Heartland Shifters Box Set

by V. Vaughn

  “Predators?” Tristan’s lips turn up as he tries not to laugh.

  “Yes! Laugh if you must, but you weren’t there. I’m sure something was stalking me.”

  “Well, aren’t you the cowardly lion?”

  He laughs at his joke, while I frown, clearly not seeing the humor. “Wizard of Oz reference? What? Am I supposed to be clueless Dorothy?”

  He shakes his head. “Never mind. I guess it’s only funny to me.”

  “I guess,” I say as I roll my eyes at him.

  I take a seat at the kitchen table, and he goes back to his laptop where he’s working on someone’s website. There are a bunch of old magazines in front of me, a pair of scissors, and a new, empty scrapbook for me to fill. It was Tristan’s idea. He thought making a collage might trigger something in me or at least help me find out things about myself. I’ve been cutting out pictures, colors, and words that jump out at me and gluing them on a piece of poster board. It’s not like I have much else to do, and I find the process of cutting things out soothing. If the way this house is decorated, with curtains and blankets I made, is any indication of who I am, then I think this project appeals to my crafty side. Besides, at this point I’m willing to try anything to get my memories back.

  An hour later, I’m looking at a collage with a lot of items that are yellow and orange and black. I’ve also cut out a picture of a lion and tiger I came across and pasted them in the middle. It’s weird, but this crafty thing does makes me feel strangely comforted.

  I reach for another magazine as Tristan gets up from the couch and lets out groans as he stretches. I sneak a peek at the taught belly he displays as he reaches his arms up over his head. There’s a trail of hair that starts below his belly button and leads—

  “Lexi?”

  I dart my gaze up to his face, and my cheeks flush as I ask, “Hmm?”

  He grins, quite satisfied he caught me ogling his body. This wasn’t the first time he’s noticed. “Whatcha doing?”

  I lift up my collage to show him.

  “Nice,” he grins again, but this time it’s like he knows something I don’t. He probably does see something about my psyche in the images I’ve chosen, but he doesn’t say anything as he walks into the kitchen for a snack.

  I’m about to dive into cutting more things out when there’s a knock at the front door. Tristan, who is already on his feet goes to answer it. The moment the door opens, a petite woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes bounces into the cabin. She looks vaguely familiar, and I recall her picture in one of the scrapbooks.

  “Lexi!” she squeals. Then she jumps on me in my chair, hugging me tight to her little body. The scent of lilacs and freesia fills my nose, and it comforts me. “Ohmygod!” she cries out as one word before she grabs me in a hug that nearly knocks me off my chair. She continues to talk so fast my head spins as she grabs a chair and drags it close and sits.. “I just got back from my trip and when I turned on my phone I got hundreds of messages. You were lost. Then I thought you were dead.” She glances over at Tristan. “He did too.” She leans in and speaks in a low tone as if he can’t hear her. “He was crying, I was crying. It was horrible.” She sits back and takes a big breath “And then I jumped ahead to message number three thousand to learn you were okay and raced right here from the airport.”

  She grabs my hands. I think about pulling away, but I feel comfortable with her touch. She studies my face with concern. “You look better. I can hardly see the bruises. What exactly happened? Do you still have amnesia?”

  I glance at Tristan for help.

  He must see the stress on my face, because he puts his hand on the woman’s shoulder, maybe to show me she’s okay. “Lexi, this is Hillary. Your best friend.”

  Hillary beams at me. “You remember me, don’t you?”

  I shake my head, because while I recall her from the pictures I saw, she’s not familiar. And she’s a little too much right now. Feeling a bit distressed, I pull away.

  Hillary’s joy fades, but she’s not deterred. “That’s okay. I’m sure it will all come back soon enough.” She grabs my hand again.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, not wanting to make this happy woman feel bad. She seems like the kind of friend everyone should be lucky to have, and I suspect somewhere deep inside me I know it to be true.

