Highland Shapeshifter

by Clover Autrey

  “And that’s bad.”

  Lenore chuffed. “Not if you want a drugged-out dragon breathing fire in your bed.” Or worse, dissipating to nothing. Panic forced her lungs to squeeze. She could barely breathe. She didn’t know this guy, but the thought of him fading away to nothing disturbed her on a base level she didn’t understand.

  “Really?” Gabe’s head canted. His eyes gleamed. “Dragon? He could do that?”

  Lenore smiled. “I don’t know. Probably.” The general public didn’t realize it, but dragons were real, a few still existed. Most slumbered in their ancient holes deep within the earth.

  “Think he’d, after he’s back to himself of course, think he’d mind…”

  “What? Putting on a show for you?”

  “Well, yeah.” He dribbled water onto the shifter’s flat stomach. “That’d be awesome.”

  Some things never changed. “You’re on your own with that. I’m not asking him.”

  Gabe smiled indulgently. “You don’t think I will?”

  “Oh, I know you will. So good luck with that. Hope he doesn’t take offense.”

  Water splashed as he swirled his cloth back into the bowl. “You know no one can resist when I ask nicely.”

  She certainly hadn’t been able to.

  Yeah, if anyone knew how to coax his way into getting what he wanted, it was Gabe. Just ask the other two girls he was dating while they were together. The louse. They’d never agreed to be exclusive. Gabe claimed she’d been the longest most serious relationship he’d endured. Endured. Hell of a way to put it. And he’d been charming and reasonable when he said it. He almost made her feel like her way of thinking had been skewed.

  He graced her with his patented you-know-you-adore-me grin. “So right now shifting is bad. How will we know if he tries?”

  “He’ll start to glow. If he does, we have to snap him out of it fast. Quit smiling, this is serious.”

  “I know, but babe, the entire time we were together, you never did anything like this for me. It’s not even my birthday and you brought me a shapeshifter.”

  “I did not bring him here for you. I needed help.”

  “And you thought of me first.”

  She wanted to be mad, but it was true. For all Gabe’s faults, she knew she could trust him. With this anyway. “Yes. I thought of you.” Her throat tightened. He was an idiot, a flirt and completely untrustworthy as a boyfriend, but he would also give the shirt off his back for anyone in need. “Gabe, thank you for this. Really.”

  His eyes softened and he leaned over the shapeshifter and kissed her. “Darlin’, I’ll always be there for you.”

  “Ugh. I know, which makes you so irritatingly difficult to hate.”

  He pulled back, eyes dancing. “Then quit trying. You know I’ll take you back anytime.”

  She snorted. “Me and anyone else who catches your attention.”

  He spread his arms wide. “Love’s a beautiful thing. Should be spread around.”

  “The same is said about manure.”

  “Ouch.”

  She leaned closer. “Never going to happen.”

  “Until the day you realize you can’t go on without me.” His teeth gleamed in the low light.

  “Gabe, you are such an—“

  The shifter moaned. Every muscle in his body tightened and started jerking.

  “Shifting?” Gabe pressed the man back down.

  “Seizure.” Lenore’s heart rammed up her throat.

  “Can you help him?”

