Wild Refuge: A Yellowstone Shifters Novel

by K. Panikian

  “You’re hurt,” August corrected quietly, “but she can help. Can you shift?”

  I dropped to my knees, my head bowing forward, before I screamed as the knife dug deeper into my abdomen.

  “Sienna!” August shouted at me. “Shift!”

  With a shriek I pulled my Beast to the surface and in a long ripple of agony, I shifted. My bones and muscles contorted and grew and I watched, my mind blurry, as the knife fell from my stomach. My blood dripped down large, meaty thighs and sharp teeth dropped into my mouth. I growled. The Beast took over.

  I hurt. Someone hurt me. Someone needed to die. I looked at my feet and saw the hunched, pale form of the alpha. I bent my monstrous head toward him and inhaled.

  “Sienna,” the alpha murmured.

  Not him, I knew. The lioness.

  “Where?” I growled, my snout struggling with the word. I turned to scent the breeze.

  “Gone,” the alpha answered. “Dead. You already killed her.”

  I considered his words.

  An ache bloomed inside of me—a rage and a wail, a fury and a shriek. I hurt and I needed to hurt someone in return.

  “Me,” the alpha said. “Hurt me. It’s the Primal rage. It’s not your fault.”

  I cocked my head.

  “You have to burn the energy. Or you’ll lose control.”

  Energy, I mused. I coursed with energy. It flowed in my veins like molten lava, aching for an outlet.

  “It’s okay, Sienna. Let it go.”

  I pointed my muzzle to the moon and screamed. I wanted blood! I wanted to bathe in it, to rend flesh and tear into soft stomachs with my meaty claws. I had to use it, or I would explode. The fire in my veins demanded violence as my wrath boiled over.

  But I would not hurt him.

  I dropped to my haunches, my large body shivered, and I shifted back to my human self—to the one who felt more than rage.

  Trembling, I looked down at my human hands where I knelt in the parking lot. My stomach hurt but the wound was closed, I noted absently. I had a long moment to study the smeared blood on my legs before the molten inferno consumed me again.

  I was on fire. Screaming, I clenched my arms to my head. Agony flashed through my veins and every pulse of it burned. Without an outlet my rage turned against me, swallowing me whole.

  Cool hands grabbed hold of me and I twisted away, slitting my eyes to see August staring down at me, his own eyes wide and confused.

  The hands touched me again and their coolness soothed the burn. I sucked in a breath as the fire turned to luscious thick heat pooling in my belly. My fire turned to need as I moaned and gripped those hands, pulling them to my body.

  As the energy began to crest again, razing through me in another agonizing wave, I rubbed those cool hands against my skin, chasing the heat away. August clutched me closer, pushing his body, his skin against mine at my stomach, my thighs, my breasts. I shrieked again. It wasn’t enough.

  August kissed me and my lungs stuttered as he swallowed up my scream. I arched into his cool touch, kissing him back frantically, my fingers scrambling for something to hold onto to keep the inferno from sweeping me away again. His arms banded around me as I dug into his chest, pulling him closer.

  “August?” I gasped out.

  “Yes, Sienna,” he growled as his kisses ran down my neck. “Take what you need.”

  It was enough. I lost myself to the heat and only August’s touch anchored me, transforming my rage to a different kind of passion. I couldn’t stop myself; I couldn’t form words, as the wave peaked again. Bearing him down to the ground, our bodies slick with my blood, I let the fire consume us both.

  Chapter 18

  Rain splattered onto my face and I woke up with flailing arms. I groaned. Everything hurt. Sitting up slowly, I looked down at my nude body—I was covered in dried blood. My brain and eyes bleary, I tried to focus.

  A voice spoke near me and I turned my head, wincing as the rain dripped into my eyes.

  “Sienna,” the voice repeated. I scrubbed my face and looked again. A woman knelt near me. She held a blanket in her arms and shoes.

  My brain caught up. Paulette, the jaguar, was talking to me. We were outside, in the rain, in the empty campground.