  “No worries,” she says, “Why don’t we chat for a bit? Who knows what will spark a memory?” She looks at Tristan, who is standing and watching us as if he doesn’t know what else to do. “Tris, hun, could you make us some hot cocoas? With those little marshmallows in them?”

  Tristan chuckles, likely relieved to have a job to do. “Yes, ma’am.”

  A tingle of jealousy races down my spine over the way Hillary talks to Tristan as if he’s wrapped around her little finger and how he seems eager to please her. This woman is joyful, energetic, and gorgeous. She has petite features and radiant skin, and… Why would Tristan ever want to be with me when he could have a woman like Hillary?

  Although, if she’s my best friend I don’t think she’d consider it. But the situation still begs questions. While I’m attracted to him, I’m too afraid to jump into something physical with a man I’m just getting to know again. Not that he’s pressing it, but how long is Tristan going to try and help me regain my memory before he gives up? If I’m not careful, I could lose him through all of this.

  As soon as Tristan disappears in the kitchen, Hillary leans into me. “I can’t believe you don’t remember Tristan. I mean, that man is all kinds of delicious.”

  I shrug. “I know, but I don’t.”

  “Not even his…” she wriggles her eyebrows, “you know, the special parts of his anatomy?”

  I frown. While I don’t think it’s justified, I’m still jealous of Hillary, and I don’t want to discuss Tristan’s body parts with her, best friend or not. “I really don’t remember.”

  Hillary grabs my hand and squeezes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s fine.” I bite at my bottom lip. I must be desperate for girl talk, because words I shouldn’t say spill out. “Honestly, I can’t believe we’re a couple.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, like you said, he’s all kinds of delicious, and I’m…” I sigh, knowing that right now I’m nothing but trouble for the man. Learning to trust him, depending on him for every little thing. And then there’s my fear of all the things outside of his house. Things that go bump, or just buzz, in the night. I could tell he was annoyed that I made him kill a spider in the shower this morning before I’d get in. Apparently, those sorts of things never bothered me before, and my new quirks have got to be getting old. “I don’t know… I’m beginning to think I’m an acquired taste.”

  “Girl, oh my god. You have no idea how much that guy loves you. I’ve never seen a man more besotted before in my life.” She scowls at me. “Believe me when I say I hope I can have what you two have in my life someday. You guys are what songs and poetry are made of.”

  Warmth fills my heart, because her words help soothe my worries. So much so I find a way to smile. It’s nice to hear about our relationship from someone else, and it confirms the things Tristan has been trying to tell me, to show me.

  Hillary pats my hand again. “When I couldn’t get you on the phone, I called Tristan. He told me about the voices in your head.”

  I bristle at that at little, not completely happy that he’s telling people about me, despite knowing he did it to help.

  “Don’t worry about it, doll,” she says. “It’s likely just your—”

  “Stop!” Tristan yells. I glance over to see he’s holding two cups of cocoa while fire burns in his eyes.

  Hillary lets out a sigh of annoyance. “We have to tell her, Tris. What if she, you know, shifts by accident? Then you’ll have one helluva problem on your hands.” She sweeps her arm out dramatically. “There’s not a lot of room to stretch in here, if you know what I mean.”

  I frown. There’s t
hat word again. He used it at the hospital. “Shift? What are you talking about?”

  Tristan sets the cups down on the coffee table, and they thud as if he used more force than necessary. “It’s too soon, Hillary.”

  She crosses her arms and sits a little taller to make her not-quite-five-feet worth of presence more imposing. “You need to tell her. She should know the truth.”

  My gaze darts between these two people who are practically strangers to me, the man who says he loves me completely and my supposed best friend, who seems to as well. “What the hell are you talking about?” My nostrils flare as anger makes my skin itch, and the urge to break something threatens to overwhelm me. “Someone better tell me something. Now!”

  Chapter 12

  TRISTAN

  If she wasn’t so damn tiny, I’d be tempted to throttle Hillary right now. She called me on her way here and I told her not to say anything about shifters, and here she is just blurting it out.