  Her head snapped up. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She was going to give it her best shot. Her mouth was bone-dry. “This is going to get bad.”

  ~~~

  It did get bad.

  The poor guy curled in on himself so tight every tendon in his neck and arms stood out white. The bed sheets were wet with sweat and water, his dark hair plastered to his face while his jaw clenched so hard, Lenore worried he’d bite his tongue. His body was bowed so hard, he seemed to be all sharp angles, jutting bone, and bulging veins over tight dry skin.

  Gabe stayed with them the entire time, a steady presence while she held the shifter’s forehead and whispered soothing nonsense about movies or the upcoming playoffs he’d miss if he didn’t hang on. She didn’t even know his name. You go through something like this with someone, and you should know their name.

  When his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and his body jack-knifed into a particularly strong seizure, Lenore couldn’t let this go on.

  Though scared of getting lost to it, she plunged her palm against his clammy chest and forced her essence into him. She wasn’t the strongest of healers, but she’d do what she could, if anything.

  Dazzling light engulfed her, more vibrant and rich and alive than any essence she’d ever touched. Fluctuating blues and emerald greens.

  He was beautiful.

  The magic of his shapeshifting abilities was exquisitely pure, untouched by the darkness of the world.

  How was that possible?

  Were all shapeshifters like this?

  No, the thought came unbidden. It’s him alone, his soul.

  He was honey and spice, protective warmth and intrinsic light chasing shadows. He was playful happiness and devoted worshipful younger brother. Those he loved, he loved deeply with a patience and strength as vast as the world.

  She wanted to weep.

  Wanted to pour everything that she was into his being and stay right there, tucked within him. She’d never experienced anything like it.

  There was no way she’d ever let his soul fade out of this world. No way.

  The seizures trembled around her, rough, jerky instable lightning stabs.

  Bearing down, Lenore pushed her magic further into his body, gliding her healing across enflamed bone and muscle tissue, like kneading fingers. She had to get this right. Mucking around in someone’s body, knitting bone or flesh, or popping blood vessels was a delicate thing. Too much pressure or not enough and a healer could do more harm than good. Fortunately, he wasn’t injured, just suffering through withdrawals. Withdrawals that were tearing his muscles apart and searing through his overtaxed nerves. Pain flared through him as intangible streaks of brutal red jabs.

  She found the tanglewort flooding through his veins and began gently drawing it out, coaxing it to filter out his pores, while at the same time she slipped her own essence around the nerve cells that were sending out pain signals to his brain. Yeah, she was a supercharged endorphin enhancer. Better than morphine. She felt the immediate response from him as he shivered beneath her inner ministrations and finally unclenched. The shaking abated. His essence flared around her, flashing brighter and pulling her magic within his own, folding her in safe.

  Who was supposed to be helping who?

  She could easily melt right into him and be content forever.

  Whoa. Dangerous thought. Better get a handle on her own endorphins.

  She had to pull back, get out, right the freak now.

  She forcefully untangled herself and dragged her magic away, though the desire to remain, just curl up and be, nearly overwhelmed her.

  She didn’t like it one bit.

  Lenore pulled harder…and with a gurgling sputtering plop, came back to herself, half-curled over the guy, lungs heaving for air. It was like stumbling out of a sauna into the rain.

  Gabe held her by the shoulders, keeping her from falling all the way onto the shifter.

  “You okay?”

  She looked up at him through strands of wet hair. The colors of the paint on his walls began seeping back in. He seemed genuinely concerned, as though her well-being was as important to him as the healing process he loved to witness. She’d only used it on him in small short bursts before, like easing headaches or muscle aches.

  One side of his lips quirked up. “That was incredible. Did you know the air shimmers around you when you do that?”

  “No.” She frowned. News to her. “I’m usually a little too occupied to notice. S
himmers?” She’d never seen Charity shimmer. Or her grandma. She looked down at the shapeshifter. It could have been an effect from healing him.

  “Yeah. Like looking through the exhaust behind a jet engine.” His fingers skimmed her again. “It was sexy.”