  My memories of the night swept over me in a mortifying wave and I staggered to my feet, looking around frantically. A few feet away, I saw Maren crouched next to August’s still, bloody form, lying under a picnic table.

  Gasping, I stepped toward her.

  She looked up and smirked at me. “Give him a minute. He’s still passed out.”

  Blinking, I looked at the scratches and marks all over his body and my brain registered the happy, sated grin on his sleeping face.

  Paulette handed me the blanket and I draped it around my body.

  “The others?” I croaked out.

  “Blair’s and Soren’s bodies are gone—burned and buried deep in the woods. The two human men are in police custody—they’re competing with Mike and Alex to see who can confess loudest, trying to earn reduced sentences. It’s over.”

  “How long?” I croaked again before pausing to suck down some rain drops. “How long ago?”

  “How long ago did we leave you here, dying of a knife wound in your belly? About four hours.”

  I looked down and saw the smooth skin of my stomach.

  Paulette helped me slip on the pair of shoes as I stood there, feeling helpless and embarrassed, wrapped in the blanket, while Maren tried to wake August. He groaned loudly and dropped his hand to scrape across his chest before he flipped over in the dirt to snore some more.

  I couldn’t be there when he woke up. Memories of what I’d done rocketed across my brain—I’d used him, his body, to save myself. The hot flash of shame turned my skin red.

  “I have to get out of here,” I whispered to Paulette. “Please.”

  She looked at me consideringly before meeting Maren’s eyes. When Maren shrugged, she said, “Okay. I’ll drive you to your car. We moved it to police headquarters from the refuge.”

  I gave her a grateful smile and took one last look at August’s nude, bloody form. Another wave of self-contempt nearly swept me under before I caught myself and started to hurry after Paulette.

  “Wait!” Maren called as she strode toward me.

  I braced myself for recriminations, or hatred, or disgust. But she said only, “He needs you. Don’t run from him. From us.”

  I started to shake my head. “I can’t—”

  “I don’t know you. But I know August. I saw your clawed hands last night and I can see your healed wound this morning. I remember the stories.

  “August will never ask for your help. He told me what Logan did. But know this,” she drew in a deep breath, “he’s going to lose this pack. He’s changing too many things and the opposition is growing. Before he took over, the Jackson Hole pack was ready to move on Yellowstone and the Tetons, to take back the neutral territories. He stopped it, but he’s in the minority. He’s forging alliances and he’s getting backers one at a time, but Blair was just the tip of the iceberg of the rebellion against him. The wolves are at our door, waiting for a sign of weakness.”

  I listened to Maren with a heavy heart as I crossed my arms.

  “If you can help him,” she ignored my head shake, “he might have a chance.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  Maren made a sharp cutting motion in the air. “Think about it. There’s a pack meeting tonight to go over what we’re going to tell the police about Blair and Soren. I know of at least two people that plan to challenge the alpha for leadership.”

  Staggering away from her words and her expectations, I tugged on Paulette. “Please, take me to my car.”

  As I hurried across the muddy field toward the road, my shoulders hunching in the rain, I heard Maren shout behind me, “The rodeo! Midnight!”

  AFTER Paulette dropped me at my car, I drove as fast as I could back to the park, the rain washing the l
andscape in shades of gray. My swishing wipers mesmerized me and I ignored my bloody fingernails at the wheel.

  When I finally staggered from my steamy shower and collapsed into my bed, my scrapes and cuts stinging, I couldn’t decide which emotion boiling inside of me was the most pressing. My shame at attacking and using August to help me conquer my rage, or my fear that he was going to be hurt that night. Hurt or killed. I shuddered.

  I curled under my blankets with my phone and texted Jordan and Darcy. “Emergency summit: I need to know about Primals and alpha challenges.”

  TWO hours later, Darcy and Jordan flanked me on my couch as the storm continued to rage outside. An enormous bowl of chips sat on the table in front of us and I munched through them like it was my job, the crunching and grabbing movements soothing my agitated mind.

  “Okay,” Darcy said, “first, no one talks about Primals. They’re legends and stories only.” She bent her head to me and I shrank back slightly from her steely glare. “If someone were a Primal, she should keep that information to herself.”

