naked makes sharing this moment with you a little awkward.”

  “Oh, right.” Tora looked down at herself. “Best to be mutually naked when a moment is shared.” Quickly shedding her undergarments, she folded them, set them neatly on the bed, and turned to face Aspen. “There. Better?”

  “Much. But I’m not going to say you’re beautiful because that would just make this weirder than it already is.” Aspen slipped out of her underwear and tossed it on the floor.

  “And I won’t say it back to you because I’m not in the habit of complimenting somebody I don’t like.” Tora knelt on the blanket and patted the floor. “Come on.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Aspen eased her body down to the blanket, Tora instructed her to close her eyes and imagine what it would feel like to be inside the body of a panther. “We’re going to do some guided imagery,” she said, her voice like silk. “Your human body is just a mask. Beneath that mask lies a panther. Your black fur coat is sleek, shiny, and soft to the touch. You’re a top predator. With that comes strength, cunning, and confidence. Your teeth and claws are formidable weapons. Your sense of hearing is extraordinary, picking up the slightest rustle in the trees above or a whispered conversation on the ground hundreds of yards away. Even in darkness, your eyes hone in on the tiniest detail because your eyesight has evolved to match your nighttime predatory instincts. This is who you are—who you were born to be. You’re a panther.”

  Tora had moved into position directly above her. Aspen kept her eyes closed. She could feel the heat from Tora’s body, now just inches from her own.

  Tora whispered in her ear, “Breathe with me, Aspen. Listen to my breaths, and stay with them.”

  Aspen blocked out all other thoughts as she listened to Tora’s steady breathing. Goose bumps traveled the length of her body when she felt their hearts begin to synchronize in rhythm. As Tora lowered herself and their bodies connected, Aspen had a vision that shook her to the core.

  She and Tora were in a birthing room. This time, however, Tora was the patient. Round and pregnant, she was in active labor and pushing with all her might. Aspen was at Tora’s bedside, holding her hand. Showing an unfathomable level of self-control, Tora remained in human form the entire time.

  Aspen looked down at their intertwined hands and saw they were both wearing wedding bands. She suddenly realized they were married. Tora was giving birth to their first child—a girl. They had already chosen Dawn as her name. Born a Myriad, there was no need for Aspen to do a blessing. Like her beautiful mother, their daughter’s primary animal would be a lioness.

  The doctor placed the infant in Aspen’s arms as he cut the umbilical cord. Her exhilaration in that moment was soon replaced with dread as the machines attached to Tora began sounding their alarms. A nurse stepped over, shouldering Aspen aside. “She’s losing blood. We need to transfuse her. Tora? Stay with us.”

  And just like that, the love of her life was gone. Aspen was left to raise their daughter alone.

  “Keep your eyes closed.�
�� The sound of Tora’s voice jolted her from the vision. “Hold on tight.”

  Aspen felt Tora’s body growing longer, heavier, and bulkier. Tora’s feminine curves shifted into muscular shoulders. Their hearts still beating in rhythm, she was aware that Tora’s head and jaw were taking on a more predatory shape. Despite the fact that her eyes were still closed, she watched as Tora’s cells morphed within her body, seamlessly coordinating their structure into those of a lioness.

  She was so tuned in to Tora that she pushed aside the sound of buzzing in her own ears. A nuisance at first, she was able to ignore it and focus on Tora. But the buzzing soon grew in volume, pulsing through her body like a thousand bees. Before she had time to think about it, her own body began to change.

  Aspen felt powerless to stop it. It was like rolling downhill in a car without brakes. Part of her was afraid. Realizing she wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat of her own body, she felt truly out of control for the first time in her life. Once the initial panic subsided, she was surprised to discover that a part of her longed to surrender completely. So she did.

  As her body finished shifting, she rolled over, sprang to her feet, and faced Tora. She felt powerful, fierce, deadly. She flashed back to carrying her weapon in full police uniform for the first time on the streets. That feeling of empowerment paled in comparison to what she was experiencing now. But she wasn’t as comfortable in this form as she thought she’d be. Felt like she was wearing shoes that were just a little too big.

  Tora immediately shifted back to human form. “Well done!” she said with a grin. “I didn’t expect you to shift on the first try. Returning to human form is a lot easier. I’ll walk you through it, but you should take a look at yourself first.” She opened the closet to reveal a full-length mirror on the inside of the door.

  Aspen stepped closer to the mirror, exhilarated as each of her paws made contact with the floor. Expecting the reflection of a panther, what she saw in the mirror startled her. There, staring back at her, was a large and ferocious-looking lioness. Confused, she looked up at Tora in question.