Shifters Gone Wild: A Shifter Romance Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  This wasn't getting me anywhere. How would I ever see my wolf, if I kept getting distracted by my own face? "It's not working," I muttered in disappointment. Maybe I just wasn't meant to release my wolf.

  "Try closing your eyes then. If you have a good imagination, you can just envision your own lake."

  I nodded. That might be easier than being constantly reminded of my mediocre self. I drew in a deep breath and let my eyelids fall shut. Darkness momentarily filled my mind, but as I drew the lines of a calm lake, images appeared.

  Dark trees surrounding a valley like the one I was in. Instead of the morning sun, a silver moon cast faint rays on the surface of a white, still, lake. There was nothing and nobody around. Only me. The wind danced almost soundlessly through the blackened leaves as it guided me towards the lake.

  With every step closer, I imagined being greeted with a reflection that was and wasn't my own. I imagined strong paws and an elegant snout. A playful tail and deep eyes that held more wisdom than I could ever possess. I envisioned looking down in the water and being greeted by a familiar stranger.

  Almost too afraid to look, I held my breath for a brief moment, making the world stop. The leaves froze, the wind disappeared. This was it.

  I bent over the lake, opened the eyes of my mind, and looked in to the calm water. I was ready to meet my wolf.

  Reflected in the crystal mirror, familiar grey eyes stared back at me, yet, they were different than usual. They weren't mine. Instead of being met with my face, a wolf stared back at me. Her fur white as the freshly fallen snow on the first day of winter. Her eyes deep and wise, but furthermost, kind.

  My wolf.

  I recognised her immediately. How could I not. She was inside me. She was part of me. She was there, always watching over me. Patiently waiting for this very moment. For me to release her.

  Scared that I would ruin the moment, I brushed my fingers over the surface of the lake. Instead of rippling the water like I had expected, I bumped against a hard glass-like wall.

  My wolf tilted her head slightly and stared at me, sadness clear in her eyes. So this was her cage. This was where she'd been for the past twenty-one years. If only I knew how to get her out.

  Chesca's voice suddenly echoed in my head. "Break it."

  I bit my lip and focused back on the glass mirror. I swiped my fingers over the surface, trying to find a weaker spot. I just needed one crack. My fingertips glide over the mirror, as I felt for it.

  And as if I'd always known. I found it. It was small. Almost unnoticeable. But it was here. With all the power I could muster, I slammed my fist hard into the mirror.

  Shards flew, light flashed. Pain like I’d never felt before suddenly flooded through my body. It felt like being electrified, suffocated, stabbed and broken all at the same time. I wanted to go back in time. I wanted to fix the mirror. I wanted it to stop. But it was too late. Shards of glass tore my skin to shreds as I felt myself drown in blood. In my own blood.

  My bones cracked, my skin tore. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull as every part of my very being hurt. I was in pain. Excruciating pain.

  I clawed at my own skin, wanting the pain to stop. Needing it to stop. I couldn't take this. This was too much. It had to stop.

  I threw my head back and as I tried to cry out for help, a bone-chilling howl filled the air. Not just any howl.

  My howl.

  I was free.

  The End...For Now

  Thank you for reading Wolf’s Whisper. If you want to continue Akira’s story, you can in Wolf’s Echo: http://books2read.com/wolfsecho

  You can also join Arizona Tape’s mailing list by downloading a copy of White Wolf Black Wolf, a prequel to the My Winter Wolf trilogy: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/9ndobqv9ua

  About Arizona

  A creator at heart, Ari has always been in love with the idea of turning nothing into something. With her rainbow bat familiar, Sprinkles, she’s ready to conquer the book world. Whether it’s dragons and vampires or princesses and students, she always knows where to find the romance.

  Born in China, raised in Belgium, and currently living in the United Kingdom with her girlfriend, Ari is a citizen of the world and loves discovering new cultures. Luckily, her crazy imagination lets her discover places she’s never been to, meet people that don’t exist, and talk to readers from all over the world.

  Ari is a USA Today Bestselling Author that loves to write all kinds of genres, but her heart belongs to lesbian romance. You can find all her lesfic books under Arizona Tape.

  Check out Arizona Tape’s Website Here: www.arizonatape.com

  Oracle Defiant

  Spellbound Shifters: Fates & Visions #1

  Keira Blackwood & Liza Street

  Danger and passion collide, but love was unexpected.

  My sister goes missing, and I bear the punishment of everyone’s concern. I’m trapped on my family’s compound until I accept a mate. But I refuse to listen. I’ll never obey. Instead, I’ll break rules, sneak out, and dance until sunrise.

  Being with my guards—a mountain lion shifter, a bear shifter, and two wolf shifters—is an act of rebellion—and an act of submission.

  When dark forces strike, my visions could mean the difference between life and death. If only I could control them.

  I’m Sparrow Solaris: the Oracle who cannot See.

  Copyright © 2019 Keira Blackwood & Liza Street

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual persons, places, or events is coincidental. All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age or older.

