Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle

by Daniella Wright

  I can't believe I'm listening to this. Now they're haggling over me. If I wasn't strung up, and the current subject of interest, I'd be laughing my ass off. As it is, I'm mildly amused, and more than a little alarmed to have such popularity.

  Now both sides are raising the price on me. If I was a slave, I'd be subjected to a tooth check and a body check. These people aren't even bothering with that. I probably could resemble a prune for all they cared. What mattered was that I was female.

  “Two thousand gold pieces! Bah, I can't believe I'm even going for this. I should just take the tribute and be away with it.”

  “We will hunt you down and slaughter you as a warning to your clan to not mess with us. Also, three thousand.”

  Hell's teeth, I think. If my parents saw this today, and knew I could be sold for so much gold, they'd be frothing at the mouth. Ten cows and some chickens have nothing on this. I could feel proud, even, if it wasn't obvious that I'm basically being sold as a commodity.

  Though that's hardly different from an arranged marriage in the long run. The arranged marriage is just better disguised and gift wrapped. It's still the same principle. But bear shifters?

  I should have done more research on the region. Maybe if I knew this was bear territory and that being a woman here was a very, very bad idea, I would have chosen somewhere else to gather my fortunes. Bears likely can smell my scent, even if I don't look feminine.

  What a bother.

  Eventually, it sounds like the newcomers have reached the optimal bid price of five thousand gold, because the dark haired leader starts cursing and screaming. The kidnapper hastily slams me into the crate again, not bothering to replace the lid, and wheels me over to the opposite side of the dark haired man.

  “It's a pleasure to deal with you.”

  “Yes. You'll need to come back with us to get the coins, however. You will understand that we don't just carry around that kind of wealth with us.”

  “Yes, yes, of course...”

  I scowl as several heads peer in to examine me. The light angle and shadows obscures their features, though I see they're all grinning at me. Should I spit at one of them? I refrain, since if I can't handle one bear shifter in their full form, I won't be able to handle multiple ones at once. My best bet is to make sure they don't hate me, and then force me into a worse role than I might already be in. This may be hard, however, because I really want to scream at them now and stab their eyeballs with the sword I no longer have. The sword I've carried with me for years.

  “Want me to prompt her to say something?” The kidnapper says.

  I decide to keep my jaw locked shut as the others murmur confirmation, and he pokes me a few times.

  When he pokes me too hard, I bite his finger, and he howls and tugs, until I release his bloody finger.

  “Ah! You little witch!”

  The bears around him merely chuckle. “Let's hope so.”

  The lid is slammed back on top of me, and the rickety cart is now trundled over to whatever new destination awaits me.

  Well. Looks like I've just been sold to some kind of tribe of bear shifters. At the expense of another, particularly angry tribe. All my previous intentions of finding gold in the Moon Wastes is now dashed to pieces. All I can do is grit my teeth, and furiously plot all the possible outcomes of escape that's left to me.

  I doubt they'll want to kill me for five thousand gold pieces. But that doesn't mean they won't want the rest of me.

  Chapter Three

  It takes a short while before I'm hauled to the bear's base. I'm shocked when I see it, because I don't think I was expecting anything more than huts and campfires. What I see instead is an entire city hewn into the mountain face, with walls enclosing the outside section of it off. There are guards at the main entrance, which is operated by a winch and portcullis on the other side. I'm able to observe all this because I've pushed the lid off, noticing it was rattling, meaning they didn't bother to lock it. No one protested, and one of the bears in human form gave me an approving nod as I stared around the unfolding scenery, and gaped at the well crafted expanse of the bear city. A mix of bears and humans wander the streets, though human form is preferred – or maybe I'm seeing actual humans living in this place – and one thing draws my attention.

  There's not a lot of women on the streets. If any. I'm hard pressed to spot one under the wave of male traders and citizens. Are the women kept inside? Do they dwell in another section of the city? Or is there just no women?

