Survivor: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 1)

by Mazzy J March

  Until one muscled arm rounded my waist while the other splayed against my upper chest.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Where were you going?” The deep voice held far too much humor for my humiliated self to handle well.

  “To work,” I snapped. It was only a couple of miles away after all.”

  “Mm-hmm.” The strong arm turned me around to face Cashel, his green eyes twinkling, and the corners of his full lips twitching. “Sorry to interrupt, whoever you are. You reminded me of a certain young lady I have seen wheeling her chair down this very path at breakneck speed. Must be a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Funny.” I was beyond disgruntled and ready to cry some more, but I’d never been one of those girls who looked pretty in the midst of waterworks. My nose reddened, eyes swelled, and I made sounds that would shame a cat. So I went with the anger at my failure. “What are you doing here?”

  “Following you.” He winked. “I turned my back for a minute to get something out of my pickup, and when I turned around, you were wobbling off into the distance.”

  Not the most complimentary, but it was the first time anyone implied I was walking away from anywhere! “Seriously, I’m trying to increase the number of steps I can walk. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shift, but it would be nice to take a walk in the woods even if I can’t run.” Even I heard how whiny it came out. “Ugh. I’m sorry. I need an attitude adjustment.”

  “Question for you?” He braced me with one hand at my lower back.

  “Yeah?” My mind reeled with the possibilities. Will you kiss me? Want to go on a date? “Ask away.”

  “Do you think you can make it all the way back? I’m not sure about your maximum range, but I’ve never seen you walk more than a dozen or so steps, have I?

  My cheeks flushed, burning with embarrassment. “Honestly, this is the farthest I’ve gone I can remember. I can probably make it back, but I’ll need a long rest and maybe another one or two along the way.”

  “How did you get this far?”

  “Determination? Bullheadedness? I don’t know.” I could see my house through the trees, and it might as well have been a hundred miles away. “But you know what? I’m kind of impressed.”

  He grinned at me, and I realized this was the most conversation I’d ever had with the usually quiet Cashel. “I’m impressed, too. But how about I give you a lift home?”

  “A lift? You can’t get your truck in here.”

  He shook his head and, before I saw it coming, scooped me up and was striding through the forest toward my home. “My wolf wanted me to shift and let you ride him, but we can save it for another time.”

  I looped my arms around his neck and held on, feeling, despite my slight weight, it was too much to be carried like this, much less on wolf back. “I’d never— Nobody rides a wolf, do they?” I’d never seen it happen, or had I?

  “Not many, but I’m a pretty big wolf and you’re a small human. We could do it sometime if you like.” He shifted me higher in his arms. “But with the progress you’re making, maybe you’ll be able to run with me, with us.”

  “Us?” I pictured the four of them, their wolves—all especially large—bounding beside me through the woods. If I was going to fantasize, might as well make it good.

  “The pack.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course.” We passed the tree line and crossed the yard before coming to the porch where he set me down. “Want to come in for some coffee?” I liked the idea of spending more time with this blond, green-eyed mystery man while he seemed in the mood to talk. “I think I have a few brownies left…”

  He’d hesitated at the coffee, but his eyes lit up at the mention of the treat. “I’m really supposed to be guarding you from the yard.”

  “Can’t you guard me from the kitchen? Or I could bring a tray out to the table on the patio. It’s such a beautiful day.”

  He nodded. “Sounds like a plan, but aren’t you tired? Want me to take you in to your chair?”

  I wanted to say no so badly, but the truth was, I’d walked more this morning than in any average day, and my legs were already aching. So I pushed aside my pride. “Thank you, Cashel. That would be very nice, but you can get the chair and…whoop.” I was once again in his arms, and it didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, it felt safe and also sexy. But too short. He carried me in, all the way to my bedroom, and set me in the seat. “Th-thanks.” I shouldn’t be breathless when he’d been the one who was expending all the energy, but I was.

  “I’ll be outside, watching for danger.” He winked and left me alone, heart pounding and a few naughty thoughts brewing in the back of my mind. I had zero guy experience, but in my previous life, with nothing much to do besides online classes, I read a lot.

  But he was gone, and I rolled into the bathroom long enough to stand up and comb my hair—which had picked up an unfortunate amount of twigs and leaves—and swipe on a little mascara and lip gloss. I didn’t want to look like I thought it was a date, which it absolutely was not. But nothing wrong with minimal grooming. Right?

  I brewed a pot of coffee, arranged brownies on a plate, and, after consideration, added sliced fruit and a small block of cheese. And crackers. And the necessary silverware/plates/cream and sugar. In the end, the tray I carried out on my lap held a fine picnic brunch.

  After Cashel took the tray and set it on the patio table, I transferred to one of the chairs, wanting to sit at the same level as my guard/breakfast date. No. Companion. We sat there for over an hour, while I coaxed him to tell me stories about the pack, in particular him and the other guys, and I marveled at the confirmation he was only quiet in a group. With us alone, he’d become a chatterbox. Or nearly one. The sun beamed down. The breeze ruffled his hair, and we both smiled a lot.

