Mated: A Paranormal Romance Shifter Anthology

by Kerry Adrienne, Sionna Fox, Shari Mikels

  “No, I’m not afraid of Alfred. Are you?” He gathered their plates and set them on the kitchen counter. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to be with him.”

  “I don’t, and I won’t. But I’m still afraid of him. He’s...mean.”

  “I can handle him. You don’t need to worry. We’re safe here.”

  “I wouldn’t want something to happen to you.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

  “I can take care of Alfred if I need to. You don’t need to worry. Let’s go back in the living room by the fire where it’s warm.”

  “Yes. Please.”

  He took her by the arm, and she leaned on him as she limped. He breathed her in, trying not to be too obvious. If she’d allow, he’d take her in his arms and kiss her again. But he didn’t get a read on whether she’d liked the kiss or was upset by it. He couldn’t risk another one.

  Not yet.

  She sat on the couch.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to grab something from the bedroom.” He glanced at the fire to make sure the wood situation was okay. The fire blazed, the wood filling the fireplace.

  “I’ll be here.” She yawned. “Not like I can go anywhere. But you know that.”

  “Yeah, we’re stuck. Give me a minute.”

  He headed to his room and grabbed his hairbrush off the dresser then returned to the living room. She had her head leaned back on the edge of the couch, her eyes closed, her neck bare. His pulse quickened at the sight of her exposed neckline, pale and long. He reached out to run his fingertips along the skin, but pulled away.

  Did this mate thing always make bears crazy? It seemed like he was barely in control of his actions. Olivia was like a strong magnet—stronger than any he’d ever been around. And he was pure metal.

  He moved to sit beside her and she turned to face him. “You’re back.”

  “Yes. I’d like to brush your hair.” He used his low and calm voice. “If you’ll let me.”

  She raised her head. “Is it that bad?”

  He smiled. “It’s a bit of a tangle. I thought we could talk while I do it.”

  “Okay. That’d be nice. Thank you. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Turn to the side.” He helped her move. “I don’t know. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Not snow or winter or injured ankles or Alfred.”

  He brushed her hair in long strokes from scalp to end. The pale strands glistened in the firelight as they fell from his fingertips. Maybe she’d relax. His father used to brush his mother’s hair, and Powell saw how much she’d loved it. He never thought that one day he’d use the same technique to try to relax his mate. He took a deep breath and steeled himself against a possible pushback.

  “Let’s talk about your shifting ability. I’m curious to learn more about it.” He stopped to pick at a tangle.

  “You mean my inability to shift.” She winced. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry. That was a pretty tight tangle.” He continued. “So you’ve never been able to shift? Not once? Not even when you were a child?” Shifting had come so easily for him, he couldn’t imagine not being able to change into his bear. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he had to think about the process. It was always accessible. A part of who he was. His bear was right there, waiting to come to the surface and take charge. He’d assumed that was true for all shifters.

  “Never. And I’ve tried. Really hard. I simply don’t have the ability.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m simply not meant to shift.”

  How to respond to her? He brushed another section, detangling the knots and straightening the length. Never shifting? He couldn’t deal with that. Being a bear was such an integral part of who he was—to not be able to shift? He’d want to die.

  “Are there other wolves that can’t shift?” He tried to keep his tone light, but she was bound to feel lonely. Being among shifters and not sharing the ability was a fate he wouldn’t want to suffer. Maybe he shouldn’t push it, but he wanted to know what was going on.

  “Not that I’ve ever known or heard of. I’m the only lucky one.” She turned her face toward him, smirking. “And bonus! I’m blind too. Don’t you think I’m incredibly lucky?”

  A burst of wind rattled the windowpanes, and she turned her head toward the sound. He sensed her fear rising.

  “It’s the wind. Nothing more.” He paused his brushing.

  “I guess I’m a bit jumpy.”

  “Understandable.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’ve had a lot of things going on. And Alfred isn’t someone to mess with. You’re right, he’s dangerous.”

  “If I could shift, I would be able to fight him on my own. Or escape without falling down an embankment.”

  “To be honest, I think you can shift. I think you have the ability inside you, somewhere. You’re a wolf, and wolves are strong creatures. Majestic. Maybe you haven’t found your magic yet. But I’ll bet it’s there.”

  “I don’t think so. Otherwise, I would’ve found it by now. It’s not like I haven’t tried.”

  “Maybe you haven’t been looking in the right place.”

  “Maybe. But maybe my being blind keeps me from seeing what I need to see to be able to shift.”

  He placed his hand over her heart. “I think you can see everything you need to see right here.”

  She touched his hand for a moment, her hand trembling. “I don’t know, Powell. I’ve tried everything. Maybe it’s time to accept that I’m damaged and I’m simply not like the other wolves. It happens, right?”

  “You’re definitely not like any wolf I know. You’re better.” He took a deep breath. “If only you could see what I see in you.”

  She moved her hand and ducked her head. “You’re as blind as I am. Maybe more so.”

