Shifters Gone Wild: A Shifter Romance Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  You are one of us, they seemed to say. One of us, they repeated.

  She gulped again with dismay, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel, slowing her speed. She glanced once more at the trees.

  Her heart tumbled. The muscles of her neck seized.

  Another vision slammed into her.

  Red splashes obscured her sight. Blood was splattered everywhere along the side of the road before her. Large smears of it, all over the dead trees, the wilted winter grass, over the meager patches of snow. The dark viscous blood of the innocent tortured over and over in the nightmare of her ordeal.

  Her blood.

  One of us.

  How many had been enslaved as she had by Burton, trapped in his dark consciousness, in places so dark the warlocks of the Black Oak didn’t even know they existed.

  She swallowed as she studied the carnage ahead. It was not real.

  A hallucination.

  She brought her right hand to her forehead. Her tensed flesh connected with the ring at her second finger. Called the Serenity Ring, its face of moss agates and obsidian, intertwined with silver circles, had been consecrated by the goddess Teithys, herself, through fire and ice. It had been hiding in a secret compartment of her mother’s writing desk and was now hers. For the safeguarding of her soul, of her consciousness.

  The blood she saw was just a trick of the light. She was okay.

  Her heartbeat slowed but her throat was parched and her hands still clammy.

  “Vahrasth noirceis ath…,” she whispered quietly, casting a banishing spell as she forced herself to look at the trees, the tainted snow.

  She blinked again. Gone. The blood sullying the trees and snow had vanished. A trick of her imagination. Her nightmares taking form. Nothing else.

  She smirked and caught her breath. It wasn’t the first time. Something she’d have to live with.

  The therapist idea would be good for her. Someone who specialized in trauma.

  She’d briefly touched the subject with Kerala. But her sister-in-law seemed unburdened by her own dealings with Burton. She was much too busy focused on her pregnancy and building a life with Diesel. And she was no sorceress. She wouldn’t understand the demons within Celeste’s mind.

  The therapist wouldn’t either, but at least they might help her manage the sleepless nights. Celeste was eager to get to New York City and focus on recovery away from her memories.

  She wiped the sweat off her brow. Rested her ring to her lips as she slowed her car, then parked it on the side of the road. She stepped outside, confronting her fears. The cool air had turned frigid in the hour since she encountered Sin. She circled the car and leaned her back to the passenger side, staring at the forest.

  Her lips still on the Serenity ring, she visualized the force of Teisthys, her guardian.

  “Gayrdyeth. Koir idash Teisthys!” She called for protection as she did often, in her constant fight to keep darkness at bay.

  She would be okay. For a minute, she wished for Sinclair. For his muscular arms around her, quieting the storm inside her. He was always there.

  Her need of him increased tenfold as she took in the cold, dark, crooked trees and white sky, with the silence around her broken only by the occasional car passing by. She held herself, imagining his warmth shielding her from all.

  But no, she couldn’t.

  The more she postponed this, the more dependent she would become on them all. Her resolve would wane and she’d be nothing.

  And the truth was that once she’d turn into a weak porcelain doll afraid of her own shadow, she knew Sinclair’s interest in her would disappear. He knew she was bookish but he’d always respected her independent streak.

  No she had to do this.

  To regain her old self.

  She sighed as the twilight descended upon her and the long road ahead.

  There would be no more driving tonight. After the confrontation with Sinclair then the living nightmare, she was exhausted. She recalled the cheerful inn she passed a few minutes before, at the entrance of Hemingford town, advertising home cook meals. A warm dinner. A glass of wine.

  A bed, any bed.

  She cast one last look at the forest before stepping back to the safety of her car. Through her window, she watched a flock of crows roost on the high branches of the tallest tree and stared hard at them.

  I am not afraid of you, Burton.

  “Will that be all?” the elderly lady at the Woodland Beach Inn asked Celeste. The quaint little guest house’s lobby eased her nerves with its hush pastel tones and seaside paintings hung above dark wood sideboards.