  And he’s back.

  “It work?” Gabe eyed the man between them. “He went all limp all of a sudden. He going to be okay?”

  “Yes.” That came out on a swell of determination. He had to be all right. She wouldn’t let someone with his force of spirit not be okay.

  Gabe leaned back, his gaze far too perceptive.

  She looked away, dropping a hand to the shifter’s forehead and again that spark of—something—trilled between them. Sticking her finger in a light socket would be less electrical. Ignoring it, she tried to sound professional. “I don’t know. I think he’ll be fine. I was able to help his muscles relax and in turn, hopefully lower his blood pressure. It’s up to him now to ride out the drug’s withdrawal.”

  Gabe nodded. “How ‘bout that cup of tea now?”

  “Gosh, yes.” She wasn’t about to move off that bed. Her arms felt like jelly.

  Gabe stood and padded across the floor, pausing in the doorway to give her another once over. She must look as wrecked as her bones felt. Warmth flushed inside her belly at the thought of Gabe making tea for her, at the thought that he still kept tea in his cupboards since his beverage of choice had always been cola or beer.

  “Mmmmmph.” The shifter’s hand flopped from his stomach to the mattress. Long lashes fluttered and his features screwed up with pain.

  Instantly alert, Lenore scooted closer, resting her palm over his heart, waiting for his muscles to seize and spasm again, though she wasn’t sure how much good she could do for him. Her healing strength was all but depleted.

  His head rolled against her other palm and he cried out, “Edeen, nay,” along with a string of other nearly incoherent phrases.

  “Is that Scottish?” Gabe appeared in the doorframe, a steaming mug in one hand, a cola can in the other.

  “Shhh, shh, all’s well,” she cooed to the shifter, pushing sweat-dampened hair from his face, then to Gabe, “He has a deep brogue. Like my grandmother’s.”

  Gabe set the tea and cola on an overturned crate he used for a nightstand. “Real deep.”

  She scrunched her nose. “His words are slurring with Gaelic and some other language I’m unfamiliar with.” As healers, her grandmother insisted both she and Charity learn the basics of several old languages for the simple spells and incantations sometimes required to enhance a difficult healing. Some of the languages weren’t meant for mortal ears, like the speech pattern he kept slipping into—language of the Fae, her grandmother’s voice whispered.

  Brows furrowed, Lenore tried to make out his distressed muffled words until her sister’s name spilled out on a gasp and all other thoughts were pushed away.

  Charity.

  Lenore met Gabe’s puzzled gaze across the man’s thrashing body.

  What in the world was going on?

  Chapter Four

  Near dawn, the shifter finally quieted. His heartbeat maintained a steady rhythm that Lenore assumed was normal. Most importantly, he slept peacefully, without twitches or delirium. She was pretty sure the tanglewort had cleared his system.

  She was beat. Sometime after things had gotten quiet, she’d used Gabe’s shower, borrowed one of his shirts and gotten an hour’s worth of sleep.

  She woke beside the shifter and immediately checked his vitals. He looked much better, though exhausted. The pale cast to his skin had lessened significantly, giving way to a healthy tan. The guy must spend a lot of time outdoors. He had scruffy stubble, could definitely use a fresh shave and Lenore wondered when his last one was. If she knew Starch, he would’ve had that taken care of while he was out to pretty him up some. Pretty him up even for her, knowing his youthfulness and beaten state would get to her. Calculating ogre. He’d probably be great at staging furniture showrooms if human and drug trafficking didn’t work out for him.

  The shifter most likely wouldn’t awaken for hours yet, which gave her enough time to settle with Starch and get back here and find out what he had to do with her sister.

  Ah, man, Charity. Big Sis should be up by now. It was her day to open the shop.

  Scrambling off the bed, she grabbed her jeans draped over a half-open drawer and dug in the pocket for her phone.

  She punched in the number and waited.

  Gabe stumbled in, shirtless and droopy-eyed. His mouth cracked wide in a yawn.

  Charity wasn’t picking up. Geez, come on. She hung up and hit the button to their herbal shop.

  “Problem?” Gabe plopped his butt on the end of the bed, making the shifter’s foot bounce.

  Lenore punched the phone off. “Charity’s not answering.” She stepped into her jeans. Gabe’s sleepy gaze followed their movement up her hips.

  She rolled her eyes. “Can you watch him until I get back?”

