by Marla Monroe
After catching her breath from the shoes-and-socks ordeal, Shayla opened the door of the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. To her surprise, she didn’t encounter anyone, nor was there anyone in the kitchen when she arrived. The house seemed eerily silent. She’d expected someone to remain behind, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Shrugging, Shayla opened the fridge to see what was available that she could fix. The insistent growling in her stomach was getting uncomfortable.
She located the makings for a sandwich and quickly fixed one. After she put everything back where she’d found it, she took a seat at the table with a glass of milk and ate while she tried to make sense of her choices.
What held her to her home in Tennessee? Would there be anyone there she’d really miss? What about her job? No matter what she asked herself, she didn’t have anything really keeping her there. All that was left of her family was her Aunt Jeanie who lived in Florida. Her job was an internet job where she coded medical charts, which she could do anywhere that she had internet access. As for friends, well, she really didn’t have many other than the ones she’d come to spend time with here in New Orleans, and they all lived in different states.
Once she’d gone through it all, Shayla realized that since her attack, she’d basically become a hermit, venturing out only when she needed groceries. In fact, she hadn’t even needed to see a doctor in years, which was strange. She touched the spot low on the left side of her abdomen. There really was no explanation as to why she was healing so fast. Before the attack, she’d always had the sniffles or allergies, and the time she’d slammed her hand in the car door had taken forever to heal. After, she couldn’t remember having those problems anymore. Even her injuries from her attack had healed at a normal rate.
Just as she finished cleaning up her dishes, the sounds of someone walking through the house reached her ears. Since she’d never been anywhere in the house other than the kitchen and Gaston’s bedroom, she wasn’t sure which way to go to see who it was. She walked back into the hall and headed the opposite direction of the bedroom to emerge into a large open den where two women stood next to a couch. One had long blonde hair and blue eyes while the other one had shorter black hair and dark eyes. The blonde was tall, but the black-haired woman was only an inch or so taller than Shayla. Both of them glared at her when she stopped just inside the doorway.
“I told you she’d be here. She’s just a weak, pathetic human, hiding out while the rest of us fight to protect our territory,” the black-haired woman said with a snarl.
“You think you’re going to crawl in like some cocette slut and try to take our males. Non, bitch. Dey belong to us. We’re de ones dey come to when dey need relief, and we’re going to be the ones they mate with. Not you!” The blonde woman took a step closer.
“Gaston may think to aborder, fuck you, but he will never take a weak mate,” the other woman snarled. “He wants strong cubs. He not want half breeds from the likes of you, cocette.”
She nearly spit the words at her as she flicked her nails at Shayla. In the beginning, she was frightened of the two women. They were shifters she was sure. They had strong, muscular bodies without an ounce of fat on them. Next to her spongy body, they were Amazons. She was sure she had no chance with Beau and Gaston next to them. Then she realized that if they didn’t feel threatened by her, they wouldn’t have been there at all. She had them running scared, and that gave her the strength to straighten her spine and face them with squared shoulders.
“Since Gaston is your LeRoy, you don’t make decisions for him, bitch. Nor do you command Beau. I wouldn’t count your kittens before their born. I’m the one they just made love to, not you two. I think you need to turn your furry asses around and leave before they get back and throw you out for insulting me.” Shayla forced her face to remain neutral, believing that the less emotion she showed, the less they would want to fight back.
“Insulting you? A mere human? I think not. You’re nothing but a fooyay, foolish woman. Gaston wonna’ keep you long. Den he come back to me fur what he needs,” the blonde said with a smile that showed she was confident that Shayla couldn’t give them what they wanted.
“Regardless of how long I stay, you need to stay away from me and tend to your own business. Beau and Gaston are off that list. They are no longer of any concern to you. Now walk your asses out of here,” she said with more bravado than she actually felt.
Before she even saw them move, both women were on top of her, claws bared and teeth showing. It was all Shayla could do to prevent them from swiping across her face or neck with the sharp, dagger-like nails. One of them landed a blow to her stomach before she could react, just as the other one freed one hand and hit her full in the face with a hard fist.
“I’ll kill you before I allow you to stay on pride lands, bitch,” the blonde snarled.
The black-haired woman had her fangs so close to Shayla’s throat she was sure if she didn’t remain absolutely still the bitch would tear her throat out. Even though fear pulsed through her veins, Shayla struggled to remain calm and not show just how terrified she really was. They’d descended on her like vultures to a fresh kill.
Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like she expected it to right before she died. Instead, things became crystal clear, though all the color in her world had leeched away. The sounds of their growling nearly deafened her. In that instant, Shayla was no longer herself. She’d become the woman she had been before the attack on her years before. Everything fell into place, and that power she had always felt deep inside of her returned. Where had it been all of these years? Why hadn’t she missed it before now?
The black-haired bitch lunged closer to her neck, expecting to tear it out, except it didn’t happen. Shayla roared in anger that they were attacking her. She surged up with a strength she had forgotten she had and threw the female off of her, knocking the blonde down, as well. She wasn’t satisfied with seeing them down on the ground. Nothing but blood would satisfy her now. They’d attacked her first.
