Shifters Gone Wild: A Shifter Romance Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  “And, stop.” Mother’s body heat increased against my back, and her breaths warmed my ear. “Now ... you may open your eyes,” she whispered as she removed her hands.

  I blinked against the light filtering through my window, my vision focussing on the dressmaker’s doll at the foot of my bed. For seconds, my gaze travelled the length of the garment it wore, from the square cut neckline, to the delicately ruffled sleeves and chest bodice, all the way down the shimmering fabric of the skirt, to the pool of natural white that spilled upon the floor.

  Pressing my fingers to my lips, I continued my survey, returning back to the only true colour on the garment: a satin sash that crossed beneath the breast bodice in deep sapphire—a colour I knew would have been chosen to compliment my eyes.

  “Sean requested the blue be included somewhere in your ensemble.”

  Mother’s murmur reminded me she stood there, although for a moment, nothing but the dress and I had owned the room.

  Her hand pressed against the small of my back, and I stepped forward, reached for the trailing sash, and slid the silky fabric between my fingers.

  “Do you like it?” she asked over my shoulder.

  “Mother, it’s beautiful.” I stroked across the breast bodice and the intricacy of the ruffles that would no doubt enhance my small bust. “Perfect.”

  As her arms wound around me, I covered her hands with mine and leaned into her. “I am so happy you like it.”

  “How on earth did you sew this yourself in so little time?”

  “I was owed a favour.” She swayed side to side, her embrace taking me along with her. “Lottie Taunton worked on the skirt, whilst I worked on the bodice.”

  “I must remember to thank Lottie.” I twisted until I could see Mother, smiling at the glistening of her eyes. “And thank you.”

  “Come, then.” Her hands moved to my shoulders, gave a squeeze. “Let us try this on you.”

  Less than a few minutes later, Mother had rid me of my clothing, replacing my petticoat with one of the same pale cream of the dress. Over that, she slid the gown—my wedding gown—along my uplifted arms and over my shoulders. As soon as it passed the broadest obstacle, it slivered its way downward until it rippled around my feet.

  Tugging along my spine told me when Mother secured the rear fastenings. Her fingers worked inside the top hem of the fabric, brushing beneath my shoulder blades—no doubt as she tested the fit—and she continued to pull and adjust as she rounded to the front.

  Her gaze skimmed my entire length as she straightened the waist, the pleats in the bodice, the sleeves against my arms, before she finally returned to my face. “Hair up or down?”

  I reached up to pat at my partially secured tresses. “I ... have no idea.”

  Once again, her hands settled onto my shoulders, and she nudged me around until I had turned far enough to capture my reflection. Mother toyed with my hair, releasing strands to hang around my face before retying them away from my nape, whilst I absorbed the image staring back at me of the woman I had become.

  I swept a hand across the skirt, enjoying the way it glided beneath my palm, the way the light lent the fabric an iridescent shine. “Do you think Sean will like it?”

  “I think Sean cares not for the dress as much as he cares for what it contains.” She paused, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “But I believe he will think you beautiful, yes.”

  As I continued to stare, to caress, to admire, I realised I believed so, too.

  Chapter 18

  I left Mother in the bedroom and stepped into the hallway. With a deep inhalation, I identified the same duet of scents Jessica had doused my braid with, as well as the underlying merging of wax.

  Since the wedding preparations began, Mother had constantly told me to ne’er worry, that everything would be taken care of, although I knew of one detail that had been so far overlooked.

  Giles stood before the window as I entered the living room, his broad back to me, the finer wisps of his brown hair almost translucent where the sun highlighted them.

  I crossed the floorboards to him, his shoulder warm as I touched it, even through his shirt. “Giles, will you take a walk with me?”

  He turned then, his gaze shrewd for a moment, as though he assessed my intent. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” I smiled. “Although, I do need to speak to you of something. I ... have a request.”

