A Shift in Power (Shadow Claw Book 5)

by Sarah J. Stone

  “So, you are a trained nutritionist then?” she marveled.

  “Yes. That is what I am,” he chuckled.

  “You probably don’t even eat frozen pizza,” she laughed.

  “I prefer not to, but I have my fat days like anyone else where I want to eat something that is completely bad for me. I’d rather have a fresh pizza if I have the time to make one, though.”

  “Oh, I like you even more now. A man that can cook rather than ordering take out all the time.”

  “You could do worse,” he replied with a wink, before tossing the vegetables in a wok with the chicken that had just finished browning. Adding some black bean sauce, he stirred it a bit before stepping over to retrieve plates and wine glasses from a nearby cabinet.

  “Red or white?” he asked, pointing toward the small wine rack on the counter with a half dozen bottles of wine.

  “Oh, I have no clue what sort of wine pairs with stir fry. I’m far from a wine expert,” she said, seeming embarrassed by it.

  “Me neither. They didn’t teach us that in classes. Which do you prefer?”

  “Red!” she said enthusiastically.

  “Red, it is then,” he replied, pulling a bottle from the rack and sitting it to one side while he returned to the stir fry.

  “That smells delicious,” she said, looking into the wok. “I’ll set the table.”

  “That would be great,” he replied, lifting the handle and tossing the vegetables about for a moment before moving them into a large, glass bowl. He pulled the spring rolls he had placed in the oven out and sat them on another plate with two small finger bowls of sweet chili sauce and carried it to the table.

  “Oh, yum. Spring rolls too?”

  “I’m afraid those are the frozen kind, but they are very good ones. We buy them all the time. This isn’t the most glamorous meal, but it’s quick and easy. Hopefully, you will like it,” he told her, putting the dishes on the table and retrieving flatware and a corkscrew from a nearby drawer.

  As he poured each of them a glass of wine, Emily sat down adjacent to him so that their legs brushed against one another’s beneath the table. Conversation turned toward Aiden as they ate.

  “My aunt says that I should stay away from Aiden. She said that he’s a horrible person.”

  “He is.”

  “Yeah, but she didn’t really say why. I mean, even meeting him the once, he gave me a creepy vibe, but why does everyone think he is such a bad leader?”

  “Our old one, Tomalin, was near death. Though things had been peaceful here for years, he had seen many battles before that time, and they had taken their toll on his health. He had called my father and the Council to his bedside, announcing that he intended to appoint my father as his successor. No one had ever challenged him, and now that he was too sick to fight, it was forbidden. So, he had selected his replacement.”

  “But your father died before he could take his place?” she asked.

  “Yes. He was killed even before Tomalin passed away and, by that point, the leader was too weak to even make another selection. So, the Council stepped in and made Aiden the new leader. Some say there was bribery involved, but others just chalk it up to my father and Aiden having been close and him being the natural next choice.”

  “Your father and Aiden were more than just acquaintances then?” she asked.

  “You could say that. They had a history. My father knew what Aiden was, even as far back as when he was a child since my father was a good bit older. Aiden isn’t much older than Owen and I. I think their friendship was more about keeping your enemies closer than friends than anything else.”

  “It seems like a strange pairing,” she replied, taking a bite of one of the spring rolls as she squinted toward him, keenly interested.

  “I suppose it is, but there were reasons for it. I guess we all have that one friend that no one really can understand why we hang out together. Mine is Owen,” he said with a laugh.

  “I think that Owen has a lot more friends than anyone realizes. I haven’t met anyone that dislikes him, though they all comment on his sadness,” she said.

  Connor took a sip of wine and nodded. It was no secret that Owen had emotional issues, and there were very few in the town that weren’t aware of them. Margaret’s parents had long since moved away, unable to bear being near where they had lost her. They had initially blamed Owen for her death and that, no doubt, had gone a long way toward his continued self-blame. Even once they had come around and apologize for their treatment of him, it did nothing to change how he felt about himself.

  “He does. I think he knows that. He just can’t bring himself to get close to anyone these days.”

  “Understandable,” she replied, her melancholy apparent.

  “Anyway, Aiden has been brutal in the way he handles the people here. He makes laws and rules that keep them from prospering financially. All housing additions have to be approved by the Council, and they rarely allow anything to pass because it doesn’t suit Aiden’s agenda. He won’t let certain businesses open if they compete with one of those owned by himself or his cronies, so there is no competition for the high prices they charge. Cross him, and you get exiled or tossed in a dark hole, never to be seen again. That’s just the tip of the iceberg known as Aiden.”

  “Wow. I had no idea,” she said, setting her wine glass down.

  “Refill?” he asked, already reaching for the bottle to top up his own.

  “Yes, please,” she replied.

  Connor poured them each a glass of wine as they set about finishing their meal between conversations about some of Aiden’s antics in the village. Emily seemed shocked that he had gotten by with his behavior for so long.

  “Why has no one challenged him?’