  She looks at me with that obnoxious I-know-better smirk as if she’s my big sister or something. A low growl comes from my chest that should scare the tail off the little bunny shifter on my couch. “Time to go, Hillary.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, never afraid enough for her own good, but she gets to her feet, keeping me from reminding her who’s the predator and who’s the prey here. “Fine, but you need to do the right thing, Tris. Our girl is suffering. Can’t you read it in her body language?”

  Of course, I can. But I’m also worried about Lexi’s mental well-being, which I won’t explain in front of her. I walk Hillary to the door and practically shove her out of it. “I’ll call you later and give you an update.”

  “Fine.” She darts her head back inside and blows a kiss at Lexi. “Goodbye, doll. I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

  I finally do push her out the door and close it, and when I turn around, I see Lexi glaring at me. I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh before I go to join her at the table. I rub at my face, trying to find the right words to tell her what she is. What we are.

  “You better start talking,” she says in a tone that has her lion’s rage oozing from it. “Or I’m leaving. I’ll walk back to the hospital if I have to. We both know the road is open.”

  “Fine. There is something I’ve been holding back.”

  “You’ve been lying to me?”

  “No, not like that, I just haven’t told you the whole story about what you are. Why you’re exhibiting strange behaviors. Or at least what you think is strange.”

  Her frown deepens. “I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can trust me.” I grab her hand and hold it in both of mine. It suddenly feels as tiny as Hillary’s. “I’m going to tell you something right now, and it’s likely going to upset you.”

  She narrows her eyes as if I’m underestimating her. “Go on.”

  “Despite what I’m going to tell you, can you trust that everything is going to be okay?”

  She nods as what I think is skepticism creeps into her eyes.

  “There are different types of people in the world. Biologically speaking.”

  She lifts her brows like she thinks I’m fabricating a story.

  “The Harry Potter books.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know how there is that professor who turned into a wolf during the full moon?”

  “Yes?” She’s giving me a look like she’s about to slap me for being so vague.

  “There are people in real life who that happens to. Not necessarily during the full moon, but they can change into a wolf. It’s called shapeshifting.” I lick my lips and take another breath. “Some people can shift into wolves, bears, tigers and even lions. Any animal really.”

  Lexi’s mouth opens to form a perfect O as she stares at me. I’m not sure if she’s in shock or can’t believe I’m trying to convince her of such ridiculousness.

  I decide to jump in with both feet. “You’re a lion shifter, Lexi.”

  I watch her face for shock, denial, or outrage, and I’m not prepared for her real reaction.

  Lexi laughs. Not a few snickers, but a great big belly laugh that shakes her whole body.

  I watch as her eyes tear up and wait for her to gain control so she can hear me when I say, “I’m not joking. I’m a shifter too. I can turn into a tiger.”

  She’s lets out another snort before controlling herself again enough to speak. “You can turn into a tiger?” She lifts her collage and snickers as she points to a picture of the cartoon imagine of a cereal mascot tiger. “Like this guy?”

  If she had her memory back, she’d know how insulting that is, but I give her the benefit of the doubt. “The live version of that, yes.” I put my finger on the real lion in the other picture she has glued to her collage. “And you can turn into this.”

  “Okay, fine. Prove it.” She arches one brow in challenge. “I want to see you shift into a tiger. Because right now, you sound like the one with the serious head injury.” She chuckles. “I thought I was going nuts, but you sound like you’re already there.”

  I can’t help it. My tiger is a little pissed off right now, but I push him back and say, “All right. I’ll shift, but we’ll have to go outside.”

  “Right,” she says, “because you wouldn’t want to ruin this nice carpet or anything with your big, badass claws.” She actually shapes her fingers like claws and swipes at me.

  She’s pushing my tiger’s buttons, big time, and I get to my feet and pull her up with me. I lead her to the door, open it, and gesture for her to go out. She does, and I follow her.