  Heads turn to stare openly at me as I'm carried along the smooth, dirt lined streets towards what I hear the shifters refer to as the inner citadel. It takes a good ten minutes or so to reach it. My fear levels go through the roof when I see the huge, oppressive hallway I'm being carried through, since they just tipped me out of the cart and into their waiting arms in human form. It's rather unceremonious, and I'm basically being tossed around like a sack of flesh. The hallway itself has golden framed pictures and numerous guards in their bear forms against each door entrance.

  It looks suspiciously like... a royal palace. The kind our king has, which is opulent luxury at the expense of the poor. People like me would be executed for even daring to step a grubby foot in the area. And now I'm being taken to such a place. The bears have a kingdom in the Moon Wastes?

  “I want first go with her,” one of the bear shifters escorting me says. I'm slung over someone's shoulder at this point.”

  “Er, no, dear cousin. We're have to test if she has any witch powers. I think I should have first go, don't you?”

  “No.” The “cousin” sounds surly, with a higher pitched voice than the smooth talker. Unfortunately, they're both in front of me, so I don't get much of a look at their faces.

  “Sharing is caring, right, gentlemen?” I say, speaking for the first time since I've been abducted. There's a momentary pause, and then a chuckle.

  “If you're into that.”

  “Don't suppose there's any chance I can be set free, is there?”

  “No,” the surly voice says.

  “Unlikely,” the baritone replies. “We paid good money to have you. You could have had one leg and one arm and we'd still want you. Women are quite valuable in our kingdom.”

  “Why is that?” I ask, slightly curious, even though I've just been hearing them debate over using me like a rag.

  “We don't have to answer any of this,” the surly voice says, but the baritone is quite happy to proceed with, “Well, we should do. If she's going to be living with us for the rest of her life, we can't exactly keep her locked in a box, can we? And if she turns out to be a witch, she'll be giving you orders before long, dear cousin.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Anyway. Women are valuable here, because our genes make it impossible to create baby females. No females are born here, so the only way we get them is through other nations, trades, that sort of thing. And if we have children with you, all your children will be male shifters, like us. And we don't have any human males here.”

  Despite my misgivings, I nod. What a strange way to have a society work. “I guess it must be hard to keep your population going, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the 'witch' thing you keep mentioning?” I grunt as I'm shifted to the side of the shoulder I'm propped over. My limbs are seriously starting to throb from the bandages, and I'm feeling dizzy, but I try to push through with the questions.

  “Oh, that's easy. We can unlock any potential witch powers in women by mating with them. So it's imperative that we do this to you.”

  “Hmm.” What? Slight alarm ignites my mind. I see the guard behind the others, in front of me, inspecting me with a critical eye. My gaze trails across the marble lined floor, which is brightly lit by all the torches lining the sides.

  “Prince, m'lord, I think she's going to pass out. The bindings are too tight.”

  “Well? Untie her, then!”

  The guard hastens to untie me, needing in the end to get out a kni
fe to do the job, because he's right. They're too damn tight.

  “Sweet heaven, I can't feel anything in my limbs, thank you for that,” I sigh, flexing my hands, seeing the raw, compressed flesh there. “You'd think a bear shifter wouldn't need to tie me up so tight.”

  “True,” the amused voice of the prince says. I really want to get a proper look at the prince, rather than his back, or to only have to listen to his voice. As it is, I'm still slung over someone's shoulder.

  I get my curiosity satisfied when I'm taken into what looks like the royal wing, up a flight of grandiose and glittering stairs, and into a rather nice looking suite.

  Instantly, I hear the prince and his cousin explode into arguments again, as I'm asked to tidy myself up, take a steaming bath, and then select some clothes the servants will bring for me to wear. Just before I have the bath, I'm measured from head to toe, shoulder to shoulder, and the tailor who appraises me appears less than impressed with my build.

  “I have nothing that will fit you with this physique. You'll have to wear some men's clothes until I come up with something suitable. I trust you won't mind?”

  “What's wrong with my old clothes?” I ask, glaring at the tailor, who has a long, pointed nose, and twitchy yellow eyes. I like my clothes. I especially like my wolf tunic.

  “Rags,” he says disdainfully. “They'll be burned.”

  “You burn my wolf tunic, I end you,” I growl, prompting him to take me more seriously.

