Shifter Origins (Series-Starter Shifter Variety Packs Book 1)

by Aimee Easterling

  Our pack is strong, my wolf promised me. And I’ll do whatever you say.

  Of course she’d do what I said. That was the entire problem with our partnership in a nutshell—lack of leadership potential on the wolf’s part.

  Still, I quickly kicked off my shoes, then folded jeans and undies and tossed the whole pile of clothing onto the back seat with the rest of my pack’s apparel. Finally, taking a deep breath, I rejoined the other shifters—half of us already four-legged and the rest, even Quill, now naked.

  Everyone except Ginger appeared calm and collected as the onset of our hunt rapidly approached. Lia had padded around to join us and was now tussling with Cinnamon on the ground, the larger wolf letting our youngest member win despite her youthful lack of muscles. In contrast, Glen stood poised in lupine form, waiting for Quill to fall onto four legs before he relaxed his guard.

  And Ginger...Ginger was advancing on me with eyes flashing even as she slid covert glances at the cowboy shifter. The latter still hadn’t properly admired her visible assets and was instead watching me with hungry eyes, a definite slight that I knew the young woman wouldn’t let slide.

  I saw the attack coming before she launched herself forward, but I misgauged the volatile redhead’s intentions. By the glint in her eye, I’d assumed she was pissed and needed a cat fight to get it out of her system. So I raised both hands to repel her imminent strike.

  But Ginger didn’t hit me. Or, rather, she did let her body slam into mine, pressing my bare butt up against the warm metal of the car door.

  On the other hand, the trouble twin didn’t intend to cause harm. Instead, the slightly taller woman dipped her neck even as she pushed my chin upwards by cradling the back of my head with two firm hands.

  Then she pulled me into a deep, uninhibited kiss.

  FOR A SPLIT SECOND, I imagined that Hunter was the one merging his lips with mine. The uber-alpha would taste just the way he smelled—like cold root beer, the refreshing aroma enveloping me and beating back the summer heat. I’d kiss him back....

  I opened my eyes and pushed Ginger away as I regained my senses. “What the heck, Ginger?”

  The trouble twin’s cheeks were flushed, and I expected her to shoot another pointed glance at Quill. After all, my friend had gone for a classic catch-the-guy’s-attention move and would be wanting to know if her girl kiss had paid off.

  But instead, my pack mate just gazed into my eyes, searching my face as if trying to decide whether the lipstick she’d smeared onto my skin suited my complexion. I wiped the goop away in disgust. It was bad enough to watch Quill and Ginger tiptoeing around each other without being caught in the middle of their mating dance.

  “Just a good-luck kiss,” she said after a moment, and I caught a flash of something I couldn’t quite name in her eyes as she turned away. Cinnamon, ever alert to his sister’s moods, scrambled out from beneath his cousin’s furry body and trotted over to rub up against Ginger’s bare leg in sympathy.

  And then there were two reddish wolves on the ground instead of one, and Quill and I were the only humans left standing. “Let’s hunt,” I said curtly, still a bit annoyed at the trouble twin and concerned over the cowboy shifter’s foot dragging.

  But I didn’t want to initiate my own shift with murky emotions at the forefront of my mind. So I took a deep breath just the way my previous alpha had taught me, then I relinquished human control for a split second.

  I transformed as I fell forward, arms that would have kept me from hitting the ground becoming legs and my tail thrusting to one side to steady my descent. At the same time, the wolf brain rose up to take over our shared form—my least favorite part of the shifting process. This changing of the guard always felt like diving into a deep, frigid ocean, the chill making my bones ache and only slowly receding as I acclimated to the abrupt change in virtual temperature.

  Our shared ears popped. Now I was entirely subsumed by the wolf, and for a split second I drifted in darkness. Then, desperately, I clawed my way upwards.

  I’d made this journey many times before, but today the faint pinprick of light showing through the wolf’s eyes seemed impossibly far away. In fact, I appeared to be falling deeper into the wolf’s subconscious rather than rising to join her at the helm. This is the shift where I lose my footing and drown, I thought in dismay.