  He started brushing again, and she closed her eyes as he twisted the silken strands gently. Anguish nearly consumed him. He hurt for her. Yet she was kind and empathetic. She hadn’t turned out bitter and hardened as some people would. She accepted things and made the best of them, and when things happened to her that she didn’t like, she made an effort to change them. Running from Alfred had taken more courage than most people could imagine, much less muster.

  He ran the brush through her hair, teasing out each tangle. Every brush stroke sent an electric impulse skittering up his arm. It was as if her wolf called to him. Her heart beat a rhythm composed especially for him. His bear paced, growling for release.

  And Powell wanted to answer that call.

  He did think she knew how to shift, somewhere deep inside. She needed help. A clue where to begin. How could he help her? There had to be a way.

  The sudden realization made his mouth go dry, and he set the brush in his lap.

  “What about Shoshannah? Maybe she could help you.” Excitement coursed through him. The ancestral spirit might actually be able to help Olivia shift. Healing her would be exactly the type of thing Shoshannah would do. She might cure her blindness, though that was less likely.

  Olivia’s shoulders drooped. “The cave spirit? I thought she was merely a legend until Alfred said she helped Claude when he was shot. But I didn’t realize she helped anyone. Especially someone like me.”

  “She helps shifters. Not everyone, but some. She also offers advice, kind of like an oracle of sorts. You should talk to her. She might help.”

  Olivia tensed. “And she truly heals people? Alfred wasn’t lying about Claude?”

  “She does. She takes care of all the shifters of Deep Creek. Sure, she mainly helps the shifters who guard the cave, but yes, she did help Claude. No one knows how she picks and chooses.”

  “It’s hard to believe.”

  “Yes, I know. But it’s true. I’ve seen her.”

  “What does she look like?” Olivia cocked
her head. “I’ve heard she’s very beautiful and pure. Of course, I’ll never see her.”

  He paused. “When I’ve seen her, mostly she’s been a large white bear, sometimes made of smoke or light or rain. White, like the brightest light. She often speaks aloud and occasionally in a person’s head. Sometimes, a shifter might go and meditate all day and she won’t appear. She’s not a simple creature, but she knows when and who she wants to help.”

  “Hmm. Definitely sounds magical. I wonder if she would speak to me.”

  “I don’t know. If she could help you, that would be great. We should go to her and find out.” He moved the brush onto the pillow beside him. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask her, anyway. If you want to, that is.”

  He waited for her response, hoping she would agree though he could tell she wasn’t fully buying the idea of a cave spirit. He couldn’t blame her.

  Nar leapt onto the couch. “Meow.”

  He reached for Nar, but the cat hopped down.

  “When can we go?” Olivia’s voice betrayed her excitement. “If she can help me see, or shift, I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to talk to her. As soon as possible.”

  “Maybe tomorrow if it stops snowing. We can take the snowmobile and be at the cave in no time. If Shoshannah can help, it could be the miracle you need to free you from Alfred’s grip.”

  “Do you think she can? I’m afraid to get my hopes up.”

  “It’s worth a shot. What have you got to lose?”

  Olivia nodded. “Yes, I want to go. I hope the snow stops soon.”

  “Me too.”

  Chapter Seven

  Olivia turned over in the bed and pulled the ancient quilt up to her chin. The fabric, softened by years of use, had thinned, but the batting was compressed and warm and the flannel back smooth against her cheek. Powell had to retrieve another one from his cedar chest since she’d dragged the one he’d had on his bed through the snow.

  The air in the room stilled with the chill, the heat from the fire barely radiating to the far corners of the cabin. Still, she’d insisted on sleeping in the bedroom, and they’d propped the door so the warmth could trickle into the room. The couch wasn’t comfortable or large enough for the two of them to rest comfortably, and she didn’t want to be alone.

  Powell snored beside her, his breath rattling in his chest. She’d asked him to lie down with her, both to share warmth and because she was frightened. Though used to the dark, something about having no electricity made the world seem darker and scarier. She worried that Alfred was waiting outside to pounce on them at any moment, though that made no logical sense.

  They hadn’t heard any howls at all, only the gusty wind as it beat against the little cabin and the distant crackling of the fire that warmed the space enough to keep them from freezing to death. Nar lay between her and Powell, curled up in a perfect circle of fuzzy warmth. Olivia stroked him and he purred louder.

  She wiggled her toes and moved her ankle. It felt so much better than when she’d taken off hiking. Such a stupid idea. She’d known she wouldn’t make it to Oakwood, but she’d thought she was protecting Powell from Alfred and the other wolves.

  The bear changed things when he was around. Her dark world seemed to light with color.

  Since he’d first wrapped her ankle she’d known he was different. Initially, she thought it was because he was a bear. Slowly, she’d realized it was more than that. With each gesture to make her comfortable, to help her, or simply listen to what she had to say, she became more aware that the growing spark in her gut was something special.

  And now she was more certain of it. She’d wondered what it was about Powell that made her stomach turn flips when he was around. The feelings were so trite to describe and yet so wonderful to experience. She’d never thought she would have them, being an outcast in her pack. But obviously she’d been wrong because it had happened. Faster than she’d thought possible too.

  Mate.