  Sunday morning for the win.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After Cashel left, I was alone again. Thank goodness it was an off day, from school and from the library, or else I would’ve had to get one of those energy drinks claiming to give you wings, except, I would just need legs.

  Plus, after a quick morning nap after I was alone again, I’d woken up in a foul mood.

  Might have been because I woke up at dawn to walk a Wendi-sized marathon and then proceeded to eat brownies and guzzle coffee. Cashel had eaten the fruit and cheese, and tried to get me to share, but I hadn’t been smart enough to agree.

  I shrugged, chalking the crankiness up to a sugar low and decided to make breakfast when a sensation spindled down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end.

  Nothing was visible outside the window, and I had forgotten to ask who was taking Cashel’s place.

  I ignored the feeling and wheeled myself down the hall, my mind set on real breakfast when movement in the front yard caught my attention.

  What the…?

  Rolling to the window, my phone already out, ready to call someone to save me and feeling awfully pathetic about the fact, I tried to make out who it was.

  A soft giggle left my mouth as I realized there was a man in my front yard. One I knew. And one who was clearly conflicted about something and taking it out on my lawn by pacing back and forth. His dark hair fell over his forehead, broad shoulders hunched like they carried the brunt of his burden.

  I intended to yell out for him, but he turned as soon as I lifted the window. His eyes met mine, and whatever he was carrying around seemed to lift. His shoulders released their tenseness and the creasing his brow disappeared.

  “You’re pacing my yard bare,” I said, making sure to smile so he knew I was joking. I thought I should make my jokes crystal clear, or he would take my words to heart.

  “I was wondering if you were awake, but I didn’t hear you moving around.” His bass voice rolled over me, causing me to shudder. I opened my mouth to answer, but he cocked his head to the side. “You’re hungry.”

  Ooookay. I would have to ask about that later. “I am. I was about to make brea…brunch?” Brunch number
two, in which I would eat not just sugar.

  A low growl came from his chest, not menacing, and it certainly didn’t scare me, but I wondered what it was in reaction to. “Let me feed you,” he mumbled, and I did a double-take.

  “What?” I asked, pretending like I didn’t hear.

  He kicked at something in the yard then let out a breath. “Maybe I could cook for you.”

  I paused for a minute. A flash of something from my past clicked in place, and I immediately connected it to this moment. My dad prepared breakfast for my mom every single morning without fail. Of course, he did for me as well, but I distinctly remembered him placing the plate in front of her and kissing her forehead.

  And she smiled up at him. Every time.

  Huh.

  “I didn’t know you cooked,” I offered, trying to make up for the silence while my memories had visited.

  Instead of answering, he came toward the front door, and I wheeled myself closer and opened it for him. After coming in and shutting the door behind him, he reached out and touched the ends of my hair falling over my shoulder. “You like eggs, right?”

  I cracked up. In all his seriousness, he asked about eggs. “They are good,” I replied, and he nodded once then made his way to the kitchen.

  After settling at the table, I relaxed and took in the scene. It was like the kitchen was his instead of mine. He went right for each thing he needed instead of pulling open every cabinet and drawer looking for things.

  “How do you know where everything is?” I asked, curious as hell and low-key wondering if he’d been in my house when I wasn’t here. That was how smooth he was about it all.

  He stopped whisking eggs and pointed to his nose. “It’s the wolf. Some are strong. Some are fast. Mine is a hunter. I have the best nose in town.”

  I didn’t know why… I mean, I showered regularly, but the fact he had heightened senses made me squirm.

  “So, you can smell silverware?” I asked, feeling 360 degrees of stupid for such a question.

  He nodded and pointed to a drawer. “Metal.” Another drawer. “Plastic and wood.” He raised his hand and tapped on the cabinet. “Ceramic. Glass.” He dipped his head then closed the distance between us, crouching down to meet my eyes. He touched my neck, trailing his finger from my jawline to my shoulder. “Apricots.” His warm hands took mine in his, and he brought my wrist to his nose. “Honey. Hunger. Other things…” His last words came out gravelly and coarse as though he’d all of a sudden gotten a sore throat.

  “Like what?” I asked, and his gaze, golden eyes with the flecks of brown, darted to my lips.

  “It’s not time yet, female. You need to eat.”

  In a flash, he got up and went about cooking again, leaving me there, my chest heaving with some emotion, a longing I didn’t recognize hovering beneath the surface.

  In less than ten minutes, we both had perfect half-moon omelets, toast, and fresh cut strawberries before us, plated up like IHOP on speed.

  “Thank you,” I offered, and he nodded.

  “Eat up.”

  He poised his knife and fork above the plate but didn’t make a move to eat. I looked at him, his chiseled jaw working back and forth while his knee bounced up and down.

  Oh my gods. He was waiting on me to eat first.

  I quickly stabbed a bite and shoved it in my mouth and, sure enough, as soon as my teeth came down on the warm, not overcooked omelet, he dug in, cutting a small corner from the eggs and putting it in his mouth and chewed.

  While we ate, I noticed he did so methodically. Every bite was cut off and skewered gently and slowly.

  The man really enjoyed eating, and his manners and table etiquette made me wonder if he’d been trained in the skill.