  “I think it’s a mix of things. There has been peace for so long, no matter what the cost, that no one wants to break it. Plus, failure to take him down would end badly for their families. They are afraid that if they take him on and lose, their loved ones will suffer at his hands.”

  “That is truly awful,” she replied.

  “Yes, to put it mildly,” he told her.

  Finishing up their meal, they did the dishes together before settling back onto the sofa to watch a movie. It felt incredibly comforting and wonderful to have Emily there with him, and before either realized it, they had fallen asleep together. It had been a perfect evening, in Connor’s opinion. Just having her with him seemed to be the response to a prayer he hadn’t even been aware he had needed answered.

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  Chapter 1

  Life had become aimless.

  Samuel padded through the woods, disinterested in the small wildlife that moved about him. His bear form was agile, but right now he moved sluggishly. When had he become so bored with life?

  Humans contemplated eternity with fascination.

  They seemed to think that living with no end in sight was some sort of wondrous adventure. They could not be more disillusioned.

  Samuel the Warrior.

  Samuel the Wise.

  Samuel the Scholar.

  Names given to him that meant nothing now.

  When was the last time he had fought for a cause? When was the last time he had surrounded himself with books? Life had become so empty. A branch scraped against his side, and he ignored the slash of pain. Sure enough, the wound healed within a heartbeat.

  Death was a morbid subject, one with which he had become quite fascinated.

  Sometimes, he assumed his younger form and wandered around the humans who loved death. But they were naïve, mere children who discussed forces that were out of their intellectual depth. Sometimes, he sat amongst the elderly, and becam
e one of them.

  Humans were lucky. Although, they feared death, it was the very incentive that led them to enjoy their life to the fullest. He had had children. He had seen them grow up and take mates of their own. And he had left when he had realized his time was near.

  The love of a woman was not unknown to him. But Clara was dead and had been gone for centuries.

  Sometimes, he tried to recall the sound of her voice when she had been angry at him, or her infectious laughter. But he failed. He couldn’t even remember what his youngest had looked like when he had last seen him.

  Of course, Roy was buried now.

  His children had lived full lives, and sometimes he went to check on his extended family. How long had it been since he had gone to the markers where his family was buried? Emily, his eldest daughter, had been furious when he had decided to leave.

  Of course, he hadn’t known at that time that he would meet that damned vampire and outlive his entire family as a result.

  A grunt.

  He felt a twinge of pain when he thought of them, but four hundred years was a long time. He had met women; played with them for a while, but no one had ever caught his interest, not like Clara. Nobody was quite like his mate, so open with her emotions. He had spent half of his mortal life running after her, making sure she didn’t get herself killed with that honesty of hers. Clara had always been direct, no sugarcoating the truth.

  Samuel stared at a spot on the ground. How long had he been standing there, lost in his thoughts? The sun danced on the ground, playing hide and seek with the foliage, thin beams peeking out from behind the leaves. Maybe he should lie down here and take a nap?

  No, he didn’t quite like the shade. It was cold for early November. The fog that had settled in the woods was ominous to many a creature, but not to him.

  He had no home anymore.

  Changing his train of thought as quickly as it had come to him, he started moving. He should probably eat something as well. Since the sun was out, he should find a nice spot which would warm him up as he took a nap.

  A lingering scent caught his attention, and his bear recognized it as something new.

  Human, but not human.

  As he moved further, he caught traces of that earthy scent. It almost felt like the entire place had been scent-marked by a predator claiming its land. This place was new to him. He didn’t like to stay in one place for too long, so moving about gave him an activity to do.

  Samuel paused for a heartbeat and looked at the dense foliage ahead. Should he even bother?

  The scholar in him sat up, revealing some interest. This was a scent that he had never come across. Not a witch, not a shifter. Every species had an underlying scent that gave away their kind. This was different.

  He cast a look at the dying sunlight. It was going to become dark soon, and he had not bothered looking for a place to sleep. A cave would have been a suitable reprieve after so many nights of sleeping under the open sky.

  His head turned to study the dense shrubbery. Every time he looked at it, it seemed that it had been placed there almost deliberately. It piqued his interest. After so many years of just going through the motions of living, anything that stirred his bear’s curiosity was worth checking out.

  He nosed his way through the barrier and muscled his body out of it. The sound of something snapping back into place had him turning around.

  The shrubbery looked like nothing had disturbed it. The broken twigs and leaves were back in place, having grown back immediately.

  The bear cocked his head.

  Sure smelled like the handiwork of a witch.

  It was then that he got a proper view of where he stood – a large clearing that was surrounded by a circle of trees. A few steps ahead of him was a body of water, something akin to a pond. The sunlight reflected on the water, giving it a shimmering appearance.

  A small, gardening patch was just a few feet away from the pond. As Samuel padded closer, he saw that it was a vegetable garden of sorts. He sniffed at a cabbage that protruded from the ground. It smelled fresh and raw.

  He wouldn’t mind having cabbage stew at this very moment.