  I nodded. I knew that. But it wasn’t only about me anymore.

  “I don’t think she’s a Primal,” Jordan said to Darcy while staring at me devouring chips. “She has to shift at the full moon. Only baby shifters have to do that.”

  I winced. “Thanks, Jordan.”

  She shrugged at me.

  “Hypothetically,” I asked, “if someone were a Primal, she might like to hear some of the stories. Do you remember any of them specifically?”

  Darcy frowned. “I don’t know. I can’t remember the last time I heard a real story about a Primal. They’re like fairy tales for little shifter kids.” She stared at the ceiling and drummed her fingers on her thighs. “Give me a minute.”

  “What about alpha challenges?” I asked Jordan.

  She rubbed her arms next to me and shivered. “They’re the worst. I can’t stand them. To watch to people murder each other…” She shivered again.

  “It’s to the death?” I confirmed with a sinking heart.

  Jordan nodded. “If it’s an older alpha that just wants to retire, and they choose a successor, then those challenges are symbolic only. If it’s a usurper’s challenge, then it’s to the death.”

  “What about the betas? Do the challengers have to fight them first before they get to the alpha?”

  Moving her hand from side to side, Jordan said, “It depends on the pack and the alpha. Technically, yes, but someone would have to enforce it, and if the old alpha is killed in the challenge, then no one’s going to claim foul play.”

  “Maren said at least two shifters are going to challenge August tonight. Can they go back to back like that?”

  “Oh yeah. If August kills the first one, the next can step right up.”

  “But that’s not fair,” I protested. “What if the first one hurts him? The second challenger gets an advantage.”

  Jordan thumped my forehead with her finger and I blinked. “Shifter politics, remember? Nothing about it is supposed to be ‘fair’”?

  “I’ve got it!” Darcy jumped to her feet. “If a Primal gets lost to the rage, they’ll slaughter everyone around them, pack or not. There was this one Primal in the southwest somewhere, and he lost his hand in a battle. He murdered his whole pack, down to the babies, when the rage took him. The neighboring pack had to bring in a machine gun to take him down.”

  I stared at her, feeling the blood leave my face. I knew I was a monster but hearing the confirmation hurt. I was absolutely a murderer.

  “Jeez, Darcy,” said Jordan. “Got anything less grim? My parents never told me stories like that.”

  “Bear,” Darcy said, pointing to herself like that explained things. Then she pointed at me, “But, I also remember that if there’s a mate bond, the mate can pull the Primal out of the rage.”

  “What? What’s a mate bond?”

  Both women stared at me, astonished.

  “Okay, we don’t have time to go into that right now,” Jordan said weakly. “It won’t help you tonight anyway.”

  I started to speak and she shook her head. “Sex with August did not create a mate bond. Though I’m sure it was very spectacular.”

  I flushed. I wondered if she was right though. The contact with August had brought me back to myself. It had conquered my rage. What did that mean?

  “So if I go to the pack meeting to help August, which,” I cleared my throat, “I haven’t decided if I will or not, I can’t change into my hybrid form because I’ll slaughter the challengers, plus everyone else in the building, if someone enrages me or if I get hurt.”

  Darcy nodded at me sadly.

  “What about your claws?” Jordan whispered. “Are you in control when you use the claws?”

  I thought back to how it felt to have Blake in my grip, to backhand Blair and rip out her throat. And I grinned. “Yeah, I can use my claws.”

  Darcy smiled evilly and I ignored Jordan’s pinched, worried look.

  They left to get to work and I decided to go for a walk and clear my head. It was still raining, but no thunder or lightning moved in the clouds above me.

  I looked absently at the scratches on my body—they were healing quickly. I thought about what August and I’d done last night to redirect my Beast’s wrath and I flushed, feeling delicious urges sweep through me. I wanted to do it again.

  I tabled that thought for now though. I had no idea how August felt about it. He’d volunteered, from what I remembered, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. I hadn’t given him a choice—I was either going to tear into the night, a slave to my Beast’s bloodlust, or I was going to ravish him. I ignored the constriction in my throat.

