Shifters Forever Worlds Mega Box: Volume 3

by Thorne, Elle

Why the hell would he bring her here?

  And then, before her very eyes, she witnessed something she’d only ever imagined.

  Of course, she knew about shifters.

  That’s how berserkers came to be after all, from bear shifters.

  But witnessing one changing right before her very eyes, even being supernatural herself, that was something to behold.

  The creaking and crunching, the sound of tearing and groaning, as animal flesh gave way to human flesh was unsettling, to say the least.

  The resulting human was a shock.

  “You,” she exclaimed. Her voice breathless, though the run had not caused said breathlessness.

  Before her, the man from the club. She narrowed her eyes.

  This is no coincidence.

  The man was tall, that much she’d been right about. And he was muscle-bound, from what she could tell, under clothing that was rumpled.

  And here I thought they shifted naked. So much for lore.

  His face was chiseled, carved from granite, with eyes that matched. And close-cropped hair. Close-cropped, as in military cut.

  To say he was attractive would not give credit to the gods that had created this magnificent creature. A creature that shouldn’t be here. A creature that raised her suspicions.

  “What are you doing here?” she growled, and the sound of her own voice reminded her of the animal sounds he’d made earlier.

  A small smile broke the angles of his face, taking him from an I could kick the world’s ass look to one that was dangerously sexy. “I’d say I was saving your ass. That’s what I’d say I was doing here.”

  “Who said I needed help?”

  “Judging from the way that blowgun took you out the first time, you needed someone’s help. That’s for damned sure.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Range fought the urge to bite down on his damned lips. Now why the hell did he go and tell her that he’d seen her knocked out by the blowgun?

  His exclamation didn’t go unnoticed, he saw. Her eyes, already narrowed with suspicion were slits now.

  And still the woman was drop dead gorgeous, in a crazy way.

  A crazy, wish I could take her right now way, he noted.

  Her cheeks had an angry bloom on them. “What the hell—”

  “You really want to stay here and visit? Talk about how I happened to be at the right place, at what I’d call the right time?” He dropped to his knee and scooped up the keys from under the leaves at the bottom of the tire, then rose and jingled them near his face. “I suggest we get the hell out of here before your friends come looking for you.”

  It didn’t look like she was going to argue that point.

  She frowned at him and opened the door, jumping in.

  He followed suit and started the truck, pulling out quickly and wasting no time to getting the hell out of there.

  * * *

  Eira Winter was seated as close to the door as she could be.

  You’d think I have something contagious.

  They were off the dirt path, but still on some country road headed back to I-45.

  She’d been silent the whole time, as though processing.

  Or plotting.

  Range wouldn’t put it past her. The woman was something else. He’d never seen someone fight quite like she did. Even in the Special Forces Unit, none had those specific skills.

  It was like watching a form of martial arts he’d never seen before.

  “What are you?” he asked her.

  She said nothing, her profile stoic.

  “Look—” patience was not one of Range’s virtues, “—seems only fair that since you know about me… about what I am.”

  “I didn’t want to know what you are. I didn’t want to know anything. I didn’t want to be bothered. Why were you following me?”

  Range let a breath out. “I was paid to.”

  “Who paid you?”

  “Your turn to answer.”

  “I’m a warrior.” Her words were clipped.

  He picked up an accent but wasn’t sure… something was niggling at his mind, but he couldn’t figure out what it was or where her accent was from.

  “What kind of warrior?”

  “Your turn.” Her smile was not humorous or friendly.

  “I don’t know the name of the guy that paid me. He said you had something that belonged to him.”

  “You didn’t meet him?”

  “No.”

  “Talk to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what was his voice like?”

  “Where is your accent from?”

  “The north.”

  He almost smirked at that nonresponse. Then something hit him.

  “His voice had an accent. The one that hired me. One a bit like yours.”

  Her lips moved, then pursed.

  He could have sworn she said a curse word under her breath, but it was in a language he wasn’t versed in.

  He slowed at an intersection to take a left, this would be the last leg before getting onto the highway and heading back to Houston.

  Then what?

  He had no clue. He also didn’t know he wouldn’t have a chance to find out.

  “I’ll take it from here.” Those were her final words.

  She opened the door and leapt out of the vehicle while mid turn.

  She rolled then was immediately on her feet and running toward the trees and undergrowth.

  The door slammed shut from the force of the turn.

  “Well, I’ll be—what the—”

  Range pulled the truck over, breathed out a sigh of exasperation.

  Just because he trained to be able to shift immediately after shifting so soon didn’t mean it was enjoyable. It didn’t mean it didn’t take a toll on his body.

  With that thought, he shoved the keys back in their hiding place under the tire, and shifted into his wolf.

  Let’s go find her.

  Then what would he do with her?

  He’d deal with that thought when he found her.

  Wouldn’t be difficult. It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to follow her scent.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eira had better stamina that the average human, naturally. All her kind did. That didn’t mean they could run forever though.

