Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle

by Daniella Wright

  The room I’m in looks like a kind of chamber. I’m lying on a bed, a plan white linen sheeted bed with a wooden headrest, and a table with a bottle of water and a bag of chips on the side. To my left is an open door that leads to a toilet and sink, and I’m at the perfect angle to see that there’s soap and shampoo by the sink which looks already used, suggesting that I’m most certainly not alone.

  The ominous phrase drug den springs to mind, which is worsened when I continue my inspection of the rustic tainted room, and finally focus on the right, where I saw movement under bed covers from the single other bed in the room. There’s an individual there, with wide, dark blue eyes, and a wild, gaunt expression to his face. His black hair is ruffled and unkempt, and he stares at me in deep fascination, maybe even some trepidation, his hand twitching along the covers. The room itself is minimalistic. We both have beds, and a chest of drawers where the food and drink is parked. It’s just the one bathroom, open windows with strong bars – I see a swirl of blizzard outside, and immediately think where the fuck am I, because it definitely wasn’t snowing in Phoenix. Well, in fact, you’re lucky to see even an ounce of snow there at any given time of the year, because the area itself is perpetually warm, and rather lacking in icicles.

  How long have I been out for? I scratch at my head for memories, but find none beyond the hands grabbing me as I tumbled into unconsciousness. The only course of action left, and my heart rate’s already hammering, trying to punch a way out of my chest – is to talk to the wide-eyed man on the bed beside me.

  “Hey,” I croak, and the man blinks, before saying the word back. I sit up more comfortably, and take a closer look at him. He’s a handsome individual, I suppose. He has a rounded face, jet black hair and oddly blue eyes. He has what I can only describe as Eurasian features, both with a hint of Asian background, and the smoother, broader definition of a European. He’s fairly tall from what I can see, and has a broad body type, with wide shoulders and a barrel ribcage. Possibly some Scandinavian blood in there. It’s such an odd combination of types though, that I end up spending longer than normal inspecting him. He doesn’t fit the boxes.

  However, if I’m going to try and talk to this person, I need to know if he’s a potential friend or foe.

  Where do I even start? I need to fight past the fear, first. Thoughts of have I been raped, am I trapped, who has trapped me, am I being sold flicker through my head, and I have to tamp them down one by one so I can focus, instead of hitching shallow, hysterical breaths.

  “Okay. So. Uh, who are you?” I ask. Establish the other person in the room, determine if they are victim or participant. He doesn’t wear a tag, but that doesn’t mean he might not be a shifter.

  “I’m Makita,” he says, his voice low, with a growl to it. I’m talking Vin Diesel low, with a rumbling burr that sounds as if it comes from deep within the soul. Not everyone’s type, but it certainly commands a sort of presence, and would make you stop to listen, if you heard such a thing resonating through a restaurant. “And you are?”

  “Alyse. I would say uh, pleased to meet you, but…” I give an obvious shrug, before noticing a throb on the back of my skull, and lifting my palm to touch it, checking for any external injuries.

  “Yeah…” he gives a brief, wan smile, before it drops into the careful neutrality he’s been holding for the past minute. “It’s just been me here for about a month. If you’re here, then you’re in the same boat as me. A captive. Sold to the kingpin.” Makita jerks his thumb towards the door. “Taken by his lordship over there.”

  Before I have a chance to enquire about this, footsteps reverberate from beyond the door, and both of us snap attention to the door. I smell fear emanating from his skin, and it hits me as well, makes me lick my lips and clench my hands into fists, trying to control the infection of terror creeping over my body.

  Something scrapes – a key in a lock – and the door swings open, revealing Balthier, his pale eyes flitting between us, a sneer upon his lips, which sends stabs of fury coursing through my stomach.

  He gives us both one more look, then says, “I’ve been checking in every hour or so. I don’t want little Makita here telling you his lies.” He strides in, and I notice the menace in his stance, and I suspect, even if the both of us tried to overwhelm him, we’d have little to no chance. Not with the power of a dragon raging through his veins. “Boy, do I have a tale for you, Alyse. I do apologize for the kidnapping, by the way. I even had to buy you off my own services to make sure you got here. Anyway, Makita here, used to be a pimp. He wasn’t the head pimp by all means – just a cog in a very big wheel. And he claims he didn’t really know what was happening to his charges… but I consider turning a blind eye an even worse crime. You can’t, after all, approach a young girl on the street, and lure her into this world without having some inkling of what you’re getting into… do you?”

