Sleepers: Shifters Confidential Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  “There’s something out there in the woods.”

  Inadvertently, Nicoy slowed the truck, his eyes straining into the darkness, but he could see little other than the whip of rain against the windows.

  “I’m sure there’s lots out there,” Nicoy agreed.

  “No, look!”

  Sighing, Nicoy again looked, trying to see what Xander thought he saw.

  “Do you see that?”

  Nicoy pursed his lips together and stared with more intensity, bringing the vehicle to a complete stop. Suddenly, he saw what had caught Xander’s attention. The flash of silver glinted against the blackness and Nicoy felt his heart jump into his throat.

  “What is that?” he demanded, his pulse racing. “Is that an animal?”

  “If it is, it’s in distress,” Xander replied, his voice taut. “We should go—”

  “No, we can’t,” Nicoy interjected. “We—”

  Xander didn’t wait for him to finish, his hand already opening the door as his lithe body disappeared into the woods.

  “Shit!” Nicoy cursed, slamming the truck into park and leaping out after him. “Xander!”

  It was just another futile cry. Xander was already making his way up the muddy path, his body swinging violently against the unrelenting wind.

  Why is he such a bleeding heart? Nicoy grumbled to himself, his huge frame handling the blustering weather much easier than his roommate. For five years, the two had worked and lived together in the isolated area of the country, but Nicoy could never get used to Xander’s endless compassion for all living things. This wasn’t the first time he’d put himself or Nicoy in danger to save some hapless sheep or horse that had been caught in a gully.

  “NICOY!”

  The note of panic in Xander’s tone caused Nicoy to up his gait and rush toward where his friend was standing. For a long moment, Nicoy was sure that he was imagining what he saw, his eyes narrowing and enlarging to take in the scene.

  Lying unconscious on the bed of the forest was a soaked girl. The glint he’d seen earlier was from the jaws of steel clamped around her foot.

  She’s not a girl. She’s a woman. A terrifyingly pale woman.

  “She’s caught in a bear trap!” Xander yelled, crouching down to free the woman of her restraint. Nicoy jumped into action, struggling to wriggle her ankle loose of the vise. “Those sons of bitches! What do you want to bet this is the work of the loggers?”

  Nicoy’s mouth tightened, knowing that Xander was probably right. Polar bears were rarely found in Iceland, but it didn’t stop some tourists or the aspiring loggers from trying to catch one.

  This is no bear. This is a beautiful, gravely hurt woman.

  Rage motivated Nicoy and with a grunt, slipping against the wet of the metal, he managed to pry her free. In seconds, he had her scooped up in his arms and the duo ran back toward the truck.

  “She’s bleeding a lot,” Xander muttered as they piled into the truck. “She’s going to bleed out if we don’t stop it.”

  Nicoy had already seen the issue and he gently laid her into the cab, stripping off his plaid jacket to hand to his roommate.

  “Use this to apply pressure,” he ordered Xander, guilt shooting through him as he realized he had almost left her there to die. “We’ll be back at the house in minutes.”

  Without any regard for the perilous conditions of the road or his poor visibility, Nicoy raced the truck onward until the outline of their cabin appeared. The vehicle barely stopped and the two slid the unconscious woman out, hurrying her into the house.

  “Get the first aid kit,” Nicoy instructed as he hovered over her, keeping pressure on the wound. Xander eyed them reluctantly, but Nicoy gave him a scathing look, his blue eyes flashing. “Xander, you need to move.”

  He nodded and spun away to oblige Nicoy’s order but as he left and the bigger man removed the blood-stained shirt from her leg, his brow furrowed slightly.

  The bleeding had diminished substantially.

  That’s good. She’s not going to bleed out, he thought but he was confused by the abrupt process. Xander returned with the kit in his hands.

  “Get the fire going. She’s probably in shock,” Nicoy instructed, trying to remember all the first aid training he’d done over the years. Before leaving for Iceland, he’d done his best to prepare himself for a survivalist life, but in the decade he’d lived in the wild, he’d never had much occasion to use his skills.