  Damn.

  She stopped to catch her breath.

  That’s when she heard it.

  It wasn’t what she’d call footsteps. No, not exactly.

  And then she knew.

  She whirled around and heaved a heavy breath, half-sigh and half-pant from exertion.

  Dammit.

  The wolf ambled up next to her.

  “Stop following me.” She glared at the massive creature with its glowing eyes. “Go away.”

  She didn’t know his exact link to the berserkers, but she knew there was a connection, that much he’d confessed to.

  The wolf studied her; his eyes had a human sentient quality to them.

  Of course, they do, stupid. He’s human.

  She studied him back. She’d never met a shifter in person.

  “How bad does it hurt to shift?” It had to hurt, didn’t it?

  The wolf cocked his head, as though thinking of her question.

  So, he did understand her when he was in his wolf body.

  “Stop following me. Stop or I’ll hurt you.” She didn’t know if she could keep that threat. He’d helped her, after all. It would be shitty for her to inflict bodily harm on him after he’d helped her.

  Yeah, but he’s involved in this. He was paid to rat you out.

  That was before—

  Before what? She was sitting here arguing with herself about a wolf shifter that gave her up to the berserkers. Just because he saved her life didn’t make him her ally.

  And the fact he was more devastatingly sexy than any other man she’d ever met…

  That has nothing to do with it, she reminded herself.

  And yet, there was something
in his eyes, both human and wolf. That something…

  Like he was honest. Honorable. Trustworthy.

  WTF? He’s not a damned boy scout.

  “Look, dammit. I’m going to run in that direction and you’re not going to follow me anymore. Got it?”

  The wolf snarled.

  She stomped her foot at it, as though to shoo it away, then stopped herself before she did it as second time. Not only was it an exercise in futility, but it was stupid, as well. This was a sentient being. He knew better than to be worried about a little foot-stomping.

  “I mean—”

  Her tirade was interrupted by the sound of a crack so loud, so ear-piercing, that it made her flinch.

  She looked around. What the hell was going on? Surely her attackers hadn’t caught up to her so quickly.

  She glanced at the wolf to gauge his reaction.

  Except the wolf was on the ground, on his side, blood blooming across his fur.

  What the hell?

  Her first instinct was to run—to get the hell out of there, posthaste, and escape the attackers.

  But the problem was that her integrity put the brakes on that idea.

  Dammit.

  Why did she have to have a conscience?

  Eira knelt to check on him.

  “Get your hands off him.” A voice was heard from in the trees.

  Eira glanced up.

  Three men approached, all carrying rifles, decked out in ammo.

  She appraised them. They didn’t look like the guys that had captured her.

  Nah, they looked like a couple of good ol’ boys. And they were sporting grungy beards and a nasty attitude.

  Did she mishear him?

  “What?”

  “I got ‘im,” one of them said to his buddies with a guffaw.

  “Get your hands off him,” the same voice that had spoken earlier said. He was the burly one in the middle. “That’s Junior’s kill.” The barrel of his rifle was rising precariously.

  “That’s right. I shot him.” This came from the one that was clearly Junior.

  She frowned.

  Her wheels were spinning, working overtime, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation.

  She rose to her feet, planted her hands on her hips. “You shot my dog, asshole.”

  Junior’s jaw dropped.

  Burly lowered his weapon, pointing it downward, yet said, “That doesn’t look like a dog.”

  “He’s a fucking hybrid, you inbred piece of shit. Part wolf, part dog. I want your names. I’m telling the law on you. Ignorant bastards. My dog and I were sitting here minding our own business, walking through the woods.” She summoned tears, and that wasn’t easy.

  I’m not a damned cry-baby.

  “Ma’am, let’s get him to a vet. I’ll cover the cost.” Junior was stammering the words out.

  “Yeah, we’ll carry him to—you got a car?”

  “A pickup. It’s a good bit away.” She hoped she could find it.

  “We’ll load you up in the back of my vehicle,” Burly said. “It’ll get you to your truck quicker. Just don’t call the law, okay?” He was into negotiation, clearly.

  “Fine. Get me to my truck.”

  She put her hand on the wolf’s side. It was rising and falling, though, slowly.

  At least, he was still alive.

  She prayed he wouldn’t shift while they got him to the truck.

  She also prayed the keys were in the same place he left them last time.

  What a mess. I should have run.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eira pulled into her apartment complex garage. The wolf was on the passenger seat, and still alive.

  Thank goodness for small—and large—miracles.

  At least the bleeding had stopped. Though, he was still knocked out.

  She’d told the good ol’ boys that she’d take him to her own vet, and that she had it from there. Then they headed out toward the boonies and she’d made for the interstate.

  It was dark out. She could use the entrance from the garage and the back elevator to get to their floor.

  But she couldn’t carry the wolf. He wasn’t small, and it would be awkward, trying to carry him, open the door, and what if she ran into anyone who saw her carrying a bloody big ass dog? They’d think it was a dog, right?

