Shifting Solitude (Outlaws, Fangs and Claws Book 1)

by Cheyenne Hart

  "I'm not a doctor so it's hard to say. Don't take off by yourself. If you get stuck out there, and you will, there's a good chance you'll die." His face was squared, manly, but belied an air of comforting compassion. "I promise I'll get you home when you can travel."

  "Thank you ... I'm sorry for being a crazy bitch. It's been, pretty weird." She wanted to say more, felt surge of warmth and openness, but quickly walled it off. Those were emotions that could get a girl into a lot of trouble in the world she lived in.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colton walked out of a sleazy bar nestled behind a storage warehouse on the wrong side of the city. That kind of place would have scared most people, but he'd dealt with the worst-of-the-worst during his years as a private investigator. Inside, they'd been no help at all. That was hardly surprising, but Colton hadn't expected the bartender to pull a machete out, as opposed to kindly asking him to leave.

  The guy backed off when he saw the .45 Colton kept strapped to his chest.

  He huffed and lit a smoke as he walked up the grimy street. He'd been searching for a missing person for days. She was another rich girl who'd taken off to party, or hang out with her boyfriend, or do whatever the hell these spoilt brats did when they got bored. Her parents were offering a hefty reward, and Colton needed the money if he was going to pay rent or even eat this month.

  Rita was her name. She'd gotten on a private bus outside a nightclub with a bunch of other girls. The thing was, none of the others went missing, or even reported crimes. They'd all come back to the city unharmed, apart from a few of them telling ridiculous stories about monsters. Yeah, they'd been given some pretty potent drugs on that fun-bus, it would seem.

  He'd gone to half the dive bars in the city, and given the third degree to every dead beat he could get to listen. It was all driving him to serious distraction, and he stood idly on the curb smoking one of his last cigarettes, watching cars go by in the dusk gloom.

  There was another shit-hole bar on the other end of the block he could ask about this phantom missing girl. Stepping out off the curb without looking, Colton was nearly pulverized by a speeding delivery van. The driving laid on the horn angrily as it sped away.

  Perturbed but not shaken, he looked both ways and then crossed the street. He didn't make a big deal out of it, but he was sure that there were a couple of big dudes down the end of the block watching him. They crossed the street right after he did. Or maybe they did so beforehand. This job had been playing with his head and eating into his sleep, which was already minimal.

  Maybe they were been there first, going about their business like everyone else in the city. Not Colton Eldritch though. His business was other people's business, and getting distracted by paranoid delusions wasn't going to help him find this Rita girl and get paid.

  He kept walking up the street away from them, and resisted the rookie move of looking over his shoulder. Instead of going straight to the next dive bar, he randomly ducked down an alley. Just to play it safe, he thought. Just before disappearing around the corner, he caught a glimpse of two burly individuals walking pointedly after him.

  A lot of people walk down streets. Don't panic, Colton. He was feeling nervous now, if not actually panicked. He let his fingers rest on the cool handle of his beloved sidearm and waited.

  A minute must've gone by and still nothing, so he kept waiting.

  "We've been watching you."

  Colton would have jumped out of his skin if he wasn't so damn tired. His heart jolted to an unpleasant pace, like he'd just had ten pints of bad coffee. The voice had come from behind. He pulled his .45 out and spun on his heels. There they were, two tall duded in leather jackets. One of them had a baseball cap on, backwards like an ass. They looked like real low life thugs.

  "How did you get around the block so fast?" he asked straight like the cop he'd wanted to be once.

  "You like asking questions, don't you, Colton?" said the thug with the baseball cap. They were both wearing the same sort of jacket. A few sizes too big, black, and leather.

  "Getting answers comes with the job description," said Colton. "Besides, it looks like I'm the one with a gun. I'm betting if you turned around, I'd see some cutesy gang logo the backs of those swank leather jackets." He smirked, sure neither of them was armed.

  "Shame to kill such a smart guy," said Baseball Cap.

  "I love shooting gang bangers before dinner," said Colton. But they kept on coming, getting way too close. He pointed the gun at the ground and pulled the trigger.

  Bang. He fired a warning shot.

  It didn't even make them flinch.

  "Are you punks suicidal?" Colton questioned.

  "No, but you are," said the guy without the baseball cap, and then he actually smiled. A really big smile with too much tooth. His face changed shape, and he grew hair everywhere that showed. The guy's too-big leather jacket swelled up to a tighter fit.

  "No fuckin' way," said Colton.

  There it was, right there in front of his eyes, a god damn monster, a wolf man. All Colton could think to do was squeeze off another round at it. So he did.

  Bang.

  The wolf man didn't take it too well, shuddering and flashing its fangs. "You're not so smart after all," it growled. Great, it was pissed off now.

  The voice loosened Colton's bowels. His skin crawled and sweat started to on his neck. He could smell his own fear, for crying out loud. No telling what that thing might be picking up. It looked like it was enjoying it too. The baseball cap thug was chuckling the whole time his friend changed form. Now, he changed as well.

  Colton started firing his .38, didn't stop until it clicked two or three times, empty.

  The bullets seemed to hurt the beasts, but mostly they just pissed them off. They walked closer, snarling and gnashing their wicked-looking fangs.

