Shifters in the Shadows: Seventeen Paranormal Romances of Sexy Shifters, Dangerous Vamps, & Things That Go Bump in the Night

by J. K Harper

  “Yes, let’s.” Shelby waggled her eyebrows at Albany. “I want details!”

  “You’re not getting them.”

  Shelby rolled her eyes. “You spoil all my fun.”

  Chapter 8

  “Well, that’s not how I expected our first day as proper mates to go.” Albany sank onto Logan’s bed and reclined on her elbows.

  He remained quiet as he pulled his keys, phone, and wallet from his back pockets. Joining her on the bed, he laid on his side, opened his arms, and enfolded her in a warm embrace.

  “That was beautiful,” he said finally, voicing the sentiment that had been rolling through his head for the last few hours.

  “Our first day as mates?”

  “Well, yes.” He nuzzled his nose against the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. “But I meant what you said at the meeting. About home.”

  “I meant it.”

  “I know you did. That’s why it was beautiful. That’s why you’re beautiful.”

  She hummed and burrowed into his arms. “You’re home. You’ve always been home. I should have realized that last night.”

  “I dumped a lot on your plate all at once.”

  Lifting her head, she perched her chin atop his pectorals. “We have the same plate now. You don’t have to keep everything to yourself, you know.”

  “I know,” he murmured.

  “So what’s the prognosis? Do we have a timeline?”

  “We’ve got those two builds to finish up. And you’ve got that landscaping gig with the campus. That’ll eat up our time for two weeks at least. Maybe a month. We can use the weekends for repairs in Vidalia. That porch is a death trap.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “With moving furniture and suitcases and whatever else into the house, we need to replace it.”

  She hummed and pressed a kiss to his chest. “What do you think about that thing Shelby said?”

  “About going full on Elly May Clampett? I support her dreams and will be there to take damning pictures.”

  His mate’s slight shoulders shook as she tittered. Logan stroked her hair until she settled.

  “I meant the other part,” she said, sobering. “You said last night you think they’re drawn to us.”

  “Magical blood is better than human blood. It stands to reason.”

  “And if they end up drawn to Vidalia?”

  “We’ll need to survey the whole property so we can secure the boundary lines. It’d be easier to defend, with all that open space between the house and the forest.”

  “Something tells me the house is already protected. I mean, the outside is rough, but the inside just needs a dusting. That doesn’t make sense. There should be mold and mildew on every surface. Cobwebs. Rats. Wily opossums.” She peered up at him, her eyes wide. “That’s a witch’s house. It has to be.”

  Logan didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Have you found any photographs? There weren’t any downstairs…”

  “No,” he said, trying not to sound so damn morose.

  “Did you try that desk in the office?”

  “The drawers are stuck.”

  “We’ll get them open.”

  “My mate. A wolf with a bone.”

  “I just think you could use some closure. Maybe if you find out who she was, what she was like, you’ll understand why she—” Sighing, Albany trailed off.

  “Why she left me?” he offered. “Why she took a two-year old and abandoned him on a stranger’s doorstep?”

  “I’m not defending her actions,” she started, seeming to hesitate. “But if your mother was a witch, she’d know just by looking that we belong together. They see auras. Maybe she saw ours and knew they’d match. Maybe she wanted you to be here. With me. Where you’d always have someone who loves you, no matter what.”

  Albany’s warmth and sincerity never failed to silence the inner voice that liked to remind Logan he’d been rejected. Deserted. Unloved.

  “If that’s remotely the case, then I reckon I’d thank her.”

  “Oh?”

  “Because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Ditto, dickhead.”

  “Hey! I didn’t deserve that one.”

  “No, but you’re still a dickhead. My dickhead. Wait—that sounded weird.”

  Logan snorted. “Whatever you say, princess.”

  “I’ll stop calling you dickhead if you stop calling me princess.”

  “Mmm, never.” He bumped the tip of his nose to hers. “Princess.”

  “Princess of the onion fields.”

  “You joke, but you were sexy as all hell last night. With your hair spread out on the grass and your body writhing under the moonlight. Goddamn. Maybe I oughta start calling you queen, actually. I’ll worship you. Every inch of you. From the tips of your earlobes to the soles of your feet…”

  As he spoke, Logan trailed his fingertips down the slant of her waist.

  “Then that would make you my king.”

  “King and Queen of the onion fields.” He huffed a short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

  “Guess we’ll find out in a month or so.” She sat up on her knees. “Hell, we might find out something else in a month or so.”

  “What’s that?”

  She shot him a look. “You came in me like fifty times. What do you think??”

  “Oh, come on. It wasn’t fifty. I’m a wolf, not a machine.”

  “My lady parts disagree.”

  “I like your lady parts very, very much.”

  “Let’s make dinner. I’m starving. And if you want me to have the energy to reacquaint you with those lady parts, then we’re gonna need to carb up.”

  “I like how you think.”

