by Amanda Jones
Whatever his secret was, it could wait one more night.
The sun wasn't up yet. When Evan bent over me to kiss me good bye, the sky hadn't even begun to lighten.
I sleepily calculated that it couldn't even be 3 am. yet as Evan pulled the blankets up to my chin for me, "I have to go meet with some people. I need you to stay on the car. OK?"
He was very serious. I tried to open my eyes fully and pay careful attention to what he was saying, "Stay on the train, Kerri. No matter what. They're going to be coupling the car to the train in a little while. You don't need to do anything, just sit tight. I'll be back before you leave the station."
"Wait," I had finally reached some level of consciousness, just in time to call out as Evan was leaving the bedroom. He turned to look back at me, "Where are you going?" I asked, my voice still groggy.
"I just have to meet with some folks. I'll be back in a little while." He came back and kissed me again, "Go back to sleep. I'll tell you all about it when I get back and then we'll have all the time we want when we get to Khabarovsk. "
He was gone. I curled up and drifted off to sleep smiling "when we get to Khabarovsk," those were the sweetest words I'd ever heard. He wanted me to stay in Khabarovsk with him.
Sunlight streamed through the windows in the private train car, the familiar back and forth sway of the train assuring me it was perfectly acceptable to sleep in after having been jolted awake by the abrupt coupling of the car to the main train a little while ago.
I gave in to the rocking motion and continued dozing until my stomach reminded me that I'd skipped dinner last night.
I pulled on the T-shirt I'd stolen from Evan to use as a nightie, it hung below my knees, the shoulder seams hanging almost to my elbows. It smelled like him and that made me smile every time I wore it.
One whole day on solid ground and I'd already lost my sea legs, or train legs, I guess. The train lurched from side to side and I nearly tripped trying keep my balance as I made my way to the tiny kitchen in search of breakfast.
Something tugged at the back of my mind as I leaned against the counter, trying to slice the dense rolls and cheese we'd picked up from a street stand. I'd just set about making coffee when it dawned on me--
Evan wasn't on the car!
I checked the bed, the couch, and then the small bathroom in case he was in the shower. Nothing.
He'd promised he'd be back before the train left the station.
I looked outside, all traces of Irkutsk had long since slipped by and we were picking up speed along the placid waters of Lake Baikal.
A frantic dash out of the front of the car brought me to reality in a hurry. This was no commuter train like the one we'd been trailing before. A look at the long line of cars stretched out along the winding track in front of us revealed a mixed consist. But the passenger cars were at the front of the train, near the engine. I counted no less than 12 freight cars between them and the private coach.
I was staring at the back of a tanker car, no door to allow passengers to move freely between coaches. Just a metal ladder leading up to the roof.
Evan wasn't on the train.
There was nothing I could do now, but wait till the train stopped.
From Siberian Soul Part 2:
The train was stopping. Rather suddenly it seemed.
I pried my eye lids open to the dim blue of predawn. It had taken me 18 hours to fall asleep, my mind on fire with the possible reasons for Evan's disappearance and what I planned to do next. I'd finally drifted off to the motion of the train sometime late in the night.
Looking at the clock now, I had gotten about 4 hours of sleep. My lids were heavy and my eyes caked with that weird sandy stuff that gets in your eyes when you sleep.
The train's brakes were locked on, making a hideous screeching noise as the metal wheels slid along the tracks. I braced myself against the leather couch and waited till the train came to a complete stop with a violent jolt that threatened to throw me off the sofa.
I could hear the sounds of men yelling outside. The voices were barking out in the rough sounds of Russian being spoken angrily.
I rushed to the window to the window to see what was going on. The train had stopped on a siding that ran parallel to the main track. I could see three men outside, walking the length of the train toward my car. They were carrying guns, long ones that looked like the sort of thing Rambo would use, and yelling at each other as they checked the cars ahead of me.
A wave of nausea pooled in my stomach, a cold sweat beading on my skin. I checked to make sure the doors of the coach were locked from the inside and hid on the floor behind the bed where I should be out of sight from the windows.
I felt the car list under the weight of one of the men as he climbed the steps to the door at the front of the car.
An authoritative knock against the glass window made me cringe.
What was I doing? My conscious mind told me that I needed to answer the door, let the man in, be cooperative but my gut clenched at the thought. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to avoid these men at all costs.
I curled up tighter against the soft carpet on the floor and willed myself to become invisible.
There was another sensation of the car rocking as another man climbed onto the rear observation deck. More yelling. More knocking.
I was sure they were looking for Evan. If they thought the car was empty, maybe they would leave and let the train go on its way.
Something hard was knocking against the glass at the front cabin door. No longer the knock of a fist pleading for an answer but the sound of someone trying to gain entry.