  Suspicion moved in, somehow lightening rather than darkening the colour of his irises. “I shall play no part in any—”

  I pressed a finger to his lips. “A little trust, if you would.” As his eyebrow arched up, I laughed. “This is exactly why you are so perfect for my requirement. Come.” I hooked my hand around his arm, giving a tug toward the front door. “Humour me.”

  “I thought I already did,” he said, although he complied by following. “Daily.”

  “That is amusing, Giles. It is not the same.”

  The front door closed behind us, an almost instant barrier to the magical moment I had experienced in front of my bedroom mirror, but I had more important matters at hand than to waste time pondering.

  With my fingers nestled into the crook of his arm, Giles led me toward the forest. A more sensible route would have been following the village path and taking the left fork that ran past the front of home. That had always been the way Jessica trod on her visits, yet the forest offered little concern for any of the pack members. Besides, with the serenity it seemed to instil in each one of us, we would hardly ignore an opportunity to enter.

  We had almost reached the first line of trees when Giles stopped, his head tilting as his nostrils flared.

  I inhaled myself, although the almost non-existent breeze hindered even upwind detection. “What is it?”

  “I thought ...” He lifted his face, another deep intake expanding his chest, before he shook his head. “Nothing ... it’s ...”

  A dark form emerged from behind a cluster of elms, and Giles’s shoulders stiffened, his arm already reaching to guide me behind him.

  The outside werewolf stepped into view and raised his hands, palms out. “Please ... I mean no harm.” He shifted from Giles to me and back to Giles. “I merely wanted a moment with Jem.”

  Giles’s raised eyebrow more than asked when, exactly, we had progressed to first name terms. “I would imagine Jem has little to say to a mongrel. Especially a trespasser whose sole purpose here seems to be offering threats to her life.”

  The outsider frowned. “I have made no such threat on her life.”

  “Only on life as she knows it?” Giles took a step forward, but stopped when restrained by my hand on his arm. “Is that not threat enough? To remove her from a pack where she is respected?”

  “Respected for being the only female,” the outsider said.

  “You are wrong. Jem earned her place in the pack through her actions and attitude.”

  “She earned it by being bitten.”

  Except for the faint whisper of leaves, quiet followed, but the tension between the two males spoke volumes all on its own. The tightening of Giles’s fingers around mine told me how much he wanted to argue, although we both knew the outsider had spoken the truth to an extent.

  “It takes more than a bite to earn a pack place, as any wolf would know,” Giles finally said. “Acceptance is a far greater accomplishment than that.”

  “If she is so respected, maybe you should allow her the respect of deciding herself if she wishes to speak with me.”

  Giles turned and glanced down at me, eyebrow raised.

  I looked to the outsider. “You did not impress me with the last words you spoke.”

  “My last words were not an apology.” He stepped forward. “I behaved inappropriately toward you. Saw something I wanted and presumed it to be winnable.” His face twisted away for a moment, eyes narrowed as though he recalled a memorised speech, but only sincerity poured from his gaze when he turned back. “I shall be leaving soon and did not wish to do so on p
oor terms. Please accept my best wishes for your wedding plans .... It was a pleasure to have met you, Jem.” With a nod in my direction, and another to Giles, he spun and strode away.

  I reached for Giles as he took steps to follow. “Going after him will solve nothing.”

  “Permitting him to walk away will achieve even less.”

  “Fine ...” I waved a hand. “Go ... go after him. But it shall not stop others from coming.”

  “No. I suppose not.”

  “And this wedding shall not stop them from coming, either. No matter what Sean thinks.”

  Giles forced his gaze from the retreating werewolf and frowned down at me. “Is that why you think he is marrying you?”

  “Would you disagree?”

  “I thought he discussed this with you? Convinced you of his sincerity? You ask him for confirmation of his motivation, yet choose not to believe him when he complies?”

  I frowned. “I ... want to ... but ...”

