20 Shades of Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Collection

by Demelza Carlton

  She raised her head, her mouth a mere inch from his. “The way you said ‘we,’ one would think you mean there were shifters back then.”

  “ʼTis part of our Celtic lore. Aye. I dinna ken our origins. What action caused the deviation in our DNA. Or which century.” He paused, thinking of all the possibilities. “Maybe we’ve been shifters since the dawn of time. Who kens?

  “We went by the name Artos back then. Celt bear-shifters from what is now Romania and Germany migrated here. They looked after the land. Never took more than was needed.

  “Then the greedy, thieving Vikings arrived. They began killing our ancestors off when they were in bear form. Smart creatures, they were. They planned fer survival. Seldom did they shift. Full moons were terrible fer them back then. The humans entered the thin crevices along the cliffs into caves where they shifted and mated and roared.

  “They had to hide their true identity at the risk of being killed. Bears need to run, to smell their habitat, to be free. Something had to be done if the sleuth was to survive. Plans were made.”

  It suddenly occurred to Gunner he was rubbing his palm slowly rubbed up and down Star’s side from her shoulder to her thigh, resting between his legs, while he talked. His touching her was relaxing and thrilling at the same time. Since she hadna complained, she must be okay with it.

  He hugged her closer and sighed with contentment. “My ancestors also changed their human appearance as much as they could. Ye see, our men, young and old, dyed their long hair a shocking white with a lime wash, pulling it back from their foreheads and tying it at the crown of their heads. People thought us fierce because of our large builds and long hair that shone like phantoms at midnight.

  “As part of their escape plan, females shaved the heads of grown men and teenagers so their hair would grow back in its natural color. One night, my ancestors snuck out of their homes and ran to an area north of Wick where some of the men had hidden months earlier, building shelters. They took the name of Dunn which means brown. We were brown bears, so it was one of our small acts of rebellion. Over time, we added the ‘Mc’ fer recognition as a clan.”

  “Wow. What a story. It’s an interesting tale for a cold, blustery night.”

  Gunner cupped her face and, with Bear’s insistence, he shared his feelings. “Have I told ye how beautiful I think ye are, me bonny lass? At times when I look at ye, the breath is yanked from me lungs by some unseen force. I think our being huddled under snow-covered pine trees is the best night of me life. Now, me midnight Star, tell me about yer history.”

  Chapter 4

  Her heart responded like a smitten schoolgirl’s to his remarks. No man had ever spoken such sweet words to her. “You do know how to flatter a woman, but let’s not forget we just met.”

  “So ye’ve already mentioned. But a Scot feels quickly—anger, frustration, sympathy, and affection.” He pulled her closer and sighed. “Now yer bedtime story fer me. One good turn deserves another.”

  What could she tell him? She knew so little about her ancestors. “My mother was Scottish. McKean was her maiden name, but I don’t know anything about the family’s history the way you do yours. She married an Irishman, Joseph Delaney.”

  “Och, so a strong bit of magic flows through yer veins, too.”

  She’d never thought of that. In fact, she often wondered why people were so curious about their ancestors. Wasn’t living life in the present difficult enough? She pushed back her fear of breast cancer; she’d been trying so hard not to go into a panic over the possible diagnosis.

  “What has ye so tense? ′Tis a deep fear ye have. Ye worry me.” His fingertip tapped her chin. Tenderness from him settled in her heart.

  She couldn’t share. The more she talked about the lump, the more real it became. Yes, she was most definitely living in denial, but it was the only way she could keep going. What she really wanted to do at that exact moment was bury her face in his neck and sob for a good hour—which would serve no purpose except to make her headache worse.

  “It’s something I don’t care to talk about.” She decided to share a memory instead. “My mother used to recite a poem, of sorts, she said came from her family. I’m ashamed to say I never gave it much importance, but since this is the night of solstice, let me see if I can recall it.” She stilled and brought forth her mother’s voice, the lyrical sway of it.

  “Once the myth and mystery of solstice eve

  Brings an inner awakening of olden ways.

  Ancient wisdom speaks to hearts who believe.