  It had become very clear when he kissed her but she didn’t say anything or admit the realization to herself, it’d been so unexpected. She’d barely had time to let the possibility form in her mind before he’d pulled away and acted like he’d kissed a frog.

  Why did bears act like wolves had leprosy?

  Had he felt anything when he kissed her? He hadn’t acted like it. Nothing beyond lust, anyway—certainly not that she was his fated mate. Her questioning him hadn’t revealed anything either.

  Surely he’d have said something if he felt they were mates, wouldn’t he? Men were so confusing.

  Not lust, though.

  Lust was a feeling she understood a lot more since Alfred was always sniffing around her. Thank goodness he’d been holding off till marriage to claim her. She shuddered.

  She could never go back to Alfred, that was for sure. Especially since men like Powell existed. Even if he didn’t realize they were mates, the gentleness with which he treated her was enough for her to realize she did deserve more than Alfred.

  She tugged the quilt higher.

  Odd that her mate would show up when she needed a rescuer, but she’d heard the knight-in-shining-armor story a million times.

  He’d agreed to take her out in the deep snow, through Deep Creek, to the ancestral spirit’s cave. She could ask for healing. Olivia tucked her hands under her cheek on the pillow.

  What would she say to Shoshannah? She didn’t feel worthy to speak to something so special. What if the spirit took one look at her and offered her a place in hell, instead? A shifter who couldn’t shift?

  Defective.

  Why would anyone offer to help when there were many who were more worthy?

  That wasn’t supposed to be Shoshannah’s style, but she also wasn’t known as a spirit to simply hand out healing. She might pity Olivia or she might tell her to live with the blindness because wolves were considered evil. No way to know how she would respond or if she’d appear to them at all.

  Anxiety gripped her and burned in her gut. The sooner the sun came up, the better. She’d barely dozed all night, and it was bound to be morning soon.

  Olivia reached for Powell, putting her hand on his side and feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. He seemed to have not a care in the world, and she had the weight of everything on her shoulders. She took a deep breath and began to count backward from one hundred.

  “Liv?” Powell’s sleepy voice broke the silence. “You awake?”

  “Meow.” Nar rubbed against Olivia’s knees.

  “Yeah, I’m awake.” She pulled her hand away.

  He coughed and the bed shook as he moved to turn. Nar meowed then hopped down. “Looks like we made it through the night, but the power isn’t back on yet.” He got out of bed and she heard the curtains rustling. “The snow’s stopped.”

  “Is there a lot?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s beautiful. The woods are white and pristine and pure.”

  “And cold.” She giggled and burrowed into the quilt.

  “Yes, very cold. Glad you’re inside.” He yawned. “I’m going to go toss more wood on the fire. Be right back.”

  “Okay.” She listened to his footsteps. Bare feet on the wooden floor. He had to be chilly.

  She lay still, waiting on Powell to return, hoping they’d be able to go see Shoshannah after breakfast. Hoping she’d be able to heal her. Olivia held more hope than she’d had in a long time.

  And it was all because of Powell.

  “That should heat us right up.” Powell walked into the room and sat on the bed. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

  “Much better today.” She lifted her foot under the cover. “I think I might be able to walk.”

  “That’s great news. You are a shifter, after all.”

  She felt the tone of happiness. Yes, things were
looking up. “Are we going to go see Shoshannah today?”

  “I think we can make it to the cave, yes. The snow has stopped, and it won’t take long to get there on the snowmobile. If you’re up to it.”

  She sat up. “Oh, yes. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. I hope she can help me.”

  His voice lowered. “I hope so too.”

  Olivia licked her lips. Though the power was off in the cabin, there was electricity in the air. Charged with emotion, she wanted to act on her desire. Touch Powell. Have him touch her back. But what if he refused her?

  Nothing would be more humiliating.

  She sighed.

  “What is it?” He scooted closer on the bed. “Are you nervous about meeting Shoshannah?”

  “Sure I am. But that’s not what I’m thinking about.” She rubbed her face.

  “Well, spill it. What are you thinking about?”

  “The kiss—”

  “Not that again.” His voice held a level of exasperation she’d not heard from him. “I’m sorry I kissed you, Olivia. Can you drop it? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s not that. I—I wanted you to kiss me.” Her heart nearly pounded loose from her chest.

  For a moment, he didn’t speak. “You did? I couldn’t tell.”

  He didn’t believe her. Did that mean...he had wanted her? For real? “Lean this way.” Surprised at the strength in her voice she reached her hands toward him. “I want to touch you.”

  The bed rocked as he moved close, his knees touching her thigh. She put her hands in the air and felt for his face, and he guided her hands to his cheeks. “Right here,” he said.

  She cupped his cheeks, warm with exertion or embarrassment or merely life, the scruff of a day or two’s beard. Mouth parted, she ran her index finger around the curve of his jawline. Strong and angular, he must be very attractive. His lips were smooth and soft, but she knew that from the kiss. When she ran her finger down the bridge of his nose, he shivered, and she lightened her touch, feeling one eyebrow, the other, then feathering each row of lashes.