  This type of slippage was normal the first few times a teenager tried to change forms, of course. But my transformations hadn’t gotten any easier during the last seven years since I hit werewolf puberty.

  Today’s shift was the worst experience to date. Always in the past, I’d scrambled upwards as best I could, clawing my way through the wolf’s throat with torn fingernails while hoping I’d make my way back into the light. And each time, I’d thought I’d failed before finally managing to emerge breathless back in the wolf’s body.

  This time, though, I was just so very tired. The hour was only a little past noon, but the day had already been long and the preceding night short. Quill’s addition to our pack was a triumph, but the change in group dynamics left everyone off kilter and in need of a little extra alpha attention.

  I barely felt up to the task.

  Then there was the confusion of Hunter’s sudden presence and equally sudden absence. My stalker had dropped his verbal bomb last night, throwing out the M word as if “mate” wasn’t an expletive in my lexicon. And, yes, I’d been too chicken shit to call him on it. But did Hunter have to find it so easy to hare off in search of another halfie girl this morning with barely a word of farewell?

  No matter the reason, I had a sinking suspicion that this was the time I wouldn’t make it back into human form at the end of my shift. I’d already spent way too long down in the wolf’s belly, drifting further into her virtual intestines with every second as if my struggles were mired down by quicksand designed to pull me under and keep me there.

  My pack mates would be wondering why the wolf was frozen in place, but I could neither hear them nor feel their furry bodies nudging against my shoulder. And without the presence of my clan, I wasn’t so sure I cared that my heavy eyelids were drifting closed. A little nap was called for....

  And then the wolf brain was beneath my human mind, pushing me gently but firmly upwards until I could share the view from behind her lupine eyes. Within our corporeal body, she licked me in welcome and my human mind covered virtual face with ethereal hands in order to repel her advances. As usual, the wolf was absurdly happy to see me, as if I wasn’t always present, always in control of our shared body even when we donned fur.

  Well, as long as I don’t drown betwixt and between. I was ashamed of myself for wallowing in that moment of weakness, and I was probably more curt with the wolf than I should have been as a result. Leave me alone, I ordered, and her enthusiasm abruptly waned.

  Now the captain of our shared ship, I dropped into downward-facing dog to stretch our four-legger body and relax our spine. Then I glanced back over one shoulder to make sure Quill had followed suit. Sure enough, our newest pack mate had nearly achieved lupine splendor, although he was taking even longer than me to get his feet solidly beneath him.

  Everyone else, though, schooled by our old alpha, was surefooted and ready to run. And I realized that I wasn’t quite ready for Quill to understand our strange lupine dynamics anyway, to figure out that the alpha werewolf who he’d agree to answer to was actually the weakest one in the pack.

  So I raised my chin to the sky and let my wolf howl out her joy at finally being surrounded by her favorite furry companions once more. Then the five of us loped forward, Quill trailing a full measure behind.

  Chapter 12

  Ginger took the lead, her stronger wolf easily picking up a scent that the rest of us had missed. Nose to the earth, she startled the first deer within minutes.

  But our potential prey was protecting two young fawns that must have been born later than the usual season. The flanks of the spindly-legged youngsters were still dappled with sun spots, and
I shook my head in negation when the trouble twin glanced back at me in question. If we’d been starving, our pack could have easily taken down either the doe or the fawns or both. But there was no point in breaking up a family unit when the six of us were just having a little fun and seeking to ease average daily hunger pangs.

  Glen must have predicted my response and peeled away from our group moments earlier because I now heard him yipping news of yet another find off to our left. I sniffed at the air, trying to grab hold of the pack bond that kept alphas apprised of each shifter’s whereabouts and emotions. But the subtle web of connection that my newfound alpha abilities should have created instead eluded my fingertips and disappeared like a dream upon waking—one moment the knowledge was so vivid I felt as if I could step out into it; the next moment the vision might never have existed.

