Forever Fated Mates: A Shifter Romance Collection

by Meg Ripley

  Shady’s had a long history there. Back when the closest cops were a hundred fifty miles away, no one would show up to break up fights that got out of hand. The owner kept a shotgun or two behind the bar and, as the story went, he’d shot off more than his share of toes, trying to save his business from being torn apart by rowdy customers.

  Of course, we had a decent presence of cops eventually. I didn’t break the law, so they didn’t bother me. And it was nice to know they were around if I had a problem. Same with the rangers. Yeah, they were going to reinforce the regulations, but they also kept us safe and protected the land.

  But some shifter groups wanted to see things run differently. A group would flare up now and then, causing some kind of trouble until the proper authorities stepped in and fixed things, usually with the help of us Gladesmen and women. The one consistent headache came from those damned crocs.

  The crocs caused problems for everyone who got in their way—shifters or not. They wanted full, complete reign of the ‘Glades. Like a bunch of idiots who’d been dropped on their damn heads too much, they really thought they’d get things to go back to how they were back in the day. They’d run the park, kick out the police and be the authority of the land. Nothing but a bunch of dumb fucks if you ask me, and I wanted nothing to do with them.

  I was just happy to be a Gladeswoman and have the skills passed down to me from my Ma and Gramma over the years. Gramma had been around back in the old days. She’d somehow—through smarts or luck—bought land that was real close to the ‘Glades, but outside of park territory and wasn’t subject to the government take over. If it’d been a mile or two to the east, she would have had to let it go when she passed. There’d have been no inheritance for Ma or for me. Who knows where I would have ended up if that were the case.

  The men all vanished. Ma grew up with no Pa, and my Pa took off before I ever saw his face. But it was fine. We were used to it, and we didn’t need no men to make things right. We were tough women, the Wilsons. Anyone who knew us would say, “Don’t screw over those Wilson women, they’ll hunt you down and skin you in your sleep.” Gramma caused that rumor. She had plenty of stories of going after men who tried to steal from her, back before the law. I don’t think I’ll ever know which stories were true and which were exaggerations. No matter, though. Gramma was a master storyteller and you never cared if what she said was a total lie. It was entertaining just to hear her talk around the fire.

  Gramma had taught me how to hunt, skin and process meat, while Ma made the connections that are still in effect today. Every time I sold a critter to the butcher down the way, he’d say, “Here’s to your old Ma; may she be hunting in heaven.” Of course, both my Gramma and Ma had been shot on these same lands, killed during a hunting accident—though with Gramma, I don’t know how accidental it was. The two of them weren’t panthers, either.

  I guess my Pa musta been a panther and passed his shifter DNA down to me. From what I heard, if you had just one shifter parent, you had a 50/50 shot at being one. Guess I ended up on the lucky end of the inheritance.

  From what my Ma and Gramma told me, I was four years old the first time I shifted, playing outside in the mud, as always. A bunny came hopping along and I went chasing after it. My little legs were too unsteady and slow to catch up, though, so I went back to playing in the mud. Well, some time later, the bunny came back, and that time, I was more determined. I ran after it, and at some point along the way, my determination went haywire. As I ran, Ma said I dropped down to all fours, screamed and then boom! I was a panther cub. That little bunny’s skin still hangs over my bed today. My first kill. A proud moment.

  But it was also a moment of sheer terror for Ma and Gramma, who had no clue what was going on. Gramma was a stealthy woman, though; she poked around town and eventually discovered what was going on. She got an old panther woman—Kat’s gramma, actually—to come over and talk to us, telling us what to expect. She said I might shift by accident while I was a youngin’, but once I came of age, it’d be happening regularly and the full moon would force me to shift if I stepped into its light. She became like a second gramma to me, and that’s how Kat and I knew each other.

  Dezi had become part of our tribe not too long after. The three of us had been all we had growing up. We liked it that way; that’s just how things were done in the ‘Glades. You kept to yourself, you did your work, and on occasion, you’d meet up at Shady’s with a friend or two for a cold one.

  I kissed the barrel of my gun—Gramma’s gun—and put it back over my shoulder. I always took something of Gramma’s with me on a hunt for luck, like her gun or knife. I walked on through the morning light, searching for a good spot to sit up high for a while. With my panther eyes, I could see farther than most and in dimmer light. My panther genes were a real benefit to me most days. Made me a good hunter.

  As I continued to make my way through the swampy forest, I caught a whiff of a scent that made me stop dead in my tracks. I took a few steps toward it to make sure and I shook my head. Yup. That damn bear again. Ezra. What kind of a name was that anyhow? And, more importantly, how was I going to shake that loser? If he really started to get in my way, I’d have to do something about him.

  It seemed he’d just been running around and landed at my hunting spot. Fine, whatever. It was part of the park and well within his rights to do so. I’d even heard he was a ranger, so it was his job to be in the park. I just didn’t personally want him so close. Had he managed to recognize my scent this time? Did he know he was close to me? Probably not. Dumbass.

