Shifters Hallows Eve

by Lori King

  But it’s wrong. So fuckin’ wrong.

  I finally pull back as reality slams into me like a runaway locomotive. “Fuck,” I snarl as I release the woman abruptly. Susie’s sweet face contorts… she immediately looks embarrassed, hurt, and uncertain. Definitely pissed, and rightly so. I feel like a Grade-A asshole for hurting this little gal like this. Not only was I too fucking rough with a mortal, I can tell the way I acted, the shit I said -- fuck, all of it -- hurt her feelings. I called this sweet lil’ gal by another woman’s name… in front of others. I shamed her. And sweet Susie doesn’t deserve that shit from any male. Especially not a worthless fucker like me, who is too stupid to let go of his long-dead past. To let go of a woman who has been dead and gone for over a century.

  Cupping her face tenderly, with what I hope is a gentle expression on my face, because I sure as hell don’t wanna scare her on top of everything else, I sincerely say, “I’m so sorry, Susie. I don’t know what got into me.”

  Her swollen bottom lip is quivering slightly, and I feel like the biggest dick in the realm for doing that to her. But she simply nods, and looks like she pities me. Hell, in her shoes I might pity the lame ass muther-fucker that I have become, too. She stands shakily to her feet, and I rise to help her. But when I touch her she tenses up, and I can tell she wants me to step away. My touch is the last thing this sweet lil’ gal wants right now. That feels like a punch to the gut, but it’s no less than I deserve. Truth be told, I deserve a helluva lot worse than her gentle rebuff for using this sweet angel like I just did.

  Even though I am wallowing in regret over my actions, now and in the past, I just can’t get that fuckin’ scent out of my nostrils. Both of the beasts inside of me are clamoring to get out. We smell our woman. It’s not just some sense memory or some similar aroma. I smell Jenniene. Right here, right fucking now. In the year of our Lord, 2016, not 1872. But that’s impossible. Nuthin’ in creation could bring that precious woman back from the dead, and fill this clubhouse with her sweet scent. Nuthin’.

  But part of me knows better. I recognize that scent, and there’s only one female who smelled that way… ever. Slowly, I turn my head and look over my shoulder at the entrance to the Twin Raven’s MC clubhouse. In one miraculous and horrible instant, I am transported back in time. There, in the flesh, is my Jenniene… My. Fuckin’. Jenniene. My mate. And she’s staring daggers at me.

  The disdain I feel from the woman who still owns my heart feels like a hot poker stabbing through my heart. But even that sensation is not as painful as the realization of what’s in Jenniene’s arms… a child… no, it’s a fuckin’ infant. And it smells like some kind of shifter. An outraged and very territorial snarl erupts from my wolf and fills the room.

  How dare another beast lay hands on my mate?

  “What the fuck?” I growl loudly before striding toward the door. But I am instantly brought back to reality when my path is blocked by Blood, the MC’s leader. My friend and mentor.

  “Stand down, blood wolf. Mistress Jenniene was expected tonight, and she has my protection.” His guttural and gravelly tone is laced heavily with magick so ancient, none in this realm can completely ignore it. And I am sure as fuck not immune to Blood’s power. I barely resist the urge to bare my neck or duck my head in submission. My need to keep my eyes on Jenniene is probably the only thing that keeps me frozen in my defiant attitude.

  No one will keep me from mine.

  But then another, more confusing thought occurs to me. What the fuck? Why would Blood ever think Jenniene would need protection from me? But more importantly… How is she alive and what does my Jenniene need protection from?

  3

  Jenniene

  “Yeah, I made it safe and sound,” I sigh softly into the phone when my bestie and fellow demon-hunter chides me, yet again, for taking on this task by myself. Breena knows as well as I do that I really didn’t have a choice but do things this way. Our friends have laid false trails and tried to capture my pursuers, while I high-tailed it for Tulsa with the kid. Despite the fact she helped formulate the plan, she worries like a mother hen. I smirk at the thought. She’s well over eight centuries old, and one of the mothers of the new breed of vamps; she’s got more than enough on her plate to fret over. But that never stops her from worrying about folks she cares for. I count myself lucky to be one of her friends. After all, it never hurts to have a powerful Spell Weaver in your corner.

