Shifter Wars Complete Series

by Sarah J. Stone

  I honestly didn't know the answer to that question. Just about every guy that I'd dated, which wasn't many, was the Leonid-type. That is, guys who take you out to fancy dinners, where you listen to them talk about how important they are. They're annoying, but harmless.

  "Okay…" I said. "But stay close to me. And help me out if some gross dude won't leave me alone."

  "You know I got your back, lady," Eleanor said. "Now remember you're a fox, not a fucking scardey-cat. Let's do this!"

  With that, Eleanor grabbed me by the wrist and led me across the street, the bass from the rock music playing the bar growing louder with each step. We weren't even halfway across when the eyes of the half-dozen or so bears out front latched onto us, soon followed by catcalls.

  "Oh, fuck yeah!" one of them said.

  "Looks like this night's getting a little more interesting," said another.

  One made an exaggerated sniff through the air.

  "I'd know that fuckin' smell anywhere," he said. "Fox pussy."

  I felt sick to my stomach, but before I could express a word of disapproval to Eleanor, she threw open the front door and pulled me in.

  The bar was a wild scene, to put it mildly. The surprisingly large space was packed full of grungy, rough-looking bikers like the men outside, all kitted out in leather and denim, most wearing sleeveless shirts that showed off their tattooed arms. And here and there were the biker groupies, mostly bear women who looked just as tough as the men whose arms they hung off of. The lighting in the place was low and dim, the décor a standard dive-bar aesthetic of neon lights, beer advertisements, and pictures of women in bikinis. The clatter of pool balls striking against each other cut through the raucous noises coming from the crowd, and band playing raunchy, riff-heavy guitar rock was on center stage.

  "This is…fucking awesome!" Eleanor shouted, a beaming expression on her face.

  "I don't know about this, El," I said.

  "Just get a drink and have some fun!"

  Then she faced me, her features turning jokingly serious for a moment. "But if I see you paying for your own drinks, I'm gonna be pissed. Put that tight little bod of yours to use!"

  With that, she slapped me right on the ass and hurried off to the bar. Within seconds, Eleanor was flirting with a burly, bearded biker. Seconds after that, a drink was placed in front of her.

  Part of me wished that I could have Eleanor's confidence with men. I'd always been told that I was a pretty girl, but I couldn't help feeling plain next to a bombshell like Eleanor. Everything about her just seemed so effortless, whereas I constantly felt as though I had to put on an act to feel even kind of normal. Sometimes I wondered if my sheltered upbringing made me this way, or if I was just one of those girls doomed to eternal awkward-dom.

  Okay, I thought, trying to give myself a little courage. You look fine; just go up to the bar like Eleanor and get a drink. Shouldn't be a problem.

  Weaving through the tightly-packed crowds of biker bears, the smell of bear and sweat rushing into my nostrils, I eventually arrived at the bar. Placing my hands on the dirty, dingy surface, I scanned my surroundings for a guy I could charm a drink out of.

  "You look like you need some booze," a booming voice spoke from just behind me.

  I turned on my heels, and was face-to-chest with a hulking bear. Craning my neck up, I looked into the man's ruddy face, his ugly features half-obscured by a thick, black beard.

  Just go with it. Get a drink and then let him know you're not interested.

  "Um, sure," I said. "I love booze!"

  I had to yell over the noise all around me, and I worried instantly that my volume might be mistaken for enthusiasm. But then again, this guy didn't strike me as the type to appreciate subtlety; he looked like the kind of bear who'd had more than a few pool cues broken over his head. He leaned over, resting his bulk against the bar as he waved down the bartender for a couple of drinks. Moments later I had a dirty glass of…something in my hands. I sipped it cautiously, hoping that it wasn't a roofie colada.

  "Name," the man said.

  "Um, M-Marlene," I said, scolding myself for being so bad at coming up with fake names.

  The man snorted. "Name's Clyde, in the Thrasher Pack. Boys call me ‘Wrecking Ball.'"

  Looking over the man's spherical form, I couldn't help but agree with the nickname.