  “Yes, thank you.” She picked up her keys.

  “Have yourself a nice rest, honey. I hope you won’t be disturbed. The rooms at the back of the property are real quiet. Have you been driving all day?” A concerned frown deepened her lined features.

  “Well, no. Not that much. Just coming from Seaport, I started out late.”

  “Oh Seaport. Barney and I went there once, during the races,” she said with animation. “All those mansions, oh my, aren’t they something?”

  “Yes, they are.” Celeste nodded with a smile at the old lady.

  “Barney went nuts for the sailboats. Always a fantasy of his,” she said. “Do you sail?”

  “A little.” A memory of her latest trip on Sinclair’s sailboat flashed in her mind. A small New Year’s Eve party a few years ago. Kerala, as Sin’s sister was an accomplished sailor, and she’d lead them in the middle of Lochman’s Bay for the fireworks display. Diesel was by the half-panther’s side. Thornwood was there, too, with a date. A young debutante from St-Mary of Sorrows. She couldn’t remember her name. They were all so carefree. Knowing nothing of how their lives would soon be tainted by darkness.

  “Well, you go lay down now,” the owner said. “You want dinner brought out to your room? We have a good cook here, nice Italian woman who lives in the town and comes every day. Manicotti is the special today. I can have Barney bring you a plate, with a fresh salad. How’s that?”

  “Sounds great.” Celeste was relieved that she didn’t have to come back in to eat with others. She thanked the innkeeper again, hiked her travel bag over her shoulder and stepped outside to her room.

  Dinner was as delicious as the owner had promised and in a couple of hours, after a bath and a little wine, she was in bed. The wind howled outside as she drifted asleep under the thick quilt.

  She did like this. Alone, away from them all.

  Her condo, despite being her own, had people dropping by constantly, often uninvited. But here, no one knew where she was.

  Except for Sinclair.

  But he wouldn’t follow her here. He’d give her space. Would he tell her mom and dad? Diesel?

  Probably. She hadn’t checked her phone again. Just didn’t want to.

  She sank deeper into the thick mattress. Enjoying the moment suspended between her old and new life. Just herself.

  But there were things she just couldn’t let go.

  As she drifted asleep, images haunted her consciousness.

  Sinclair.

  In her dream, his hands were sliding up along her thighs, lingered on her backside to rest on her waist, which he held tight. Clinging to her so he could kiss her stomach, teasing her while his lips descended lower to her navel. Shivers of need filled her whole body.

  Sinclair’s lovemaking was always so powerful.

  “Ist gahzem kesharan…” he’d say to her, a twinkle in his eyes. The spell enhanced the burning sensation of his touch, to keep her insides filled with yearning for more.

  “Sinclair, stop.” In her sleep, she protested him, but her tone remained flirtatious. There wasn’t once when she could have refused him. He always sensed just when she craved his love the most.

  He trailed his hands up along her torso, his strong hands unusually rugged for someone who liked his luxury. The touch made her back arch toward him, wanting more.

  He cupped her breasts, gripped the
m a little tight and drew the pad of his thumb over her nipples, sending shards of pleasure down to her core.

  “You want this, Cee,” he told her. “Tell me you want it as much as I do.”

  She didn’t answer him but gripped the back of his head, her finger in his curls, drawing him up to her to kiss him senseless.

  Oh yes, she wanted him. All of him. His tongue playing with hers, his hands all over her bare skin, his scent upon her, marking her as his.

  He growled against her lips, the beast in him always present. “Sin, I want you,” she whispered to him. “Now, please. I want you. Badly. I need it.”

  He was solid, hard along her, his craving for her impressive and steady. He pinned her upper arms to the mattress and slid into her, strong, demanding, huge. She cried out and pushed against him, full of yearning, deep urges that he only could satisfy.

  He grinded her as he angled just right to increase her pleasure. Cradling her to his broad and muscular chest.