  I shift the sleeping child in my arms as I look up at the flashing neon nudie figure above the door. I can feel the ancient power radiating from this site, and despite the fact that it has been turned into a modern-day strip club which houses a so-called Outlaw MC, there is no doubt this is a place of strong and ancient magick. But a strip club? Really? I don’t like the sullen feelings that threaten to overwhelm me at the thought of hiding out here, of all places.

  My personal feelings must be put aside. I know my options are severely limited, and this is the best one…Hell, maybe the only one. Strip club and all, I just gotta suck it up and do what needs to be done. I look down at the baby in my arms and remind myself she will be safe here. This is likely the only place she has a chance to be truly safe.

  But I still feel torn as I cast my gaze around the nearly deserted parking lot, taking in all of the motorcycles parked like mechanical sentinels against the evil I feel building in the night. I wonder if it’s my imagination, inflamed by days without sleep and the desperation only those running for their lives can ever truly understand, or if it’s something more sinister. I peer into the darkness beyond the rings of light cast by a couple of street lights and realize it’s not just me. There’s truly evil building, roiling around the edge of the protective magick that surrounds this place. It’s looking for a weakness, a way in. I shudder at the oppressive absence of light and good I feel pressing against this bastion of protection and safety in the midst of so much turmoil.

  The intensity of the threat that’s building just beyond the protective wards and the fact that this is a strip club where women are leered at, drooled over, and pawed incessantly does nothing to boost my confidence in my decision to come here to seek sanctuary and protection for the tiny person in my arms. Yeah, this place is just perfect for an innocent child. My own sarcasm certainly isn’t lost on me. But honestly, what choice do I have? The male who is in charge here is le enfant’s only true hope. Even the Spell Weavers couldn’t guarantee her safety in Airendell. Her only hope resides here… the source of the ancient magick which created her kind.

  After repeating my promise to call if I need her help, I disconnect the call and double-check that my weapons are handy. I don’t really think I will need them here, but ya just never know. Besides, I have truly precious cargo to protect. Without thought, I lean down and kiss the downy soft head of the child in my arms. “I won’t let you down, sweetheart.” This oft-repeated vow has become my mantra and driving force for the last five days. It’s been a true nightmare, and I should feel relieved because I have finally, finally, made it to Tulsa after five hellish days on the run. But I didn’t really have a choice; I was entrusted with keeping this child safe from a rogue band of Ghouls. Those sick fucks are intent on using this child’s blood to strengthen their magick so they can take over New Orleans during Samhain.

  Oh, hell no – that’s not gonna happen as long as I am able to draw a breath. Suck it up, buttercup. Whatever awaits inside is better than what you know hunts this kid out there. I can’t help casting another glance over my shoulder at the encroaching darkness. Obviously, I am not able to actually see the building evil that is stalking this child, but I can damn sure feel it. This kid, my hometown, and maybe the whole freaking mortal realm are at risk, so I can pull up my big girl panties and face a group of Immortal outlaw bikers and beg their help. Yep… I got this. They can’t be so bad… can they? I fidget with the baby’s light blanket while I’m stalling at the door. COWARD! My inner voice, which sounds an awful lot like Mistress Leveau, sneers at me from my s
ubconscious.

  Time to face the music. The Twin Ravens MC, and especially the male who leads it, is the kid’s best hope. I know this, but I also know there’s another inside this building who will not welcome my presence in Tulsa with open arms. Not that I blame him one little bit. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. And to compound the very wrongness of my actions, I’ve allowed him to believe me dead for all these years. I’ve done wrong by that male in so many ways, and yet the moment I run into a problem I can’t handle on my own, I run to his people for help. That’s also wrong, on so many levels. I want to kick my own ass for being such a bitch to him. Of course, I know I’m not going to get a warm reception here. Not from my former lover or his friends.

  This is gonna be fun. Not... My insides tie up in knots. Shame over an ancient stupidity on my part washes over me, but I push it aside. I don’t have time for this shit. I have a mission. Obviously, my thoughts are all over the place, but now is not the time for me to dither like a foolish girl. Dammit, Jenniene, you are nearly 200 years old… Grow. The. Fuck. Up. There are things at stake much more important than my past stupidity and the pain I caused the man I love. I cuddle the child to remind myself of the mission.

