Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set

by Keira Blackwood

  Glrrrarrr. What sounds escaped his throat? He wavered but went back for more.

  The second, with a mop of filthy blond hair, dove forward, hands and teeth clamped onto the sleeve of her jacket. Why teeth? What were these men? They sure as hell weren’t shifters.

  “Let—” Her voice was low, raspy, and full of heat. “Go.”

  The knife jabbed through the neck of the bleeder—a short, balding, middle-aged man. His business suit seemed out of place with the thin guy that rose to his feet and came back at me. T-shirt and jeans. Did they know each other at all?

  The woman stabbed through Mop Head’s ear. He too fell.

  She rolled both over onto their stomachs and drove the knife up through the bottom of their skulls. She was no victim here. The yellow-eyed bastards weren’t, either. Still, was that really necessary? What the hell was going on?

  My fist planted square between Olive-Skin’s yellow eyes. He faltered, caught himself on hands and knees. Then he rose once again.

  He didn’t seem winded. Didn’t show any signs of pain, even when his nose buckled beneath my fist.

  “Why won’t you stay down?” I growled.

  Metal clinked on asphalt. I looked down at the dagger the woman had wielded. It was simple, with a black hilt.

  “Zombies,” the woman said.

  I held my foot on the bastard’s shoulder, and stared—not at the man on the ground, but at the petite shifter. She appeared both calm and unscathed. Excitement danced in her almond eyes, a look I knew all too well, the thrill of the fight. Her features were sharp, yet delicate. Her lips were thin yet rosy, just like her cheeks. Tiny freckles crossed the narrow bridge of her nose. She was beautiful. It was everything about her, from her delicate frame to the competence she’d shown in the fight. And just like that, I was enthralled, mesmerized, and out of my comfort zone.

  “Zombies?” I asked. “Is that some kind of joke?”

  She shrugged. “Stab it at the base of the skull or it’ll eat you.” I looked down at the thin, hollow-cheeked man beneath my boot. His nose was crushed, his arm skinned, and his pinky finger bent completely the wrong way. He didn’t seem to care. He eyed me like his next meal, saliva bubbling between rotting teeth. Instead of saying anything, instead of trying to fight, he pulled on my jeans and bit wildly into the air.

  “That’s rid—” I looked back up at the woman, just in time to see the impossible.

  In a flourish of feathers, the woman transformed.

  I stood in awe. A bird. I’d never seen a bird shifter of any sort. Her feathers were as black as her hair, with a glossy shimmer in the moonlight.

  As quickly as she’d caught my attention, she was gone. Her wings flapped as she rose above the flickering light, soaring upward and beyond reach. There were no clothes left behind. There had been no cracking of bones—no sign of a shift. Was she truly a shifter at all? Or something more?

  Grrllllrrrr.

  “Is what she said true?” I asked the struggling man beneath my boot. I could hear a heartbeat, barely there one second, then pounding the next. I wasn’t sure what that meant. But he certainly smelled like death.

  A hiss-like sound came from his dry, cracked lips, before his teeth sunk into the rubber of my boot. Zombies weren’t real. But then again, I hadn’t believed in magical crow shifters that took their clothes with them.

  “Have a name?” I asked.

  Grrrgggfff.

  “You don’t look much like a Garfield,” I said. “But, whatever. Now what am I supposed to do with you?”

  The shining metal of the dagger caught my eye. It laid next to Garfield’s head. If he’d had any brain left in his skull, would he not have picked up the weapon? His yellow eyes glowed in ravenous hunger.

  Zombies—that was going to require some investigation. But no matter what the truth was, this town wasn’t like anywhere else I’d been. Different was exactly what I had been looking for. Even more so, that woman intrigued me. I had to see her again. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I found myself looking forward instead of back.

  Chapter Two

  Penny

  Eleven months and thirteen days—the amount of time that had passed since I’d watched my brother die. Each morning began like the last, with a hole in my chest and the knowledge that I’d again failed to find his murderer. Just like I had failed to save him.

