Shifter Alpha Claim 1-6 Omnibus

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  He's so difficult to take seriously.

  Alex's thick lips purse for a moment, relieving me of the sight of his chunky yellow teeth. “This Lycan has an ax to grind. He was sent by the Alpha in charge of the Changers. Orders are to kill this Merck—the Lycan—the one who took Talyn Phisher? It was a big no-no, and his Changer buddies are pissed. She was earmarked to be a Lycan slut.” He brays.

  I clench my teeth. Fool. “Fine. Where is the location?”

  Alex extracts a pulsemap and depresses his thumb. Lights sweeps into the dark screen. He points to some back roads branching off Interstate 29, and I nod my head. Safehouse.

  Then I smile.

  Not safe for much longer.

  *

  Jac

  I slip my pulse communicator into my back pocket.

  Noah is for the move.

  Though prehistorics are a stronger group of shifters than any other, there are fewer of us. I'm here for backup only.

  We don't need any more shifter groups turning their focus on us. It was bad enough, what happened in the apartment with the fucking Mutables. All three had to be put down.

  I smile. The antelope was the most satisfying.

  Staying in human form, for now, will keep me inconspicuous. Talking's a plus too.

  When I'm in my half-form, I need little to eat, and am the strongest of all shifters, but speed is not my strongest trait.

  I've reached the safehouse the enforcer took Drake and the prehistoric female to and shadow the ridiculous donkey, along with a Mutable who's in wolfen form.

  They don't smell what I really am. If I was scented, it'll be as a human. If I'm extra lucky, they'll think I'm a random hunter or touristy camper in the Black Hills. Not an uncommon occurrence.

  It'll get tricky when we get off the interstate, and suddenly there aren't any people. There my scent might stand out.

  Drake needs me, and I intend to help him and the female.

  Whatever that takes.

  Noah's directive is firmly in my mind. But if more shifters have to die to save Drake's female, in this situation—it's the many for the one. Because this one is more important than most.

  *

  Narah

  My thumb hurts.

  I've been holding it solidly to my pulse devise while my dedicated thoughts sync with Matthews and Aeslin.

  They're pissed.

  I broke my promise. I swore I would stop after the client case was closed. So what am I waiting for?

  Good question.

  I pulse Aeslin a last thought.

  ME: I have a gut feeling. That the danger is still there. I want to stay until that's past. Then I come home.

  A second passes as he collects his dedicated thought for pulse transfer.

  Aeslin: And I have a feeling that mirrors yours: danger for you.

  Matthews: He's right, get your hot ass back home.

  I depress my thumb on the security dock and power my pulse down without a goodbye. I'll deal with the boys later. Right now, they're making my focus drift. And I need that focus. Being pregnant has dropped my IQ into a valley. I can't think.

  I glance at the driver and sigh. He's a decent dude, but needs to lay off the smokes. I smell like cigarettes, my vampire nose says his blood isn't the highest quality. Somehow, that nicotine is a turnoff in the blood stream.

  That and garlic. I pucker my lips in distaste.

  My gorge stirs.

  Oh shit, not now.

  Sure enough, I race to the nearest bushes and puke up the blood tinged with my last meal—whenever that was. It burns and sours my throat and mouth.

  Fuck that sucked.

  How does a baby the size of my fist make me this sick? I shake my head at the sheer biological power of a kid before they're even born. At least I don't have to hide it from the guys anymore.

  I give a crooked smile. They're so gonna kick my ass. Hot or not.

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, noting the shakiness. I could use some blood right about now. I need rest.

  I walk back to the tree I'd been standing against, looking for Jose and lean a forehead against the trunk. Wait a sec.

  I jerk upright. He's gone.

  What the hell...?

  A strange smell alerts me. But I'm foggy with hormones.

  My nose says shifter a moment before he whacks me on the head.

  I go down like a sack of potatoes. No level ten proficient today, folks—just sleeping on the job as the pregnant hybrid vampire I am.

  I look up, my vision quaking at the edges.

  A donkey is smiling. What horrible teeth, I have time to think, before he's raising his bludgeoning instrument of choice and bringing it down.

  My baby. The wood grows before my eyes as it gets closer.

  A hand smacks the solid hickory as another hand yanks one of the donkey's long ears.

  He brays loud enough to wake the universe courses through the still air.

  Murphy smiles down at me. “Lying down on the job, love?”

  I have just enough strength to flip him the bird.

  “So ungrateful. As usual.” He smirks in his delightful way. Casually turning, he breaks the donkey's neck. Dusting off his hands, he steps over the body to where I lie.

  “Shut up and help me,” I say from the ground.

  Murphy heaves a dramatic sigh, yanking me up.

  “Where's Talyn?” I ask, swaying, he tries to put an arm around me and I shrug it off.

  “Don't know, darling—only care about you.” His eyes narrow significantly. “The client might have to fend for her own skin.”

  “Argh!” I shout like a pirate and stomp off.

  When I see what's happening at the cabin, I sprint.