  “Fine. I'll take your tunic and modify it. Alright?”

  I suppose it's the best I can do. I take off my tunic now, under the watchful stare of the cousins, and hand it to him.

  He acts as if it's covered in filth, and holds it rather delicately as he leaves the suite. I'm instead standing there with the cousins checking me over. I'm doing the same in return, and I learn their names.

  Prince Lorek, and Lord Zell. Lorek has reddish brown hair neatly trimmed upon his head. High cheekbones, an imperious stare upon his face, and bright yellow eyes. His lips are soft like rubber, his jaw chiselled and crafted with a strong jut. He has a confident, at ease manner about him, and the pleasant hint of muscle under his finely made fur robes. Damn. He's attractive. Like, smoking hot. Those eyes add an animalistic intensity to him, which makes sense, given that he's a bear shifter. Where he is a cascading waterfall, his cousin is a tightly coiled spring, full of menace and control of his body. He holds himself as someone who knows how to use every ounce of his body, like I do when I get myself into the zone of battle. Otherwise, it's about fifty percent usage going on here.

  He has darker features, despite his lighter skin and bright red hair. His yellow eyes hold a kind of anger I can't fathom, and his jaw is squarer, sporting a red beard that frames his cheek bones perfectly. Where the prince is tall and well toned, Zell is shorter, but built like a tank, ready to bulldoze through everything in his way. The corded muscles on his arms are delicious, but the hard glint of his handsome face reminds me that I've been taken to a place far out of my element. I don't know the rules of this kingdom, or even what it's called. Moon Kingdom? Since it's in the Moon Wastes. But it's also directly conflicting with what I presume is another municipality/kingdom, given the dark haired man's vehement defiance of Lorek and Zell, and attempt to bag me first.

  My kidnapper wanted me as a bargain for safe passage. Did that mean that the people of these kingdoms killed trespassers? Maybe that was why not many people ventured into the Moon Wastes, or that the bear shifters were not commonly spoken about in the border inns.

  I don't have so much time to speculate before I'm guided by servants through the luscious suite, with its purple draped carpets, the braziers illuminating the place, with air funnels to filter out the smoke, a huge guest table that could seat twenty people, and luxurious ornaments and sculptures of various animals adorning parts of the room. I'm propelled inside a bathroom, where a copper tub sits, with copper piping dented into the walls, and the tap already running, gushing hot water into the tub.

  The male servants bustle around, placing a towel on a rack for me, placing a cup of cold water by a table for me to drink from, and providing a basket to place my dirty clothes in.

  “All of them,” one of the servants sniffs, examining me through squinty yellow eyes. “You will have your replacements in an hour. We will provide you books or musicians to perform for you whilst you take your bath, if you wish.”

  Musicians? I gawk at this idea for a moment. Back in my family home, we were considered excellent for taking a bath once a week. Other families thought us fastidiously clean, but my father insisted on it, because he knew that diseases spread through lack of hygiene. Not everyone did, though. He'd always make us wash our hands if we'd been handling the pet dogs at any point before touching food, because he said he saw someone swell up and die, simply because they'd been licked by their dog over an open wound.

  We didn't have anything like this back home. We had to fill the bath ourselves with buckets of water, and no piping. The steam furling out of the taps fascinates me, and I watch the hot water trinkle into the tub, before I say I wouldn't mind a book to read. Not that I'm much of a book reader, since my reading ability is slow, barely past the alphabet, but if I get bored floating in my tub for an hour, I can have something to flip through.

  It's easy to distract myself with the untold glamor of this place, when I've come from a humble background, and lived a rather rough life after I left my home, sleeping in forests and beaches and run down inns, not bothering with anything expensive or pretty.

  The fact of the matter is, I've been kidnapped and sold to a clan of bear shifters who have a severe lack of women, and will be unlikely to let me go.

  And they want to see if I'm a witch.