  The night would end the way it always did. I knew it was true, though it changed nothing. Tucking my wings in, I landed on the third-story window sill of the compound. The three-hundred-year-old bricks were cool beneath my talons. The glass pane remained open, just as I’d left it. As expected, no sounds came from within my room. Still, I knew she was there.

  Long, sharp toes caught in the lush, cream carpet when I hopped down to the floor. The words played through my head, the ones I had practiced as a child, the ones that belonged only to my constable. Tos. Servitio. Magica facienda. Pinnarum in cineres abit.

  Sanctity. Servitude. Secrecy. Feathers to ash.

  Wings transformed into sleeves and arms, the human body that ached with exhaustion.

  “Hey, Kaylee,” I said, without turning to look at my sister.

  “You know why I’m here,” she said.

  I slid off Danny’s coat and draped it over the dresser, then dropped my boots at the end of the bed and climbed in. The comforter was soft on my back, and exactly what I needed.

  “I wish you would stop,” Kaylee said.

  I stared up at the ceiling, at the swirled, white plaster. It was the same thing she said every night.

  “I get it,” she said. “I really do. Danny wasn’t just your brother. He was also mine.”

  The mattress jostled as my little sister climbed in next to me. She put her head on my shoulder. Her soft, black tresses tickled my arm, but it was the dampness that pulled my heartstrings. I brushed her hair back from her face and looked down at my sister’s red cheeks, streaked with tears.

  She looked up at me with her bright blue eyes. “I just can’t lose you, too.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “You don’t seem fine,” she said, voice soft. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t keep doing this.”

  “Everything’s okay,” I said. “I’m home safe.”

  Kaylee’s fingers squeezed my palm. Her hand was soft on mine, warm. “Yeah,” she whispered, as her eyelids drew shut. Slow and even, her chest rose and fell in restful sleep. I wished she hadn’t stayed up.

  If only I could promise more. I wished I could tell her that it was over, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t a matter of want. I couldn’t stop. Not until I found him.

  His crooked nose was wide, with a break long-healed. His arms were thick, his gut round. Not a single day had passed without those cruel yellow eyes haunting me. Everyone else was moving forward, and they expected me to do the same. None of them had been there. None of them had seen Danny’s face, or heard his screams.

  No. This wasn’t over until that monster felt what Danny had suffered.

  It was the same thing I thought about every night, the same face that tormented me. But when I blinked, something strange happened. It wasn’t the zombie’s face that I saw. It wasn’t a creature that filled my thoughts.

  Hard jaw, broad shoulders, and a look I hadn’t seen in town—trouble, the tear-off-your-clothes kind. My thoughts drifted to the shifter from behind the shop. What was he doing there? What was someone like that doing in Corbeau? Why did I care?

  I stared at the ceiling, holding on to the sister I wished I could protect from myself, until I drifted off to sleep.

  Short hair, brown as pine bark, yet highlighted like a shimmering, golden sun. His jacket was distressed, black leather, a choice that reminded me of my brother. But that was where the resemblance ended. His eyes were like coffee, dark as a shadow in the night. Sharp features and average height set him apart from other wolf shifters that I’d encountered. He was different—not jus
t from the ravens of my constable, but also from other outsiders. There was a sexy, dangerous edge in those eyes. It was mirrored in his stance, in his clothes.

  My breath caught, my body pinned beneath his gaze. Anticipation filled me, like his fingers raking over my skin, before we ever touched. I tasted him on my lips—rough, salty, though we hadn’t kissed. There was a promise in the dark, in the set of his jaw, in every step that brought him closer. It was the promise of pleasure, of a night unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

  His hands were rough and sure as he lifted my shirt. It was the touch of a real man, not like the fumbling of a boy from the constable. He was hard, every inch of him unforgiving. He knew what I wanted more than I did, and he showed me exactly what that meant.

  Two fingers teased the waistband of my jeans, tickling just below my bellybutton. Sharp teeth grazed my neck, promising the mark that would claim me as his. There was nothing I had ever desired more.