  Really missing my Chapstick, a hot shower, and clean clothes, I lick my dry lips. Being on the run is hard as hell on a gal’s looks. That voice is back, telling me I’m still dithering, but I know my bedraggled and exhausted condition will scream victim, not bad-ass demon hunter, which is the image I usually cultivate. Shit. I hate feeling weak, like quarry, among a den of predators, but I know that’s what awaits me inside.

  I look down at the sweet child in my arms and am reminded that I’d do anything to protect this innocent being. It’s not her fault she was born something incredibly rare and magickal. She deserves protection and safety. I plan to focus on making sure that’s exactly what she gets. And that includes facing my past and owning up to my mistakes so I can move forward, unencumbered, to shield her from what is coming after us.

  Well, shiiit! I can sense him inside this building. Can he sense me as well? Damn, this is harder than I thought it was going to be.

  I’ve been standing here for a few minutes working myself into a tizzy, and yet I know I need to get my happy little ass inside. Now. Giving myself a mental shake, I square my shoulders and reach for the door handle. “I’ve never been one who refuses to do anything to protect the innocent. I sure as hell am not gonna start now.” My quiet vow finally provides the impetus I need to move forward. I shove the door open and damn near swallow my own tongue when I step inside.

  The one male who has owned me, heart and soul, for the better part of two centuries is sitting at a booth getting head from a beautiful blond who obviously loves every second of the rough treatment he’s doling out. And he’s obviously enjoying the hell out of it. His familiar musk of arousal fills the room and permeates my senses to transport me back in time. Back to the days when I would be the female on my knees before this glorious dark-skinned god among mortals.

  Well, fuck! Maybe it was some kind of female intuition that had me hesitating outside and not just guilt. I so did not need to see this! My anger flares red hot, despite the fact that I sent him away from me in a fit of terror and outrage over a century ago. Despite the fact that I have allowed him to believe me long dead, I am standing here feeling outraged, offended, and possessive as hell because he’s finding his pleasure with another female.

  When he finally lifts his head and stares at the woman with a look of pure adoration, it’s only the babe in my arms that stops me from drawing my weapons and showing this female what we do down south to women who trespass on another’s territory. I gasp my outrage when my Zeke drags the female to him for a possessive and adoring kiss. And I choke back a scream of agony when he speaks tender words of adoration. But hope soars, foolishly, in my heart when he calls her Jenniene.

  Butterflies flutter in my belly, making me feel nine kinds of giddy and shit. You are such a girl, Jenniene Marie Xavier! Yeah, that sounds about right… but he still loves me!

  The realization that my male still has feelings for me makes me smirk in delight despite the fact that I can see hurt, anger, and then pity in the pretty blond girl’s face. Suddenly, my better nature pushes to the fore and I feel bad for the girl. She knows she was just blatantly used in front of an audience. My sympathy for the woman rises, as does my irrational anger at my male who sought to slake his lust with another.

  When he finally apologizes to the girl and then turns to look over his shoulder at the place where I am standing near the front door, I can see utter shock, confusion, and betrayal on his beloved face. And that’s when reality bitch slaps me. Zeke has done nothing wrong. I am the one who chased him off when he admitted his secret. I am the one who let him believe I was a simple human female. I am the one who allowed him to think me dead for all of these years. I am the one who ruined both of our lives.

  The expression of outraged shock on his handsome face nearly makes me turn tail and run. But the now squirming bundle in my arms reminds me why I am here. Zeke is striding toward me like the lethal predator he is. Laissez les bon temps roulez! I chuckle dryly. Judging by the angry, confused expression on his handsome face I’d say my head is more likely to roll than good times.

  When a massive, and I do mean h-u-g-e, mountain of a man blocks Zeke’s path, I have to swallow hard. The intervening male is about seven feet tall, and built like a frickin’ Mack truck. The carefully contained power I feel radiating from the male matches the ancient magick of this place. He’s obviously the man in charge. The pre-historic guardian of this area. I know instinctively that he must be Blood, the leader of the Twin Ravens MC, and only living sabretooth cat shifter. Or so we all thought.