  Then, Colton turned and ran like hell with the two nightmare creatures close behind. He made it back to the road too.

  One of the wolf men tackled him from the rear, digging its claws into him and causing them both to roll out into the street. Lucky that there was no pickup coming through just then, or they'd have both been splatted.

  Colton managed to wind up on top of the wolf man, but its claws were at his throat. He wanted to swing at its face, but his hands were too busy trying to stop those meaty claws from tearing out his throat. For a few intense seconds they were locked like that.

  The wolf man started to pull him toward to its jaws, snapping at his face. An oncoming engine sounded nearby and its headlights started to shine on the street.

  Saliva and fetid vapor came out of its mouth and made Colton's eyes water.

  "Get off the road!" called the other wolf man from the side of the street. It didn't seem in any hurry to spoil the fight by intervening though.

  Sure he was done for as the fangs brushed against his face, Colton decided on a last-ditch effort to survive this fight. He let out a war cry and tried to shake himself free of its claws. He shifted their balance but couldn't get away from the snapping jaws.

  The werewolf pushed its legs out so they tumbled into the gutter, out of the oncoming car's path, but Colton was now beneath the beast, and it bit down hard onto his shoulder, lapping a feral tongue around and sucking at the bleeding puncture wounds. It was frenzied immediately and focused on nothing else.

  The truck was almost right beside them. The pain removed all hesitation. Colton got his knees up in between them and unsprang his legs with as much force and accuracy as he could. He launched them both at the speeding truck, but the wolf man went first, protecting Colton to some degree.

  The wolf man opened its jaws and released Colton, but it was sent flying a good ten feet. Nothing could have survived that.

  As for Colton, he was sure some things were broken, at least. He was sprawled out before the truck, unwilling to try and move for all the pain he felt.

  By the time the driver got out and ran around the front of his vehicle to see what he'd hit, the injured wo
lf man was already shuffling away with the help of its friend.

  Panicked by the impossible sight, the driver started to yell. He anchored himself to reality by grabbing his phone and calling someone.

  Hopefully it was emergency services. Everything was vibrating so hard that Colton couldn't hear properly. He could taste blood though. It wasn't in his mouth, but there was blood on the air, all around. He shook and lied on the cold asphalt, wondering if he would die.

  Chapter Twelve

  Melody woke up in an ice-hot sweat, the covers sticking to her. It was dark again and no light was in the room. It took a moment to remember where she was. "Hallard? Are you here?"

  "Melody, are you okay?" He was sleeping on the hard floor with nothing but a rug beneath him. Once he'd lit a candle and taken a look at her, he said, "You don't look good. Oh, shit, I hope you're not getting infected."

  "I feel like shit," she said, shivering on the bed. "But I know what this feeling is, don't worry about me, I'm fine."

  Confused, he said, "No, you're not fine. If you could see how pale you are, all these sweat. Let me feel your forehead." His hand was hard and cold. "You're burning up, Melody. I'll get you some more water, and more painkillers.

  "Don't you have anything stronger than Tylenol? That's all I need."

  Shaking his head, Hallard picked up the empty glass on the bedside table and filled it from a water jug on the table. "Can I take a look at you to see if there are unusual symptoms?" He handed her the glass and she drank deeply.

  "Thank you. I'm telling you, this isn't a werewolf thing, and my wound isn't itching or anything."

  "You don't know that." He sat on the edge of the bed, turning to face her. "There's no way you could. I hardly even know that for sure. Please, just --"

  "I'm going through withdrawal! Okay? I'm a fucking junkie and I need another fix. The only beast taking over here is the one that makes me do drugs and fuck any guy that ..." She sobbed and rolled over. "You get the idea."

  "So this is more than a recreational thing? I didn't know, Melody. I would have been more compassionate."

  "You've been an angel, trust me. I know what a bitch I've been. There's nothing else for it though, unless you can get me back to the city to score."

  "What if I could get you something to ease your pain?"

  "Tylenol can only go so far." Melody was trying not to sound harsh, but it was all she could do to stop herself from breaking down in tears.

  "Just try to sleep for now, okay?" he said, and he left the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He could still smell the sex from the previous evening's disturbing scene. Or it was just in his head, perhaps, a ghost scent conjured by his own repressed primal desires. There was no denying that her presence was stirring something deeply in his loins.

  It was torture as he thought of Melody in his bed, her pale skin smooth between his rough bedsheets as they soaked up her drug-deprived fever-sweat. So he put his mind to the task at hand, why he'd come back to the grisly scene of the werewolves' crimes. Hallard was sure that they must have left something behind, some bag or container with the goods Melody craved.

  He needed to get her a fix or she might take a nasty turn. If her body was too busy with the withdrawal symptoms, it might fail to recover from that nasty wound. And the sooner she was well enough to travel, the sooner she would want to leave his woods.

  As he walked, his feet stirred up entire galaxies of microscopic aromas that no regular human could ever appreciate. The wind had been strong enough to take away most of what was there, so the sex smells had probably been in his head.