  In a gentle massage, his hand trailed down, ever closer to where I needed him.

  My eyes shot open. My pulse was thrumming, my body hot. That was new. I’d never dreamed like that before. Not so intensely. It was exciting, and a little scary. What exactly did it say about me to want someone so much, someone I knew nothing about? I didn’t like losing focus, losing control of my emotions. One short encounter with this guy, and I was completely thrown off balance.

  Confused and uncomfortable, I decided it was best to try to forget. Not only did I not have the emotional resources to deal with anything extra, the guy was a wolf. I couldn’t get involved with a shifter who wasn’t a raven. I shouldn’t even consider it. Dating outside of the constable was forbidden, an even worse offense than breaking curfew. I slid my hand through my hair and sat up.

  The salty scent of fresh bacon filled the hot morning air. Thankful that it wasn’t his scent, that of fresh air, mountains, and pine, I let out a deep breath and looked around my empty bedroom. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. And Kaylee was gone.

  I threw on some clean clothes and headed downstairs. Halfway down the first flight, I heard a cacophony of giggles and footfalls, a stampede of short legs. For self-preservation, I scooted to the outer railing of the spiral staircase. Voices grew louder as the children grew nearer. There were seventeen in the constable between the ages of five and fourteen, all living under one roof. It was the way it had always been. Like a den for a wolf pack, our constable of ravens lived together in a hotel-sized manor.

  First in a trickle, kids ran by, boys skipping steps, racing to get first dibs on the feast below. The girls clumped together, walking in twos and threes as they chatted amongst themselves.

  “Good morning, Ms. Penelope,” Skylar said. The formality wasn’t necessary. Growing up in the same house, we were more family than neighbors. Still, she was sweet.

  “Good morning,” I replied, and smiled at the adorable, brown-haired girl as she passed.

  The older kids didn’t run in a group like the rest, and neither did my sixteen-year-old sister. Knowing Kaylee, she was already downstairs, sitting next to her boyfriend. And with any luck, she hadn’t talked to our father.

  The dining hall was huge, loud, and crowded. The ceiling was twice as tall as it needed to be, with windows reaching just as high. Immaculate fireplaces took up the bulk of the wall space on both ends of the long room. I never understood why, because it never really got that cold. It was probably to make my great great great great grandsomething feel like he’d really built himself a castle. Only the farmhouse style tables changed the tone. Long benches and natural wood gave the space a more lived-in feel, like a lodge. That was the best part.

  I grabbed a plate from the buffet line, scooting quickly past the table where the elders sat. I didn’t have to lie if my father never got the chance to ask.

  There were probably twenty trays filled with things I didn’t want, from crepes to shrimp and grits, ham steak to berries. I ignored those and went straight for the good stuff—bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

  Plate full, I headed toward my usual seat. Sure enough, Austin sat next to Kaylee. Both watched as I approached. And just like always, as soon as I sat down, Corey squeezed in next to me.

  His grin was too big this early in the morning. And he sat closer than I liked. I inched to the end of the bench, for more space, which he took over.

  “Good morning,” I said to my sister.

  “Hey,” Austin said, and flipped his shaggy, brown hair out of his eyes with the flick of his chin. He’d mastered the look of lazy disinterest, with slouched shoulders and a blank expression. It was his reaction to everything and everyone, except for my sister.

  “Hi,” Kaylee replied.

  “You look tired,” Austin said, then shoved a spoonful of grits into his mouth.

  Did she tell him I was out? It only took one person telling my father that I’d broken curfew for me to get my windows nailed shut. I lowered my brows, wordlessly asking my sister if she’d squealed.

  She shrugged and shook her head no.

  Good.

  I could feel Corey’s beady, green eyes on me. I didn’t turn, and instead focused on the food in front of me.

  “Do you have off today, Pen?” Corey asked.

  “No.”

  “Too bad,” he said. “I was thinking we could hang out, you know, get some quality time.”