  “I have my moments.” She hopped from the bed and offered a hand. Logan took it and laughed when she braced her bare feet against the wood flooring and pulled with all her wolf’s strength.

  “Hey, don’t laugh! You’re heavy.”

  Without warning, Logan sprang to his feet. Once more that day, he bent and lifted her over his shoulder.

  “You caveman!”

  “You love it.”

  “I do, damn you.”

  In the kitchen of Logan’s one-bedroom Craftsman-style house—the only house on pack land with a sole occupant, until tonight—he set her on the countertop by the sink.

  “I have another surprise for you.”

  “You’re killing me, Calloway.”

  He reached into one of the back pockets on his jeans.

  “If that’s another ring, I Suwannee—”

  Logan shook the red packet. The distinctive rattle made her grin. He offered the pack of Skittles she’d left in his truck.

  “Oh, I’m the luckiest lady wolf ever.”

  “Because I gave you candy?”

  “Because you gave me this.” Her dreamy smile extended all the way to her eyes as she reached out and trailed her fingertips across the front of his shirt, over his heart.

  She leaned forward, and Logan closed the distance between them. He kissed her thoroughly, the way a mate deserved to be kissed. He kissed her so that she’d know she was loved. That she was protected. That she was his.

  By the time they parted, her lips were flushed and her breath came out in short, quick pants.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered, mischief in her eyes. “And not just because of the Skittles.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I think so.” She winked. “Time will tell.”

  “Good thing we have forever.”

  Also by Gen Géricault

  Sweet Vidalia is a prequel to the upcoming Sweet Vidalia Wolves series: http://www.ggericault.com/gen/sweet-vidalia-wolves/

  You might also enjoy the tie-in series, Sweetwater Wolves: http://www.ggericault.com/gen/sweetwater-wolves/

  About the Author

  Gen Géricault grew up on ghost stor
ies, iced tea, and her granny's peach cobbler. She called the historic city of Savannah home for most of her life, but she now lives abroad.

  Her stories explore love, longing, and the tangled truths behind the things that go bump in the night.

  Email: ggericault@gmail.com

  Newsletter: http://www.ggericault.com/gen/newsletter/

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/gengericaultbooks

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/ggericault

  Website: http://www.ggericault.com/gen/

  Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/gengericault

  Eternally Mated

  by Alyse Zaftig

  Leaving

  Pyotr

  “It’s time for you to start your own coven.”

  I stared at my Maker, my Master from the day that I had risen from the dead.

  “But Master, I have no desire to leave.”

  “But you must. Your three hundredth death day is approaching quickly. You know that you must be mated by moonrise that night or turn to dust.”

  He sighed softly.

  “I’ve been overly indulgent. I should have pushed you out of the nest earlier than now, but I must say that I enjoyed having a loyal lieutenant. I have done you a disservice.”

  “Never, Master,” I said, kneeling before him.

  “Child, you have the proceeds of working for me for three hundred years. You’ll be fine on your own, especially since you were a financier when your heart still beat. I have paid for you to see a seer. I have sent the address to your phone. Plug it into your GPS and go tonight. She’s expecting you, although I didn’t tell her what time you’d be there. I certainly paid enough for her to stay up all night.”

  “A seer?” I frowned. I might be a vampire, but I didn’t put much stock in hocus-pocus. I had been unfailingly practical in life, and that trait had served me well in the afterlife.

  “Yes, child, a seer. You must go to her to learn where to find your mates and soon.”

  “But Halloween, my death day, is only days away.”

  “Yes.” My Maker settled back into his chair. “Go now. Send in my mate on your way out, please.”

  “Of course.”

  I went outside and closed the door behind me. With a heavy heart, I went to her door where I knocked softly.

  “He wants you. He seems tired.”

  “Good timing,” she said approvingly. “I just got our little one down.”

  I looked at baby Afanasy, a tiny boy whose unruly hair was all over the place. His little chest was rising with slow, deep breaths. He slept the deep sleep of the innocent. I often babysat him when his parents, the three of them, wanted some time alone.

  She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Briskly, she headed for my Maker, who was older than time.

  I had envied the strong bond between my Master and his two mates…and now it was time for me to find my own or turn to dust.

  I highly doubted that I could fall in love in the next few days, no matter what a seer told me. But he had told me to see her, and I would.

  And later, I’d walk into the sun.

  I had not seen its rays for nearly three hundred years. I could hardly help my Maker if I turned to ash, so I had carefully stayed away from it.

  But three hundred years of service had bought me a death sentence…a second one. I’d rather see daylight for the last time than let my body crumble into dust without seeing the sun ever again.

  Seer

  Pyotr

  After I went to my car and pulled out my phone, I put in the address that my Maker had given me.

  I didn’t want to go to the seer, and now that he had pushed me out of his coven, I was a free agent.

  But old habits died hard. Going to the seer would be the last thing I did for my Maker.

  Then I’d prepare for death…my second one.