  The words register with me, along with an increasing sense of bile welling up in my throat. It seems the story I’ve been tracking is now the very nightmare I’m plunged into.

  Fuck.

  I have nothing on me to contact. I don’t have my phone to record evidence, my journal or pad to type it all down, or the means to interview either of these people in a safe environment. I’m God knows where, in the middle of a howling blizzard, and a wrathful dragon shifter stands tall, towering above us. His purpose isn’t clear, but it doesn’t take a great leap of imagination to connect him with the declared pimp next to me.

  Makita must have been intruding on his territory. Sniping marks off the street under his eyes. How in hell will I be getting out of here? What can I do?

  And what will happen to me? A sliver of fear permeates my consciousness. If I’m injected with drugs, forced to go down that route, there’s no telling what it might do to me. I’m solid in mind and soul right now, but if I’m poisoned, I don’t know what routes my mind will take. If I’ll be capable of telling the story, and letting the world outside understand what’s happening right under their noses.

  “Look, I told you,” Makita hissed, “I was just doing my job. Trying to make a bit of cash on the side. McDonald’s just don’t cut it, and well, people always want sex, don’t they? It’s normal!”

  “Ah,” Balthier said, rather sweetly, though there was no hint of sweetness or mercy on his face, “That’s a nice excuse, isn’t it? Never mind that you weren’t aware of what I did, and my aims on the matter. No. That, I could almost forgive. I’d just rough you up, send you on your way. But not only did you preach ignorance – the only cases you even remotely cared about, were other young men like yourself. Gay men. You wouldn’t traffic them. So you did know something was going on.”

  Now Makita appeared particularly stressed, and I’m going along the lines of sheer panic myself.

  Now Balthier turns his attention to me. “You, on the other hand. I could smell that you didn’t belong. You’re not a good liar, and I did some research. You work for a newspaper. You collect stories like a little social justice warrior. And you write quite vicariously that you’re very happy with being single for the past four years. Nothing like the break up tale you were feeding to the patrons of Night Vision.”

  The way he rattles off the information makes me nervous. I sense a crescendo in his statement, a conclusion that I know I’ll hate.

  “So tell me. Why were you really there, little warrior?”

  I grind my teeth. I can deny flat out, I can lie to him, or I can tell him the truth, which will burn me for certain. There is no way out of this. I can’t obtain help. I’m lost. A tiny nugget of fear goes through me when I consider I’m effectively in a position where I can be tortured. I don’t want that. I honestly don’t know how much I can withstand before I’m blubbering like a little girl. So it’s best to get that out the way. “I’m following rumors of a sex trafficking ring within the shifter community. There’s long been stories of women going missing, taken by shifters who have little regard for them.” I lick my lips My voice grows
stronger, filled with conviction. “Stolen to isolated, far away communities, taken from their families forever. I wanted to test the rumors about Night Vision, and see if I could bust a trafficking ring myself.”

  Balthier smiles at my honesty. “You’re not wrong. But I’m afraid I can’t allow you to publish a story like that. Not without you ruining everything I’ve worked for, sweetheart.”

  I snarl at him, and get off the bed, even as Makita stares in absolute shock. “If there’s people suffering, I will do everything it takes to make sure people know about it.”

  “They know, sweetheart. They just don’t care. Much like our little friend here.” Balthier nods towards Makita, who looks away for a moment.

  He gives me another stare, this time tinged with a lecherous overtone. “I wonder what else you know, though. If you uncovered any of the others who are working against me, little journalist.

  It’s a bluff, but I go, “Like I’d tell you. As soon as I give you my secrets, I’ll die.” I’m trembling, feeling more like a defiant mouse, than a brave journalist. Whatever I expected, I never anticipated being found by the head shark, drugged, and yanked away to an unknown wasteland. Now I’m stuck here with another man, who is also part of the same industry I loathe.

