Shifters Gone Wild: A Shifter Romance Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  The cold dry air bit her skin and she shivered, tightening the scarf against her cheeks. Typical east coast winter. So windy, dead and empty.

  The mid-afternoon sun hung low, the rays not strong enough to warm her skin. Patches of snow remained in the grass behind the roadside station. She’d get herself a strong cup of hot coffee as soon as she’d done filling up.

  She slid her card into the self-serve pump and waited for the gas to fill up her tank, surveying the stretch of highway behind her. Her gaze narrowed on the road and settled on a sleek black vehicle in the distance.

  Her heart jumped.

  Her fingers seized the pump handle tight at the sight before her. No!

  She swallowed and shook her head. It couldn’t be. Not now.

  But as the car came closer, she knew. Luxurious, polished, expensive. The latest Jag. The small silver feline ornament at the hood gleamed in the frosty low sunlight and the irony wasn’t lost on her.

  She shook her head with dread, cut the gas supply, and fumbled with the hose.

  She wasn’t ready to see him.

  She’d have to skip that coffee. Just get out. Now.

  But she heard her name before having a chance to make for the Lexus’ door handle.

  Then the word. “Baby.”

  The tone of voice sent both shivers of lust and swells of deep panic inside her.

  Sin.

  A shocking ache sank to the bottom of her stomach. He had blocked her way out. His Jaguar sat parked in the exit, right across from her car.

  He unfolded his powerful body from the vehicle, then leaned back on the shiny dark metal hood, arms casually crossed at his chest. His well-defined shoulders barely contained by the long dark cashmere coat, his lazy smile taking her in.

  And while her heart melted at seeing him—his dark exotic features so dear to her—everything in his posture, the bound muscles ready to uncoil, the calm demeanor concealing his stormy temper, and the hint of death in his stare, meant her plan of escape was doomed.

  He was, after all, a predator. Not truly human.

  And she knew, right there, that she’d never easily run away from him.

  Chapter 2

  “Get away from me.”

  Sinclair stared at Celeste as she protested, all hot and cute, her hair its usual mess of shiny brown with golden highlights, a few loose strands flying in the wind.

  “Baby.” He stepped toward her.

  She drew her hand, palm out and fingers spread, in front of him. “Stop calling me baby.”

  “Okay.” Slowly, he crossed the distance between them. She was in one of those moods where he’d better thread carefully.

  “Uhm, Cee.” He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and shook his head at her. “Where are you going?” He kept his tone casual. Concerned yet cool, while inside he wanted to scream at her for being so careless.

  She eased back slightly. “Mystic Town.”

  “Oh.”

  “How did you know I left Seaport? Do you have a tracker on me or something?” Her brows furrowed under her quirky glasses, her tone slightly belligerent.

  “Tracker? No. I just know when you’re not around.”

  “And you needed to rush out to bring me back.”

  “No,” he said, confused. “I just missed you. Thought I’d join you.”

  “That’s all?” She flashed her dark blue eyes at him.

  “Well.” He gently traced the contour of her face. Smooth, perfect skin with a glow rosy from the cold air. A shot of heat rushed through his groin. “Your mom said you never texted her back. She was worried.”

  Celeste’s glare turned murderous. “My mom texts you and you head down south and by chance find me. Just like that.”

  He stared at her mouth, small but luscious with that little curve at the top. In a permanent dark red tint that reminded him of the trailing roses of his estate’s gardens along the sea cliff. He just wanted to crush those lips under his, show her how worried he’d been to know she was more than ten miles away from him. Remind himself that she was still alive, and still his.

  His fingers traced another curl that had escaped from her loose bun.

  “Ok fine,” he admitted. “I cast a locator spell to find you. Saw you went south. The rest was a guess. No big deal. Mystic? Meeting some friends? Can I join you?”

  He watched the crease in her brow loosen as she softened under his touch, but the way she bit her lip with a cautious expression made him wince with worries.