The glass shattered and I heard the latch being raised and the door being opened. Heavy footsteps landed on the thick carpeting as the doors to the kitchenette and bathroom were thrown open.
More yelling. This time the angry voice was aimed at each tiny room that the man entered as he searched the car.
There was a dividing partition between the bedroom and the living area. I was curled as tightly as my body allowed into the space between the bed and that partition. Huddled against the bedspread, desperately hoping that I wasn't visible to anyone stalking through the car.
It was a futile wish.
The man's black leather boots came into view. I heard him calling out as he searched. He had stopped kicking at things, his voice had lowered as he carefully opened the closet doors. It sounded mocking now. As though he were playing hide and seek with a child who was misbehaving.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief as he seemed satisfied that no one was on the car. The man finished the short distance to the rear door of the car and raised the metal latch to unlock it.
Conversational tones passed between him and the man who had been waiting on the rear platform. I heard the distinctive sound of the flint roller of a cigarette lighter being struck and then a pause.
Then more conversation in low voices.
For a minute, I thought everything was going to be OK. I thought the man who had just stalked through the luxury train coach was going to simply leave with his friend through the rear of the car and that the train would continue on its way to Khabarovsk where I would most certainly be getting the fuck out of here.
Screw the Trans-Si! Screw Russia! Screw Evan! My gut recoiled at the thought of leaving without knowing what had happened to him but this was turning into the sort of trip to Russia that my parents had warned me about.
Just when I thought I was going to get out of this, the two men entered the car. Talking and laughing, I could hear them pulling out drawers from the little bureau, then pulling the contents of the little closet from the racks and throwing things around the room.
That's when they found me. Heavy boots came into view at the foot of the bed as the man started toward the nightstand next to where I was hiding.
Once he rounded the corner of the bed, there was no way he wouldn't see me.
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Eva Wilder loves shifters; everything from traditional sexy alpha wolves and the thundering paws of grizzlies to the obscure and oft-forgotten animals that walk among us disguised as humans. Eva Wilder is the co-author of Chased by the Dragons of Ecuador, American Tigers, Craving the Alpha, and Bearfield, with new series in the works.
Join Eva's heroines as they discover the secret world of shifters around them... and discover love in all its shifted forms. Come along for the ride as they're captivated and seduced by wily creatures who recognize their mate and aren't afraid to claim her. Eva's stories are wild and steamy, for mature readers only!
For more stories by Eva and her friends:
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Claire Ryann is inspired by the real lives and loves of the women that she's known personally, she prefers to create heroines for real life-- what we see in ourselves, what we see in others, and what we want to be.
A little too curvy? A little past our prime? A little too picky to settle for anything less than the real thing in the right package? Claire's heroines always meet their match-- and their mate--whether it's a ruggedly handsome adventurer, or a seriously sexy alpha bear shifter, or just the new neighbor across the hall.
Whether you prefer your happy endings with a dose of reality or in the paws of a sexy shapeshifter, Claire probably has a story for you.
Most of Claire's books are in short story format because that's what she loves to read herself. Perfect for a bedtime story or a lunch break read.
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Silverback Shift
by Artemis Wolffe
Money, respect and power; for most people, that would be enough to lead a happy, fulfilled life.
Lyle Harris is not most people. In fact, if his secrets were revealed, most normal humans wouldn't consider the silverback shifter to even be “people”. To Lyle, though, the most important part of his incredible life is the hole in his heart; with so much to share, he has found no one to share it with.
Enter Gunnar Gray. A young corporate intern, life has taken a different path for Gunnar; with a sick mother to care for, he doesn't have much time to work toward his goals...or his dreams of being in the arms of his boss. He knows it's not meant to be, though; his boss is rich, powerful and the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, while Gunnar has to work extra jobs just to survive.
Jobs like landscaping at the Harris house.
Landscapers sometimes see things they were not meant to see while on the job, and after Gunnar witnesses something never meant for his eyes, he and Lyle quickly find themselves caught in a web of lies, blackmail...and sexual tension.
In a game of give-and-take, threats and deception, can they beat the odds and win the greatest prize either could ever hope to find...or will their love remain a secret, even to themselves?
Scene One
It was going to be another long night. The newest patch that was meant to fix the security breach in the latest version of SoftShift's major software release was shown to create an infinite loop of additional problems. The additional workload created from what was supposed to be an easy fix meant the need to hire an intern. Lyle Harris, CEO of SoftShift, left that job in the capable hands of his receptionist, Talia Corntassel.
"Go through the tech boards and find someone fresh out of college that's eager for a bullet point on his resume. Someone I can get cheap, Talia." Lyle said over the intercom.
