20 Shades of Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Collection

by Demelza Carlton

  From what she could recall, those who lived in the Kalleen Mountains were a secluded people, whose villages dotting the valleys were generally populated with non-shifters. Recalling this limited detail, she found a dirt trail, praying she was far enough from her sister’s land she could travel in relative safety. The path seemed rarely used, covered in thick layers of leaves.

  Three days passed before she came upon the first outcropping of civilization: a row of quaint huts snuggled against the mountain backdrop. Amelia approached warily. Locating what appeared to be an inn, Amelia rode to the rails and dismounted, considering if she wanted to enter, when a boy of perhaps twelve years of age approached.

  “Hello,” the young man addressed her. “Would you like me to take your horse?”

  “My horse?”

  “We have a stable.” He nodded in the direction of a wooden structure in the distance. “Can get him warmed up, and fed for the night, if you’d like?”

  Amelia nodded, reaching into her saddle bag and withdrawing one of the few coins that had been within. “Would this cover it?”

  The boy eyed the piece of silver. “Of course, my lady. If you go inside, and give it to my Aunt Chris, should be enough for some soup and a cup o’ wine as well.”

  “Thank you,” she said, unlatching the saddle bag and handing the boy Gabriel’s reins. “Take good care of him.”

  “I will, my lady. Promise.”

  Grasping her meager belongings, Amelia turned and entered through a pair of squeaky wooden doors into the main room. Sparse, the tavern was scattered with wooden tables, splinters protruding from abused legs. Only three people were inside: two men sitting together in the back corner, half-empty goblets the likely reason for their boisterous voices, and a woman behind the counter, whom Amelia presumed to be the stable boy’s aunt.

  Amelia approached, noting gray strands disrupting the continuity of her plain brown locks, which lay straight down her back.

  Glancing up, the woman smiled in greeting. “Good day. May I help you?”

  Amelia nodded. “A stable boy was kind enough to bed down my horse. Said you were the one to speak to.”

  “Ah, yes, my nephew, Jimmy. A good lad, he’ll take care of the animal for you.”

  “Thank you,” Amelia replied, holding out the piece of silver and placing it in the woman’s hand.

  Her eyes widened at the shimmering metal. “I’m afraid this is far too much for simply feeding your horse.”

  “I was hoping to get a meal for myself, and glass of wine as well.”

  The woman studied the circles under Amelia’s bloodshot eyes, and the excessive dirt on her cloak. She looked as one on the verge of collapse. “I’ll fetch a bowl of soup, and some bread. ’Tis not the fanciest of meals, but it should help warm you up, at the very least.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Chris.”

  Amelia did not answer, but gave a single nod, and moved to a seat at one of the tables near the fireplace. The heat warmed her skin, but not the chill lacing her soul. Even the comforting scent of freshly baked bread did little to draw her out of her own head, and so she jumped when the tavern keeper appeared, her soup in hand.

  “Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Chris apologized.

  “No,” she mumbled. “It’s fine. Sorry.”

  “Quite all right.” Chris placed the soup and bread, then returned shortly, adding the requested glass of wine. “I’d imagine you’ve had quite the journey. If you’d like, I have some spare rooms upstairs. You’re more than welcome to stay here tonight. It’s not much, but there’s at least a place to rest.”

  “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Nonsense,” Chris interrupted. “You look tired as death. Some quality sleep would do you good. And if he’s as tired as you are, I suspect your horse will benefit from a night in.”

  Amelia considered arguing, but exhaustion prevailed, and the idea of sleeping in a bed instead of on the cold ground won out. “That would be very nice.”

  Chris nodded. “I’ll have some extra linens taken up for you, and a bath drawn. I’m happy to wash your clothing as well, and hang it by the fire to dry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  She turned to attend to her other guests, leaving Amelia alone to finish her meal. The food was simple, but welcome. The hot broth soothed her throat, and the fire warmed her chilled flesh. Once finished, bag in tow, she climbed the rickety inn steps, and was taken to the prepared room.

  Stripping her soiled garments, Amelia handed them to the innkeeper before sinking into a narrow tub of warm water. Using the provided bar of unscented soap, she scrubbed her skin and hair to remove as much dirt as she could, then remained in the water until it had completely cooled before rising. Wrapping a towel around her thin form, the princess lay down on the bed, slipping between the layers of provided pelts.

  A knock on the door caused her alarm, but she managed to steady her thumping heart. “Yes?”

  The door opened and Chris entered. “Forgive the intrusion. I wanted to ensure you didn’t require anything further.”

  “No.” Amelia shook her head. “Thank you for asking, and for your hospitality.”

  The older woman smiled. “Happy to help.” Chris moved to the door, but paused and turned back around. “I want you to know, there’s nothing to fear here. This place was made for people like us.”

  “Like us?”

  Chris nodded. “I know what it’s like, to be rejected by your family.”

  Amelia’s heart resumed a faster pace as she stared at the other woman. “I assure you, I don’t—”

  “Forgive the presumption, my lady, but a lot of our kind come through here.”

  “Our kind? Sorry, I don’t…” Words faltered as Amelia watched her, fearful of her meaning. She had come here to hide. Did this woman know her identity?