  “You can’t. Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” he said, puzzled. A hint of fear crawled through his veins. On second guess...

  He glanced inside her car.

  Dread filled him, then awoke a swell of anger. “What’s all this?”

  Her car was packed to the brim. Cardboard boxes, piles of heavy blankets and colorful pillows, sturdy designer traveling bags.

  “I’m moving.” She stared down at her trendy red sneakers.

  “Moving?”

  She glanced sheepishly away from him and his stomach churned with alarm. What on earth was she doing?

  “Look, I am not stopping in Connecticut,” she said, finally holding his gaze. “I took a job at Burke and Cones in New York City. A lead to partnership.”

  Adrenaline rushed through Sin’s extremities. Move? Had she lost her mind?

  Taken aback at her words, he forced his tone to remain slow and measured as he asked, “And you just up and left.”

  “I couldn’t face you all.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” he exploded. So much for calm. Not three months ago, she lay unconscious fighting horrors, battling for her life. And now she wanted to go at it alone.

  And without him.

  A twinge of pain gnawed at his heart.

  “No, you idiot. I’m not fucking crazy.” She pushed back her glasses and tightened her fuzzy scarf. “But all of you would have me caged if you could, wouldn’t you.”

  “All of you? Who’s that all of you you’re talking about?”

  “You, my parents, Diesel. You drive me insane with your worries. I can’t breathe in Seaport. There’s always one of you looking over my every step. Dad wants me to work in his office. Mom would like me to marry you and have you tuck me away at The Crest with bodyguards all day.”

  “I do want to marry you,” he said. There. He finally told her. He’d wanted to find the perfect time to ask but there it was now, all in the open.

  Sadness crept in him. He’d wished for a grand romantic moment for the proposal. Whisking her to a surprise trip to Paris in the spring, ask her at the top of the Eiffel Tower after a day touring the museums and bookshops she loved so much.

  The timing no longer matter though. She, now, was all that mattered.

  Her head tilted to the side, her brows knitted with pain. “Sin…”

  “I want to marry you,” he confessed, “and I want you tucked into The Crest. And yes with bodyguards watching out for you. The place is perfect. I redesigned it with you in mind after the fire. Every antique, every ancient book I collected over the years, I did it all for you.”

  He’d imagined her sitting in The Crest’s study at the precious desk dating from the Indian British Raj, all in rare woods and inlaid with gold. She’d pore over her precious books under the turn-of-the-century Tiffany lamp he’d brought straight from Chicago last year. He’d bring her a cup of her favorite herbal tea, wrap her in his arms, then kiss her senseless to try to break her concentration. Hope she’d let him carry her to their huge four-poster bed with the golden damask curtains he’d acquired in an estate sale of a small Scottish castle just before her ordeal.

  A twinge took hold of his heart. Hells. He loved her so much.

  “I’m not a precious collector’s object, Sin.” She blinked at him with dismay.

  “You know I don’t think that.”

  She nodded silently.

  “Cee, I sat by you for days.” His shoulders slumped. “Not sure if I should leave
your side or fight my sister for the dagger that brought you back.”

  “You did both.” She eyed him steadily.

  “I tried. Kerala can be stubborn but I knew she’d do the right thing. She’s my sister, after all. But the truth is I didn’t believe your father could bring you back. That his magic was strong enough.”

  “It was. It was fine.”

  “But the next time...”

  “There won’t be a next time,” she said with purpose. “Burton is dead.”

  “How do we know he’s truly dead. We never found his body after Kera and Diesel dumped it in the bay. I know he was stabbed with the Huntsman Dagger but I’m still not convinced he’s truly dead. He was meddling with some awfully dark powers, from a realm we don’t even fully understand.”

  She shuddered but quickly recovered with resolve. “There won’t be a next time, I made sure of it.”

  “How?”

  “I studied. Did you think I’d stay idle after all this?” She leaned forward with confidence. “I studied everything about shadow beings and how to defeat them. I studied magic.”