  Xander’s brow furrowed.

  “Do you think she’s a tourist?” he asked dumbly.

  “Does it matter?” Nicoy barked, nodding toward the fireplace. “Just get the fireplace going and then get some hot water. I need to get her out of these pants.”

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?” Xander pressed.

  “Xander!”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled, retreating to do as he was asked. As compassionate as Xander was, he wasn’t very useful in emergency situations.

  “Come on, honey,” Nicoy murmured, cupping her face in his hands. On closer inspection, she was breathtakingly lovely, even in her weakened state. Her presence out there made little sense, even as a tourist, but that was a matter for another time. He could ask her anything he wanted to know when—if—she woke up.

  She’s waking up, Nicoy thought firmly, a wave of determination surging through him. She’s not dying on my watch.

  Slowly, he peeled her jeans away from her body, careful to avoid brushing against her wound, and when he had a full view of her leg, he instantly got to work.

  Softly, he applied rubbing alcohol to the deep punctures in her leg, cringing as he worked. Any second, he expected her to wake but she remained unconscious.

  Who are you? he asked her silently, working to contain the injury, but as he moved, he realized that the wounds seemed to be containing themselves.

  Maybe she’s not as hurt as we thought.

  Yet he’d seen the trap, wrenched it from her leg.

  “She’s very pretty,” Xander announced, startling Nicoy back to the present. “Someone has to be missing her.”

  “I don’t think she’s that bad off,” Nicoy announced, relief sinking into his body as he spoke the words. He didn’t understand how but even as he stared at her, the color seemed to be returning to her cheeks.

  “I wish she’d wake up and tell us that herself,” Xander sighed, echoing Nicoy’s thoughts. He turned to his roommate.

  “Let’s get her under some blankets,” he said to Xander. “I’ll look for some clothes. She’s soaked. She was probably out there for a while.”

  They scattered in different directions, each tasked with their own job, and regrouped in front of her with their respective finds.

  Xander carefully propped her head up to place a pillow under her strawberry blonde tresses as Nicoy undressed her fully, redressing her in a pair of flannel pajamas.

  “Were those Eli’s?” Xander asked, raising an eyebrow. Nicoy gave him a sheepish look.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind,” he replied quickly. “And they’re small enough to fit her.”

  Xander shook his head and looked away.

  “Better someone get use out of them. I doubt he’ll be back anytime soon.”

  A spark of sympathy shot through Nicoy as he read the pain in Xander’s eyes. Xander’s ex-boyfriend had left abruptly the previous year and he had never gotten over the absence.

  “Now what?” Xander asked when they’d done all they could. “Should I call for Gunnar?”

  “No one is going anywhere in this weather,” Nicoy reminded him. “I doubt the phone lines are even up right now.”

  Xander confirmed that they were without a landline but that didn’t trouble Nicoy. He was much less afraid for the woman now that she seemed stable. They could call for the doctor when everything calmed down but for now, she seemed out of the woods.

  “We just have to wait,” Nicoy sighed, sinking onto the settee, his eyes fixed on the stranger. The firelight glowed a
round her head like a halo and for a moment, Nicoy’s breath was stolen as he stared at her. There was an ethereal quality about her, one that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it filled him with a deep sense of melancholy for reasons he couldn’t describe.

  “I wish we knew her name,” he heard himself say, more to himself than to Xander. He glanced at his housemate. “Did she have anything with her?”

  Xander shrugged.

  “I wasn’t paying attention,” he confessed and Nicoy nodded.

  “Me neither. Maybe I’ll go back later and see if there was a bag or anything.”

  “Warm up first and have something to eat,” Xander suggested. “If there is something out there, it isn’t going anywhere.”

  Nicoy had no intention of moving from his spot. He was far too transfixed with the woman and how she’d come to be on his sofa, in the furthest reaches of the world.