  "Um, thank you, um, Mr. Ball, but I have to go find my friend. And thanks for the drink."

  But instead of letting me leave, he leaned over onto the bar once again, blocking my escape.

  "I'm gonna get right to the point," he said. "I want that little fox pussy of yours on my face. And you're gonna make it happen."

  My heart began to race.

  "Um, no, thank you," I said, scanning my surroundings for a way to escape.

  I looked around for Eleanor, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  "I want that ass," said Wrecking Ball. "And I'm gonna get it. One way or another."

  Oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck, I thought, my heart now pounding like a jackhammer.

  Then, his hand shot out with surprising speed and took hold of my hip.

  "Come with me, now."

  I wanted to struggle. I wanted to scream. And part of me wanted to smash the drink against his head.

  "Hey, buddy," spoke a new voice, a low, smooth voice. "I don't think she's all that interested."

  Wrecking Ball looked over my shoulder, and I turned to see who was speaking.

  My jaw nearly dropped when I laid eyes on who the voice belonged to.

  The man was tall, lean, and gorgeous. Dressed in a pair of tight-fitting, dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt that clung to his obviously sculpted upper body, the man was the picture of a biker stud. His dark, nearly black hair was shaved short, and a thick beard hung from his face. His features were dramatically defined, with sensual, full lips, high cheekbones, and eyes so piercingly blue that they were clear and striking even in the low light of the bar. Winding tattoos covered his arms, and a long, thin scar traveled down the side of his otherwise flawless face.

  "Connor," Wrecking Ball boomed. "Always meddling into shit that doesn't concern you."

  "Well, bud," said the man, evidently named Connor. "When you're trying to rape a girl in the middle of the fuckin' bar, some might consider that a bit of a breach of etiquette."

  "A what?" Wrecking Ball asked.

  He shook his head, as if trying to force himself to focus.

  "Back the fuck off, Connor," Wrecking Ball said. "I don't care what fuckin' clan you're runnin' with. And this little piece of ass was all about what I got."

  "Oh, really?" Connor asked, raising a thick, dark eyebrow. "Then I'm sure she'd love to back that up."

  The eyes of both men moved to me, and I had no idea what to say or do.

  "I-" I stammered out.

  "She doesn't know what the fuck she wants," said Wrecking Ball, grabbing me by the wrist so hard that it hurt instantly.

  "Hey!" I shouted, finally able to form words again. "Let me go, asshole!"

  Connor sighed. Then, with blinding speed, rushed toward Wrecking Ball, jabbing him hard in the throat. Wrecking Ball's huge hands shot up to where he'd been struck, his face turning a deep shade of red.

  "You," he said, gasping for air. "You little fuck!"

  Wrecking Ball then lunged toward Connor, who deftly dodged out of the way, sending the bigger man into the crowd behind them. He'd let go of my wrist, and I wasn't about to wait around to see how this would go. Lowering my head, I dashed into the crowd and made my way through.

  "Hey!" Connor shouted, spotting me right as I disappeared into the masses of people. "Don't run!

  I wasn't in the mood to sit around and listen to advice. Tears in my eyes, I rushed through the musky packs of bears, making my way to the back of the bar. Once there, my eyes settled on a steel door that led to some back part of the bar. I knew that wherever the door led was likely off-limits, but I didn't care; I needed to get the hell out of there, and fas
t.

  Pulling open the door just enough for me to slip through, I left the bar floor and ended up in a dark, long hallway. The door shut behind me with a click, and when I pulled on it again, I realized that it was locked.

  "Fuck," I hissed under my breath.

  What the hell have I just gotten myself into? I asked myself as I made my way down the narrow hallway, the smell of old beer and grime all around me. The bass from the rock band thudded softly through the walls, and my heart still pounded.

  I'm gonna kill Eleanor. I'm here for ten minutes and she's already abandoned me and I'm getting in the middle of bar fights. Not exactly the night out I imagined.

  But I knew I needed to get out of this back area. Bears were pretty protective about their territory, and the last thing I wanted to deal with was one of them finding out some fox was sniffing around where she shouldn't be.