  “By yourself,” he interjected with surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “Baby, no one learns sorcery by themselves,” he said, unable to curb his patronizing tone.

  “I did. It’s St-Amand’s magic.” She raised her voice.

  “Witchcraft or sorcery. Whichever. Not even I, or your brother, can do that. I know you’re smart but it take years of training. Did you even have a mentor?”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “Baby...” He realized too late how his tone had turned dismissive.

  “Don’t call me baby.” She glared at him.

  “Fine, whatever.” He folded his arms at his chest. “You really think that you could defeat darkness by having spent three months with your nose buried in books?”

  Her eyes turned to slits and he sensed her temper rise. He’d gone too far. Quiet studious Celeste was not to be provoked.

  “Cahssare! “ She flicked her hand toward his car. A spark flashed in the air followed by the scent of sulfur. Crunching echoed in his ears as the little silver jaguar hood ornament exploded into a small glittery metallic rain on the snow.

  He looked at her, stunned, and stared at his brand new car. His temper spiked while he remained astonished at her newfound powers. “Really? Cee? How old are you?”

  “Old enough to be rid of you all,” she spat.

  The fact that she’d vandalized his car suddenly became trivial compared to the knowledge she was leaving him.

  A little panicked voice echoed inside him. She didn’t want him, didn’t love him the way he loved her. A silent desperation screamed inside him for her to stay. No, he wouldn’t lose her again.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He seized her shoulders, in raw despair to prevent her from leaving him. Her familiar scent of warm beaches hit him deeply. He was mad at her for not telling him of her plan and simultaneously drawn to kiss her relentlessly, right there wedged between his body and her car.

  She looked down at his forearm, then stared at him with defiance. “You’re going to stop me?”

  “Oh come on, Celeste. Don’t you see why I’m so mad. When would you have told me about all this?”

  “Soon,” she frowned, “tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I would have called.” She raised her eyebrows at him.

  “On the phone?” he said hurt at the thought. “Sorry Sinclair but I’ve left town and now I’m breaking up with you?”

  “I’m not breaking up.”

  “Oh really. So how do you plan to see me a hundred miles away?”

  “We could call each other, text.”

  “Have you given any thoughts on how this would go on?” His frustration mounted.

  “No. Not really.” She looked at the ground and he wanted to kiss her again, touch her sweet and soft skin under that big wool coat. But it wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Cee, you’re real smart but sometimes, you don’t know how to treat people around you.”

  She lifted her chin at him. “How to treat people around me?” She repeated his words with force. “Ever since I’d been stuck in Burton’s nightmare, you guys have acted like I’m a child. Mom won’t let me go ten feet from her without a phone call and you want to lock me in your golden palace.”

  “I love you.” He hoped she’d say it back. Say that this was all a mistake, that she acted irrationally, emotional from the remnants of her ordeal. Say that she’d move all those boxes and things straight to the home he’d worked so hard to design for her. Say that she’d marry him.

  But instead a war raged in her dark blue eyes and she yanked her arm away from him. “Your love is stifling me, Sin.”

  He was rendered speechless.

  “All of you are preventing me from moving on,” she added quietly, before stroking his cheek. Her gesture was soft and kind but her words bit. “I can’t stay in Seaport. I can’t stay with you. Not now. Not until I grow from what happened.

  “I have to go,” she added.

  “No,” His refusal was cutting, cold. “I can’t let you.”

  “You have to.” She sighed and turned toward her car.

  “No,” he said again. With a flick of his hand, and not knowing what possessed him, he cast a spell to block her path to the car.

  She flinched at the magic obstructing her, then shook her head at him. “Sin, no. Not this way.”

  She waved her arm casually.

  His spell dissolved, leaving him dazed. His jaw tensed. If she could dispel his magic so easily, how strong was she? Banishing his own enchantment needed abilities much beyond damaging his car for fun.