  “Damn, I love you, Celeste. You can’t leave me, ever.”

  “I have to.” The incredible passion they shared slowly took over her mind. “I have to,” she couldn’t help but repeat. “For my sanity.”

  “I am your sanity.” He rocked inside her, each thrust bringing her to the edge, mingling with any sensible thought she ever had.

  “I know.”

  “Really, do you?”

  “I do, I do.”

  “Look at me,” he said. “Tell me you’re not leaving me.” His tone in her dream changed, from insistent to threatening, with a slight vicious edge to it.

  “Sinclair. Don’t...”

  “Don’t what?” He held her down. Still inside her. His tone sly as he spoke.

  No. Her blood ran cold. This was not Sinclair.

  The shock of it slammed raw into her as she looked into his eyes. Gone were the familiar two-toned jeweled pupils. The eyes above her were black, two pools of malevolence.

  “Sinclair?” she asked carefully.

  “You can never leave me, dear.” The voice echoed, violent and raw.

  Her body shook all over from revulsion and fear. Not that voice. Not again.

  Before her eyes, the being she thought was her lover changed. The smile turned into a thin rictus of death. Golden skin turned to gray. Thick muscles shriveled to seared bones.

  Her mind went blank. Her guts turned to ice.

  And she screamed and screamed.

  Chapter 4

  Celeste woke up with a sob, sweat coating her skin. Sheets tangled about her torso, her heart staggered in her chest.

  That had to be the most horrible dream of all, twisting her feelings for Sinclair into her worst fears. She needed to see someone about this. Get medication, something.

  With a slow and steady breath, she listened to the silence of the pitch black guest room.

  She was okay. But in her mind she couldn’t shake the vision of horror, the cold reptilian-like invasion inside her. She needed more. A candle, a ritual. To soothe her frayed nerves and shake that violating feeling.

  She put on her glasses and turned on the small bedside lamp.

  Oh dear god! Terror seized every muscle of her body.

  The horrific sight at the foot of her bed hastened the blood in her veins.

  “Hello, dear. It’s been too long.” He stood tall, casual. In a perfect three-piece suit of fine wool, his features even, pleasant almost.

  She screamed her panic inside her head.

  Burton.

  Clenching the quilt with her fist, she silently leveled with her former abductor.

  “My sweet little Celeste. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to be truly alone?”

  She gulped and remained silent, rolling the Serenity ring around her fingers as she willed her breath to slow, checking her options. Her tools were in her bags. Her body clad in nothing but a tank top and sweat pants.

  Panic surged again but she repressed it quickly. She would not get out of this with her mind blurred.

  “Didn’t you miss me?” He coolly walked closer and sat on her bed, a mere foot away from her.

  “Not really, Burton.” She shrugged, forcing her tone steady. “I heard you disappeared into the ocean.”

  “Oh that?” He lifted a hand dismissively. “Your brother has such a canny sense of humor. It did take me a little while to return from being stabbed with my own dagger then dumped into the bay.”

  “Where did you go?” she said without thinking.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you are curious? I left you with a taste for darkness, did I? A little of me inside you. How sweet.”

  “There is nothing of you inside me,” she said, suppressing her anger.

  “Oh, is that right? Are you certain? Don’t you want to know the wonderfully dark places I visited while away?” He leaned in closer, his scent of heavy musk and sweet liquor making her nauseated, bringing back the harrowing memory of her entrapment.

  She studied him intently, forcing herself to look deeply into his dark, expressionless eyes. When he gave his soul to dark entities centuries ago, he had lost all trace of humanity.

  Her heart still pounded wildly in her chest, its thumping deafening, but she would not succumb to fear. That was the old Celeste. Never again.

  “I have no interest in your darkness, Burton.”

  “Please call me James,” he said, a casual smile on his lips. “We know each other so well.” He slid a little closer to her. Close enough that his hand on the comforter almost touched her thigh through the fabric.

