“Alpha. My base animal is snow leopard. Rarity and power count within a Mutable colony. Some males get stuck with a really weak base animal.” A low chuckle escapes his lips.
Arden sees my expression and laughs again. “Sure, and an elephant can stomp on a hyena, but the hyena is faster—has survival instincts at the top of the food chain.”
I grunt. “So it's good that you're a cat?”
Arden heaves an exasperated exhale. “Large feline and rare.”
I frown. “What's more Alpha than you?” Being Lycan seems much simpler.
Arden's face closes down. “Anything prehistoric would be a problem.”
I jerk my chin in the direction of the derelict neighborhood, mouth agape. “You think that's down there?”
I feel like being a Lycan warrior is plenty enough to bring to the party. Not that a little grizzly back-up hadn't kicked ass, I reflect.
“No,” Arden replies. “Prehistoric is so rare...”
“But things have been fucked up from the beginning of this change,” I say almost to myself.
“There's that. It seems like every time I progress, something comes up to separate Talyn and I.”
“Like me?” I say in a low voice.
The tension thickens between us like molasses.
We square off.
“I don't have time to fight you now. And as you found out—we're better together than apart. And yeah, in answer to your question, your timing sucked. I could have had Talyn already transitioned if you hadn't come along.”
I circle him, talons sliding out of my fingertips. I welcome the pain of my half-form. The transition to—wolfen—keeps thoughts at bay. I need to not intellectualize shit right now. I need to be reactive, get to Talyn—and somehow—get rid of Arden in the process.
His grim face notes my hands. “The enemy's down there, Merck.” He jerks his head in the direction of the forlorn houses below.
“You know who I trust, Masker?”
His lips thin.
“Me.”
“Then trust your instincts. Do your instincts tell you we want to save Talyn?”
He's right, of course. Arden's no fool. He understands if he keeps mentioning Talyn, he'll get a stay of execution until she's out of harm's way.
“Yes,” I finally spit out my answer.
“Then let's go.”
I flick a glance at the horizon. Twilight has bruised the sky plum, clouds skittering across the bluish-purple blanket of encroaching night like escaped smoke.
I don't reply, glancing over my shoulder at the enemy who's my friend.
For now.
Arden's eyes reflect back at my challenging stare like coins of icy blue silver in the rushing darkness, his cat form swarming his features like rain sheeting glass.
“I've masked us.”
I growl.
He better have, or they'll smell us already.
9
Narah
Murph pulls away, his eyes searching mine.
“Narah, don't tell me the fellas don't know.”
I inhale deeply—let it out slow. “They don't know.”
He hisses, his breath whistling between clamped teeth, a sliver of fangs showing. “Awful news, Narah.”
I press my lips tightly.
His inky brows come together, once a golden-brown—his appearance having changed so much since I turned him.
More guilt strikes me like a well-honed weapon.
I did this.
Murphy gives my shoulders a soft shake. “No. Don't—I can feel your guilt. This isn't about me.”
“You were mad at me.”
Murphy silvered eyes swing heavenward. “Not mad. Rage-inspired.”
My lips quirk. “Same thing.”
He shakes his head, a strand of hair breaking loose from his hairband at his nape. “No. Being a vampire, as lovely as I am—” his lips curl, and my eyes narrow, “takes some getting acquainted with.”
His gaze meets mine with impunity. A human wouldn't want that silver stare trained on them. It could mean thrall.
Which could mean everything a human being doesn't want.
“I wasn't saying you having a babe was the bad news, love. I said that I'm fond of keeping my limbs when Aeslin and Matthews find out you told me before them. They're your mates,” he thumbs his broad chest, made even more so with him being a vamp, “not me.”
“Can't we just grow arms and legs back if they're plucked off?” I keep a straight face.
Murph glares. “I'm not keen on finding out. I'm a vampire, not a starfish.”
I burst out laughing. “You don't care if I catch the bad guys?” I ask, changing the subject.
Murphy's hands leave my arms. “I love you catching the wankers. I love catching them. However, I don't fancy you getting your pregnant bum beaten.”
I fold my arms across my narrow chest. “Thanks. You sound like a typical dude. Chicks can't give back what they get. Is that it?”
He gives me a narrow look. “You know that I understand—intimately—how lethal you are. You're a proficient level 10 for fuck's sake, Narah. They don't hand those assessments out like candy.”
“So what's the issue?”
“Selfishly? You die—I die. True death. Secondly, I enjoy our clever repartee far too much to have all that excitement end prematurely because your stubbornness wins out over logic.” He cocks an eyebrow. “A trend amongst your gender,” he holds up a palm before I can protest, “overall.”
My mouth clamps shut.
I blow out an exhale. “Fine. I will tell the studs, but I want to nail this case first.”
Murphy eyes swing to the ceiling again. “Lord have mercy! You heard me, but you don't listen.”
“I know,” I reply softly. “But I have to help Talyn.”
