© 2015 Heather Hildenbrand & SM Reine
Smashwords Edition
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Cover design by Melody Pond ©2015
Cover photo: © Maksim Shmeljov | Dreamstime.com
Editing: Kristina Circelli, Red Road Editing
Heather Hildenbrand www.heatherhildenbrand.com
SM Reine www.authorsmreine.com
Bitterroot
By Heather Hildenbrand
and SM Reine
Seventeen year-old Regan Vuk has lived her whole life under the shadow of her future: the pack alpha. She is fast, smart, and determined. According to her own pack members, she is a shoo-in. But Regan’s dad has a secret.
Seventeen year-old Charlie spent her adolescence drifting from place to place with a mother desperate to hide her illegitimate daughter from the unforgiving reality of werewolf pack dynamics. All Charlie has ever wanted is to know her father--and the family that's been kept from her all these years. But most of all, she wants a place to belong in the world. Where she doesn’t have to pretend she can’t sprout fur and paws at will.
Being kidnapped on her way home from prom was not what she had in mind.
When Charlie finds out the only way to fit in with her new family is to defeat her long-lost sister for the role of alpha, she refuses. That is until she learns that the strange and alluring vampire she's befriended, Owen, is the same vampire prince that's been promised the winner.
Regan has no doubt that, although she loathes the vampires, it will be her who "wins" Owen.
Only problem: Charlie's already fallen for him.
Bitterroot is a Young Adult Paranormal with a dose of sibling rivalry... Who will you root for?
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Charlie
Chapter Two: Regan
Chapter Three: Charlie
Chapter Four: Regan
Chapter Five: Charlie
Chapter Six: Regan
Chapter Seven: Charlie
Chapter Eight: Regan
Chapter Nine: Charlie
Chapter Ten: Regan
Chapter Eleven: Charlie
Chapter Twelve: Regan
Chapter Thirteen: Charlie
Chapter One
Charlie
High school dances were overrated. Sweaty perfume, crepe paper, and a whole lot of trying too hard all in the same room. What was the point?
I shifted my weight and fidgeted with the lace on my sleeve. Again. Why did I come here? Joey Lusk aside, school dances weren’t my scene. I’d spent more time hiding in the corner than on the dance floor.
But when Joey asked me to come, rumpled brown hair in his eyes, every other word being, “um” and the beginning and ending something like “if you don’t have anything better to do,” how could I have said no? I was futureless, not heartless.
Besides, my mother had been acting so weird lately, any excuse to get away was a good one. She had always been a little high strung, but this was a new level of crazy. On top of shortened curfews and a cell phone with a wide-range GPS tracker, my mom was making me practice shape shifting to my wolf form on a daily basis. We hadn’t practiced that together since elementary school.
Back then, I’d needed all the help I could get controlling the animal side of myself. As a young child, any temper tantrum or missed nap was enough to send me over the edge. I’d once thrown a fit in the grocery store when my mother had told me no over a candy bar and cried so hard, I’d sprouted fur. My mother picked me up and carried me out wrapped in her jacket. We ate canned soup for dinner that night because my mom was too scared to risk going back.
Being a shifter—a werewolf as some would call it nowadays with the whole paranormal craze going on—wasn’t exactly an easy life. Especially when your first and only priority was keeping it a secret. I cringed to think what life would be like if people knew I had the ability to grow paws and a snout at will. I hated the spotlight as it was. Whether that was a product of genetics or a built-in security measure after years of living with my high-strung mother, I wasn’t sure.
The music blaring through the speakers changed to something more like techno and I cringed all over again. Techno was not my thing. Neither were dances. Or any organized social functions. My list of friends was pretty short and none of them were close. It sucked—but not as much as it would suck to find a bestie and leave her again when Mom decided we’d worn out our welcome in this town. I never knew when the end was approaching until it was too late. Last time, she’d already packed the entire house and had the moving truck idling at the curb when I’d returned home from school.
There was no time for goodbyes with an unpredictable life like mine, which meant there was no time for friends, either.
Joey brought me a Styrofoam cup full of punch that tasted like powdered mix and water. Someone had thrown in a cherry to fancy it up, but it was wrinkled and pruned from sitting too long in the juice. “Thanks,” I told him, forcing my words to sound cheerful.
“No problem.” He smiled and stuck his hands into his pockets. “Are you having fun?”
“I am.” My tone wasn’t convincing.
His brows knitted in real concern. Joey was a nice guy. Where most kids had given up and begun to ignore me, he’d always said hello. Always been around. He wasn’t … hot, but he was kind. Way more points for that, in my book.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. I’m just not feeling very well.” I hated lying, but I couldn’t help it. I needed air. Open space. Somewhere without walls and crowds of people. “I think I should probably get home. It’s getting late anyway.”