  “Shapeshifter.” Gabe’s eyes danced. “Hell, yes, I can watch him. Think he’ll wake any time soon?”

  Lenore hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable leaving the guy. Not that she didn’t trust Gabe. She did. The most he’d do is pester the shifter. But leaving the guy when he was vulnerable and there were ogres and yuppies gunning for him…

  The ogres she could take deal with. If she got a move on. He was safe here. No one knew where he was. And once she paid Starch off, that would be one less party after the guy. Hopefully the yuppies had gotten bored and sought their entertainment elsewhere. Her gut twisted, imagining what type of entertainment the wealthy young trio had wanted with a drugged-to-the-gills shapeshifter. None of the thoughts were good. That was messed up.

  She leaned over the bed to check the guy’s pulse and breathing again. “He’ll probably sleep a few more hours. I’ll be back before then. Don’t wake him.”

  Gabe grinned. “Now why would I do that?”

  “I mean it. He could be dangerous. I don’t want you hurt.”

  Gabe’s grin widened. His palm splayed over his smooth chest. “You still care. So there’s hope for us.”

  Lenore laughed. “You’re such a jerk. Yes, I care. No, we will never get back together. Ever. You’re a good guy, Gabe, but you’re also a royal pain. I need to borrow your car.” And keep hers safely hidden in his garage.

  “Keys are in the bowl.” He leaned forward, snagging her by the hem of his T-shirt she wore. “Looks good on you.”

  Rejected and not breaking stride. The guy was incorrigible. He must have an extra flirting chromosome. He simply didn’t register the word “no”. It was like talking to a wall. A wall with the elevated hormones of a teenager.

  “Thanks.” Satisfied with the shifter’s pulse, she absently ran a hand along his jaw. Her heart took a little tumble as he rolled his face unconsciously into her touch.

  “Huh.” Gabe snorted.

  Lenore snapped her hand away and Gabe laughed. “I saw that.”

  “What? Get real. I don’t even know him.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t.”

  He stood and drew her up by the shoulders, looking as serious as she’d ever seen him. “For once, sweetheart, just go with what you’re feeling without analyzing it.” He kissed her forehead. “You might have the best time of your life.”

  “There’s more to living than always looking for a good time,” she murmured.

  “Life’s in the journey,” he countered.

  “That’s all blissful and good until someone gets hurt.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “For what it’s worth, Nory. I never went out of my way to hurt you.”

  “No. But you still did.”

  Chapter Five

  Lenore slid into the white corvette, hoping the yuppies hadn’t been able to follow or track her. That was assuming Starch hadn’t given them her identity, which, with how angry he’d been at the Barbie doll crew shooting up his p
lace, she doubted it. She supposed if the ogre betrayed her, it wouldn’t have been hard to locate her by the GPS on her phone. No one had come for them so far, so the novelty for the yuppies had probably worn off for them and they’d called it a night.

  Except the uneasiness pinching her lips tight wouldn’t let it go at that.

  Regardless, all she had to do was get Starch his money and get back to the shifter and find out what his interest in Charity was about. Then he could be on his way.

  Funny, she didn’t consider that he meant her sister any harm—not after glimpsing the core of his essence.

  Heat flushed through her at the memory of her magic entwined with his. Gah, magic entwined…crimony.

  She nearly missed a turn and jerked the wheel hard to make it. Gabe’s work-out bag slid off the passenger seat to the footwell with a plunk.

  She had to get it together and stop mooning over how wonderful being inside the shifter’s essence felt. Grabbing her phone, she quickly called Starch. She got a busy signal from him too. Was no one going to answer this morning?

  She shoved the cell back into her jeans and then pulled the car into her space at the apartment complex.

  She’d barely gotten inside, taken her emergency stash from the inside of the toilet paper spinner on the wall and jammed that in her pocket with the rest of the cash, when her doorbell buzzed. She nearly jolted out of her skin.

  The ringer buzzed again, followed by frantic knocking.

  “Lenore, are you in there?” Charity called. “Answer your door!”

  The knob rattled as her sister undoubtedly got fed up waiting and had pulled her spare key out.

  Lenore yanked the door open, and Charity spilled inside, her fingers on the key still in the doorknob.

  Relief flooded Lenore’s vocal chords. “I called you. Several times. Why didn’t you pick up?”