  As I traveled down the hallway, I looked around for any sign of anything that could be an exit. The hallway was surprisingly long, and the more I went down it, the more a strange sense of foreboding took hold of my stomach. I was keenly aware that I was somewhere that I shouldn't have been, but with the entrance locked behind me, there was nothing I could do.

  Eventually, I reached a large, steel door that looked similar to the one that led to the hallway from the bar.

  Okay, this has to be it. Probably leads to the other side of the block. But as I approached it and placed my fingertips on the cool, smooth surface, I heard sounds on the other side. Stopping in my tracks, I listened carefully to confirm that I was hearing things, but as soon as I did, the sounds ceased.

  Probably just nothing. Gotta hurry up and get out of here.

  I opened the door slowly and stepped through. However, instead of leading to the other side of the block like I'd hoped, it led to a large warehouse area filled with tall steel shelves packed with supplies. It was like something of a maze. I looked around the area, and saw a glowing exit sign down at the far end of the room. But just as I closed the door quietly behind me and started toward it, the sounds picked up again. This time, not only was it clear that they were voices, they were in this very room.

  Giving the door I'd just stepped through a tug, I realized that, like the other, it had locked behind me. Realizing that there was nowhere out but through, I began to walk quietly along one of the shelves. And as I did, the talking started up once again.

  "So, tell me again what your big fuckin' plan was, you stupid little shit," spoke a low, melodic voice.

  "I'm telling you," said another, a voice gripped with panic, "there wasn't a plan: Mallory, I don't know what you heard, but they were fuckin' lyin' to you!"

  What the hell? This doesn't sound like a friendly chat.

  I moved along the shelf, getting closer to both the conversation and the exit.

  "You're telling me my best men are just lying right to my face, then, huh?" asked the first man. "And why the fuck should I trust you instead of them? You're just some low-rent little fuck I picked up off the street, good for nothing but moving shipments."

  I got closer and closer until I was near enough to peer around one of the shelves. It took all I had not to scream when I saw what I saw.

  In a more open area of the warehouse, a pair of men were tied to steel chairs, their faces bloody and bruised. Around them was a circle of bikers, all standing in menacing poses, all looking ready for a fight. And in the center of the circle stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with long, silver hair, his arms so covered in tattoos that no skin was visible. And the tattoos were odd; they were off strange markings I could describe as ancient-looking and runic, not at all like the skulls and pin-up style naked girls that bikers seemed to always have. His face was gaunt, menacing, and strangely beautiful. He didn't look like a human, and he didn't look like a shifter. He looked like…something different.

  My heart pounded and sweat formed on my forehead as soon as I laid eyes on the scene. If there was any doubt that I was somewhere I shouldn't be, it was gone now. At this moment, I was seeing things that these bikers hadn't intended to be witnessed. I was in serious trouble.

  "Regardless," the man said, "you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar, as they say. And I know that you were hiding something in addition to being greedy. No one goes through the trouble of hacking a computer in the way that you did if they're interested in nothing but scooping a little off of the top."

  The tied-down man's face formed into an expression of both fear and worry.

  "N-no," he said. "You're right, Mallory—I was being a fucking thief. That's it. Nothing else."

  The silver-haired man shook his head.

  "That's what you're going with?" he asked.

  "He's not fuckin' lying!" shouted the other man, a scrawny guy with a shaved head and an equally worked-over face. "I was helpin' him."

  "That's funny," said the blond man. "I don't remember asking you a goddamned thing."

  The tied down man didn't say another word.

  "Okay," said the blonde, "since it's clear that not one of you two is interested in telling the truth, I'm going to give you this last opportunity to finally come clean with what you both were up to. So, for the last time, you're both going with the story that you were simply stealing money, nothing more?"

  The second tied-down man nodded, and the other spoke.

  "That's right, Mallory! You have to believe us!"

  The silver-haired man sighed.

  "Alright, then."

  I couldn't believe what happened next.