  Eternal fires, hate that mires, and sweet desires

  Bring magic’s enchantment to lighten winter days.”

  Gunner was silent for a few beats. “′Tis beautiful. I havena heard it since me sweet grandma passed. She used to recite the same thing as she rocked in front of the fireplace. I canna tell ye what it means ta me ta hear ye say it,” his voice was thick with emotion.

  Star pressed his cheek with her palm to offer some human comfort. “You can’t be serious. The same poem? I’m surprised. Do you think it’s an old rhyme spoken over Scotland?” How weird was this? “I wish my mom would have shared more. She probably did and I didn’t pay much attention.”

  “We’re too self-absorbed when we’re young. ′Tis understandable.” He kissed her forehead. “You mentioned having a twin.” He entwined his fingers in hers, placing them by her head, and she was soothed by it. “Do ye share a strong connection?”

  She nodded, the movement causing some pain in her head. She groaned. “We’re very close.”

  “Ye moaned, Star. Is yer head paining ye?” Gunner’s warm hand held her face.

  “Only when I move it.”

  “Hold on. I’ll give ye more aspirins and another swallow of tipple.” He reached to his side where he’d evidently placed the bottle of pills and the flask. Once he was sure she’d swallowed the pills, he rolled onto his back and lifted her on top of him. Massive arms gathered her close to his body’s heat.

  She rested her head on the muscled pillow of his pecs. Too bad he was still dressed. Imagine how great it would feel to place her face against his warm, firm skin. A deep sigh expelled from her chest.

  “You asked about my twin. We’re extremely close. Her name is Moonbeam, but I call her Moonie. She’s expecting her first baby in a couple weeks. A little girl. Believe me, her Auntie Star will spoil her rotten.” She chuckled. “I was hoping to be with Moonie and her husband during labor.”

  Of course that would depend on the day she delivered. Star had put off her own health issues for two weeks to make this crazy trip for her boss. Once she was back in Atlantas, Georgia, she was focusing on herself until she knew for sure if she had cancer or not.

  What else could she tell him about herself? “I have a degree from Duke University with a double major: Accounting and Computer Programming. I also have my MBA.”

  “Really? Impressive. I love an intelligent woman. So what happened with the company that yer boss has ye lookin’ fer investors?”

  She tried her best to ignore the howling winds around them, thankful for their cozy nest. “Mr. Goode has larger ideas than money in the bank. I tried to warn him, but he didn’t or coudn’t take my advice. It’s a male pride thing for him.” She paused. “I mean what would a woman know? Even if said woman also has an MBA.”

  “So he doesna respect yer knowledge and education? Then he doesna deserve ye. Perhaps ye should look fer another job. A company that will value yer intellect.” Gunner brushed her hair away from her forehead. Another gentle touch from such a burly man. “Ye have such satiny skin.”

  “You have a way of saying just the right thing to please a female. I bet you’ve got women coming out the wazoo.”

  Gunner rolled over on top of her, his forearms bracketing her head. His narrowed eyes bore into hers and his chin set. “What the bloody hell is a wazoo?”

  A case of giggles hit her over his body language. “It’s a slang word for an excess of something. In other words
, I bet you have a lot of women running after you. Besides your sweet way of speaking, you’re also very handsome.” Her hands swept up his arms as she remembered how he’d taken care of her injuries. “You’re also a very kind man.”

  He rolled off her and slung his forearm over his eyes. “Sounds like a geck ta me. I come from a long line of Celt warriors and ye want ta call me sweet and kind. Aye, like a milksop who still runs after his ma. Woman, I’m more man than ye would ever need or could handle.”

  The sensual force of his last sentence sent jolts of desire through her body. Something told her he would be an excellent lover. She inhaled his pine and sunshine cologne and fought the urge to snuggle closer. A totally bad idea.

  “And I’m probably not women enough to satisfy you. So, it’s good we’re friends.”

  Gunner rolled to his side and rested his head on his upturned hand, his elbow propping him up. A smile showcased bright teeth. “So, ye’ve forgiven me for throwing ye out of the airplane, then? How about a goodnight kiss before we go ta sleep?”