With a snarl, Shayla launched herself at the two women scrambling to get off the floor. She kicked the blonde in the stomach and caught the other one with her fist right in the face. That had felt so good. When the black-haired female got back to her feet, she attacked again. This time she would regret it. Shayla’s fingers burned and the skin on her hands itched as she met the woman head-on. Instead of another solid blow to the woman’s body, long scratch marks appeared on the woman’s abdomen, tearing through her clothes. Then blood welled up to the surface.
What the hell? How did I do that?
She looked down at her hands to discover they had morphed into paws and claws. She’d never done that before. She would have remembered that for damn sure. What was going on? She shook her hands as if that would shake off the fur and razor-sharp nails attached to her. It didn’t work. The blonde woman gasped and stepped back from Shayla as if she’d grown a third head or something.
“How did you do that? You aren’t a shifter. I’d be able to smell you if you were,” she said, fear widening her eyes.
“I–I don’t know.” Maybe she shouldn’t have told them that.
“Leave her, Rachael. We need to leave before Gaston and Beau return. He’ll kill us for this. We knew better than to attack her here.” The dark-haired woman pulled on her friend’s arm until both of them turned and ran out of the house, leaving a very shaken Shayla staring down at the furry paws where her hands should have been.
Fear of what had happened to her sent her scrambling to the bathroom to be sure nothing else had changed. Only seeing her normal face in the mirror assured her that her hands were all that had been affected. Why was this happening to her? She remembered from before the attack that she’d been an almost fearless person but not that she could change her hands, or any other part of her body, for that matter.
After her attack, Shayla had felt like a basket case, always afraid and timid. She’d had to force herself to do even mundane things
like go to the post office or the grocery store. All she wanted to do was stay safe and hidden in her little home, doing her job and reading to escape her boring, lifeless existence.
I don’t understand why I couldn’t remember being strong and confident before. Why did I forget that part until now, and why do I suddenly remember it?
None of it made sense to her. Could it be the rather close contact she’d had with Gaston and Beau? It was the only real thing that had happened since she’d come to New Orleans. Well, that wasn’t exactly right. She’d been attacked by a demon of some kind on Halloween night.
Shayla guessed it didn’t really matter now what had caused it. All that really mattered was that she figured out how to undo it. She couldn’t go around all the time with furry paws and sharp claws. How would she be able to work? She didn’t think claws worked well with computers.
Suddenly she was tired again, bone-weary tired. A nap sounded like a really good idea to her. Once again she tried shaking her hands to rid herself of the newly acquired coating of furry gloves, but nothing changed. With a sigh, Shayla climbed up on the huge bed and curled up to take a nap. She laid her new acquirement on a pillow next to her and prayed she didn’t claw herself in her sleep.
The last thing she thought about before drifting off was, what would the guys think about the change, and were they somehow responsible for it? If they were, she would tear them a new one.
* * * *
Gaston stopped chasing the wolves and waited for his brother to catch up with him. The wolves always got worked up after fighting the demons and others at a dominance battle. It never failed that they would trespass on feline land looking for another fight while their blood was running hot. Under normal circumstances, he and the alpha from the pack got along well, but there was no talking with the lupines when the fever was on them.
“They didn’t stay as long as most times,” Beau pointed out as he stopped next to him.
“The battle last night was fairly intense. More than likely they didn’t have a lot left in them afterward.” Gaston waited until the last wolf had disappeared into the tree line.
“Let’s head back home. I don’t like leaving our mate before we’ve even claimed her,” Beau said.
“She’s safe with the guards there. More than likely she hasn’t even woken up yet,” Gaston told him with a smile.
“Even better. I could use a nap myself,” Beau said with a huge, toothy grin.
Gaston shook his head. “Slow, remember. We go slowly so we don’t frighten her off.”
Beau just shook his head and kept pace with him as he walked toward their home. It wasn’t until he was within a half mile that he felt something was off at the house. He didn’t feel as if Shayla was in immediate danger, but something had jarred his senses enough he noticed. He picked up his pace.
“Hey. I thought I was the one in a hurry to get back to her,” Beau quipped as he jogged to keep up.
“Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.”
They raced back to the house, and the first thing Gaston noticed was that none of the guards were in sight. He strained to listen in case there was a fight going on somewhere nearby, but he only heard the regular noises of nature around them.
“Where are they?” Beau asked. “Everett should be right here.”
“I don’t know. Be careful in case we’re walking into a trap. There’s something in the air, but I don’t know what it is.” Gaston eased up onto the back porch with all of his senses on high alert.
He let Beau go first and open the back door, but nothing happened. In fact, the house was silent. Worry over their mate took over his common sense as Gaston rushed toward the bedroom where they’d left her to nap earlier. When he skidded to a stop just inside the room, Beau ran into him with a soft curse.
