Shifters Forsaken: Shifter Romance Collection Bks 1-5

by Mia Taylor

  In the shadow of someone like him, she realized how false that perception was.

  “Look, I’ll show you.” Isera reached for his hand before she knew what she was doing, and swallowed down her blush. No. Nothing sexual or intimate about this. Nothing at all. She took his hand, which made him blink rapidly, and the muscles relaxed, so she could adjust it the way she wanted. “It’s a game where you have to hold each other’s hand like this… and you stick up your thumb like this…” Such soft hands, surprising on a man of this size and bulk. All the men Isera knew had hands ravaged by work, but Kit had baby smooth palms. He kept his hand loose, so she arranged the fingers for them to grip tightly. “And all you have to do is pin the other person’s thumb down for about four seconds to win. But we count down first before we do this, to minimize the cheating. Okay.”

  “Okay?” Kit seemed both intrigued and puzzled in the same breath.

  “Three… two… one… go!”

  She pinned down his thumb and won the first game easily. He raised one eyebrow.

  “That’s it?”

  She flushed. “It’s just a silly game.” She went to move her hand away from his. He clung on tightly.

  “No. Let’s do that again. I’ll be more prepared this time. Okay?”

  Unsure, Isera did so. The next ten games afterwards had them both in howling laughter, since Kit tried his hardest to cheat when Isera’s long thumb kept finding a way around his. By the tenth game, he had her in a headlock and they were still straining to be victor, cursing at one another.

  “You bitch! I swear if you beat me again after all the troubles I’ve gone to this…!”

  “But don’t you know? Cheaters never win.” However, Kit managed to pin her thumb down, partly because she was giggling too hard to concentrate.

  “Ah!”

  “Well, looks like this cheater just won,” Kit huffed, still holding her tight, his knuckles white from effort. “I like this game. We should do more like this.”

  “Can you let go?” The way his arm pressed against her throat made her nervous and excited at the same time. When he removed it, she still felt the ghost of his touch upon her skin. She rubbed her neck. “That wasn’t fair, though.”

  “Still won.” He stuck out his tongue, shockingly pink in the dimly lit house, and Isera now examined her hand. “You could have broken this!”

  “But I didn’t. You have any more games like that?”

  “A few. But yes, that was one of the things I used to do that helped cheer me up. It’s easier I think to forget troubles if you can lose yourself in a moment of joy or friendly competition.”

  “I agree.” Kit briefly leaned over and rubbed her hand with his fingers, before letting go. The warmth lingered there, and she still felt the imprint, even as he strode to the window, nervous about something. “You look good when you laugh. I think you should find more chances to laugh here than in that world where you describe such horror. It’s… hard to hear that, you know? Hard to link what I see here – to what happens out there.”

  Why did it bother him so much? And why did he bother her?

  “I just hoped this generation would be the one that made it outside. We’ve been waiting for so long. Hiding for so long. And now the barrier has fallen, and the Old One’s magic grows weaker. I thought it was a sign. And then you came along…”

  “Right. And you hoped I was further proof that it meant you could leave.”

  Kit’s lips thinned. “I’m sorry you had to grow up in such an environment. But hey. At least you’re safe here now. At least you’ll get more chances to let out that high pitched goat laugh of yours.”

  “I don’t have a goat laugh!” Isera folded her arms, scowling. She found herself fast losing her irritation when he turned a huge grin on her. She shrieked when he dived her, arms attempting another headlock, which she writhed rather ineffectually against.

  Such strength.

  Honestly, if he wanted, he could do anything to her, and she’d be powerless to resist. Another thing. The thought didn’t alarm her as much as it should have. In fact, her mind started doing that accursed wandering, going to places it shouldn’t. Imagining scenarios that any self-respecting woman should never attempt. Her blonde hair tufted out through his arms, and her cheek brushed against his bare skin. His heartbeat thundered – or was that hers, pounding through her throat? That stupid twisted knot formed in her stomach, a lightning bolt from nowhere.