  He gripped my arms, fully facing me. “Sean loves you, Jem. Make no mistake about that.” He ducked lower, his eyes serious. “We spoke, you know. When Sean first deemed you worth fighting the entire pack for, we spoke of his dreams for you, he and I. That you be his wife has always been a yearning of his. But it was one he would not allow himself to harvest. His hand may have been tipped by uncontrollable forces, but that does not deflect from the fact that he has wanted this from the beginning. Please do not belittle that, Jem.”

  My mouth opened for a moment. “You speak the truth?”

  “To you, Jem, always.” The relief that bled through my entire body must have shown in my expression, because the grip of his fingers eased. Straightening, he turned again toward the broad back of the werewolf, whose long steps had carried him some distance during our discussion. “He appears to be leaving.”

  “He said he would.”

  “He did.” A frown creased his forehead as he steered me forth. “So ...” he said once the trees had engulfed us, leaving us in shade, “are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  I nodded, sobering and wriggling my grasp from his. “I need your help.”

  His steps slowed as he half turned to face me, his gaze probing. “Before you go any further, I shall never do anything that defies Sean’s command, Jem. Please tell me you understand that?”

  “I am glad to hear it. But what I have to ask shall not alter that.”

  He blew out a breath and guided me across an infestation of burrows. Although his sideways glances revealed his burning curiosity, he did not ask again, as though awaiting my explanation.

  My fingers fiddled with one another before I reached for his arm and stalled his steps. Once he pivoted to me, I still held on. “I have no one to give me away.”

  “Give ... you away?” He frowned. “Give you away to whom?”

  Sometimes, life would have been so much easier had the pack spent its existence paying more attention to human rituals. “It is traditional during the marriage ceremony for the bride to be given to the groom by her father—a declaration of trust between the two gentlemen. The final proof of her father’s blessing.” My hand lowered as I released his arm. “I have no one. Not with Father gone.”

  “And ... you consider me suited to this task?”

  “Not merely suited. I can think of no one more apt.”

  “No, neither can I.” He laughed as my mouth opened, ducking to the right as I aimed a half-hearted slap for his shoulder. “Who else would be as worthy?”

  “Really, Giles.” As I spun to follow him, he dashed to the left, more laughter rumbling from him. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Nobody, Jem,” he said as though I had not spoken. “That is who.” He stopped before me, his smile diminishing as his eyes darkened. “Which is why I would be honoured.”

  “You will do it?”

  He nodded. “I may not be a brother by blood, but you are family to me, Jem. As well as an honour, I would consider it my duty.”

  Emotion swelled within me at his avowal, and I dipped my chin to disguise any trace of it showing. “Thank you.”

  “Tonight shall be my last night with you until after the wedding,” Sean murmured against my hair. “And until after the binding.”

  I traced the outline of his fingers beneath the quilt, where they rested across my stomach. “You still have time enough to change your mind.”

  The tightening of his arm drew me even closer against his chest. “Why would I want to do that? The certainty I feel at my decision has not wavered once since I gave my oath to your Mother. That shall not change now.”

  “Good.” I smiled into the darkness, snuggling back until not even a sliver of air separated us. “Now reassure me once more that all preparations are taken care of.”

  A sigh rustled the hair across my neck, though I sensed no exasperation in him. “Your mother assures me your gown is ready.” He paused, continuing when my nod brushed against him. “She has also fashioned the posies.”

  “She did not show me those.”

  “They are to be a surprise.” His nose nudged at my pulse, his breaths warming. “And Jessica has purchased everything necessary for the later ceremony.”

  “Did she tell you she invited a guest?”

  His chuckle vibrated along my spine. “She may have mentioned it. Apparently, she convinced your mother by arranging for him and his brother to provide the music for the eve. A stable hand, I believe she said.”

  “Ah, Brenton Pollock.” I smiled. “If only Mother knew her true intention toward him.”

  Another chuckle thrummed in his chest. “If only Brenton knew her true intention, too.”