  I followed his scent for a short time, but it went on through the trails for a while in a direction I didn’t need to be heading. As long as he wasn’t lurking somewhere, waiting to jump out and mess up my kill, I wasn’t worried about it. He didn’t seem to have been in the area at that moment, but he was there recently. The scent was pretty fresh.

  As I sniffed around, I picked up another scent. And that one disturbed me more than the bear’s. I had to be sure of my suspicions, so I crept closer, sniffing all the way. I saw a paw first, then the legs, and finally, the body.

  A panther lay dead, half hidden in the tall grass. Not too many panthers were left in those parts. Even if I was a shifter, I still felt a very deep connection with the creatures that were completely animal. We were the same species. That dead panther was especially disturbing, however; clearly, it had been murdered.

  Across its neck were long gashes. I couldn’t tell specifically what had killed it, but it must have been some kind of blade. They were clean cuts, unlike the tear of a claw. These wounds were also too intentional to be a matter of defense. The typical signs of a fight were missing; evidence of foul play, the police called it.

  If two animals fought, there should have been crushed plants nearby. There would have been scrapes and wounds on the body, but they would be varied; sometimes, you didn’t land a good swipe, making the gash shallow.

  This crime scene was clean. It seemed like the panther had been sleeping and someone snuck up on it to slice its throat. I doubted that’s how it happened, but that’s what it looked like. It told me two things: one, it was not an animal attack, and two, someone was hunting panthers. No, not hunting. Hunting implied stealth and skill and purpose. I hunted for meat, for skins, for carcasses. This poor creature was left for dead. No sport involved. Pure murder of a pure panther.

  Not too many things in the world upset me, but that filled me with such strong rage that I balled my fists and growled in anger, tears forming in my eyes. I would find who did this. I’d skin them alive and eat their scrawny frame while they watched. I’d pull out their fingernails one by one and watch them suffer.

  I paced for a minute, trying to clear my mind. I’d be no good for anything if my head was foggy with rage, so I forced myself to calm down. I spent a bit of time sniffing all around the body; I wanted to know the scent of the killer better than my own scent.

  Better than that bear’s scent that kept plaguing me.r />
  As I filled my nose with the mark of the murderer, I kept thinking of him. Ezra. If he really was a ranger, that would mean he knew those grounds almost as well as I did. As much as I hated to admit it, he might have been my best ally. My best chance for catching this killer and bringing him down. He’d be just as anxious as I was to get to the bottom of it. A ranger’s duties are to protect and conserve, and that death broke both tenets.

  But that meant finding Ezra, talking to him and working with him on some level. That meant time with him, in his presence. And that was the last thing I wanted.

  Okay, Britt. Focus on what’s important. Sure, Ezra is annoying and happens to be everywhere. Sure, your body reacts to his scent in ways you can’t stand and can’t shut off. But, admit it, he’s a nice guy, even if he’s an idiot and a pansy. He wouldn’t hurt me, I told myself.

  I sighed and went to find a place to stash my clothes and weapons nearby. I hung my things on a nearby tree’s branches and shifted, then ran to the last place I’d picked up Ezra’s scent and followed the trail.

  6

  Ezra

  “I’ll go ahead and file the report,” Owen said once they’d left the injured shark. The vet seemed to think it would be just fine, but there was still paperwork to be done. I was happy to let him do it.

  “I’ll drop you at the station, then get back to the trees,” I said.

  Owen gave me a sideways smirk.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “You want to be out there where you girl’s scent is? Hoping to run into her?”

  “Um, no. I ran into her once and she bit me. Then I ran into her again and she poked me and yelled at me. I have no desire to run into her again. Ever.”

  Owen laughed. “Wait till I tell the guys about this.”

  “Nothing to tell, man.”

  We hopped into the UV and drove back toward the ranger station. My clan loved to pick on me, the kid from California who didn’t grow up with a clan; pick on the one who speaks a little differently and isn’t all uptight. How could they think I’d have a thing for that panther? They knew me well enough to bust on me constantly, yet they insisted I had a thing for this she-devil tormenting me.

  “You know,” I said, “you should know better.”

  He’d been looking at his phone and put it down in a hurry to keep his eyes on the path. “Sorry, you’re right. Addie just sent me a picture of James. Look.” He held the phone so I could see the photo of the baby on his stomach, looking at the camera.

  “Cute. And no, I guess you shouldn’t be on your phone while driving, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “What then?”

  “You know me. You guys all do. I’ve been part of this clan for like, five years now? Living and working here in the Everglades with you all.”

  “Yeah?”

  “So, you know me,” I went on. “You should know my type. And that means, you should know I’d have nothing to do with a chick like that panther.”

  Owen pulled over and stopped, leaning over the steering wheel, laughing so hard he held his stomach. I shoved him and he tumbled out of the UV onto the path. He lay in a ball, still laughing his ass off.

  I got out and went around to his side to nudge him with my foot.

  “You—” He couldn’t talk, he was laughing so hard.

  I stood over him, my arms crossed, glaring down at him. “Dude.”

  “You’re friggin’ obsessed!” He’d started to calm down and sat up now to wipe tears from his eyes. “This is hilarious.”