“Why?” Murphy seethes. “She's a Lycan's change. She's that Merck fellow's responsibility.”
I nod hastily. “True. But she didn't believe me.”
“Believe you?” His eyes slit, shoulders lifting in a small shrug.
“Believe that I could protect her—save her.”
Murphy sighs, his gaze pointedly moving around the destruction of Talyn Phisher's home. “And we can't. She's in too deep—Lanarre royalty? Even Merck admitted she was the strangest change he'd ever had. And the complication of the Masker...”
“Mutable.”
His eyes darkened. “That too.”
I grab a handful of my pale braids and toss them behind my back.
“If Casper finds out you've gone off the rails you won't have to worry about not having told the gents your news.”
My gaze latches onto his.
“He'll terminate your employment without a thought. You can't go solo on this, Narah. This case no longer falls under client needs anymore. Once you and I—as your partner—though I feel like a tolerated sidekick—discovered that Talyn was a Lycan hybrid, our duty was done. Lycan politics don't impact Final Enforcement's ever-changing model. We distribute justice to the criminals our lovely police force doesn't want to dirty their hands with. We help humans who have problems of the supernatural variety.”
I blink. That's the longest speech I've ever heard Murph make. “Until the circle closes,” I reply.
Murph nods. “Yes. Until our obligation comes to its natural end. Which it has. We've already used Enforcement resources for clean-up. Now you're saying we need to find Talyn. It's clear that others were here.” He gives an abbreviated laugh, stabbing his eyes at the mess all around us. “They fought. And now Talyn is gone. And it is abundantly clear that Merck—and Arden—for that matter, will not stop chasing Talyn until she's transitioned. Let. It. Go.”
My hands go to my hips, and I dip my chin.
I struggle internally with not following through. My nature intrinsically sees a task or promise through to the end. Possibly because no one saw anything through for me. All promises broken.
Until I was turned and mated by vampires.
I wish I
could let it go. Let Talyn's life come to whatever conclusion fate has in store for her.
“You can't let go,” Murphy says softly.
I lift my head, giving Murph level eyes. “No.”
“Fuck it,” he says, taking my hand, he hauls me out of Talyn's busted up digs.
“Where are you taking me?” I yank my hand out of his.
We turn to face each other.
“If you're committing possible suicide, I might as well have some skin in it.”
I jerk my chin back. “Huh? You've lost me.”
“I might be a lot of things, but saving my own skin is top on the list. I might actually live to see the next night if I help you get this out of your system.”
“And if I say no?”
Murphy steps into my space, looming over my small frame. “You tell me to piss off, and I'll run straight to the boys and let them in on your secret.”
“Bastard.”
“Yes.” He jerks his head in an enthusiastic nod. “But someone has to look out for you since you won't.”
“And look out for you,” I say, sarcasm like thick honey on my tongue.
The corners of his lips turn up.
I shove him good-naturedly in the chest and he stumbles back. “Hey!”
“Let's go, ya brute.”
I wink.
He glowers.
10
Talyn
“So—what? Duncan was always a derelict criminal, bent on kidnapping me?”
Drake's head kicks back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Pretty much.”
I sigh, tipping my head back against the wall. “The whole ʻasking me out on a dateʼ after workout at the gym?”
“Ruse,” he replies in a bored tone.
“God.”
“Not a believer, I'm afraid.”
I narrow my gaze at him. Like Merck, this guy is super-tall, built like a pro-wrestler and maybe he'd even be attractive.
Except for the scales.
And probably a forked tongue. Wait a minute—does he breathe fire?
I shiver.
Drake sees my reaction and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I'm so thrilled by his amusement. I shake off my curiosity for the moment. “You know, I think you shifters have to change into an animal that actually exists. It has to be a rule somewhere.”
A smile hovers at his lips. “And you're the authority on shapeshifters.”
“No,” I say defensively, “but in our world's ecosystem, I've never heard a breath of dragons as a real species. It's just bad science fiction.”
Drake's eyebrow cocks. “Really?”
He paces away, and I admire his wonderful body. In the middle of being a hostage, a crushing warmth steals my breath, piping through my system like lava.
I groan.
Drake whirls, staring intently at me, his concern is evident. “You're close.” His nostrils flare and a disconcerting twitch of his strange yet delicately constructed ears flicks. A rainbow waterfall like a shadow of colors ripples over his flesh head to toe.
I wheeze.
“Get these restraints off me!” I say loudly, denying my sexual needs.
Drake's hands fist, his eyes furtively moving about the room.
“Please,” I beg. My crotch is on fire, I'm exhausted and dirty and so low from lack of hope I can taste it.
He seems to come to a decision and extracts a knife from his back pocket. The blade flicks out with a smooth movement of his hand.
My eyes widen at the reflection of the metal.
With large eyes and a speeding heart, I watch him come.
I went too far, I demanded, and now the Dragon shifter guy—Mutable, whatever—has decided I'm more trouble than I'm worth.
“Don't hurt me.”