  Chapter One

  Whoever said bad girls have all the fun was absolutely fucking right. The club’s music pulsed through my veins, thicker than blood, as rhythmic and primal as my heartbeat. Two guys danced with me, one of them in front, the other one in the back. With every pulse and grind, I could feel their cocks hardening, homing in on my flesh like those old-fashioned water divining rods.

  The beat was bluesy, with heavy bass. Arbonwood, Massachusetts, wasn’t known for its clubs. We had one choice—Magic—and while the rotating DJs sometimes offered slick new beats, a lot of the time we danced to a random collection of nineties punk, R&B, and mash-ups of alt-rock with techno.

  It didn’t matter to me what I danced to. If it had a beat, my body was moving. I raised my arms over my head, letting the music flow through me, closing my eyes so I could experience this place where I felt I truly belonged. It wasn’t like the compound where I never had, and never would fit in. It wasn’t like my family, which was essentially the same as the compound.

  It was magic, and I fucking loved it.

  I lost myself in the beat, in the mass of hot bodies, sweat, and arousal. Long strands of my black hair whipped around me and fell back down around my shoulders. Colored lights flashed in time with the music, sweeping across the dance floor and illuminating darkened faces and forms.

  Steamy fog seeped in from the vents, a low-forming cloud that made the small building feel like the party could go on endlessly in any direction. The fog also created the illusion of the club being more packed, although that illusion wasn’t really needed tonight. There were at least seventy-five people crammed in here, crashing together in thrusting unison.

  A hand reached around me from behind, fingers expanding on my bare stomach and skimming the hem of my tiny, red top.

  The guy in front of me held my hip tight in his hand, hooking his finger in the belt loop of my jeans, and leaned forward to nuzzle my neck as we moved. “Ready to get out of here?”

  Was he kidding? I was totally down to fuck, but I wanted to dance first.

  “Later,” I said. “Let’s dance a while.”

  His
gaze heated with the promise that I was a sure bet, although if he thought there was anything sure about me, he was dead wrong. The club was packed with hotties, and I hadn’t made my choices yet.

  Across the floor, a guy with dark hair and skin the same shade as my own was dancing with two girls. A group of women standing at the bar were watching him, too. Every sane woman in the club was. His white t-shirt fell loosely over his ripped chest, tempting me with glimpses of his muscular core with each of his movements. His dark jeans fit him perfectly, and I had a feeling that if he spun around, they’d showcase a sculpted ass. His hair was jet-black and just long enough to pull off the effortlessly-tousled look, just long enough to wrap my fingers in and hold tight. His smile was swoon-worthy, and the way he swayed his hips promised he knew exactly what a woman needed.

  He looked over to where I danced with my two guys. Our eyes met, and he winked. I watched him for a moment, intrigued by the way he moved, intrigued by everything about him. With his gaze hot and heavy on mine, he leaned forward and bit the neck of the girl in front of him. I knew that bite was actually for me—it was a promise of what we could have.

  Hot. I raised my eyebrows, and the guy—I mentally nicknamed him Smolder—gestured me over with a crook of his finger. I wouldn’t mind dancing with Smolder, although no way in hell would I be part of his harem. I’d grown up being forced to share all my toys with my sister. As soon as she’d left last week, I’d vowed to never share again, and that applied to guys, too, even super hotties like him.

  He nodded at me again, encouraging. I shook my head.

  The song ended and transitioned into something new, something slower.

  “Can I get you a drink?” the guy behind me asked. If not for the cock pressing against my ass, I’d have completely forgotten he was there.

  I didn’t need to be an oracle to know what his ideas were for the evening. But I couldn’t get Smolder, the dark-eyed guy across the room, out of my mind. He made me feel things.

  “No, but thanks for the dance,” I said over the music.

  The guy in front of me frowned. “Can I get you a drink?”

  I patted his cheek. “Maybe some other time.”

  I had a challenge to overcome. I wanted Smolder, with his dark hair, dark eyes, and delicious muscles, but he was surrounded by women. He seemed to enjoy eye-fucking me, but was that as far as he wanted to go? I could blast over there and claim him in front of the others, but that was no fun.

  Instead, I walked over to the bar. My boss, Mack, a skinny white man with dreds, was mixing drinks tonight. He passed me a shot of tequila and a plate with a lime wedge without me even needing to ask.

  I put a twenty on the bar, but he slid it back. “Your money’s no good here, Sparrow.”

  “You mean you’re just taking this out of my wages.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Nah, girl, tonight you brought the party.”

  I looked around. I hadn’t brought anyone. I always came here alone, because I didn’t have any friends to bring. This had never been Wren’s scene, nor Eveline’s. It was my private escape, and I liked it that way.

  Mack reached across the bar to give me a playful shove. “You get everyone dancing, every time you come here,” he said. “This place is out in the middle of nowhere, but you make it feel like a club in the city.”

  To hide my pleased smile, I downed my shot and bit into the lime. Scorching, sour, and sweet. “Thanks, Mack,” I said.

  My back was to Smolder, but I could feel his gaze on me. I straightened up.

  Mack sighed. “Yeah, he’s on his way over. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  “You’re incredible, Sparrow. Go get him.”

  I winked. “You’re a sweetheart, Mack. And the best wingman ever.”