  Not quite right, my wolf whispered, trying her best to be helpful. But I didn’t need to be told that my inability to control the pack bond wasn’t quite right. It was all part and parcel of having pack-leader status thrust upon me by another rather than growing gradually into organic strengths that had always been part of my DNA.

  Shh, I admonished my inner beast yet again rather than trying to explain away my frustration. At least I could still use the information gleaned by my more ordinary senses even though the pack bond was missing in action. So I squashed my inner turmoil and turned to lead the other four wolves in the direction from which Glen’s call had most recently emanated.

  The pack was unaware of my newest failure, so they continued to show off the usual high spirits of a joint hunt. Or perhaps I should say the excessively high spirits. Because as Ginger and Cinnamon bounced past, I saw that his ear had already ended up between her sharp teeth and bloodshed appeared imminent.

  Just what we need, I thought. Another case of pack mates injured by friendly fire.

  Figuring I might as well save Cinnamon’s skin while I had the opportunity, I pushed a little more spring into my step and knocked up against Ginger’s hip in warning. Cool it, I thought, making my intentions clear by the tilt of my neck and the slight erection of hairs on my ruff.

  Sure enough, the female trouble twin released her brother as soon as she caught my eye. But that didn’t mean she was happy about being chastened. Instead, the pack princess growled at me, her rampant wolf easily able to tell that it surpassed the strength of my own measly animal now that we were both four-legged.

  I probably should have slapped her down with what little alpha dominance I did possess. After all, not even the most easygoing pack leader would allow an underling to get away with such an obvious display of insolence.

  But, if push comes to shove, do I have the teeth to back up my demands? The answer was a resounding “no,” so I instead turned away to peer over one shoulder at the final members of our little band.

  At least something was going right today. I was glad to see that Quill had taken the time to insinuate his way into Lia’s good graces, she being the only member of our pack who had wanted the cowboy shifter gone. The young female still seemed uncertain about her current partner’s intentions, but she was at least willing to run side by side with his larger masculine form as long as the rest of the clan was nearby. Making progress.

  The pack bond... my wolf whispered again, interrupting my thoughts. This time my silent snarl made her drop all control over our shared body and we tumbled face first into the leaves. Great. I’d startled the beast out of her sole job—keeping our joint body moving forward.

  Do I have to do everything around here? I grumbled, pushing through the fog that lay between human brain and animal body to get our muscular system in order once again.

  I felt a little bad about the slap down, though, so I tried to explain myself to my alter-ego as we once again trotted forward to rejoin our companions. Now isn’t the time to figure out the pack bond, I told her. Now is the time to hunt.

  My inner wolf didn’t respond, a gaping hole instead appearing within our shared body where her consciousness had existed only a moment before. But I shrugged away her absence. Instead, I focused on catching my stride before looking forward to where Quill and Lia had surged past while I was getting my lupine body back in order.

  Like the trouble twins, this other duo was also rushing toward Glen’s most recent beckoning bark. But Lia had slowed her steps and glanced backwards to check on me as she ran past.

  So I saw pain fill the youngster’s eyes as she yelped and danced sideways, holding one forefoot up as blood streamed down from cut pad to forest floor. And for an instant I felt her agony...agony that had resulted directly from my own inattention to pack duties.

  My own inner conversation combined with the girl’s natural empathy had taken my friend’s attention away from her surroundings just long enough for the forest to intervene. And nature, as always, was red in both tooth and claw.

  PAIN AND SURPRISE IMMEDIATELY prompted Lia to initiate a shift into her more familiar form. But I knew such a transformation would be a mistake. Sure, the girl would feel more comfortable as a human, but hopping half a mile on one leg is much harder than limping out of the woods on three paws. Plus, if Lia shifted to two feet, another transformation into fur form was unlikely to happen today.

  Time to stop this change before it really begins. More harshly than I would have liked, I grabbed the young wolf’s ruff between my lupine teeth then shook firmly enough to garner her full attention.

  As I did so, I saw human rationality slowly seeping back into Lia’s eyes, overcoming the wolf’s instinctive response to pain. Meanwhile, the electricity of impending transformation began ebbing out of the air around us both.