  “Cashel helped you walk?” he said after his plate was empty and he laid his silverware on the plate at an angle. He slid my orange juice closer to me.

  “Well, I walked, and, after I almost smashed into a tree, he carried me back. I’m not sure if that’s helping or not.”

  He nodded. “He told me this morning.”

  They talked about me?

  “Oh, when you switched out patrols or whatever.”

  He shook his head. “No, when he came home. I’m not on duty.”

  “Wait, you live with Cashel?” I was going to let the fact he’d come to see me while not on duty slide, though it made my lower belly warm and my heart flutter.

  “I’ve lived with them since my father and mother died. My parents were pack, and so they offered. They were their best friends from what I am told. I never knew them.”

  “I barely knew mine.”

  “Why are you trying to walk more?” His golden eyes met mine.

  “Because I want to. Because I think I can. I want to be stronger. I…” I put my fork down. “Because I want to take care of myself—protect myself.” Shit, that might’ve sounded ungrateful. “I’m really glad everyone is helping me stay safe, but…”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t ever be sorry or let anyone make you feel like being independent and strong and brave is out of your reach. Or there’s anything wrong with craving that. I’m damned proud of you for trying. I know you can do it.”

  My chest swelled. I’d once read the best way to love a woman was to support and learn how to empower her. Be her biggest fucking cheerleader. Be her support. It was a romance book, of course, but the truth was there.

  That was what Eschel was doing. Actually, that was what all four of them were doing.

  Maybe there was something to what Christie said after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The house was done. Well, all the unpacking was completed and everything in its place. There were some rooms I wanted to repaint, but bigger projects would have to wait. Maybe I could ask one of the guys to help me with it.

  After I grabbed one of my favorite re-read books and got comfortable on the couch with my throw blanket, my phone rang. I groaned, not because of who it was but because I’d just gotten settled.

  “Hey, Christie,” I answered, and she immediately went into chattering about the lake and everyone was going. She wanted me to go.

  I looked at my chair and… “I don’t know.”

  She sighed and made a whining sound. “Come on, Wendi. It will be so much fun.”

  I didn’t say it out loud but rather mentally inventoried all the scenarios that could go wrong with the trip. I wouldn’t be able to get my wheelchair to said lake. I’d try to walk and end up belly-flopping into said lake.

  Oh, and the small one…I’d get winded and not be able to kick anymore and, you know, drown.

  “The guys would never let anything happen to you, right? They can pass you around like the hot potato you are. It will be fun. Stop thinking and get your ass out here.”

  “Fine,” I said, trying to make my tone playful.

  “Good. If you’re not at my house in thirty minutes, I’m sending one of the guys to throw you over their shoulder and bring you.”

  That kind of sounded fun. “I’ll be there. As soon as you tell me where there is.” With a groan, I got back into my chair and made quick work of getting my suit on—a modest plum-colored two piece I now wished wasn’t so modest—and pulled a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt on top. I packed a hoodie in my tote bag, knowing I would be cold after getting out, along with a hairbrush and sunscreen because lobster didn’t look good on me.

  I made it to the car and drove out to Christie’s, using the address she’d texted me while I was packing.

  Once she was in the car, she directed me to the lake.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I breathed out, more to myself than her.

  “Yes, you can. Let’s face the concerns head-on.” She put her balled fists in front of her and pulsed them in a let’s-do-this motion. Or at least, that was how I interpreted it. “What are you worried about?”

  “I get out and tumble down the hill and land face first in the lake in front of all of them,” I said, and we both
cracked up at the imagery.

  “Well, I’ll make sure we walk down together and, if you start to stumble, I’ll catch you. I’m pretty damned strong.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  “Okay. I get in and swim a little, but soon I get weak and sink to the bottom and drown.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t happen. First, you would drown and then float to the top,” she answered with a completely straight face then widened her eyes and smiled. “I’m kidding.” A lull in the conversation ensued while I mentally freaked out. “Remember what I told you about them?” Christie ticked her head toward the lake, and I nodded.

  “They would drown themselves before letting you inhale a drop. And if you tumbled down the hill, they would race toward you before you got close to hitting the water. When you are weak, they will be strong for you. It’s the way of…things. And they are waiting for you. They haven’t stopped staring at us since we parked.”

  I didn’t dare look to see if she was right. She wouldn’t lie to me. Still I had to say something snarky. “If I die young, it’s your fault, and I want that written on my gravestone.”

  “Done and done.”

  We got out, and, true to her word, she stayed with me, arms linked, while we walked. We made it to the edge of the lake, and Brandon stood and splashed me. “Hey!” I feigned mad when really, I was glad to be greeted.

  “Took you long enough,” Moss said with one of his eyebrows cocked.

  “Yeah, well, this one had a mental breakdown, so we had to sludge through that before she would get out of the car.” I jutted my finger in Christie’s direction, and she snorted.

  “Remember the thing about you and the water and drowning? I can make it happen, you know.” She smiled but kept her lips between her teeth like she was trying hard not to let it happen.

  I’d thought getting down to the water’s edge would be the hard part, but, as the time approached to strip down to my bathing suit in front of all four of the guys, I realized I’d completely missed the terrifying part of this trip.