Shayla lay curled up on her side on top of the covers fully dressed. She breathed softly in and out without any signs of distress, but he could see the faint outline of a bruise forming on her cheek. Someone had hit his mate. He drew in a deep breath to find out who it had been, but the scents were muddled. They didn’t make sense to him.
“Someone hurt her,” his brother snarled beside him.
Then they saw her hands, or rather where her hands should have been.
“What in the hell…” Gaston began as he walked over to the bed.
He must have spoken louder than he meant to because Shayla jerked awake, her eyes snapping open and her mouth dropping in a silent O of surprise.
“Um, hi,” she said, trying to sit up but having trouble with her new addition.
“What happened, Shayla? How did you partially shift?” Gaston asked, easing one hip down on the mattress.
“Um, I’m not really sure. One minute I was about to get my throat torn out, and the next I had these,” she said with a forced smile, holding up her furry paws topped off with pointy claws.
“Who was trying to hurt you?” Beau asked in a growly voice.
“I’m not sure who they were, but it was two of your female cats. They were determined not to let me stick around. Evidently they’re a little prejudiced against humans, or maybe they would have felt that way about any female you had here that wasn’t one of them.” Shayla frowned at both he and his brother in turn.
“Two of our female pride members attacked you?” Gaston asked.
“Where were the guards? They should have been here to protect you,” Beau said.
“I wondered why there was no one around when I got up. It was so quiet and not a soul in sight. I just figured they had gone with the rest of you to take care of the problem.” She shrugged and tried to climb out of bed.
Gaston helped her sit up then eased off the bed with her in tow by holding her wrists. This partial shift gave him pause. If she wasn’t a true shifter, then how had she shifted just her hands? He couldn’t smell shifter on her, so why could she do this? It didn’t make sense. Then, neither did the odd feeling he’d had when he and Beau had gotten closer to the house. Then there were the missing guards to add to the mix.
He leaned down and drew in a deep breath next to Shayla’s neck, but nothing gave him a hint of anything to do with a shifter. How had she morphed her hands into claws? It didn’t make sense.
“How do I put them back? I can’t do anything like this. I need a shower, and I’m hungry for some reason.” Shayla tried to scoot off the bed, but Gaston stopped her.
“You shouldn’t be able to do this, cher. You are not a true shifter. You don’t smell like one, and you said yourself that you weren’t.”
“Um, I thought you would know. I figured it had something to do with you guys,” she said, looking for the first time as if she might lose it. He hurried to stop it before she broke down.
“It will be good, cher. Just relax and let us worry about this.”
“Come on, Shayla, you can get the furries wet. I’ll bathe you and help you dress. Then we will feed our kitten.” Beau helped her off the bed while Gaston backed away to let him.
This was a twist in the situation, for sure. He’d never heard of such a thing in all of his years. They would need to find someone who might know. That might not be as easy as he wished, though. Those older than he and his brother were rare these days. They had to do something, though. Their mate would go crazy without being able to change back.
Gaston strode to his office and dropped into his chair. Leaning back, he searched his memory for anyone still around that might have an idea of what was going on. He’d hoped to keep their mate’s birthmark that matched theirs a secret for a while longer, but that might not be possible now. His first objective was to keep his mate safe. His second objective was to care for his mate’s needs. Doing both sounded as if it was going to be a challenge.
They needed to talk to the two females who’d attacked their mate and the missing guards. Though he smelled the females who’d been in their home, he hadn’t smelled anything else. The two cats couldn’t have overpowered the thre
e guards, so something else was going on. There had been the faintest scent of something off both outside the house and inside, but though it smelled familiar, he didn’t recognize it. He’d ask Beau when he had finished caring for Shayla. Maybe he had sensed something.
Gaston pulled his cell off his belt and made a few calls to get the ball rolling. Several of their enforcers went to search for the missing guards, and two went to find the two females in question. He would talk to them and get to the bottom of their foolish mistake. Had their mate not grown her claws, they might have killed her. That was an action punishable by death. He was unsure what to do in this situation until he knew more.
Leaning back once more, Gaston let the many thoughts in his head roll around and mingle until it suddenly dawned on him what might be going on. He just needed someone to confirm it for him. The significance and results could be either devastating or miraculous. He didn’t know which right then, but he had the sickly feeling that it would either destroy his pride or strengthen it to the point of being as strong as all the other preternaturals in New Orleans. That would mean they would no longer have to worry that the demon nation might turn their sights on them, and the vampires would think twice before trying to kick them out again. Gaston would be able to keep his people safe for the first time in nearly one hundred years, before humans had populated the others nearly into extinction.
It was the reason behind the wars going on to rule New Orleans. The city had long sense been the preference of the others because of its magical draw to anything not human. It fed their strength and offered a sense of protection just by being the haunted, legendary city it was. Everyone who lived there believed in other forms of life, and anyone who visited wanted to believe. It gave them all a measure of immunity from being hunted down and destroyed. Gaston planned on keeping it that way, and it looked as if their mate, Shayla, was the key to that now. He prayed to the one who ruled it all that he and his brother would be strong enough to keep her safe. If not, the city would fall and all others might perish with it.