  For a long moment, Lia remained poised between two forms. But then she nodded, a two-legger gesture that sat strangely upon her lupine form but that eased my worries and doubts. The girl had gotten a handle on her urge to shift and would stay four-legged for the foreseeable future.

  Releasing a sigh of relief, I glanced around us at a forest gone suddenly quiet. We’d been at the tail end of the pack when Lia cut her paw, so no one else had noticed our absence as they bounded forward in search of Glen’s chosen prey. But despite the fact that my companion and I were now entirely alone in the woods, I knew precisely where our pack mates were located. Because, after fumbling at an elusive connection for the last month, the pack bond had finally clicked into place without any effort on my part.

  As a result, I could feel but not see Ginger and Glen leap for a yearling doe’s jugular. And I could feel but not see Cinnamon and Quill yapping at the prey’s heels. All four were excited and enjoying the hunt, although my secondhand experience of their reality was entirely different from their own. Instead of reveling in an imminent triumph, in fact, I found myself lost in the encompassing darkness of the other wolves’ bellies.

  Dark, close, cold.

  Claustrophobia nearly sent me reeling back into my own skin. But I didn’t want to leave an injured Lia alone in the forest while I disappeared on lupine feet in search of aid. And there was no need to abandon her, even momentarily, because my alpha senses were already in contact with the rest of my pack. I just needed to claw my way up out of their bellies in order to get their attention.

  Cinnamon, the weakest wolf, was also the easiest to overcome with my alpha compulsion. Using far less effort than I’d expended entering my own lupine body thirty minutes earlier, I now found myself looking out through the male trouble twin’s eyes. Sunlight streamed down through a gap in the canopy, warming our shared hide, and his body’s adrenaline made my own heart pump faster in sympathy.

  From my safe perch behind Cinnamon’s eyes, in fact, I could see for the first time that the male was tethered to his sister just as firmly as I was to any of my pack mates. The ethereal rope shone visibly in the air between the two, a tightrope my alpha sense could easily walk across.

  As quickly as the impulse entered my mind, I found myself bridging the minds of two pack mates rather than just one. So when Ginger’s teeth r
ipped through tough deer hide, Cinnamon and I both tasted the salty blood in our mouths and we both felt her triumph at yet another successful hunt.

  Helpful, I thought. I hadn’t meant to cast the words out across the pack bond, but the male trouble twin jolted as if I’d spoken in his ear. Even Ginger flinched to peer back over one shoulder, ears pinned in confusion.

  My hold over Glen was considerably weaker than my connection to Cinnamon due to the former’s greater dominance, but my second in command still understood what was going on more quickly than the others. He stepped away from the dying deer and lifted his chin to the sky in a howl that pulled the other three shifters to his side in an instant. He—and I by proxy—now had their complete attention.

  I wasn’t sure how long our nebulous connection would last, though. So I got down to business right away. Pulling gently away from the pack bond, I left the line open as if turning my cell to speaker phone. I could listen and speak to my pack still, but now I could also focus on the real world beneath my lupine paws.

  Lia was panting beside me, I—and the rest of the pack—now saw. Blood flowed copiously from her damaged foot, and I licked the gash clean with my tongue.

  The gesture transferred down the tether just as effectively as my spoken word had a moment earlier. And as Glen and the trouble twins looked through my eyes at the wounded wolf lying in front of me, their anguish amplified my own. For a moment, our shared emotions bounced back and forth between us in a feedback loop that seemed poised to knock us all off our feet.

  Then my wolf was present once more, easing the pack’s heartache by the simple refusal to take part. She shuffled her paws against the leaf mold and in the process channeled our worry into the soil beneath our feet. Shh, she whispered at last, this final sound for me alone rather than transmitting to the entire pack.

  The wolf was right. We’d get nowhere by drowning in Lia’s misery. So I took a deep breath, re-centered myself, and found I was able to slim our communication line down to simple human language. Lia cut her foot, I explained, the distancing effect of words relieving some of our shared unease.