  “Well, well. Since you’re both my prisoners, it should be simple to see who cracks first. Disobeying instructions will make this experience worse. You know the rules, Makita.”

  Makita’s eyes narrow. His blue eyes turn into stormy coals in his face.

  “Strip, wolf,” Balthier orders, and to empathize his point, he shifts briefly into his dragon form. The sheer scale of the creature sends me trembling in fear. I’ve never seen anything so large. The dragon is a menacing black shade, dark as a black hole, with wafts of smoke billowing from his mouth. Makita lets out a snarl, before it turns into a whimper, and then he starts taking off his clothes, much to my horror.

  What kind of sick fuck arrangement is this? Balthier’s been keeping this… whatever, this wolf shifter, did I hear that right? Here as a prisoner. Here to satisfy whatever twisted needs go through his twisted head.

  Here to inflict suffering. And it’s going to be me next. The icy horror continues to well up inside me as I watch Makita take off all his clothes, revealing his toned, well-sculpted body, reminiscent of a warrior’s frame, with the tight, controlled power behind it. Not that such power would do any good against a huge, hissing dragon, with teeth so long and sharp, each one is a full ulna in length. There’s no way I can fight that.

  There’s no way I can resist. Not without pain ripping through my flesh.

  With Makita naked, I see he has rather long genitals, the kind that don’t instantly grow from nothing, but already start from something substantial. There’s hate, and oddly, a little tremor of lust in Makita’s eyes as well, as Balthier shifts back into his human form, puffing out a wisp of smoke from his lips.

  “Good. I want you to pleasure yourself. Show yourself off to Alyse, and look her in the eyes. And Alyse – try not to break eye contact.” The menace in his voice is unmistakable.

  “What the fuck?” I say, shivering. “How do you expect me to confess anything like this?”

  “I don’t,” he replies. “But I plan to have some fun with you.” He strides over to me, even as Makita begins to stroke his shaft, and I watch the movement in odd fascination. “Keep watching him,” Balthier whispers in my ear, even as he digs his nails into the clothes in my back and tears into the flimsy fabric. My body at this point is on fire, and the fire must have some kind of drug in it, because my blood is bubbling with a drunken, floating sensation.

  Not one I ever expected to feel. I’m in the clutches of someone strong, with a primal, animalistic scent emanating from his body. I know those gray eyes are boring into my head, even as he nips at my ear, and I sense the smile on his lips as my eyes lock on Makita, who seems both ashamed but aroused at the same time. He can’t disobey, but I wonder if he would, anyway.

  Balthier tugs off my clothes viciously, the material brushing roughly over my skin, sending crackles of electricity through my nerves. I’m breathing fast and shallow, excitement and fear welling up in me, confusion dominating my mind, as I think I shouldn’t be liking this at all, but for some reason, the danger of it sends a dark thrill through my bones. I’m being commanded. I’m being controlled. I’m at his mercy, and it’s both scary and exhilarating at the same time. My breasts are already pebbling up in reaction as his hands run over my body, touching everywhere, and all the places that haven’t been touched by a man for a long time.

  I let out an involuntary gasp and squeeze my eyes shut, but Balthier hisses into my ear to keep watching Makita, who is still rubbing himself with those strong muscles. Balthier roughly grabs my breasts in his hands then, forming cups and squeezing, pushing his body into my back. Liquid fire boils through me, and my eyes struggle to stay open as I moan my arousal, moan as my body insists on betraying me and making it good, making his very presence elicit the desire out of me.

  His erection grows and twitches – I feel it against my naked backside, and I’m painfully aware of how wet my core is. It throbs with need, and I’m pushing against him, my body already suggesting to him that he can take me.

  I’m a prisoner, as is Makita, and in the decadence of this act, I want to be taken. I want to be grabbed and fucked, and I want to cry out and scream as my body explodes into a trembling orgasm. I want that powerlessness, and the fact that he’s not being painful, he’s not just taking me on the spot, but is instead whispering, touching, teasing and pinching – it’s whipping me up into a frenzy.

  Never mind that the wolf shifter in front of me is fully exposed, letting out moans of his own.