  “I’m working,” I repeated, without looking at him.

  Kaylee and Austin whispered back and forth, his arm over her shoulder the entire time. She giggled, and smiled, and seemed completely different than she had the night before. I was glad.

  “Might be that I have something you’ll like,” Corey said.

  “I doubt that.” It was cold, I knew. But anything less and he’d assume I was interested. I wasn’t. And I was tired of nice.

  “What if I know exactly what you’re interested in?” he asked, leaning his pointy chin on my shoulder.

  I ducked away.

  “What if I know what you’ve been doing every—”

  “Whoa,” Kaylee said, scowling at Corey. “So how’s the pancakes? Extra fluffy today, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “See you there,” Kaylee said.

  Austin lifted a hand in a lazy wave.

  Corey stood when I did. I dropped my plate in the bin, and turned to find him exactly where I knew he’d be, too close.

  “If you have something for me—” I stopped myself before he had a chance to say anything. “If you have something to tell me,” I corrected, “and it’ll help, then come by later. Just to talk.” It wasn’t the time or the place here where everyone could hear. But I wasn’t willing to give up the opportunity to catch a lead. Even if it came from Corey.

  “It’s a date.” Corey winked, grinning in that way that somehow made me feel dirty. How could a smile feel so much like being groped?

  “No,” I said. “And it never will be.”

  Chapter Three

  Axel

  Raven—a name that fit, even if it wasn’t true. Her hair was jet black, her feathers just as dark. I had to call her something, if only in my head.

  She was there. She’d been there all night. My paws pounded against damp pine needles, as I dove between branches. I knew every dip in the rocky earth, every sapling, every moss-covered log.

  Soaring high above, Raven weaved through treetops as if she knew the landscape as well as I did. I’d spent my entire life in these woods, and still it was difficult to keep up. The challenge was exhilarating.

  Cool air bit, tight in my chest. Between trunks, around spiny branches. Where would she lead me?

  Gllllrrrrr. It was a nonsense sound, and it didn’t fit my dream, didn’t fit Raven’s voice. I abandoned the dream in favor of something else.

  Sharp and cool against my bare skin, the tip of the dagger trailed down my chest, cutting through soft, thin fabric. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, as sharp as the blade in her fist. Her hips
slid over mine, stirring my cock as she straddled me.

  A predator, she knew exactly what she wanted. And she took it.

  Her ass was round, and a perfect fit in my palms, her scent intoxicating. She leaned down over me, lips brushing mine.

  Gllllrrrrrrg.

  Dreams of brilliant copper eyes and shimmering black feathers were invaded by gargled gibberish. I hadn’t thought anything could dull Raven’s beauty, though hearing Garfield’s voice from her lips had done the trick. He’d also spoken to me as a hotdog I’d intended to eat. So all and all, a strange night of broken sleep.

  Glllggrrrack. Chains rattled against the metal radiator as Garfield once again grew restless. This time, at least, it was morning.

  Sunlight poured through the thin motel curtains, beams broken by the darkest areas of the dated, floral pattern. The air was hot and muggy, filled with the noxious stink of rotting flesh. The warmth of the air, and the small size of the room, seemed to amplify Garfield’s odor. I looked at him, wondering for the hundredth time if what that woman, Raven, had said was true. Certainly smelled like it.

  Garfield’s arm stretched up toward me, catching broken sunlight on his pale skin. As if the daylight burned, he recoiled. Allergies? Could a person really be allergic to sunlight? An intolerance maybe. Or maybe I was overthinking something trivial.

  “Not much for the sun?” I asked.

  Garfield said nothing, though a line of drool seeped out from between his dry, cracked lips. The saliva wasn’t clear, but the putrid shade of watery mud. On his neck were two puncture wounds, deep and black. They didn’t bleed, or scab. Strange, but no more so than anything else about him.

  His lemon eyes were hidden beneath heavy lids. Was he tired? Had he slept at all? Or was he a stinking corpse returning to his natural state?

  “Not much for conversation, either,” I said.