  Maybe this is fate, he mused, the thought unbidden and odd for him. Nicoy couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a romantic thought of any kind.

  “I’m going to call her…” Xander paused, his brow knitting as he thought, also studying the woman’s delicate features. “Bear—no, wait—Foxy!”

  Nicoy laughed.

  “Foxy?”

  “She’s pretty and got caught up in a bear trap. I think it’s fitting.”

  Nicoy shifted his eyes back toward her and nodded slowly.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he agreed. There was something indescribably foxy about this woman. He couldn’t wait for her to wake up.

  8

  The male voices permeated her dream and she floated through the woods, hearing them speaking to her in low tones.

  “…by now?”

  “…call the doctor…”

  “…better but won’t wake up…”

  She ran through the woods, a ferocious roar causing Laurel to turn. Preston pounced after her in his wolf form, teeth gnashing as he lunged for her.

  “NO!” she screamed at him, trying to shift also, but her leg remained in human form and she bound away, dragging the limp appendage behind her.

  “You’re mine!” Preston hissed, his body closing in around her.

  “…bad dream? Why is she thrashing around like that?”

  It’s a dream! You’re dreaming, Laurel. Wake up!

  With a gasp, her eyes flew open and she blinked wildly, another cry escaping her lips when she saw the concerned faces hovering over her.

  “She’s awake!” the skinny man announced, happiness overtaking his hazel eyes. “Hello, Foxy. Welcome back.”

  The other man didn’t smile, his cerulean eyes boring into hers as he studied her face.

  “Hallo,” he said in Icelandic. “Hvernig liour per?”

  Weakly, Laurel shook her head, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

  Why is he calling me “Foxy”? Who are these guys? How do they know who I am?

  A combination of dread and anxiety overwhelmed her as the memory of what had happened came flooding back.

  Are they the Cabal? Are they going to kill me?

  Slowly, everything came into better focus, the cozy warmth of the living room where she lay, the dull throbbing in her leg, and the realization that the storm continued to rage outside.

  “Where am I?” she asked, her mouth raw and dry. The men exchanged a surprised look.

  “You speak English,” the bigger, handsomer man said slowly. Laurel swallowed and struggled to sit up, a dizziness sweeping through her head.

  “Xander, go get her some water,” the dark-haired man instructed, crouching down to her side. “Don’t try to move, miss. You were caught in a bear trap and we brought you to our place. The bleeding has stopped but you’ve been unconscious for a while.”

  Laurel shook her head again, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  “You found me in the woods?” she asked. “Why are you calling me Foxy?”

  Suspicion and doubt laced her words as she sat up. The man before her looked embarrassed.

  “That was Xander’s name for you,” he replied. “Do you have a real name?”

  Laurel’s mouth parted as she met his gaze, a shiver of comfortable pleasure snaking down her spine as their eyes locked. She knew she should be wary of these strangers, but there was an undeniable attraction between her and this man, one that defied any fear or logic.

  I can’t tell him who I am. Our work could be compromised. Anatoli will be enraged if she finds out I disclosed the cause to a pair of humans.

  “It’s okay if you’re having some memory loss,” he offered, mistaking her pause for confusion. “It happens in a traumatic experience.”

  Laurel pursed her lips together, suddenly realizing that the stranger had given her an out.

  I’ll pretend I don’t remember and when I’m well enough and the storm lets up, I’ll sneak out of here and get back to the unit.

  She hoped she could pull it off. Acting had never been one of Laurel’s strong suits.

  “My name is Laurel,” she offered quickly. “But…but I don’t remember much more than that.”

  He nodded encouragingly, a small smile touching his lips.

  “I’m Nicoy Andrews.” He turned as the other man entered the room, a glass of water in his hands. “This is Xander Silva and this is our house.”

  Inexplicably, a wave of disappointment washed over her in a torrent.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. “You…you’re a couple?”

  Xander snorted as Nicoy laughed aloud.