  Chris stepped closer, eyes offering a kindness Amelia did not comprehend. “People who didn’t shift, from families who did. I was one too.”

  Not the expected answer, Amelia gaped at the woman, who smiled with misplaced understanding. She wanted to say she didn’t understand. There were villages near the castle for people who failed to shift. Why would they come here?

  “Lots of people run for the safety of these mountains,” Chris explained, not completely answering the unspoken question. “You’re among friends here, if friends are what you seek. I’ll not ask you any questions. Respecting privacy is another part of the rules here, unspoken as they may be.”

  Silence followed before Amelia shook her head. “You’re being awfully kind, with me being a stranger.”

  “Kindness should be granted to all, but strangers especially, because you never know what they have been through.” She put up her hands. “Again, not prying. I only want you to know you’re safe here. But now, you must be exhausted. Get some sleep. We can speak more in the morning, if you wish.”

  With a never-faltering smile, the older woman turned and left the room, leaving Amelia alone, a hint of moonlight filtering through the room’s single window as she burrowed under the soft pelts.

  Chapter 24

  Amelia enjoyed a rare, blessedly dreamless sleep. Waking refreshed, she found a set of clothes draped neatly over a wooden chair beside a matching desk, the only furnishings in the room other than the bed on which she lay.

  Stretching, Amelia rose and walked to the window. Though the sun was high in the mid-morning sky, the light imparted little warmth to the frigid air. Surrounded by mountains on every side, the snowy valley was dotted with rows of wooden homes and shops. She observed for a while, watching the occasional passerby below before turning to the desk. Atop the clothes pile, a note:

  Your clothes were still damp this morning, and your shirt needed mending. These are my daughter’s. Hopefully they will fit close enough. Come down for breakfast when you’re ready.

  ~ Chris

  Amelia picked up the
dress, a simple garment but not without a certain charm, the crushed green velvet pretty against her pale skin as she slipped the gown over her head. The sleeves ran down her arms, ending in sharp angles at her wrist. The gown was large for her thin frame, but not so much it looked out of place. Running her fingers through her hair, she arranged it as best she could, and pulled on her boots, before walking down the creaking stairs.

  “You’re awake,” Chris greeted as she emerged, straightening from over the table she had been wiping down. “Hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “Take a seat.” Chris motioned to the now clean table. “I’ll bring food.”

  “Thank you.”

  Amelia took the indicated seat, and moments later a bowl of porridge, swirled with honey, was placed on the table with a wooden spoon. Eating, Amelia listened to the mixed banter of additional guests, who had increased in number since the previous night. Chris flitted between the tables, greeting the newcomers as old friends, filling bowls, and wiping down tables as people came and went through the tavern.

  Across the room, Chris paused to converse with a man who appeared in his late forties. “So, picked up another stray, have ye?” He nodded in Amelia’s general direction.

  “Poor thing came in last night. Looked like she’s been on quite the journey to get here.”

  “You know you don’t have to take in every refugee that passes by, right?”

  “And you know that if I can help someone, I’m going to do so. The girl was near frozen and utterly exhausted.”

  “Chris—”

  “No different than what your uncle once did for me, George.”

  “Yes, but you were a special—”

  “I was no different than her. Nor is any other who comes here seeking aid.”

  The man eyed his long-time friend critically, then relented, settling his gaze back on the newcomer.

  Amelia busily ate her breakfast, eyes downcast.

  “Wonder what happened to her?”

  “Probably the same as what happened to us all, once cast from the dragon realms.”

  “She’s older than the typical refugee.”

  Chris shrugged. “Perhaps the family hid her for a while, or she survived in the local villages. But you know what happens to the young women sent to those villages who failed to transform. Especially the pretty ones.”

  “I do.” George nodded solemnly. “Hope she escaped before it came to that.”

  Bitterness laced Chris’ words as she agreed, “Yes, let’s hope she did.”

  Chris continued about the business of running her tavern before working her way back to the young woman. “Get enough to eat?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Would you care to take a look around the village?”

  Amelia shook her head. “I must be on my way.”

  “Nonsense. A storm’s coming tonight, and there is no way anyone should be out in it, let alone a young woman such as yourself. You’ll stay another night.”

  “I really should be—”

  “I’m refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. You’ll stay until the storm passes. From the looks of you, I doubt you’ve ever been in an ice storm such as the ones we have here. Monstrous. No reason for you to be out in it, especially when you don’t have to.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much more silver with me.”

  “Never you mind. I wouldn’t accept it from you in any case.”

  Dropping her head, Amelia’s silence conveyed consent, causing Chris to nod.

  “Feel free to explore the village, but be sure to grab a cloak. We have some extra ones in the back.” She motioned to the left side of the room. “Your cloak is hanging behind the kitchen fire, and will hopefully be dry in a few hours. Until then, make yourself at home, and borrow anything you’d like from the closet.”

  “Thank you. You’re being far too kind.”

  “My pleasure,” she said. “By the way, I failed to ask your name last night.”

  “It’s…Elizabeth,” she gave her middle name in lieu of her more well-known first.