  That brief hesitation allowed Kit to complete the armlock. “Now, because I have you at my mercy, you have to do as I say. Agree with me that you have a goat’s laugh.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Uh… well, you have to agree.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Hmm.” Kit contemplated this, whilst Isera remained bent over. Blood surged through her cheeks, adding a kind of dizzy heat to her brain. “I didn’t think that far. Uh… or I’ll do something bad.”

  “I don’t have a goat’s laugh.”

  Kit chuckled low in his throat. “You asked for it!” The hot prison of his arms left her. Flipping her to face upward, he planted his lips upon hers in one deep, long kiss.

  Isera’s heart stopped. Unable to comprehend what had just happened. Recovering, she flailed against him. “What?”

  What just happened?

  “Next time will be worse if you don’t agree.” His eyes twinkled. A mischievous smile curved his lips.

  “I’m not kissing you again!”

  “Then agree,” he whispered against her ear, sending a hot shiver of warmth there. A bolt of arousal. All sorts of other interesting feelings.

  “No! No way!” She attempted to push him off again, shivering when his soft lips trailed over her skin, just behind her ear, to her cheek.

  She didn’t resist as much as she should have. She… a part of her welcomed the action, and a few things in her clicked into place.

  Oh, she thought. Is that why I feel that knot in my stomach?

  She held her breath in anticipation of him completing his journey to her mouth, whilst still trying to push him away. Her mind followed every touch. Focused on where he held her with his strong hands. How her breasts kind of pushed up into him. How her legs weakened in excitement – a type of excitement that had nothing to do with the game.

  Or perhaps it did. Perhaps this was just a new game, one that dared her to go as far as she wanted, desired. Her eyes glazed over slightly. She wished he kissed her faster. She tilted her head towards him.

  Just before his lips reached her mouth, someone knocked on the door.

  Instantly, Isera yelped as Kit dropped her. Scrambling to her feet, she watched as Kit opened the door, and Narak stood outside.

  Narak.

  “Greetings,” he said. One eyebrow lifted as Isera patted herself down. “Was I interrupting something?”

  “Nothing,” Kit said, whilst Isera fought down another wave of embarrassment. What in skies had come over her? Like some kind of brain fever that wanted that kissing to continue. To take over. To…

  “I’m here to tell you that the Old Ones have made their decision. They want Isera and you there for the verdict to be announced. I have the happy task of spreading the verdict over Wizen.”

  Narak’s face remained inscrutable. Annoyingly so.

  “You…” Isera recollected her thoughts together, “you wanted me to stay here, right?”

  The older wyrm nodded. “Yes. Though that decision isn’t solely mine to make. Many of us only see the past. We cower from the future, little one. We fail to understand what your presence here means.”

  Isera swallowed nervously. “… And what does it mean?”

  Dispassionately, Narak said, “The end of everything.” He left, his last words floating back. “Regardless of what we desire.”

  Isera stared at Kit in horror. “That doesn’t sound good, does it? That sounds really bad. Like, people want to kill me bad.”

  Tight worry pinched at the corners of his eyes.r />
  Chapter Six

  Inside the chamber of the Old Ones, Isera shivered as she awaited judgement. Much like before, Kit stood there with his hand clasped on her shoulder, offering his steady presence, his heat. It comforted her more than last time, especially when she recalled the memory of that kiss. The one that happened out of the blue.

  “We have come to a decision,” Morytania said, her sonorous voice carrying the faint hint of an echo. “Though it took us some time to reach a unanimous decision. We were guided by the thoughts of respected community members in Wizen, such as Narak and Azdan.”

  Isera had no idea who Azdan was, since no one had bothered mentioning the name to her before, but she remained still, keeping the fear barely under her skin. Part of her wanted to hold hands with Kit, like she used to do with Elise when things got tough. But Kit wasn’t Elise. And Elise didn’t stir those strange, exotic feelings in her blood.

  Kit looked as if he wanted to say something, but kept his jaw firmly screwed shut.