  Which they only can do if... well. I'm taken. Revulsion floods through my body at the idea, along with the annoying glimmer of arousal, at the thought of being taken against my will. With that thought in mind, I watch as the servants finish filling the tub and testing the temperature. I take off my clothes and sink into the deliciously warm bath, feeling like I'm melting in warm shivers as the water sloshes around me. There's a small holder for soap and a sponge and a razor, but I'm quite content to just lie here in this beautiful heat, and close my eyes to sleep.

  “Does miss want to be washed or will you wash yourself? We can also shave you if you wish.”

  “Mm...” I keep my eyes closed. Let them touch my body, or let me do the work. Not a hard choice. “I'll do it myself.”

  “Very well.”

  When a book is brought into the room, I'm soon left alone to soak, and I find myself drifting off. I have to force myself to open my eyes, so I don't slip and end up drowning in the bath. It's nice to wash the grime away, to scrub myself clean, and slide the pristine razor against my skin. If I'm honest, I hate shaving, and I avoid it as much as possible in the long travels, but I also don't mind the feeling of having silken skin to glide my fingers over. The shaving is the last thing I do, for obvious reasons, before I get out of the now lukewarm tub, towel myself down and wrap it around me, before I'm presented with my new clothes.

  The clothes in question are indeed men's clothes. Pants, a blouse, leather boots – at least they had a bra in my size, which helps.

  I'm fairly certain I won't be keeping these on for long, and I try to decide how I feel about what's going to happen. If I will scream and sob, or take it in silence. If I'll find some perverse joy in the act. And am I a guest, someone to respect, or someone to abuse? It's unclear. I wonder how they'll feel if they knew I know my way around a weapon, and how to counter most techniques.

  When I walk back into the main suite at last, which consists of a guest room and a massive bedchamber, both bear shifters, with their smouldering gazes, devour me with hungry eyes, their forms bristling. Lorek, with his brownish red hair, nods at me appreciatively.

  “What a fascinating figure you have. You're not slender and twig like at all. You have substance to you. Muscles. But
yet, there is a feminine wile about you. Such wonderful hair, too!” He grasps a strand of my damp blonde hair, and I decide it best not to react aggressively. The only time I will fight is if I feel my life is under threat. I don't want this to happen – I already see the men undressing me with their eyes, preparing to take me in the flesh. “So soft...”

  “Hmph.” Zell closes in, and tilts my chin up. Then, he tears through the buttons of my blouse, ripping through my bra in a surge of strength, making my new clothes last for precisely five minutes after I've placed them on, and he growls as he takes in my soft flesh. “Yes. This will do.”

  “Incidentally,” Lorek says, smoothly taking away my ruined clothes and tugging me out of the pants and panties I placed on – why did I bother, really – “We decided to go with your suggestion. Sharing sure is caring. And, well. We have seen each other naked before.”

  Zell's face darkens, before Lorek confides, “We tried out a threesome once. He was very drunk.”

  The information serves to ignite my cheeks in red. I shiver in anticipation, jolts of arousal shooting through my belly to my core. Whatever my mind seems to think, my body acts of its own accord. My nipples pebble, and I gasp as Lorek yanks me over his shoulder, before throwing me on the bed, and then clambering behind me, so that my arms are firmly pinned under his hold.

  “You first, cousin. Since I'm always first, anyway.”

  Zell growls, already undoing the button of his pants. I'm disappointed, because I want to see his body. He sees something in my eyes, hesitates, then takes off his tunic, revealing a superbly sculpted mass of flesh, with distinctive abs. I stare at those abs, my breathing quickening. They're creamy white and look as if they're carved out of rock, which leads up to well defined pecs and tapering muscles, with some prominent blue veins standing to attention on his arms. Not the only thing standing to attention, of course. It's happening fast, but my body's already lubricating itself, preparing, and my heartbeat's racing that much faster as Zell slides his wide, strong body over mine, and thrusts that huge erection, which I'd been trying not to focus too much on, into me. I groan. I'm so wet, and I don't know why. Zell grunts, clutching my legs tight as he pumps away in me. He's taking me rough and hard and without mercy, and I can't move, because Lorek is holding my arms, preventing me from squirming free. I yell as he digs into me harder, and I look into his yellow eyes, and see a mask of concentration, with a thin veil of pleasure under it as he takes me hard.