“Just let me get the car and I’ll take you,” he said. He looked disappointed, but since it probably didn’t occur to him that I might be dishonest, he seemed more concerned about me than with the date being cut short.
“No, Joey, its fine. I can manage. Besides, Kassie Gordon asked me to make sure you saved her a dance. You can’t leave without dancing with her.” I pointed to where Kassie was sitting on the set of bleachers the staff had left out for the occasion.
It was dotted with a few girls who were unlucky enough to rank below me on the social ladder. Kassie spotted us and waved from her seat, a shy smile on her face that allowed a small peek of the metal lining her teeth. She met Joey’s gaze for a second before getting flustered and busying herself with smoothing out her cream-colored skirt.
“Kassie wants to dance with me?” Joey asked.
“Very much. And it will make me feel better if I know at least one of us gets to have a good time.” This part wasn’t a lie. Joey deserved to have fun and he deserved it with someone like Kassie—someone who he’d have a shot at a romantic future with. Someone who could agree to a second date.
I, on the other hand, was future-less.
I made a quick exit, happy to see Joey returning Kassie’s shy glances be
fore I slipped out the gym door. I paused on the front steps of the school, trying to pick a direction. The pavement was wet from a hard rain earlier in the evening, but the sky was clear now. I breathed in deeply through my nose. One of my favorite things about moving to Kallypso, Oregon had been the myriad of earthy scents. On dry days, it was all dirt and wind, but tonight, after a fresh rain, everything smelled wet and heavy. It would’ve been delicious even if I hadn’t been a wolf—or so I told myself.
I knew I should do the human thing and walk home, like any other kid my age would do. It wasn’t far, a little over a mile. But the forest that edged the parking lot to my left was calling. I couldn’t resist.
I bounded down the steps and darted in among the parked cars, heading straight for the tree line at the edge of the blacktop. I glanced around as I ran, making sure no one witnessed my strange exit—you never knew who’d step out the gym door to sneak a cigarette—but my senses told me the coast was clear.
I sniffed once more to be sure. Yep. I was alone.
The moment I stepped off the pavement and onto the soft soil, my body relaxed. A collective exhale of the stress and anxiety brought on by the dance. My muscles swelled and strained and I gave in eagerly to the shifting.
The change was fast and easy these days, but it wasn’t always that way. It was kind of embarrassing as a kid. Lots of torn clothes and nudity. But there was a trick to it, and my mom and I had practiced enough that everything went much smoother these days. Now, I knew how to shift at will—and still have my clothes on when I shifted back.
I held my breath and focused on keeping everything together as I shifted into my wolf form. Skin and muscles rippled. The air around me shivered. I fell onto all fours, and when my hands landed, it was paws that hit the ground instead of fingers.
Starting out with an easy run, I increased my speed. Faster and faster—until the depressions of my prints were so slight, they barely left a mark. I’d been denying myself this all week. It was too difficult to give in often here, among so many humans. But tonight, with the rain to mask my scent, and all of the nocturnal creatures hiding from the deluge, I could run. I gave in to my stolen minutes of guilty freedom and let everything fall away but my wolf.
The run home was entirely too short, but at least I made curfew. I shifted at the edge of the woods, bracing against the chill of the night air on my bare skin as my fur fell away. My dress remained intact, though a little muddy around the hem (which would annoy my mom to no end). The shoes weren’t so lucky. I must have left them behind.
“Stupid heels,” I muttered. For whatever reason, dress shoes were so much harder to hang on to than sneakers.
I stomped toward the house, a cottage rental we’d been lucky to find so far into the school year, my bare feet sucking in and out of the mud as I went. Halfway up the back steps, voices drifted over. I halted mid-step and looked around for the source.
“I’m telling you, I just scented someone, and it wasn’t Anita,” said a male’s voice. The speaker sounded young, close to my age maybe, but it wasn’t anyone I recognized.
“Must be on foot, then,” said another. This one was deeply male. Older.
I tried to place it too before their words sunk in and I realized what they were saying. They smelled me? A human couldn’t have, which meant only one thing…
No way. It couldn’t be.
I’d never met another shifter. Mom said they were out there, drifters like us just trying to fly low, but something about the way she’d said it always made me think she knew more. The few times I’d pressed, she’d snapped back at me.
“They’re dangerous. All of them,” she’d almost yelled. “They can’t be trusted.”
“I’m sure they can’t all be bad—” I’d said but she’d cut me off, eyes blazing with something I couldn’t name.
When she’d spoken again, I’d known better than to argue it. “If you ever see another shifter, Charlie, turn and run.”
I shook the memory of her words away. But I couldn’t do that now. Not with her somewhere inside.
I dropped into a crouch and huddled behind the rhododendron bush my mother had planted when we moved in. It was enormous already, but provided enough peepholes for a view.