  11

  Talyn

  The smile won't leave my face. I probably look foolish, but can't find it in me to care. I just had mind-blowing sex with two hot men. Well—shifters. And, I might already have a baby brewing.

  Baby. I cover my stomach, trying not to overthink that.

  My mind funnels images of Animal Kingdom through my head, and a wayward breath escapes. Maybe I'll have a normal baby, since I'm half human.

  Probably not.

  But it won't be Rosemary's Baby, so I'm safe.

  I shiver at the visual.

  Another shower, and I'm back in my unflattering sweatpants and t-shirt. Not that Merck and Drake appear to care.

  They hover around me, touching me like they can't believe I'm real as I heat up more stew.

  “You two,” I look at Drake from underneath my eyelashes. “What if Narah comes in?”

  Merck grunts, his blue eyes so intent on my expression I feel myself blush. “She's a hybrid, she knows what is happening here.” His voice is certain, his eyes hooded with his transparent desire as he stares at me.

  “At the very least, she suspects,” Drake remarks casually, popping a stale cracker in his mouth and making a face. “I suppose this is what we have for now.”

  I think of Merck's devastated apartment, and it reminds me of something. “I've been meaning to ask—but haven't had even two seconds to do so.” They look expectantly at me. “I want to go home, get my affairs in order. I can't just dump everything and ride off into the sunset with you guys.”

  Merck gives a rough exhale. “I won't be too popular with Charles—Lycans. Anyone. In fact, I bet my ass is cooked.”

  Because he was supposed to change me then hand me over. “I know,” I reply softly.

  He hikes my chin with a fingertip, his icy blue eyes hold my gaze prisoner. “Doesn't matter, Talyn.”

  “Okay,” I turn to face Drake, his mouth full of food. I giggle. “What about you?”

  He chews mechanically, swallowing hard. “Other prehistorics work for the greater good. We don't fight each other for females. If one is found—she's a treasure, not a commodity.”

  I snort. “Well that's refreshing.”

  Drake smiles, inclining his head.

  There's a crash by th
e door and the males move in front of me.

  “What's going on!?” I scream.

  The retort of a gun cracks in the room like a thunder clap and I yelp, automatically dropping to the floor.

  “Silver, Lycan.”

  I move between Drake's legs, trying to see what new mess just arrived.

  Jamie Duncan.

  Merck falls, hitting the side of the kitchen countertop with one broad shoulder and sliding to the floor.

  There's blood everywhere, it slicks my hands as I grip my Lycan lover. Hysteria edges my voice. I can't lose this—whatever we have. Not now. “Don't you dare die, Merck.” I shake him but he's such a huge guy, he doesn't move.

  Hissing fills the room like angry cobras, and I jerk my head to where Narah and Murphy slide into the room.

  “Back off, vampires,” Duncan says.

  Is it me or is it getting warm in here?

  “Don't, dragon—you'll harm Talyn.”

  My eyes rise. Drake's gone dragon, scales scattering across his body like oil-slicked water, shimmering with translucent, gemlike beauty.

  Merck coughs and blood splatters.

  Oh my God.

  “I hate you,” I say to Duncan from the floor.

  He shrugs. “It's not about love or hate, female—it's about maintaining form—any form, and breeding a female who will facilitate that end.”

  He grins, while Merck lays suffering and possibly dying at my feet.

  “You're too late you—you jerk!” I scream, my hands gripping Merck.

  Merck's lips twitch.

  “Take your best shot, Mutable,” Narah says.

  Duncan pulls out a second gun. “Garlic stuffed silver bullets—high content, bitch.”

  Narah rolls her eyes. “Bring it.”

  He fires.

  She catches the bullet, but it tears through her hand, a smoking hole left behind. “That stung,” she says through her teeth then launches at him. Foot first, Narah swings a high kicking arc at his head that Duncan avoids.

  She drops on the opposite leg in a low crouch, slamming her fist into his crotch.

  Bulls-eye. I feel the males cringe.

  “That'll slow you down, loverboy.” Narah rises. The kick was a distraction, clearly the fist to the nuts had been the plan all along.

  “Ahhhh,” Duncan gurgles in a lowly groan from the floor.

  “Huh,” Merck says, trying to sit up.

  “Don't move,” I say in a shaky voice as my tears fall on his chest.

  Merck makes a low noise of disgust.

  Narah strides over, looking down at Merck, she grunts. “Murph, come over here and suck this poison out of our good Lycan.”

  A man appears at the door and Narah whirls, Drake at her back but still between me and whoever entered. His posture relaxes, though his voice is surprised. “Jacob.”

  “Sorry, I got here a little late to help out with him,” he indicates a glowering Duncan on the floor. “And the male vampire took care of the,” he tries to keep a straight face and finally succumbs, laughing, “the donkey.”

  I sit down hard. The donkey? What do they say about them? Oh yes, stubborn, and an ass. That about covers it.

  Murphy bends over the top of Merck.