  Balthier pushes down his pants, and I feel his erection against my bare ass.

  “Come closer, Makita. I want you to watch as I fuck her.” Balthier forces me to my knees, grabs my hair, kneels behind me, and slides himself inside, making me let out a cry, partly from shock, partly from pleasure. Oh fuck. I wasn’t expecting to feel like this at all. Like some half starved animal, begging for scraps from the table. Wanting him deep in me, wanting him to thrust hard and fast and tear out the soul within, so that I’m nothing but a wobbling tower of pleasure and maybe pain. Nothing else matters then.

  I hear the dragon shifter moan as he slides in me, faster and faster, and I feel the strength of his body, and the control he exhibits. Makita closes enough now for me to see the two moles on his thigh, and the nervous way his erection twitches, and the little pool of liquid that has seeped out the tip.

  “Suck him,” Balthier orders, even as he pounds harder in me. “But make sure he doesn’t come.”

  I let out a whimper as Makita stares at Balthier pushes harder into me, rocking my body forward. When Makita closes in, I take the tip of him with my tongue, and then, trying not to lose the movement, or to make it jerky and weird, I take as much of his cock in as possible, realizing just how vulnerable he is right now. This is where my teeth are, after all. If I didn’t enjoy it, if I didn’t want it, I’m well placed to inflict extreme pain on him – but I don’t want that. Because whatever I think of Makita right now, we are allies in this. We are seeking our own control in a situation where we have no control, a way to feel pleasure, instead of crippling pain.

  He's both hard and soft, and it’s a peculiar sensation. I try hard not to hurt him, even as Balthier continues his thrusts. Balthier stops suddenly, leaving me strangely bereft, my core dripping but not full, as he then orders for Makita to kneel between my legs and lick me out.

  I let go of Makita’s erection, and Balthier flips me over, my back pressing against the wooden floor, hard and cold. Makita, trembling from the near orgasm, still not there yet, shuffles between my legs, stares at me with an apologetic, yet lust-filled gaze, then takes up the task of eating me out.

  Now this sends zings of electricity hurtling through me, as his tongue laps up the juices there, as his hands brace themselves aga
inst my tense thighs. He locks me in place so that I don’t wriggle out of his grasp. The pleasure as he dips over my bundle of nerves is intense, so much that I want nothing more than to squirm out. The shocks continue to ripple through me, and I let out a litany of groans and whimpers, echoed by Makita as his voice vibrates into my cord, and from Balthier, who is now positioning himself to take Makita from behind.

  I can’t believe I’m allowing this to happen. And I can’t believe I’m enjoying it.

  I know that Balthier will keep me here, to stop me spilling what I know. He hints at some other purpose, one I can’t possibly understand, but I’m also not given a chance to understand it.

  I think I would have willingly fucked Balthier, even if he didn’t drug my drink. I would have happily clambered into a taxi, sped off to a hotel, tumbled through the doors onto silken sheets and rolled about with him on the bed, feeling his hot, strong body beat into mine. But I was not there to get over a break-up. I was there to investigate. To spy. And Makita also got on his bad side.

  If this is meant to be torture, it doesn’t feel anything like that at all. Unless intense pleasure is considered a torture. Unless the shame of liking it and giving into it is a punishment in itself. The experience is more powerful than any time I’ve had sex in my life. And it’s been four years. There’s a lot I’m bottling up in there.

  And I take it all, and I’m here, drowning in many different ways. In shame. In delight. In the slight tint of fear and a big wash of excitement. All these different emotions are flooding through me at once, even as I squeeze my eyes shut, and sink into the moment. My body’s trembling hard. I feel the tension creeping through my stomach and grasping my legs, pulling my knees up higher, even as Makita continues to lick, suck, and flick my bundle of nerves. Every now and then he jerks forward, as Balthier pushes his way inside the wolf shifter, taking him from behind, stabbing into his g-spot. Makita groans against my core, sometimes whimpers, sometimes cries out, and when I open my eyes, I see that Balthier’s clutching Makita’s ass, brow scrunched in concentration, sweat dripping down his face as he pounds into the wolf shifter.