  “He wishes,” they chorused in unison.

  “We’re friends. We work the fishing boats along the fjord,” Nicoy explained. “But there isn’t much in the way of extra lodging in these parts, so we room together.”

  Laurel couldn’t help but smile as she accepted the glass of water. She was more relieved than she should have been to hear that.

  After what happened with Preston, maybe you should check your attractions, Laurel told herself. Eagerly, she pressed the water to her mouth and guzzled back the liquid, relishing the way it slid down her parched throat.

  “Easy there,” Nicoy told her softly. “You’ll get sick. You were out for over four hours. We were worried about you.”

  Laurel exhaled and let him take the glass back from her hand, eyeing him gratefully.

  These guys helped me. They’re no threat but I still can’t risk them learning about the lab or about the Sleeper program—for their safety and my own.

  “So, Foxy,” Xander said, settling into an overstuffed armchair and peering at her intently. “Are you an American? Canadian? You don’t have much of an accent.”

  Laurel balked slightly at the pointed question and looked away.

  “Um…” she breathed. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not?” The skepticism in Xander’s voice was palpable. “How strange.”

  “Leave her alone, Xander. She’s just been through an ordeal.”

  Xander held his hands up in mock surrender, but Laurel felt his speculative gaze on her.

  “It’ll all come back to you,” Nicoy told her reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter right now anyway—we’re trapped here until this storm lets up. After the flooding settles, we’ll go into Hesteyri and find out where you’ve come from if you haven’t regained your memory by then.”

  I’ll be long gone by then, Laurel thought, a bolt of guilt shooting through her as she thought it.

  “You’re clearly not from Iceland,” Laurel said, eager to change the subject away from her. Nicoy chuckled and Xander rolled his eyes.

  “Iceland seems to be the haven for Americans who have given up on the world,” Xander explained. “Nic and I are both lost souls, looking for our way.”

  Nicoy laughed again and shrugged but Laurel noticed how the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “Something like that,” he agreed. “We’re boring.”

  Somehow, Laurel didn’t believe that, but she didn’t comment as she pulled the heavy blanket back around
her body.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked, her curiosity piqued now. “You speak Icelandic.”

  She directed her question at Nicoy, but Xander answered for both of them.

  “He’s been here ten years. Came in from Boston, direct flight.” There was a teasing lilt to Xander’s tone as if he’d heard the story too many times. “I’ve been here almost five years, running far and fast from Pensacola, Florida—if you know where that is. If you do, you would have run too.”

  Laurel didn’t know Pensacola but she had heard her fair amount of “Florida Man” stories to understand why Xander might have felt the need to leave.

  Albeit, running off to Iceland seems extreme.

  As if reading her mind, he continued.

  “I came in with a lover who had romantic notions of living here but when reality set in, he couldn’t handle the isolated life and left me here.”

  Laurel glanced at him, hearing the note of pain in his voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely. “But you stayed?”

  “Who needs a lover when I have Nicoy?” Xander asked with a forced laugh. Laurel gave him a weak smile, sensing that there was more to the story than she was getting. She didn’t push. The last thing she wanted was someone doing the same to her.

  “Anyway,” Xander continued brightly, “I’m much more interested in knowing what a foxy girl like you is doing out in a storm all alone. I’m sure that’s a much more interesting topic.”

  The smile faded from Laurel’s lips and she found herself glancing helplessly at Nicoy, who bristled.

  “You’ll have to forgive Xander,” Nicoy growled. “Without cable TV, he’s constantly seeking out his own drama. He might have been a consummate actor had he stayed in the States.”

  To his credit, Xander looked abashed by the slight but before he could respond, Nicoy rose.

  “I think that I have all the fixings for a mean venison stew. Xander, why don’t you come and help me chop the vegetables?”

  “I can help,” Laurel said, shoving the blanket aside and rising, but both men shook their heads simultaneously.

  “Just rest,” Nicoy instructed her. “You need to get your strength back.”