  She sighed, then put her hand on the wolf’s shoulder.

  The wolf’s eyes opened.

  “Some country bumpkins shot you.”

  The wolf blinked slowly.

  “You’re in your truck, at my place. You need to heal. I can take you inside.”

  God, what will the girls say?

  If she were lucky, they’d be out. And knowing them and their penchant for going out, they probably were.

  Hopefully.

  “Think you can get to the elevator? My door’s not far from it.

  The wolf rose, but was on his haunches with his front paws in front of him, as if waiting for her.

  “All right, let’s give it a shot.” She smiled. “No pun intended.”

  Eira led him to the elevator, then to her door, and lifted her eyes to the ceiling with a prayer of thanks to the powers that be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Range couldn’t believe the surreal path today had taken.

  As if the shit he went through with her wasn’t bad enough, he was shot. Shot, for fuck’s sake. In the civilian world. It wasn’t like he was on a mission or in a combat zone.

  Shot by some damned rednecks.

  He’d dropped like a rock when the round pierced him. He’d felt his blood ebbing away and knew he had one choice, and one choice only.

  He needed to hibernate heal.

  It would put him at risk and make him vulnerable, but the other option was sure death from bleeding out if he didn’t surrender to his wolf fully and let it go into a deep sleep which would help accelerate his healing.

  Trusting the woman he’d come to know as Eira Winter to not abandon him, he’d yielded to his wolf and fallen into an unconsciousness that wasn’t much more than a comatose state.

  So, what woke him up? He knew he wasn’t fully healed. His wolf had awoken when she’d laid her hand on him. Why had his wolf done that?

  And now? With him still in his wolf form, she’d brought him to an apartment that looked like it was decorated by the same people who decorated hotel rooms. It was generic and showed no personality. Not hers, and not her roommates.

  She led him through the living area to the last door on the left in the hallway.

  She opened the door, and after he followed her in, she closed it.

  The room had a set of double doors that led to a balcony. The full moon’s brilliance shone through the open curtains, illuminating the room.

  It looked like it had been furnished by a Spartan. There was nothing of luxury there. This woman lived like a warrior.

  She turned to face him. “I should take a look at your wound. Let me get some towels. I’ll be right back.” Eira slipped through a doorway attached to her bedroom.

  Range shifted into his human form swiftly and almost silently. He’d become that adept at shifting over the years. It was part of the military training they’d had to undergo.

  It was also supposed to improve after the experimental shit he and his brothers had agreed to.

  She walked into the room and dropped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide she was holding. “What the hell?”

  Her eyes were wide, and glued to his shirt.

  He glanced down. No wonder she was stunned. The amount of blood on his clothing should have led to his death.

  “How can you be breathing after losing that much blood?” She scooped the bottle up and advanced on him.

  “I heal fast.”

  She narrowed her eyes, her violet gaze skeptical. “How fast?”

  He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. It wasn’t like he could wear it out of here anyway; it was a mess.

  She studied his chest. “Unbelievabl
e. You heal faster than—”

  “Heal faster than what?”

  Was she going to say that she healed fast? Was she going to reveal what she was?

  She poured peroxide on a small towel, then laid it against his chest, making slow circles.

  She gasped. “Wow.” She laid the washcloth on the dresser, then turned back to him. She touched the spot where the round had gone in, the flesh was still pink, still healing.

  Range drew in a sharp breath. Her touch sent electrical shocks radiating from the spot where her cool fingertips touched his flesh.

  “Did I hurt you?” Her voice was gentle, her eyes glittering like rare jewels in the room.

  “No.”

  The sound of a door opening was then followed by the sound of voices.

  Eira froze, then let out a soft whoosh of a breath. “Shit,” she whispered.

  “Roommates?” He kept his voice low.

  She nodded.

  He got the message and didn’t move a muscle or say a word. He wondered if they—whatever they were—had supernatural hearing like shifters did.

  Shifters could hear a heartbeat, even a baby’s heartbeat if a woman were pregnant. Then he wondered if they could pick up scents as well as shifters could. They’d smell him.

  Hell, they’ll smell my blood.

  She moved slowly, toward the door, and he wondered if she was going to lock it or slip out and act naturally, pretending there wasn’t a guy in her room.

  And what was wrong with having a guy in her room anyway? She was grown. Couldn’t she do as she pleased? Surely, she didn’t have to answer to her roommates if she wanted to have a guy in her bedroom.

  The thought of that didn’t sit well with him. It brought to mind the notion that there might have been other men here before.

  Yeah, that’s not what I want to think about.

  Not one bit.

  He never had a chance to find out whether she was going to lock it or slip out.

  Her bedroom door opened swiftly and two of the three women he’d seen her with the last few days strode in; one was carrying a pair of shoes.

  “Eira!” the one with hair about the same color as Eira’s exclaimed.

  “What the—” the one behind her, a blonde, sputtered.