  He smiled and counted, “Three, two...one.”

  I backed up without looking behind me and knocked into someone hard and solid. Desire flooded my veins. This was Smolder, and I would’ve known it even without Mack’s help.

  We started to stumble together, but he steadied us both, putting a hand on my elbow to keep me upright. The contact was a spark, igniting every inch of my skin. He was my choice for the night, without question.

  He leaned in, hot breath bringing the bare skin on my neck to life. He smelled divine, like sandalwood and tequila.

  “It’s not every night a beautiful woman throws herself at me,” he said in my ear. His voice was deep, penetrating.

  My heart fluttered. Spinning around, I said, “Funny, because that’s what it looked like all of those other women were doing.”

  He met my playful smile with more intensity. “You’re different.”

  Music to my ears, except I knew it was a line, and a tired one at that. “Do you want to dance, then, if I’m so different?”

  “Sure.” He took my hand to lead me back to the dance floor. Where our skin touched, hot zings of pleasure ignited and moved up my arm and through the rest of my body.

  Since when did I get turned on by holding hands?

  We moved together to a loud, sensual beat. His hand was hot on my back, leading me along with him. He tugged me closer until one of his thighs pressed between mine. My eyes fluttered shut, the club disappearing until it was only the music and this guy.

  A second set of hands came to my shoulders. “Mind if I join you?” a deep voice asked.

  “Not at all,” I said, although as his skin made contact with mine, it didn’t do the same thing at all that Smolder’s touch did.

  Still, I tried to lose myself to the feeling, the lyrics of the song promising abandon, just like I needed. Smolder had broad shoulders and I held tight, squeezing to feel his muscles rippling with each movement. Hottie Number Two, behind me, felt just as hard.

  Usually I loved dancing with two guys, feeling their admiration. Something about it fed me, maybe the part of me that never felt that I belonged. Here, I belonged. Here, I was wanted, desired.

  But the guy behind me was bothering me for some reason. His hands were insistent, but mechanical, almost. I just wasn’t feeling him. No, I’d already chosen what I wanted for the night.

  I locked eyes with Smolder. “Let’s go,” I said.

  “All three of us?” he mouthed, smirking.

  I shook my head. “Not this time. I just want you.”

  We left Hottie Number Two behind and walked past the bar. Mack called out, “You okay, Sparrow?”

  I nodded and gave him a mock salute. “Thanks, Mack.”

  Smolder and I walked down the hall leading to an emergency exit and the rear parking lot, the sound of our footsteps obliterated by Hozier’s “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene.” Not many people came through here—not many knew this hall existed or had reason to come back here. There was a locked store room to one side, and then the exit at the end.

  The door to the main room of the club clicked shut behind us, and the music was muffled. The beat still thrummed through the floor, but I didn’t need to yell to speak to him. This dim corridor, though still public, felt more intimate. It was just the two of us feeling the music, feeling each other.

  “You know what a small death is, right?” Smolder asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Le petit mort. Don’t use tired lines on me, boy.”

  “Boy?” He laughed. There was a flash, where his eyes lit and I saw more than desire in his deep, brown irises. Just as quickly, it was gone. “How private is this hall?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked. There was no lock on the door leading from the club, and although nobody was likely to come in, there was still a chance.

  “Not to me.”

  In the darkness of the hall, I stepped closer into his space. His smile disappeared and he wrapped his arms around me, tugging me closer.

  “What do you want?” he whispered, his breath hot on my neck.

  Spikes of super-charged lust shot straight into my pussy. My voice was husky, almost unrecognizable, as I whispered, �
��I want everything.”

  He reached down, finding my waist. He stroked my bare skin just above my jeans, beneath the loose fabric of my tank top. One touch, and my body responded like it was made for him, like one kiss would tip me over the edge into bliss.

  I tilted my head sideways, hoping he’d acknowledge my unspoken desire. He nuzzled and kissed the skin beneath my ear, then gently scraped his teeth across my bare skin. I jerked in his arms. It was like the bite he gave to the other chick on the dance floor, the one he’d wordlessly promised me when our eyes met.

  Was he a shifter? They were bitey lovers—I knew from my experiences with guys on the compound. Then I shrugged—it didn’t matter if he was a shifter or not, because I’d never seen him before and I’d never see him again. I didn’t do second nights with guys, I didn’t do commitment. Most of the guys coming through Magic were only passing through, anyway.

  That’s how it went in Arbonwood. They came through going to Boston and then they left. Usually I didn’t care. But this time the thought gave me a pang of regret.

  He bit my shoulder at the base of my neck, and I gasped. “More,” I said, pulling him closer.

  His dick was hard behind his jeans. I reached between us to cup him and feel his generous length in my palm. Nice. I couldn’t wait to get it inside me. He made a low sound of longing, almost a growl, then crashed his mouth against mine.

  Yep, he was a shifter all right. His chest rumbled while we kissed, our tongues moving together. He tasted probably like I tasted—tequila and lime. His hands felt like they were everywhere—the skin of my hips, the cleft where my ass met my thighs, sliding up my rib cage toward my breasts...