  The blond man sighed, stepped away from the two men, and turned his back. Then, he closed his eyes for several long moments and began to shift. When he was done, a dragon of a deep silver color stood in his place. The two tied-down men were gripped with horror, and the bikers around them backed off, getting clear of them. The silver dragon opened his mouth and, with a roar, shot a stream of fire at the second tied-down man, incinerating him instantly.

  "Oh, fuck!" shouted the first man. "Oh fuck!"

  "Now," the dragon said, speaking in a deep voice. "Are you ready to finally tell the truth?"

  But before anyone could say another word, the dragon sniffed the air.

  "That's…something," he said. "There's…something else here. Someone else. Another shifter."

  My eyes went wide, and I almost felt like my heart might just stop beating.

  "Ah," said the dragon. "I'd recognize that smell anywhere. That's…a fox."

  Oh, fuck.

  "Find it," said the dragon. "It's here somewhere."

  Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit.

  My eyes flicked to the exit and I knew that it was my only option. Taking a deep breath, I shifted into my fox form and rushed toward the door as the bear bikers scrambled to search the place. I darted under the shelves, staying out of their lines of sight and finally reaching the door. Once I did, I shifted back and pulled the door open, finally stepping back onto the city streets. Now free, I burst into a run, tears in my eyes.

  Right as I turned the corner, however, a pair of hands grabbed me, one hand wrapping around my waist, the other clamping down hard on my mouth.

  "Don't scream. You do, and we're both dead."

  CHAPTER 2

  CONNOR

  The girl struggled in my grasp. But she was just a little fox, nothing I couldn't handle. And despite what I'd just told her not two seconds ago, I felt a scream burst out of her mouth and muffle against my palm.

  "What did I just say to you?" I asked, shaking my head. "No screaming. And I'm not with the men in there; I'm not gonna hurt you."

  I glanced over my shoulder, spotting the bear crew exit the back of the warehouse, coming through the same door that this little fox had just escaped from. If they saw me with her I'd be fucked; I'd either have to give her up, or I'd have to go down with her—no two ways about it. Either way, I was taking big fucking risk sticking my neck out for this girl.

  But danger was what being a shifter, and a Sapien, was all about.

&
nbsp; "We have to go now," I said, speaking in a low voice. "I'm gonna take you down the street to my bike and we're gonna get the fuck out of here. You got yourself into some serious shit, and you're gonna have to keep your head down ‘till the heat dies down. Got it?"

  The girl nodded, her slim body shaking in my hands like a leaf.

  "Good," I said. "Now, if I let you go, you gotta promise that you're not gonna scream, and that you're not gonna run off. I got your word?"

  She nodded again.

  "Good."

  With that, I let her go.

  And, of course, she ran off instantly.

  "Goddamnit!" I shouted, trying not to draw attention to myself. "What did I just say?"

  She took off down the sidewalk. Luckily, the block was desolate and there was no one around to see what I was about to do. Bursting into a sprint, I caught up with her easily and grabbed her again. a furious expression.

  And in spite of this, or maybe even because of it, I couldn't help but notice just how fucking hot she was.

  She had a tight little body, that was for damn sure. But curvy in all the right places. Her full breasts strained against her tight T-shirt, and the round little ass hidden underneath those painted-on jeans was nearly impossible not to stare at. And she had the face of an angel, with big, sexy green eyes and lips that just begged to be kissed. But there was something about her look that was…out of place. Her thick, chocolate-brown hair was styled just a little too…nicely. She struck me right away as the kind of girl who was at a bar where she absolutely didn't fucking belong.

  "You'd better not fucking scream again," I said. "You have no idea how much trouble you're in right now."

  "What the hell was going on in there?" she asked. "There was a fucking dragon!"

  "Hush up!" I hissed. "You've got half the clan looking for you right now, and the only fucking saving grace you got is that they didn't see your face. But you bet your ass they got your scent."

  Her eyes latched onto my hand wrapped around her wrist.

  "If you don't let me go right now, I'll scream," she warned.

  "Listen," I said. "I'll let you go, but you have to fucking believe that I'm on your side here. So don't run, unless you want to make things way, way worse for yourself."