  Sometimes his mind worked too fast for her to keep up. “No, I haven’t forgiven you for the fright of my life.” She elbowed him. “Only one kiss and no touching where you shouldn’t.”

  He laughed. “It’s too cold fer that. But a goodnight kiss is always nice.” His warm lips feathered one corner of her mouth and then the other. Chaste, but affectionate. “Och, whatever man tossed ye aside was a total rat-arsed eejit.”

  Star’s lips had been primed for a real kiss. Here she lay wrapped in a strange man’s arms, relishing in his warmth and longing for a kiss or two. Damn, she was edging her way into a serious case of lust.

  Maybe she should roll over. “Am I crowding you, Gunner?”

  “I doona think any red-blooded Scot would object to yer cuddling fer survival. Nae the way the winds are bitching against Nature. Lay close to me. Let me take care of ye throughout the night. Sleep well, luv,” his deep voice whispered against her ear. “′Tis sorry I am I dinna have time to give ye lessons on how to land from a jump. I hate ye were hurt. I’d undo it if I could, me Star. I truly would. Sleep well, luv.” He thumbed off the phone’s light and darkness surrounded them.

  A needy tremor floated through her veins at his unexpected apology. She slipped her leg between his huge thighs and sighed. Oh yeah, she was in serious muscular lust.

  I need to fight my attraction to Gunner. I mean really, really keep him at arms length.

  A heavy weight covered her when she woke. Pale sunlight peeked through the branches overhead not covered by parachutes. Star glanced over at the mass of dark hair next to her head. Stocking feet rubbed against hers in an intimate caress. An impressive hard-on poked her lower abdomen. When had they taken their boots off? Were the rest of her clothes still on? She wiggled to feel familiar clothing against her skin—her clothes, thank God, and not a wrinkled kilt.

  “Gunner?” She jostled his shoulder. “Gunner, get off me! What are you doing?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Well, stop it and get up.” His erection pulsed against her. Her pelvis wanted to rise to meet it in the worst kind of way. She imagined the friction would make her eyes roll back in her head. What was wrong with her? They barely knew each other.

  “Gunner, quit coming onto me. This isn’t fair. Get off me or I’m calling your bear.”

  Well, that was a dumbass thing to say. As if I want a bear lying on top of me. God forbid.

  His messy head raised and dark eyes bore into hers. “Ye think I’m trying to come onto ye?” His hips did a sensual roll over her girly bits. They woke up and broke into a chorus of “Bump N’ Grind.” A slow sexy smile spread as if he could hear them sing. Damn traitors.

  “Believe me, if I wanted ta come on ta ya, there’d be nae doubt in yer mind. For I’d be coming at ye like a sexual avalanche and there’d be nae getting out of me way, luv, except to holler the words ‘Nae or Stop.’”

  “Stop calling me ‘luv.’ Not unless you want my fist on the end of your nose.” She shoved at his chest and he rolled off. The small cavern spun when she sat. “Whoa!” She laid down again, closing her eyes. “I need coffee.”

  “Would that help improve yer mood a wee bit?” Gunner jerked on the ties of his boots. “Or do ye always wake up on the bitch side o’ heaven.”

  “How dare you call me a bitch, you bigheaded Scot!”

  “Bigheaded, ′tis it?” he bellowed.

  By the irritated tone of his voice, she’d pissed him off. Well gee, it sucked to be him. “And do you always get pissy when you don’t get to poke your cock into someone when you wake up?”

  He gave a male grunt and crawled out of their sleeping cave. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he stomped around their tree sleeping quarters. The man grumbled in Scottish and a language she didn’t recognize—Gaelic, maybe?

  No matter how hard the wind was blowing, her bladder begged for mercy, She sat up slower this time and reached for her shoes. Stuffing her feet into them, she knew she’d have to squat behind the nearest tree before her bladder burst.