  I breathed out a laugh, the tilt of my head lengthening my neck as his lips brushed along there.

  “Enough talk of others.” Sean feathered kisses along my jaw. “This will be my final night with the delectable Miss Stonehouse.” He urged me onto my back, his knee nudging mine apart. “And I intend to make love to her whilst I still can.”

  I captured his face between my palms as his mouth dipped in search of mine and peered at his shadowed features. “Sean, do you think it will change me at all?”

  “Yes.” He drew back slightly, and his eyebrows, almost black in the dimness, arched up against his paler flesh. “A lot shall change.”

  My pulse stumbled at his words, and I lost my breath for a moment, until he kissed me hard.

  “In less than forty hours,” he said against my lips, “you shall own my name as well as my heart.”

  Sean marched from one corner of the kitchen to the other the following afternoon, his clenched hands cording the tendons through his forearms. “I am unhappy with you staying away from me, Jem, even if it is only for one night.”

  I sighed. How had I not anticipated his outburst sooner? “It is tradition.”

  “Damn these traditions.” His anxiety had expanded throughout the day, and he had grown more agitated as the clock ticked on, more so when the time arrived for me to leave for Mother’s. “Why must we follow them? Why can you not just stay here?” His final word arrived on a growl as he thrust his fist toward the floor.

  “Would you coat our marriage in ill luck even before the vows are spoken?”

  “The vows may never be spoken if anything happ—” He broke off, rubbed at his face with a groan. “If I knew for certain the trespasser no longer remained nearby, this would not be an issue.” Giles and I had relayed our interaction with the outsider to Sean. “I do not believe he has left. Not yet. Not when he has seen something he wants and has not acquired it.”

  “Really, Sean. Must you place me on such a ridiculous pedestal?” Even though the werewolf’s approach in the graveyard had left me unnerved, I had sensed only sincerity during out last encounter. “By now, he has most probably grown bored of waiting and is already seeking out another to claim as his mate.”

  Although another female werewolf had never been heard of—or another bitten one permitted to survive—males had, on occasion, acc
epted human women as their mates. It sounded like logical reasoning to me, yet seemed to do little to assuage Sean’s tension.

  “Besides,” I added as Sean resumed his manic pacing, “the doors shall be locked at Mother’s, and I have no need to venture out. I am sure I will be quite safe.”

  Sean’s rippled snarl accompanied the wild gesture of his arms. “You are never safe when away from the pack. The only reason I indulge in your need for private time is because I always ensure one of the pack is close by each time you leave the house.”

  I resisted the urge to throw up my arms as he announced his own solution to the problem. “Then, arrange for one of the pack to be close by for this, also.”

  He halted, mouth open as he swung his glare from me to each of his pack members. In turn, they shrugged and gave a discreet nod of their heads as though they wished for me not to see their agreement.

  Sean gave another outward thrust of his arms. “Fine! Have it your way. Just ... stay inside the house. Keep all the—”

  “Doors locked. And do not let anyone in,” I finished for him.

  On the entire journey to Mother’s, Sean mumbled his reassurances that I had no need to worry, one or more of the pack would be within shouting distance throughout the eve and night, and I had only to call out if anything left me concerned.

  To null any risk of him changing his mind, I nodded at each of his promises, uttered my, “Yes, Sean,” where appropriate and swallowed any argument that attempted escape. I also refrained from pointing out that he housed enough anxiety for the both of us.

  Any who listened in would have known from his tone, from the overly tight grip of his hand at my elbow, from the way his eyes twitched side to side in his vigilant search of the land, that Sean held more than enough worry for all of the pack members combined.

  Even once we reached the cottage, he refused to leave me on the doorstep, instead chaperoning me inside and barking the same orders he had issued to me at Mother and Jessica. Once he had kissed me with a fierceness that suggested he feared never seeing me again, he stood beyond the front door until after Mother had closed it and demanded she lock it before he walked away.