Two figures stood close together at the edge of the yard, where the driveway met the sidewalk. Their voices had dropped to a whisper, and I could no longer make out what they were saying. They took turns gazing left and right down the darkened streets as if searching for someone. From the looks of things, they still hadn’t spotted—or scented—me in the backyard.
I was suddenly glad I hadn’t bothered with shoes. I shifted my weight and felt the sharp edges of the mulch pressing into the soles of my feet. I winced. The front door opened and closed and, for an agonizing second, I was terrified my mother had come to investigate. But a second later, I heard a male’s voice call out a greeting and another dark shape joined the first two. Their voices stayed hushed but no one made any moves to conceal themselves.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
They’d been inside my house.
My mother hadn’t come out, which meant she was still inside. What did they want with us—with me? How did they know her name? I wanted to believe they were friendly, but after my mother’s warnings and the way they didn’t speak or move as they waited, I wasn’t convinced.
I had to get past them. My mother was in there, and I wasn’t going to abandon her.
“If she doesn’t get here soon, we’re going after her. This is taking too long,” said one of the men, the older one. The other two grunted an agreement.
They wandered closer and my pulse thudded louder as I realized they were headed straight for me. I took one last breath and held it, afraid of making any noise, and crept up the back stairs and into the house.
It was pitch dark inside. My mother always had lights burning. Lots of lights. She always said darkness was deceiving and she wouldn’t be deceived again. I’d asked her to elaborate on the remark, to no avail. At this point, I’d given up. Mom was … Mom.
The back door opened into the kitchen so I went through there first. The passage of every silent second made me tenser. Why couldn’t I hear Mom? Why were there no lights? I tried the switch and got nothing.
I crept out of the kitchen, listening for any indication our visitors had decided to wait inside after all, but heard nothing. The dining room was empty and dark as well. I turned down the small hallway, toward the front of the house. A sliver of light shone from underneath the office door. My mother kept her computer in there, but she mostly only used the room when she paid bills or filed records. What the heck was she doing in there now?
I stood outside the door, shoulders heaving with silently labored breaths. I raised my hand to the knob and then stopped. What would I do if there was someone else in there? Should I shift? Had they?
I’d spent too many years’ carefully hiding my true nature. I couldn’t risk shifting and showing my hand now. I needed to protect myself as a human. I glanced around the empty hallway for something to carry. All that sat close by was a floor lamp and an end table filled with odds and ends—car keys, unopened mail, and a paper clip. Nothing that would help me. As I moved, a floorboard creaked underneath my feet.
“Charlie, is that you?” my mother called from inside the office. Her voice was high-pitched, twisted into some octave I’d never heard out of her before. That, more than anything else, scared me.
The knob squeaked and twisted. My breath caught in my throat. I wondered frantically if I should run and hide or stay and fight, but there was no time. The door opened to reveal my mother, her light hair backlit by a lamp that gave it a soft glow.
Her face was shadowed and I squinted to make out her expression—was it worry or fear she wore as she faced me?
“Mom? Are you okay?” I asked, my words coming out too fast in my panic.
“I’m fine.” She spoke calmly enough, but her eyes gave it away. She teared up and her chin tre
mbled. Something was seriously wrong.
“Mom,” I said uncertainly, “there are men outside. They were trying to—”
“I know, honey. We’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice cracked and I could swear her tone was apologetic. What was she sorry for?
The heat of alarm spiked up along my throat and into my face. “What’s going on?” I demanded.
She reached out as if to touch or comfort me, but at the last second, she pulled back and pressed her fingertips to her trembling mouth. “Honey, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” Her tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
A floorboard creaked behind me. Something swung in my peripheral vision and made contact with the side of my head. The crack echoed in the quiet, and I felt myself crumpling like an accordion.
The last thing I saw before it all went black were my mother’s tears, falling.
Falling…
Chapter Two
Regan
Footsteps sounded and I looked up a full ten seconds before Carter appeared. I knew it was him by the weight of his boots. My ears pricked at the sound of his familiar footfalls, and my mouth went dry. If Carter was back, it could only mean they’d found her.
I blinked and Carter materialized, his broad frame filling the office doorway. He looked at me first but his expression was fixed, unreadable. His light hair and blue eyes were striking, though not nearly as piercing as that cold stare he always wore when he faced my father. Even at seventeen years old, pack warriors were expected to be soldiers. And soldiers followed orders. No room for feelings or opinions.
Despite that, Carter had been my friend for as long as we’d both been alive. We’d been born a month apart—he never let me forget he was older. And despite our penchant for arguing like siblings, he was one of the few I trusted these days to see bits of the real Regan. But he also liked to mess with me and I knew he was purposely ignoring me now. Ass.
Bitterroot Part 1 Page 1