  After relieving herself, she hiked up her clothes to cover her freezing behind. The gusting winds blew the snow to obliterate where she’d been. She secured the scarf around her neck before she limped up the hill a little farther to held up her cell phone. Since the sun was shining today, she was hopeful. To her surprise, there were two bars. She doubted they’d be enough to call anyone in the States, but maybe she could reach the Matheson’s. They’d been kind enough to invite her for the holidays. She owed them an explanation why she wouldn’t be coming.

  Star dialed the number Effie had given her of the hotel where they’d be staying.

  “Good morning. Cliff’s Edge Hotel.”

  “May I speak to Effie Matheson? She and Earnan Matheson are guests there.”

  “Och, the pink lady. Hold on.” Pink? What did the receptionist mean by that?

  “Hello?”

  “Effie Matheson?”

  “Star Delaney, it’s you. I recognized your American accent. My spirit has been focused on you since yesterday morning. Are you okay? You’d tell me if you weren’t. Right? Oh dear, please don’t tell me you aren’t coming. Our friends, the Drummonds, are so eager to meet you.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be there. Our flight crashed and—”

  Effie gasped. “I knew you were in distress. The spirits told me. How badly hurt are you?”

  Star held her hand to her throbbing temple. Had the woman just mentioned spirits? “The other passenger and I had to jump from the burning plane.” There was another gasp. “I banged my head and twisted an ankle when I hit the ground, but I’m feeling a little better today. Gunner and I have no clue where we’re at. He was on his way to Wick, too. We don’t even know if the pilot got out of the tiny plane before it slammed into a tower of granite.”

  “Oh, my poor darling. How did you stay warm last night? The winds were fierce here.”

  Star groaned, recalling how she’d greeted the day with an erection poking her awake. “You can’t even imagine.”

  Effie giggled. “If your hands get cold, slip them under his kilt. That’s what I do with Earnan. Although he doesn’t wear one to bed. There’s nothing like a Scot lover.” Star rolled her eyes. The woman was a little too free with her personal information.

  “I’ll speak to my coven. Check if they’ve had any visions or feelings. Any clues as to where you’re at?”

  A coven? Like in witches? Oh hell, Star didn’t even want to know what Effie was talking about. “No. We’re halfway up a mountainside. There’s a rocky creek at the bottom. We were flying from Edinburgh to Wick.”

  Effie tsked in Star’s ear.

  “Could I ask you a huge favor? I need you to contact my boss BJ Goode in the States and tell him what’s happened.”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

  Star gave her his number both at the office and on his cell.

  “I’m on it, darling. Tell me, i
s the Scot you’re stranded with good looking?”

  “Effie, you have no idea.” She glanced at her companion building a fire. He was stooped, his back muscles bunching and shifting beneath his sweater when he reached for more logs. His dark hair hung well below his collar.

  “Oh, do tell,” Effie purred.

  “Tall, muscular, dark-haired, piercing eyes that sometimes glow golden.”

  Effie chuckled softly into the phone. “He’s the one we sent, then. The man you need. Hang onto him.”

  What the heck was the woman talking about? “Gunner’s the one who sent?”

  “Gotta go. Bye.” Effie ended the call. What was with the people in this country? Something must be in the water or the air.

  Star stared at her phone as if it held the answers. So far she’d met a man who could shift into a bear, talked to a woman who claimed to belong to a coven like a witch, or something, and been told the half-human hunk had been sent to her. Like how? By UBS? United Bear Shifters?

  Or were the strange happenings and remarks merely the effects of hitting her head? Was the problem coming from the surroundings or from her? And since she could do nothing about it, did it really matter?

  She hobbled toward Gunner. Although her ankle felt better, she was a little worried about putting too much pressure on it. Later, when they started their trek, she’d have to use it whether it hurt or not.

  “Gunner, if you go to that little incline where I was standing, you’ll get two bars on your phone. You could call your folks.” She extended her cell, much like an olive branch, as he glared at her over his shoulder. “Mine works if yours doesn’t. You might have used all of your battery with the flashlight app last night.”

  He stood swiftly and she stepped back, surprised and fearful over his sudden move and his stern expression. He made one step toward her and she retreated another. His long arm swept around her waist and jerked her against his chest, while the fingers of his other hand forked between her tangled tresses.