  “Yeah, real funny.” My face felt hot with embarrassment. I never cared about their teasing; I had plenty of decent comebacks and I always got mine. But somehow, that was different. Maybe because deep down, I suspected what he said was true. Even if it was the last thing I wanted.

  “Ezra, man.” He got to his feet and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re my second in command. I want you to be happy. You’re important to me. You’re also my friend. But I have to tell you, from bear to bear, friend to friend, ranger to ranger, brother to brother—this chick is your mate, whether you want to deny it or not. Maybe just give into it and explore that. I mean, this is happening for a reason.”

  “What reason could there possibly be?”

  “No idea. The tale goes that when the fated need each other, the universe brings them together. You don’t have to believe it, but it sure seems like everything people say is true for you.”

  I shook my head and got back into the UV. “You’re wrong. I don’t need her for anything.”

  “Okay.” He got back in and turned the ignition, then hit the gas. “I’m with you, no matter what. You want this panther? Awesome. You don’t want this panther? No problem. But when you say you don’t want her, then go on and on about her? You’re going to get busted on, sorry.” He playfully shoved my shoulder. “Nothing wrong with being a little twitterpated. Especially since you’re fated mates.”

  “We’re not fated!” I hollered.

  He held up a hand in defense. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll let it go.” Then, under his breath, he added, “For now.”

  “Heard that.”

  “Figured you did.”

  As we neared the station, I noticed an animal running in the grass beside us, along the dirt road.

  “Hey, hold up for a sec,” I told Owen.

  He stopped and turned to look with me, and we got out to watch the running animal. It was unusual activity for this area and time of day. And then I knew why.

  “Oh fuck,” I said, slapping my forehead.

  Owen pressed his lips together hard, trying not to laugh.

  “Just don’t, man,” I said. “Why the hell is she here now?”

  I saw the panther’s head popping over the grass as she bounded toward us and prepared for another fight. What had I done to piss her off this time? I stood with my arms crossed, wearing an unhappy scowl on my face.

  She dashed out of the grass, her paws sliding in the dust as she came to a halt. The second she stopped running, she shifted into her human form, not seeming to care about the fact she was buck naked as she stood before us.

  “Hey!” She came right at us.

  “What’d I do now?” I asked.

  “For once, this isn’t about you.” She gave me a nasty look and turned to Owen. “I just came across something I thought you should know about. A pure panther. Dead. Murdered.”

  Owen’s eyes widened as mine did. “Where?”

  “Follow me; I’ll show you,” she said.

  “One sec.” Owen went back to the UV to radio the station that we had a situation to check out.

  While he did that, I tried to talk to her. “What can you tell us about it?”

  “Wasn’t an animal,” she said. “The wound is too clean. I picked up the scent of the killer, though.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” I held up both hands. “We can’t assume anything like that yet.”

  She glared at me. “You think I can’t tell the difference between an animal murdered and one killed in a fight?”

  “That’s not what I meant, I—”

  “Why don’t I murder you and see if anyone can tell I did it?”

  I let out a sigh. “Nevermind. What makes you so sure it was murder?”

  She spoke slowly and pointedly, like she thought I was a complete idiot. “Did I stutter? The wounds on the animal are clean. Not from claws, but blades. The area around the panther showed no sign of a fight, and the smell is human—and male. Did you get all that or should I repeat it again for you more slowly?”

  “I got it,” I snapped. “You don’t have to be so grumpy all the time.”

  “We’ll see how cheerful you are when people start hunting bears.”

  I gave her an incredulous look. “Bears aren’t protected like panthers are. We do get hunted. All the time. There’s a bear hunting season; aren’t you, like, a hunter or something for a living?”

  She rested her hands on her hips. I’d done a good job of avoiding scanning my
eyes over her gorgeous curves, but it was a lot of work to maintain my cool. I kept my gaze trained on hers and refused to look down, even as I felt my member begin to throb in anticipation.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded.

  “Aside from you showing up and hassling me over and over again?” I asked.

  “Okay, whoa,” Owen said, returning to us. “No time for your little fight here. And I’m sorry, Miss, what’s your name?”

  Owen actually stuck out his hand to shake hers and she returned the gesture.

  “Britt Wilson,” she replied.

  “Britt,” Owen continued. “Thank you for coming to tell us. Obviously, we’re highly concerned about this and we’ll do everything we can to get to the bottom of this. Since we’re all shifters, I’d say Ezra, let’s go ahead and bear up. We’ll get the clan over to sniff it out so we can all work together. My third just became a police officer, so he’ll be a valuable asset.”

  “Good,” she said. “I want this person dead. Fast.”

  “Shall we get a move on?” Owen asked. “The sooner we scope it out, the sooner we can find the attacker. He might still be in the area.”

  Britt didn’t answer, but promptly shifted and waited for us. Owen and I both went to the UV and yanked off our clothes, then shifted. She took off and we followed.

  You have to chill out, Owen commanded. What the hell was all that?

  What’s going on? Everything okay?

  Great. Now Mason was in on this, too.

  Where’s Conner? Owen asked.

  Here, Conner answered. Noah and Hailey are on their way.

  Perfect. Thanks. Owen explained the situation as we ran fast to keep up with Britt. We’re following her now to the body.