  Merck's eyes are slim with pain. “Do your worst, vampire.”

  Murphy gives a great sigh, behaving as though he is girding up his loins. He hovers for a moment, then sinks fangs. Grimacing, he continues to suck blood from Merck's big throat.

  “Is this,” I squeeze Merck's thigh, “going to help him?” Fresh tears well, but I keep them at bay by the skin of my teeth.

  Narah nods, looking between the new man, Merck, and Drake. “I either take this guy in, or—” Narah gives them a significant look.

  “Kill me, it doesn't change anything,” Duncan says in a smug voice.

  A crooked grin spreads on Narah's face. “No, but it'd feel really satisfying.”

  His look shoots daggers at Narah. She smiles and flips him off.

  I look at Merck, so still in Murphy's blood thirsty embrace. “I'm pregnant. They claimed me—or whatever, Duncan. You're too late.”

  Silence sweeps in, only breathing can be heard.

  Duncan's face darkens like a coming storm. “You won't be pregnant forever, there will be others.”

  Drake's eyebrows drop, hooding his liquid gaze. “Talyn will be protected among prehistorics. Do you think—that there's a Mutable who stands a chance against one of the ancient ones?”

  Narah gives a decisive nod. “I'm taking him in. Hate his attitude,” “Lay off the bloodletting, Murphy.”

  Murphy stops drinking from Merck and sways as he stands. Merck is pale but Murphy looks like polished stone, more gray than white. He appears unwell.

  “Go puke,” Narah says, casually pointing at the door. But she looks green around the gills also. Sweat beads on her upper lip.

  “Not feeling too good?” Duncan asks in a sly voice.

  “Like I was saying,” Narah says, moving toward him. She goes to yank him to his feet and he leaps to a standing position on his own, brandishing a blade.

  It's brownish-yellow. I don't know what it is but Drake, who'd reached him first, hesitates.

  “That's right, Drake, Lonsdaleite is the only substance that can penetrate your scales. Go ahead, can you take me?”

  “I don't know, maybe I can.” Narah moves low, kicking the back of Duncan's knee with her instep and swinging down with her right hand, chopping his wrist.

  The knife clatters to the ground like an poop smear.

  Drake's on him.

  “No fire!” Merck says as he stands, drawing me closer, healed of the silver poison.

  “No fire,” Drakes whispers.

  Vapor like a mirage pours from his open mouth, and promptly begins to melt Jamie Duncan into a gory puddle at his feet.

  The screams echo in my mind long after his death.

  Epilogue

  Talyn

  Eight months later

  Pooky purrs as I stroke her head.

  Maybe she's forgiven me?

  She adores Drake, but Merck—we're still working on that.

  I feel a smirk flash across my face. Dogs and cats, you know.

  My house is gone, restored to a semblance of its former glory, but not habitable for two shifters and a former therapist.

  My job too has forever been altered, but I have a new one.

  A smile steals over my lips as I stroke my large belly.

  There are enough hybrid females who need my assistance figuring out the new lifestyle of becoming their animal, and learning how to be essentially married to a shifter—that my therapist's skills are needed—desperately.

  The emergent threat of the Mutables is past for the moment, but remains an issue for the future.

  How many women are hybrids and don't know it until it's too late? Or worse—they're scooped up by the wrong group. Merck's shifter den was actually attempting to be somewhat humane—by shifter standards. Their ways still seemed pretty chauvinistic and cruel to me. My own standard has not moved to acceptance with the way females are treated.

  I wish to effect change. Only the prehistorics have our treatment right.

  I gaze around my new home, happiness swelling inside me. The clan of prehistorics is buried deep within the Black Hills. My home is pine trees and prairies, snow and sun, freshness and wild promise.

  Love.

  Drake finds me with a book on my lap, and a daydream in my eyes.

  He lowers himself, kneeling between my legs and setting my book on the end table. Laying his face against my swollen belly he murmurs, “Soon.”

  “I've been pregnant forever.”

  His smile is slight, but his heart is big. These past almost nine months, I've gotten to know Merck and Drake, and though they're opposites, their treatment of me is the same.

  Merck has the equivalent of an APB out on his head. Bounty hunters in the four state area are pining for a piece of the Lycan reward c
ake.

  The threat of his capture terrifies me. That one of my baby's fathers would be in danger. But as long as we stay in the prehistoric clans borders, we're safe.

  I've gone to the leader, Doric.

  He's a mastodon. I've pleaded with him to be the one who introduces the most ancient shifter community to humanity. If the humans are blindsided with another reveal of supernatural proportions, they won't react well.

  But Doric says it's not his secret to reveal.

  I asked whose responsibility it was.

  The First Species, he replied.

  Who are they?

  Doric had looked at me, so human for the moment. The first of us, was his only cryptic reply.

  Merck approaches from the small kitchen, a towel draped over a broad shoulder, his blue eyes still intense, still chilling.

  But they warm as they hold my gaze.

  Thawed.

  THE END

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