  Where was the sunniest place in the world? Should I even go there?

  I thought about my plan to walk into the sun as I slowly drove towards my appointment. I hoped that she would be worth my time.

  Soon, I parked outside of her house, her lights on and welcoming me.

  I stood at her door and lightly rapped on the door.

  “Hello?”

  A lady with a shawl came to the door. The shawl was…bright. Very bright.

  It was orange, red, and yellow all mixed together in screaming neon colors. If I were human, my eyes could have been burned. Since I was immortal (as long as someone didn’t behead me, stake me, or put me in the sun), all I could do was wince.

  “Come in, come in,” she called, opening the door and giving me permission to come into her small home.

  I looked around. Everything smelled like patchouli oil.

  I feared that my Maker had sent me on a fool’s mission, but would it hurt to hear her out? He trusted her enough to pay her for her time, and I owed it to him to sit down and listen.

  “Tea?” she asked me.

  I looked at her. I got the impression that she was the sort of grandmotherly-type that offered cookies and milk to visitors. I couldn’t eat, of course, so she was stuck only offering me beverages.

  “I’d love some tea,” I said.

  She poured out a little tea into tiny cups and handed me one. I sipped it. It was blazing hot, which meant that she’d kept it ready for my arrival. My Maker surely had paid her an enormous sum for her to stay up to meet me.

  I looked around the room. In here, it smelled like incense…and hope.

  Hmm.

  “First time at a seer’s house, right?”

  I put down my tea cup and nodded.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, everyone has a first time.” She winked at me before putting her own cup down on its little saucer.

  “How can I help you?”

  “My Maker says that I need to establish my coven.”

  “Yes, yes, I can help you with that.”

  “How?”

  “You know that out there, you have two fated mates — one shifter, one human.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s in your blood. It’s your destiny. Give me your hand.”

  I blinked at the sudden demand. Suddenly, she didn’t seem so grandmotherly. There was something razor-sharp about her eyes, which told me that my Maker had chosen wisely.

  Before I extended my hand to her, she pulled it to her. She had inhuman strength. A mere mortal wouldn’t be able to pull my hand towards her, and I began to rewrite my first impression of the seer.

  “Hmm…short life.” Her finger traced my lifeline.

  “I was only 20 when I was turned.”

  “Yes…and a long undeath.”

  I nodded. “I’ve been undead for 300 years. I barely remember my life.”

  “And little happiness,” she said, looking up and locking eyes with me.

  I gritted my teeth. She had no business messing with me…well, for this trip, I’d tolerate it.

  “I’ve been a faithful soldier.”

  “Always a bridesmaid and never a bride.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, just something we humans say.”

  “You’re not human,” I said before I could stop myself. I was disoriented, being in this incense-filled room, and the scent was doing something to my brain, something that made me just a little less inhibited.

  She cackled softly. “I’m human…for a given value of human.”

  I frowned. She smelled as if she were human, but there was something else about her, something that I couldn’t put my finger on.

  Fairy Godmother

  Pyotr

  Then I understood what she was.

  “You’re a fairy.”

  “Half fairy,” she corrected me. “My father was a drunken wastrel who got his wings clipped. He was thrown into the mortal world. A witch fell in love with him. My mother was always a sucker for the underdog. I grew up on a farm in Wisconsin with more formerly abused dogs than you could shake a stick at.”


  I blinked at her. Rescue dogs? A witch who kept canines? I’d never heard of her, and she should’ve been unusual enough to

  “I see. I beg your pardon.”

  “Apology accepted.” She waved her hand as if she were shooing away a fly. “Now, put your hand on this crystal ball.”

  “And gaze into it?”

  “No, that’s my job,” she snapped. “Honestly, vampires these days. In my day, vampires knew how to behave with seers.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, even though I hadn’t meant to offend her in anyway.

  All she did was sniff.

  “Hand. Ball.”

  I bit back a retort. I didn’t think that it was a good idea to get on the bad side of a witch-fairy.

  I put my hand on it.

  She leaned forward until she was at the level of the ball.

  “I don’t understand. I see three children.”

  “Three children? That’s quite a few.” I didn’t know if I could handle that many. Just babysitting one left me exhausted. Afanasy had the charm of his mother, the strength of his sires, and insatiable curiosity. He was always getting into things he wasn’t supposed to. Everyone loved him, but I could’ve sworn that he was part demon.

  “I think one of them is you. He has your face.”

  “What?”

  “All of you are wearing white. Two of you are wearing white suits. The third is wearing a white dress. I think it’s your First Communion.”

  “That was so long ago…”

  “Viktor.” She turned to me.

  “Viktor?” I didn’t know any Viktors…except for my childhood best friend.

  “Viktor Kozlov?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And the little girl?” I tried to remember who had been there.

  “Anastasia.”

  “Nastia.” I blinked a lot.

  I hadn’t thought of either of them in a long time. I’d outlived everyone I’d ever known.

  “They’re dead,” I argued.