  Oh, man, I am about to rock everyone’s world tonight, and so not in a good way. I hold the infant in my arms just a bit more securely, hoping and praying to all the saints and saviors that I am doing the right thing by bringing this helpless child here.

  All of my personal shit has to be pushed to the side until this baby is safe. So, I have to face my past head on and deal with it. Now! I will not be very welcome here as soon as Zeke tells these Immortal enforcers what I have done. But the behemoth’s words assure me, at least for the moment, that I won’t be cast out onto the streets with my little bundle of trouble.

  “Stand down, blood wolf. Mistress Jenniene was expected tonight, and she has my protection.” The look of shock on Zeke’s face does nothing to soothe my worries, but I expected rejection, scorn, and disbelief when I showed up in his territory. Shock I can handle; I almost always surprise those around me. My unique nature makes it easy to hide my secrets under everyone’s noses until I need to reveal my hidden strength.

  Some instinct speaks to my heart and mind, telling me Zeke won’t hurt me. Ever. He might not be happy to see me, but he’d never hurt me. “Blood, Zeke wasn’t going to hurt me. He’d never do such a thing.” The behemoth nods his acknowledgment, but he never takes his eyes from the face of my former lover.

  That’s when I turn my full attention to Zeke, the man who owns me, heart, body, and soul. Everyone else in the room dissolves into oblivion, only this man and myself remain. “Zeke, I know I have a lot of explaining to do.” I lick my suddenly dry lips and continue in a quiet, but calm voice. “But I’ve brought trouble, big trouble, to your MC’s door. Our issues… they have to wait.” I smile weakly, hoping to… hell, I don’t know what. Reassure him? Connect on some level? Maybe. I just don’t know. I am so confused and elated to see him again that I can barely think straight.

  My heart is racing a mile a minute, and I want to rush to him, kick his shins, hard, and demand to know why another woman was pleasuring him. And then I want to throw myself into his arms and promise him that if he ever even looks at another woman I will gut his demon ass for him. After I’ve set him right about all that, I want to kiss his beautiful full lips, taste him, hold him, love him, and never let him go, again. But I can’t do that. None
of it.

  I have a job to do. A child to protect. But mostly, I no longer have any claim on this male. I surrendered all my rights to Zeke when I sent him away. When I behaved like a scared little girl who wanted to ignore all things dark and supernatural. A silly female who was trying desperately to deny what I had become, the very embodiment of a demon’s obsession and darkness. Something no longer human – a demon shade.

  Zeke’s caramel-colored eyes never leave my face as he evaluates my words. I can see he’s trying desperately to process what he’s seeing. He’s believed me dead and buried for over a century. I can only imagine the confusion he’s dealing with. But I can see the same wisdom, innate intelligence, and compassion in his face I fell in love with so very long ago. Despite his confusion, his obvious pain seeing me has brought back, and despite the wrongs I will have to answer for, this male won’t turn me or the baby away. He will help. My relief is a palpable force in the room, and I can feel the tension ooze from my spine as my body relaxes just a bit from its fight-or-flight posture.

  Blood must see something in Zeke’s face which assures him that the blood wolf, my former lover, is on board because he nods slightly at Zeke, before turning to face me. He’s a rough and dangerous-looking male with his blunt Native American features, muscles for miles, and black leather pants topped with the worn leather vest of an outlaw biker. His beat-up leather cut bears the club’s sigil and patch that marks him as the president and absolute leader of this band of Immortal enforcers. Despite the fact that he’s obviously deadly and powerful, he also feels very safe. I know instinctually that I can trust this male to protect the child.

  I feel immediately at ease in his presence. My friend Breena had told me the child would be safe under this male’s protection. In this moment of absolute clarity, I, too, know it’s going to work out. I’m not sure if it’s because of the ancient magick I feel radiating from him in soothing waves or the fact that he’s obviously a major bad-ass. Maybe it’s because he is looking at the child in my arms with something closely akin to awe. Whatever the reason, I feel myself relax for the first time since I found the baby’s mother dying in the swamp back home.