  “Well, Elizabeth, please consider my tavern home for the time being.”

  Before Amelia could answer, the elder woman turned and walked away.

  Following instructions, Amelia walked over to the indicated closet and withdrew a woolen gray cloak. Securing it across her shoulders, she tied the belt around her, enfolding herself into the warm garment. She stepped outside, walking carefully to avoid slipping on the ice lining the wooden porch.

  Snow crunching under her steps, Amelia walked through the village, inhaling the aromas of freshly cooking bread, and sausage, as she passed by a bread maker and butcher. Residents she encountered offered her warm smiles and a few nods. Laughter echoed through the settlement as well, from children playing in the snow, chasing each other merrily.

  When Amelia turned back toward the inn, she paused by the stables to check on Gabriel, grateful she found him munching on a generous portion of oats, and covered by a warm blanket. After stroking the horse’s neck, she turned and re-entered the tavern to find Chris preparing the evening meal.

  “I hadn’t realized I was out so long,” Amelia apologized.

  “More than fine. I’m glad you went exploring.”

  “May I help you prepare supper?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I’d like to. You’ve been so kind. I would love to help.”

  “Sure.” Chris smiled, handing over a wooden spoon nearly as long as her arm. “Would you mind stirring the soup while I set out some bowls? Be careful not to touch the cauldron. Wouldn’t want you to burn yourself.”

  “No problem.” Amelia flashed her own smile, taking the spoon, stained by countless meals, to stir the kettle.

  When Chris would call for one, she’d fill the bowls as guests arrived for dinner. While she worked, Amelia listened to the friendly banter exchanged by those in the village, where everyone seemed to know each other, making her the only stranger in sight.

  Later, she assisted Chris in cleaning the kitchen before sitting down to her own supper, sharing a table with her benevolent hostess.

  “So,” Chris began after devouring several bites of the warm broth, “what did you think of our humble village?”

  “It’s lovely. Everyone seems nice.”

  Chris nodded. “More or less.”

  “May I ask, what is this place?”

  “A refuge of sorts. For those who brought dishonor to their families for failing to shift.”

  “Failing to shift isn’t a choice though. There’s no dishonor in something you have no control over.”

  Chris looked at her critically, studying Amelia’s sapphire eyes. “Was I incorrect in my assumptions of you?”

  Amelia hesitated, deciding upon a half-truth. “I too have brought dishonor to my family. I could not fulfill my expected fate, and came to these mountains hoping to find refuge.”

  Chris nodded. “I was born to two dragon shifters of a prominent family. I had two siblings, who both made their first transformation when they were fifteen. When I reached my name day, I was filled with excitement. At last, I too would be able to fly with my elder sisters, and join the family in the sky.”

  She paused her story, reaching for a pitcher of wine on the table, and pouring the red liquid into a pair of goblets. Handing one to Amelia, Chris placed the other to her lips and drank deeply before resuming.

  “However, much to everyone’s surprise, the year came and went, without my dragon awakening. Same for my sixteenth and seventeenth year. By the time I had reached my eighteenth name day, my parents had determined I would never transform, and sent me to live in one of the villages set aside for others such as myself. Children of powerful families who never became dragons.”

  Amelia recognized the pain in Chris’ voice. The same sadness that had plagued her dear friend, Kelsie. For years, the two girls had planned all the flights they would have together. But Kelsie had never transformed.
>
  Amelia spoke softly, “You were sent to a local village, near the castle?”

  Chris nodded.

  “Why are you…”

  “Difficult, to make a new life. Even more so to be abandoned by my family. Despite the challenges, I managed to make the best of my situation. Bonded with new friends, others who had also failed to transform. Found new ways to live. Even found a man I came to love deeply.”

  Chris paused to again take a sip from her wine goblet.

  “When I turned twenty-three, an unexpected message arrived. My mother wished to speak with me on a matter of great urgency, and would be arriving at the village. I hadn’t seen her since I was sent away, so I was both excited and worried. However, once she arrived…”

  Chapter 25

  25 years ago

  Chris rummaged in the bottom of her dusty chest, withdrawing a dress she had not worn since she was sent away. Wrapped lovingly in a piece of protective muslin, Chris untied the ribbons holding the bundle together and unfolded the garment.

  Full length, the crimson satin gown looked as beautiful as the day she had left the dragon courts, being forced to not only give up her hopes of transforming with the rest of her family, but also the life of luxury into which she had been born. Upon arrival, her wardrobe had been replaced with plain garments of dull colors, better suited to those required to live outside of shifter status.

  After airing out the gown as long as time allowed, Chris stepped into the dress, pulling the material up over her torso. Relief flooded her as she confirmed the fit, though looser than she had recalled. Her life of labor kept her thinner than she had been as a noble lady.

  Once dressed, Chris ran a brush through her hair, taming the thick mop as best she could before checking her appearance in a hand-held mirror her friend, Rachel, had given her on her twenty-first name day. After confirming she looked as tidy as she could hope to, Chris carefully tucked away the mirror, covering it with a soft cloth on the dresser before walking downstairs in preparation for her mother’s impending visit.