  All of those drug-fucked idiots. Must've dropped something out here while they were running like scared puppies. He enjoyed thinking of the way they'd lost their minds at the sight of him. It was safe to assume those wolves had never come across a bear shifter before. He wondered how common his kind were, but didn't like to think much about the possibility that he could be the only one left now, apart from his father if he were still alive somewhere.

  Still walking around the clearing, he carefully examined the area, looking for discarded artifacts. Hallard could suddenly smell wolves more strongly, and there were footprints, newer than the others. It wasn't a completely new smell either. Werewolves had been there again, possibly that day.

  Where they looking for something they left behind? More likely, they were on the hunt for Hallard, and maybe Melody. The location of a bear shifter who'd killed a handful of their kind, and the woman who'd maimed their leader—that'd be something worth their while to find. The thought was too much for right now. He'd address that when he got home.

  After more searching around, trying to stay calm over the disgusting werewolf stench that stuck in his nostrils, fighting to ignore the thoughts of sex, naked bodies, breasts and mid-sections, pallid female flesh moving in the moonlight ... he wanted to pull out his own brain just to make it stop.

  Hallard clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms, and he snarled. This was so distracting, but he resolved to search and find what he'd come for, then get away from the compounding mockery of all the erotic things he'd never have.

  After a good hour, he decided to give up. He would be forced to go into the city and find something that would ease Melody's pain and cravings while she recovered. It wasn't going to be pretty to watch her go through withdrawal, but he'd do his best to help her. And he'd do it for himself, to prove that he wasn't just a beast.

  Finally, without warning, there was a little plastic item shining in the moonlight among some tall grass. He had no idea what was inside, except it was white powder thank stank of chemical-burn. It had to be drugs, and the bag was quite full. Hallard debated whether giving her drugs was actually helping, but decided he wasn't in a position to judge. At least it would stop her trying to leave before she was well. It would keep her in his life a little longer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Melody shivered and sweated, trying to fall back to sleep, but it was hopeless. It hurt every time she moved, despite how well she seemed to be healing. She wondered how quickly a shape shifter would recover from the same wounds. This only caused borderline panic—what if her mercifully smooth recovery was evidence that Melody was becoming a werewolf?

  Melody got out of bed, tired of working on bed sores that she swore she could feel developing beneath the surface of her itchy, dry skin. Fresh air seemed like a good idea, so she went to sit outside. It felt eerie sitting out there alone in the moonlight.

  A breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the voice of the endless woods. Paranoia bled crawling visions into her periphery, and it seemed as though bugs were fluttering all around. They were under her skin, behind her eyes, nagging at the hole inside her and the waking beast that demanded for it to be filled.

  The cravings hurt so bad, and came in waves that would build Melody to a point of breaking, before they ebbed away, almost mockingly. This, just before they suddenly exploded again.

  Melody scratched skin to make it stop. She felt like she was screaming, even though she was completely silent. Just one little hit was all it would take to make everything right again, and she swore to herself she'd never use again. Not in her entire life.

  Yeah right ...

  She was vaguely aware of movement, and seemed to shrink within herself, the midnight blue woods expanding as she felt so small and helpless in a terrifying world.

  "Melody?" Hallard said, standing in the clearing outside of his cave-home.

  She ran over to him with tears streaming, and he was confused. "I can't take it anymore," she said.

  He put his arms on her shoulders awkwardly and inspected her face. "You're really in a state, aren't you? Well, don't worry. I found something."

  After Melody ate some of the precious powder from the found baggie, Hallard helped her back to bed. Things evened out and the withdrawal was banished, so quickly, and she was tired. She was aware of Hallard watching over her, his presence making her fee
l warm and vibrant. "You've taken such good care of me," she said.

  "Maybe that's the drugs talking, but thanks." He sat on the edge of the bed by her feet.

  "Thank you," she kept repeating as she drifting toward sleep.

  After a long while, or a short while—time was difficult to measure in her buzzing sleep—Hallard spoke.

  "You know this stuff is going to kill you one day?" he seemed to say to her in her dreams.

  "I don't want to think about that," she told the dream Hallard. She leaned up and kissed him. Such heat between their lips. Warmth. Pleasure. Melody felt as though her heart would explode, like she was having an attack.

  "Wait," he said.

  Melody opened her eyes and realized this was not a dream, though she might have been sleeping through her actions.

  "You were asleep," he said. "I'm sorry ..."

  "No. Yes, my eyes were closed. But I would have kissed you anyway." She felt a sort of burning that could only be fixed with one things, and Hallard had what she needed inside his shorts. "Please, will you be with me?"

  Hallard's look changed from confusion to something else, fear maybe, or even shame? He edged away from her and then stood up.

  "I need to get some air."

  "What's wrong? You don't like me? You've been so kind. I want to return the favor."

  "I do like you, Melody. Not like this though." He went to the edge of the cave interior and turned to her. "Truthfully, I would hate to see you leave. If you still want me when you're sober, I would be honored to have you," he said before going outside.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hallard went for a walk to calm himself down. If only he were a real animal, he would never have turned her down. Doing so had taken every last bit of restraint he possessed. He knew she didn't care about him, not in an emotionally loving way, but he wanted her so badly that it hurt.