  She yanked open the door of her Lexus and slid behind the wheel.

  There was a look of regret, of hesitation on her face as she peered back at him through the car’s windshield. But her lips thinned with determination as she started her car then drove away.

  With a dull ache seizing his heart, he stared at the white dot disappearing on the road, away from him.

  Away from his love, away from all who cared.

  Away from safety.

  Chapter 3

  Her heart hammered in her chest as the words came back to her.

  Marry me.

  One year earlier and she would have been head over heels at his proposal. For so long, ever since they started dating three years ago, she had wanted nothing but exactly what he just offered.

  She’d pictured them married, living at The Crest, her working with a small law firm in a historical building by the waterfront, him managing his family’s affair now that his father was getting old, and continuing the Order’s fight against darkness alongside Diesel Stanford. They’d travel, entertain, head charities. Maybe a baby in a few years.

  Her throat constricted with regrets and she bit her lips as she put even more miles between them.

  A husband, a baby, a normal life.

  But now? With mixed feelings, she checked her rearview mirror, wondering if Sinclair would follow her.

  Nothing. She shook her head. Burton had taught her that life was not that simple. She’d had such childhood dreams. To go straight from her charmed life at her parents’ estate to life in Sinclair’s restored mansion. Always with family, cherished.

  But life wasn’t truly like that, was it? How naive she’d been.

  There was darkness everywhere. Hiding from the real world. She knew it too well. People disappearing for no reasons. Unexplained deaths. Strange illnesses and plagues.

  The knowledge that Burke and Cones sought retribution for those touched by such supernatural darkness and injustice was the very reason she wanted to join them.

  Founded by the Burkes at the turn of the century, the ancient warlock family was now distant enough from Seaport to give her the space she needed.

  And far away to toughen her up. She would never be strong enough to survive in this world, tainted by Burton’s kin
d, but she could be stronger.

  She gripped the wheel tight, gazed at the horizon, then sighed. And there was Sin.

  Marriage.

  The idea of him in a tux waiting for her down the aisle of the ancient chapel at the back of her parents’ house warmed her conflicted heart. It would be an intimate ceremony topped by the huge ball her mom would insist on hosting afterward.

  Then the luxurious honeymoon where they’d be alone on his yacht. The sun settling down in the ocean, candles everywhere on deck, his golden naked and muscular body, ready to take her as his wife.

  Her throat tightened. She couldn’t. No, she wouldn’t cry. His proposal came at the wrong time.

  Did she hurt his feelings?

  Doubt suddenly seeped into her mind. Perhaps he’d call.

  She checked her phone screen. No. Just another message from Mom.

  Her mind was a jumble. She wanted to go back. She should go back. Mom worried. Dad angry. Sin and his proposal.

  But he did try to stop her, didn’t he? He blocked her way to her car. Used his power, just so simply to stop her.

  Would he impede her free will all their lives?

  She blinked at the winter trees along the road. Their twisted shape in the bleak white sky a reminder of every piece of darkness she experienced.

  She frowned as her eyes caught something peculiar, unusual in the distance.

  Was that…?

  No. A scream welled in her lungs as vicious memories assaulted her.

  She pushed back her glasses and stared again. There by the edge of the trees ahead, a human shape hung. Dangling by the strongest branch.

  Her clammy palms grasped the wheel. She blinked again with force.

  Celeste, no. It’s a dream.

  Like so many of them. Each and every night.

  But during the day?

  She looked again. Revulsion twisted her gut. The corpse, hooded and clothed in black, hung from a branch and turned slowly in the cold wind.

  She swallowed, forcing her shaking hands to settle. She should stop.

  Her mind turned hazy. Cars whizzed by her, oblivious to the gruesome sight.

  It’s not real. But to her it was.

  She blinked a few times and the vision vanished. Crows. They were just crows. A multitude of crows that flew by her car as she drove by, their wings flapping against the air, squawking their creepy call.