  I point to the porch. “You stand here.”

  “Fine.” She crosses her arms, making me think she’s just as annoyed as I am.

  But Lexi stays put as I walk out onto the gravel of the driveway. Even though I’m ready to prove myself to her, I really hope I don’t freak her out too much. What if seeing me shift breaks her mind? I know for some it has been hard to accept. I once had a human friend in college whom I trusted enough to show him I could shift, and I think I was what made him start drinking too much. The last time I saw him, he was working in a garage and going to AA meetings trying to get sober.

  I shake my head because Hillary forced my hand and I no longer have a choice. I look at the woman I love and try to trust that her lion side will see her through this. But just in case her animal doesn’t have control or the instincts aren’t strong enough, I say, “Lexi, this is very important. Whatever you do, don’t run. I can control my tiger, but not if you run.”

  Chapter 13

  LEXI

  Tristan has got to be playing a joke on me. There is absolutely no other excuse for what is coming out of his mouth right now.

  “…don’t run.”

  I snort and roll my eyes. What does he take me for? I’m not that gullible. Just because I can’t remember who I am doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.

  “Don’t be afraid of my tiger, he won’t hurt you,” he says. “But, please, I’m dead serious about this, even though I can tell you don’t believe it. Don’t run. His instinct will be to chase you. Promise me, Lexi.”

  I raise my hand, not bothering to fold down any fingers since I don’t know which ones to display, and say, “Scouts honor. I’ll stay right here.” I shake my head, but I no longer think this is a joke. Tristan has stripped out of his clothes as if he’s serious. My stomach churns as I worry about what I’m actually about to see, because this isn’t a spider in the shower— Is that fur?

  Tristan’s jaw juts forward, and then suddenly he jerks as if he’s been pushed by some unseen force from behind and onto all fours, and his arms become legs. The legs of a tiger. I put a hand up to my mouth to stifle the small cry that comes out like a wimpy squeak.

  He huffs out a blast of air. The sound is loud and echoes through the air, vibrating over my skin and eliciting goose bumps to pepper every inch of my body.

  I blink in shock, because even though I just witnessed Tristan change from a man to a tiger,
I can’t fathom how it’s possible. But more importantly, why the hell am I just standing here? Every molecule in my body screams for me to run, and I’m about to bolt when I hear the voice in my head again.

  Don’t move. Don’t run. He’ll chase you.

  I listen this time. The voice, my voice, is forceful and firm, and I listen. I no longer care if it’s not real because it’s telling me the same thing Tristan did. Hold still.

  The tiger pads around the driveway, sniffing at the grass, at the weeds, at the tires of the SUV. Then he turns his focus on me. I’m shaking, but when I connect with the tiger’s golden eyes, I see flecks of green and recognition flickers in my mind like I’m seeing it in strobe light. Something inside me recognizes this animal and likes him. It’s a strange sensation I can’t deny, and my fear is washed away to leave me calm.

  The tiger moves closer to me, and his nails click on the wooden steps of the porch as he climbs on and sniffs at my legs. My body vibrates in response, trying to lure him in closer. A strange trilling noise comes out of my throat. My god! I’m definitely purring.

  The tiger rubs its big body against my leg then mashes its nose right into my crotch. I jerk back in response and let out a burst of laughter. The action sends a ripple of pleasure over my body, and then I shudder, horrified by my response. I’m a bit freaked out by how attractive this beast is to me because that’s not something a normal person should be feeling. My hands itch to reach out and pet this big cat, sure his fur will be soft against my palms.

  He tries to nuzzle against my crotch again, but I shove him away and spit out the first words that come to me. “Bad kitty!”

  The tiger, Tristan I suppose, backs away and blows air again through his nose. It almost sounds like a snort of laughter, which I guess it is, and I let out a nervous laugh too. But then the realization of what just happened punches me in the gut, and I suck in a breath of air to recover. Tristan turned into a tiger right before my eyes.