"No problem, Sir, I'll have you someone here in a couple of days."
Talia had come from a rival software firm and Lyle knew he was lucky to have her. She seemed to have everything the company needed; great accounting skills, organization, and proficient in anything thrown her way. She was tall, with long brunette hair that was always done up. Her curves would make a straight man lust; thankfully Lyle didn't have to worry about that aspect of her.
Lyle left her to choose the candidate and do the hiring, knowing she'd do fine and it would be one less thing that he'd have to deal with. He often left her to do small tasks outside her job class and gave her bonuses for it. Right now, he had to stay focused and getting the new patch online as quickly as possible. His backers were concerned about the breach and Lyle had assured them that the problem was nearly completed. Trouble was, they were no further along in fixing the issue than they were when they found the problem. They needed to focus on this, as each day they were down ate into their bottom line.
Hours later, he headed home to get a few hours sleep before his board meeting the following morning.
Lyle had come to his chosen career by a broken path. When he was younger he wanted to do ecological research, but his parents sent him to tech school. As a compromise, he ended up creating video games with a heavy wildlife presence. After spending a few years scraping by with PC software, he turned mobile and began creating apps for tablets and smart phones. Today, he was heading one of the top software app companies worldwide.
He stumbled into his custom cabin and fumbled with his tie as the fatigue hit him. Piece by piece the day's clothes fell off as he made his way to the king sleigh bed that beckoned. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror just before sliding into the Egyptian cotton sheets; toned, muscular, 6'3, with silver hair and with a persistent 5 o'clock shadow. The silverback gorilla within him helped make his human strong and buff, but also had made his dark locks turn silver by the time he was 30. Now at 42, he owned the distinguished look.
He slipped into the cool sheets as the heat of the day subsided into a breezy late summer evening. He had lived here, alone, for nearly 20 years. While he'd dated throughout his life, there had never been someone special. He'd never found that one person that his heart sang for, the one that he was meant to be with.
"One day this house will not seem so sterile," Lyle whispered, looking around the room. "One day someone will be here with me."
Scene Two
The call had startled him from his afternoon nap. Since graduating, Gunnar Gray had put in at all the top agencies, spreading his resume to every head hunting organization he knew. Nothing had happened. At 23 years of age, he was weeks away from packing up and heading back to his family home when the call came in.
"This is Talia Corntassel with SoftShift, is this Mr. Gray?"
The woman spoke quickly and it took Gunnar a moment before he could process the information enough to answer.
"Yes it is." He had a vague recollection of the SoftShift logo -a gorilla beating a SS into his chest- that adorned several of the games he played on his tablet. Cool.
"Mr. Gray, we here are in need of an intern to help serve Mr. Lyle Harris, CEO of the company. We received your resume and feel you are the best fit for us, can you come by today?"
Gunnar rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked his clock. 2:27pm. Mentally he did the math on a shower, shave, and the drive across town.
"Yes Ma'am, I can get there by 4pm if that's acceptable."
"That's fine with us, Mr. Gray. See you at 4."
Gunnar bolted from the bed and looked around at the various piles of clothes on the furniture, sniffing them every so often to determine their clean-to-freshness level. After picking a few choices that seemed suitable, he dashed into the shower.
The water hit him and rolled down his tanned and lithe body. Always thin with the ability to eat anything he wanted, Gunnar's metabolism was the envy of his family. His dark brown hair was cut military-style and his eyes glistened with bits of gold. He may have been thin, but his body was chiseled with every muscle toned and tightened. While there was one muscle that hadn't seen a workout in a while, it was still an agreeable size to the men he dated.
He arrived at the steps of SoftShift with minute
s to spare, ambling up to the counter with an air of confidence.
"Mr. Gray here to see Mr. Harris, please."
Talia grinned slightly upon seeing him. Why isn't he just perfect.
"Yes he is waiting for you. Go through those double doors and take the first right after you enter. Mr. Harris will be in his office."
As Gunnar tipped his imaginary hat to her and started to walk toward the doors, Talia couldn't help but watch him walk away. She may have thought he was gay, but she could still appreciate the man's sex appeal.
"Have a seat please," the dark and brooding voice told Gunnar before he could even cross the threshold of the office. From around the corner, Mr. Lyle Harris stepped out, smoothing his tie and propping onto the desk edge. His features were strong and Gunnar was briefly taken aback by the looming figure in front of him. Chiseled with well-pronounced muscles, Mr. Harris was in better shape at his age than Gunnar was at his. Gunnar always thought of himself as a catch with his toned body, but he'd never seen a man in such good condition. Without noticing, he absent-mindingly licked his lips.