  Turning his head, he looked at the small cottage that sat there. It wasn’t very new, meaning that either someone had been living here for quite a few decades, or had inhabited the stone building and built a life around it.

  Fresh flowers in the window showed that whomever it was considered themselves well protected, enough to leave an access point into their home, open and unguarded. There was no sign of life in this place, and if it hadn’t been for the flowers and the lingering scent in the air, he wouldn’t have thought that anyone…

  A soft humming.

  Samuel watched, motionless, as a young woman emerged from the back of the cottage. Her skin was an earthy tone with freckles spread all over her dainty, little nose. Those cobalt eyes did not seem surprised to see him, neither was there a shift in her scent to reveal any fear.

  She did not stop walking even when she saw him, and he could swear he saw some measure of annoyance in her gaze. She breezed past him to the vegetable patch. A woolen cap covered her head and ears, and the bear considered the two flaps that hung by the side of her ears with a considerable amount of interest.

  He wondered what would happen if he were to tug on them.

  The woman clearly did not see him as a threat as she turned her back on him and started pulling out some cabbages.

  Samuel approached her warily and sniffed at her experimentally, waiting to see her reaction.

  The woman did not turn around to pay him any attention.

  The shifter wondered if he should feel insulted at that. He poked his nose at her and sniffed more vigorously, only to have her push at him with an annoyed look on her face.

  Miffed at the way she swatted at him the way one would a fly, Samuel sat on his haunches and studied her. He saw the way she shivered in the cold. She stuffed the cabbages in the basket that hung on her arm and stood up abruptly.

  One glance at the sky had her repressing a shudder. She hurried toward the cottage and opened the door.

  “Well?”

  Was she talking to him?

  She was certainly looking his way, wearing that same expression of annoyance on her face that was starting to become a trademark of hers.

  “I’m not going to wait all day, you know?” She tapped her foot impatiently.

  Samuel moved toward her slowly, and then when she frowned at him, he entered the stone cottage.

  “It’s bloody cold outside.” the woman muttered as she took off the floppy hat and hung it on a stand next to the door. Her long, black hair tumbled down into a glorious mane, and Samuel wondered if it was as silky soft as it looked.

  The heavy coat that she wore was next, and it was tossed over a chair.

  The room was not that large. A small fire, that provided the warmth in the room, blazed happily. A small pot sat next to it with the top of a spoon poking out of it. A mattress, on which the blankets were piled, lay in the corner of the room. Although there were two chairs, there was no table or a toilet of any sorts.

  The woman was quite untidy, Samuel noted.

  “Sit next to the fire, before you catch a cold,” she called out to him as she washed the cabbage.

  Samuel wandered over to her and watched in silence as she sliced the vegetables and starting preparing a stew. When he saw that all her attention was focused on the meal she was preparing, he started exploring the room, sniffing at the various scents.

  Hers was the freshest, as if she had been living here for quite a while. But it was also odd that it was only her scent that he could find. Any faded scent he could locate was quite old.

  A dead mouse in the corner caught his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to see whether she was paying any attention. Her slim back was turned toward him, and Samuel batted at the dead mouse. It would have been more fun if it had been alive. The pr
edator in him was sadistic and would have enjoyed the activity of chasing it down.

  He was about to chomp down on it when he heard the cross voice from behind him, “If you want to eat that, you can do it outside. And stay there while you’re at it.”

  Guiltily, Samuel dropped the mouse and heard a sniff as the woman turned back to what she was doing. He moved over to sit next to her and wondered why she wasn’t scared – or at least wary – of him. Had he lost his touch over the years? It had been a while since he had last been around humans.

  He put his head on his paws, his eyes matching her every movement. But then again, this one wasn’t a human, was she?

  As the stew cooked, she fetched two bowls and put them in front of the fire.

  “Rather nasty for November,” the woman commented.

  Was she talking to him?

  She didn’t seem to expect a reply as she continued, “Lost a lot of my harvest due to the rain last week. I hope you like cabbage stew.” She stirred the mixture.

  “I apologize for my crude manners. It’s been a while since I talked to someone other than the birds and the animals.”

  So, she knew he was a shifter.

  “I don’t have anything to offer you to wear, so I’d suggest you maintain that form until tomorrow.”

  Samuel just blinked.

  She didn’t seem to expect anything of him, and they sat in companionable silence. He found it quite agreeable to get out of the biting cold for a while. The cottage was cozy and warm, and when she poured out the stew in a bowl for him, he let it cool down a bit before lapping at it.

  It tasted quite nice, and when he was done, she poured him some more.

  As he downed the remains, she pulled the mattress closer to the fire. It didn’t escape Samuel’s notice that she didn’t bother putting away the dishes or washing anything. As soon as her meal was done, she climbed into bed.

  He had always been a neat freak. It hadn’t bothered Clara much, as she hadn’t been much different from him. But right now, he found this mess intolerable. Had no one taught this woman to pick up after herself?

  He wandered over to her and saw that she was fast asleep.