  I stepped to the edge of Yellowstone Lake and stared across its enormous blue-gray expanse. Even with my puma senses, I couldn’t see the far shore in the hazy light. An apt metaphor for my life, I thought wryly.

  I’d hidden my wild nature all of my life. First from the humans around me and once I met Logan and learned about shifters, I hid from the packs. I was rare, according to August, and a potential mass murderer, according to Darcy. My kind had been hunted. I was right to have hidden.

  But I’m stronger now. And maybe, I had a pack of my own. Jordan and Darcy, August, and whomever in his pack stuck around once they found out about me. Was that enough to change the balance of my fear?

  I inhaled a watery breath, raising my face to the rain, and I shivered.

  Why was I even debating it? August had saved my life last night. Of course I would do the same for him.

  WHEN I pulled into the rodeo parking lot at midnight, I noted the absence of cars. Was I in the wrong spot? I stepped out of my Subaru and started walking toward the arena when Maren hissed at me from the shadows.

  “The barn,” she murmured and I followed her through the dark lot, slipping through the door she held open for me. “Thank you.” She patted my shoulder.

  “When does it start?”

  “August just opened the meeting. He’ll talk for a few minutes about Blair and Soren, then the challenges will start.”

  I followed her down an empty corridor that smelled of hay and horses and through a door that led down a darker, smellier corridor. The old barn walls looked cracked and gray in the dim light.

  She pointed to another door, this one slightly ajar and said, “You can listen here. If no one challenges him, then you can stay hidden.” She cleared her throat quietly and stared at her feet. “Sorry about what I did before, in the spring. I was too caught up in being a lioness beta. It’s not an excuse, I know. I’m grateful you’re here today to help August and later, if you need to get back at me, we can talk about it.”

  I shook my head. “It’s done; it’s over. I’ve moved on.”

  She smiled at me shyly before walking briskly back the way we came.

  I sidled to the door and pushed my ear to the crack.

  “...She was a former pack member but she betrayed us. Don’t forget that. She brought poli
ce attention to our territory, murdered a shifter, and stole resources that didn’t belong to her. We will not mourn her.”

  Grumbling voices and growls echoed. A man shouted, “An exile shifter! Who cares about him?”

  “I care. And you should, too, Tom. What if I kicked you out? I know you bought the poached elk meat for your restaurant. Maybe one day soon you’ll be an exile shifter too.”

  Silence reigned. A chair scraped.

  I peeked into the room and saw about thirty men and women sitting on folding chairs in front of a small stage in what looked like an auction room. August stood on the stage with his back to me and a handful of familiar people sat behind him, almost directly in front of my door—I saw the jaguar mates, Paulette and Thomas, plus Gideon, the bear, and, as I watched, Maren stepped quietly on the stage to sit too.

  Most of the people in the room seemed calm, leaning back in their chairs and murmuring quietly. The front row, though, held a handful of men and women with crossed arms, jutting chins, and curled lips. I resisted the instinct to shift into my Beast and stomp on them all.

  August’s shoulders straightened and his blond hair gleamed under the barn lights. I remembered that hair brushing against my skin as he kissed his way down my body. A curl of heat moved through me and my heart started to pound. Gah, Sienna, FOCUS!

  “At this time, the West Yellowstone pack is not asking for reparations for Soren’s death. It was a fair fight and he was in our territory.”

  The grumbles in the front row grew louder. I paid particular attention to a burly-looking man with wild, red hair and next to him, a thin, wiry woman with a hatchet-like nose and narrow, dark eyes. Their faces were growing noticeably redder and if their jaws clenched any tighter, their teeth would crack.

  “It has come to my attention that, aside from Tom, several other members of our pack were helping Blair and Soren with the elk operation, and that even more of you have been plotting with other shifters in the neighboring wolf packs to take action against the neutral territories.”

  I watched August lean forward, the muscles in his back and shoulders bunching under this t-shirt.