  She kept her gaze on his. Twirled her Serenity ring with the pad of her thumb. She sent a silent prayer to her protector. Koir idash, Teisthys.

  “We don’t know each other at all, James,” she spat. “I don’t associate with people like you,” she added, the tone of her voice frigid.

  “Oh yes, daddy’s darling princess. The precious jewel of the warlocks. How little they understand how gifted you truly are. I’ve been through your entire mind, I know.”

  “If you have, then what more do you want from me?” She furtively lifted her right fingers to her lips. The ring was all she possessed against him. She had to strike and quickly.

  “What I want from you?” He smiled. “Ah, I miss you, that’s all. I brought you a gift from my travels through the deep layers of the realms. An ancient chest. I just wanted to show you. Knowing how you love all things of the night, I thought it would please you. Don’t you enjoy my dreams?”

  “The dreams are you?” she said, momentarily distracted.

  “Partly, yes, every single one of them. I couldn’t get close to you with all the wards your family put around you, your home, your car. But you and I, my love, we share a bond. My mind into yours.”

  His mind, always there. She shivered with repulsion, wanting to retch, but forced the horrible feeling away.

  It was now or never.

  She curled her right hand into a fist.

  “Vahrasth!” She thrust her ring toward him, straight at his eyes.

  The blast flashed at him in a huge bright light, sending a crash of air pressure over him.

  The windows shattered into millions tiny pieces that rained over both of them and smashed the lamp, pitching them into darkness.

  She lunged to the side to roll away from him.

  But he seized her arm in one painful grab. “Not so fast, missy,” he snarled.

  He squeezed her wrist with such viciousness, she thought it would break. Tears from the pain trickled at the corner of her eyes.

  “And what have we here?” He inspected her fist. “The Serenity Ring. Nice.”

  He forced her fist open with an agonizing grip.

  She yelped as he slid the ring off her finger. “All set to protect you from the big bads, isn’t it?”

  “You’re sick, Burton.” As she struggled under his grip, tiny shards of glass prickled her skin painfully through her thin sweatpants.

  But she forced her brain to ignore the pain.
She had to get out of there. As she panted with the effort from the spell, she kept her mind steady.

  The wind blew into the room. A faint glow from a streetlight far away gave her just enough to see his face. a scornful expression distorting his trait.

  “You started it, girl. I just came over here for a visit. Maybe give you the souvenir I brought you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you...James,” she added with derision. She was no longer the scared young woman of last fall.

  “And you still think you have a choice. That’s the problem with you Stanfords. You don’t realize that you only get a choice once you get to do the unthinkable. The forbidden spells. Bound to the dark shadow worlds of the Daeva Realm.”

  “The glimpse I saw from your world was enough to convince me. Why did you do it, Burton?” She cringed from his painful grip. “Why did you turn against your family?”

  His features twisted into a horrific scowl. He leaned into her and his scent of decayed liqueur hit her full force with its sickening power.

  “Oh yes, I forgot,” he said. “You’re into psychology and therapies now. Really all you have to do is accept it in yourself. If you must know, I gave you to Morgius.”

  “Morgius?” Her whole body curled away from him in terror at the name. Morgius, Being of Shadows and Dust, Harvester of Lost Souls, a pure evil entity deep in the seven hells of the Daeva Realm who tortured and fed from people’s soul and most desperate fears.

  “My deity, yes. He wanted a little Stanford to play with. And as I can see, he still enjoys himself with you when you sleep.”

  And crossing over into the daytime, she realized. The bloody scene by the road crossed her mind. Was that what the visions where about?

  “Both myself and Morgius in your mind. Yes. Isn’t that sweet? You will never be alone, my dear. You will never leave us.”

  His last words fueled a vast rage inside her. “Dammit, I will!”

  She grabbed his arm with her free hand, twisted away from him and bent herself free. The shards of glass sliced her skin again but she was oblivious to the pain.