He comes to stand in front of me then sinks to his haunches.
A single tear swells, tipping over the rim of my eye.
“Don't.” My voice is hoarse, my terror rides my skin, raising goose flesh everywhere clothes don't touch.
Instead of answering, Drake leans forward, his arms going behind my body. I instinctively tense just as he gives off an odor unlike anything I've ever smelled.
I relax instantly. It's air and sea and earth, wind along my nose. His scent is all these things and more.
The pressure of the ties snaps off my wrists and my aching arms fall forward. His hands move down first one shin.
“Ah,” I gurgle embarrassingly in response to his touch.
Cut.
Then the next.
When my legs are free he grasps my hands and lifts me to my feet. I come to his shoulder.
Fear sweeps in again.
More of Drake's sweet scent pumps into the air around us, assailing my nostrils, and I find myself falling forward. Into his arms.
At his mercy.
My intellect batters at the new scent drunk closing in. I'm drowning—and I like it.
I don't notice the commotion at first. When my feet leave the ground, my arms automatically tuck against a broad, muscular chest.
My face rolls to the flat muscles of his chest and I inhale deeply.
His scent is a drug, and I'm an addict.
A sudden crack breaks through my lethargy. My head jerks up and I peer out of the arms that hold me.
Merck and Arden burst into the room.
Oh, I think through the fog.
And they're not alone.
Enforcer Adrienne and her companion—a vampire by the looks of him—have arrived.
The cavalry is here to rescue me.
I look up at Drake and that small smile rides his full lips.
His eyes are no longer human.
“Leave and live another day.” Drake says.
The answer to the forked tongue question has been answered.
I randomly wonder how enunciating S's must be. I giggle and Merck and Arden look at me.
“This is bad,” I hear Arden say like he's a million miles away.
“Which part?” Adrienne asks as a chair sails over her head, crashing into the cheap wall and buckling it.
“The part where a dragon has claimed Talyn.”
Someone groans. I realize it's me.
Claimed?
“Oh shit.” I recognize the enforcer's voice but my eyelids are already closing. Drake's scent is so intoxicating, I feel the buzz of his nearness take over.
“Bloody hell!” another voice yells.
But I'm already fading. As another fight ensues, I vaguely wonder what escape really means for me.
The noise dims, and even that question becomes unimportant as I doze off.
THE END
SHIFTER
An Alpha Claim Brief-Bites® Novelette
Episode 4
New York Times Bestselling Author(s)
MARATA EROS
TAMARA ROSE BLODGETT
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2015 Marata Eros
Copyright © 2015 Tamara Rose Blodgett
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
www.tamararoseblodgett.com
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Cover art by: Willsin Rowe
Proofed by: Corinna
Synopsis:
Talyn wakes to find that she's not with who she started with, and tragedy dogs her every step of the way.
Narah works to secure her safety while Mutables make a bid to have her.
Can Merck claim her before it's too late? Or will Drake find a way to insert his dominance above all.
Narah
“For fuck's sake!”
I so didn't need a dragon Mutable mess. Didn't order that.
A chair cruises over my head, the leg catching the mess of my braids and jerking hard.
I know my hair's a liability—I've stubbornly kept it in a bid for femininity. As I land in an ungraceful pile on the floor, I regret the long hair, and not telling the boys I'm knocked up.
With a... I don't know? Fang baby?
As the enemy pours through the door to see what all the ruckus is about, I fight crying. I'm so in my damned head, my thoughts are cannibalizing my brains.
“Love,” Murphy calls out with soft urgency, “move your bony arse!”
I whip a palm into the air and his slaps mine, hoisting me up.
Jamie Duncan walks in, looking decidedly toothy.
Great. This is the stalker dude—he's not a human? My glare falls on a drunken and claimed Talyn Phisher in the arms of a hot dragon Mutable.
Not hot as in sexy, but hot-underneath-the scales.
Can't I just catch the criminals anymore? Now I'm refereeing mating too?
Ask me if I care. “Grab the client,” I say to Murph.
“Oh no, love, I don't do dragons.”
I turn to Murphy, hands on hips. “I'm not asking you to do him, Murph. Just get Talyn.”
“What?!” he yells. “Have you noticed anything a more sensible person would? Like scales? And fire-breathing? I will be a barbequed vampire if I get near his claim.”
My eyebrows shoot down. I stalk over to the dragon, muttering about how I have to do everything myself. I look up, way up—as steam lazily pools and dissipates out his ears and nose.
Wow. Up close he's a thing.
I suck in a balls-to-the-wall inhale.
Whatever.
Jamie Duncan is sleazing along the wall, and my blade is suddenly in my hand without me thinking about pulling it. Obsidian—volcanic glass hardened metal of champions—gotta love technology. “Back off mutt,” I say without looking at him. My peripheral vision will have to keep tabs on the Lycan because I've got fire-breather holding my client.
Shifter Alpha Claim 1-6 Omnibus Page 12