  “We,” Morytania said, even as the antagonistic one called Hristek scowled in the background from his evil little tree, “believe that there is no harm in keeping you here, in teaching you our magic, in passing our history. We brought you here against your will. You did not try to invade. You were a prisoner, and we took it onto ourselves to free you.”

  Isera’s heart twitched in hope at that announcement. Kit’s breath hitched.

  “Though we had some disagreement, we know that any invaders who come through will not be because you are here. It will be simply because it’s inevitable, with the barrier down. There is only so much we can do before we’re out in the open. We invite you to learn, to grow, and to eventually, when the time is right, return to your home. Though regretfully, we can’t take you too far.”

  Morytania finished, and gave a small smile on her ancient, sunken lips. Aside from a few dangerous expressions, Isera was dismissed, and allowed to return outside – even as Narak finished the verdict to a gathered crowd.

  “It’s okay, Isera!” Kit grinned, placing his arm on both her shoulders. “You’re not going to be skinned alive. You’re allowed to stay!”

  And I’m allowed to leave.

  The grin stretched until it infected Isera’s blood, and she squeezed Kit in a sudden, excited hug. “Thank you Kit. Thank you for looking after me.”

  For saving me. With the threat of imminent death by the locals out the way, the stress in Isera mellowed out, becoming a distant memory.

  Still grinning, Kit said, “So that’s what Narak meant by the end of everything. That things were going to change, even if we had you here or not. Well, let’s take you to the training grounds, shall we? If you want to get better at your magic, probably best to go there. I’m afraid I can’t really help you with it otherwise.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Narak glanced in her direction, smiling. Isera nodded in appreciation back. Though Narak still remained somewhat of a mystery, she knew at least that the old wyrm was on her side. Even if he had deliberately scared the life out of her earlier.

  “Yes, why not. Let’s see if I can conjure up something a little fiercer than candle flames, right?”

  His hand crept into hers quite naturally as they strolled over to the training grounds. The few weeks after her first lesson helped take off the edge of her disappointment, enough to try again, to remember that just because she failed once or twice or many times, didn’t mean she therefore needed to give up. They passed the verdict over to Fran, who acted as if she believed the Old Ones would come to that decision anyway. Despite her views upon the matter before.

  Unfortunately, Isera’s session didn’t go much better than the first. She still wielded the same ineffectual magic as back in the school. Hard to believe she might be capable of more.

  “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” Fran said, pursing her lips as she inspected her new apprentice. “With that amount of tension, you won’t be able to find out what you’re really made for. You have to look within. Deep within. The answer isn’t in what you can make appear in your hands. It’s how far you’re willing to dig to tease it out of your soul.”

  Easier said than done. Isera tried. She really tried. Nothing came out of it. She burrowed into her mind, touching that same familiar source of magic, but not finding anything extra. No locked doors, no hidden rooms. Just that ball of warmth which she could draw upon, and shape into those little flames that danced in her palms.

  She dug and dug until her brain ached, but didn’t find anything. Ah well. At least she wasn’t accidentally setting the bed on fire anymore.

  “It’s in there. You’re just focusing on the wrong thing,” Fran soothed. Isera grimaced, before conjuring up two little balls.

  “Still not happening.”

  “Well, we’ll have more lessons now. And don’t be put off by anyone staring. We will get you better. Don’t worry.”

  “But what… what if it’s because my magic is cursed?”

  “It doesn’t work like that.” Fran patted Isera on the arm. “There’s just something more to your magic that we’re missing.”

  Not exactly reassuring. But Isera rolled with it anyway, if only to please the brother and sister duo, who put a lot of effort into her. Magic remained off the cards, though. Even a few days later, with constant practise sessions. With Kit encouraging her, and Fran talking about finding a way past that block in her mind. Reaching past what she saw into the hidden vaults of her essence.

  Well, Isera guessed her power must be so well damn hidden, it had detached itself from her body and gone elsewhere.

  The other thing that improved with her stay here came in the shape of Kit. The memory of that kiss, that near second attempt left something. The kiss stayed like a branded mark, even when she dipped herself in the bathtub to wash later. A secret tattoo under her skin.

  About the only thing that made her stay here truly worthwhile. What did it matter how beautiful the place was? Only a select few got to see it. By all rights, Wizen shouldn’t even be around. It existed as a last gasp against darkness. And a gasp could only last so long.

  She cared more about the ones who went out of their way to help her, to beat back the loneliness in her heart that even matron Ana couldn’t heal.

  Sometimes she tried focusing on her magic back in the little bed she slept in at night, but always encountered that wall that formed branches over her thoughts. The source remained there, in sight. Nothing else. Sometimes, if she allowed everything to slip, and especially when she thought about opening up to Kit, to the idea of him standing there and watching her as she slept – creepy on one hand, invigorating on the other – something changed about the magic.

  It stirred within like a promise of something more. A promise that as long as she kept looking in this direction, she might one day find it.

  Twice more she woke up, almost setting fire to the bed. She teased at the possibility of her hidden magic, but never quite reached that stage of accessing it.

  Besides… the closest she came to it, happened because of salacious thoughts. The ones that tickled her senses, shimmering with heat and desire that dipped from her brain to between her thighs.

  Thoughts that she shut down the moment she became fully aware of, but indulged in that half-asleep state, dreaming of the moment where he bent her lips to her again. Dreaming of how far they might go, with their bodies pressed together, sharing secrets, sharing… everything.

  Not entirely appropriate thoughts. Isera distracted herself from such vivacious thoughts by turning attention to other things, such as reflecting upon the magic, sharing some of the ordinary things her people did and learning more about the kinds of things a trapped society learned to do in the absence of everyone else.

  Knowing she would be allowed to leave soon helped make everything easier. Unfortunately, now that the idea formed in her head of something more to be found in Kit, her mind preferred poisoning itself in favor of him. Truthfully, she’d neve
r had to handle such feelings before assaulting her mind, so dealing with them made her little more than some clumsy child carrying a tray for the first time, praying not to step wrong and upend the whole thing.

  The citizens of Wizen also didn’t understand what alcohol was. Somehow during the freeze of their civilization in the mists of time, they failed to bring that little gem of society with them, which Isera felt sure would have made the time pass faster.

  When she tried explaining alcohol to Kit during another one of their walks, he found the entire concept absurd.

  “What’s the point in swallowing a liquid that gives you headaches and dehydrates you? Isn’t liquid supposed to hydrate you and make you feel better?”

  “Well… it’s something we like to do for fun. Or to forget. Or socializing. Or…” She hesitated. “We seem to incorporate it in almost everything.”

  “You’re silly. Forgetting things because you don’t like them doesn’t make them go away.”

  “It kind of does for a little bit.”

  Kit sighed, but grinned at her, briefly resting his head on hers as they waited for a couple with a screaming set of children to pass. His oblivious attitude to one of the most basic things Isera knew about made her somber. What a culture shock these people would receive if they went out there. If they ever could. Seeing the taverns and the stink of ale emanating from them. Watching as their broken brethren assaulted humans for doing little else than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ostracized because no one else in the world existed like them. The technology would be different, too. The way people sounded might be alien. Just like those of Wizen they sounded to Isera.

  “I’m worried that even if you make it out into our world,” Isera said, “that you won’t be able to fit in. It’s a different place. It’s not as… friendly.”

  “We don’t have a choice.” Kit closed his eyes, as if committing something to memory. She did the same herself – a dark robed man with short, black hair, standing tall upon gray-white marbled pavement. Even in those who passed by, he stood out, silhouetted in a way than made him larger than life, lighter than the thoughts that formed under his skin. “Sooner or later, that outside world is coming to us. That’s the sad truth of it. So it doesn’t matter if I can fit in or not. I’ll need to – or I’ll be left behind.”