Shifters Forsaken: Shifter Romance Collection Bks 1-5

by Mia Taylor

  Wise words. They left a trail in her brain, inclining her towards deeper appreciation of him. Why, if he wasn’t a wyrm, she likely would have thrown herself his way without any hesitation, if he showed interest in her.

  Except… she liked him anyway. Being a wyrm didn’t matter in this context. It simply wasn’t the same. She still caught herself backsliding to old points of view if left alone too long.

  “Maybe I can help you with that, then. It won’t be easy fitting in.”

  “Maybe you can. I can think of several ways you can help…”

  That grin of his gave her ample warning to expect the kiss, though it still took her body by surprise. With those lips planted upon hers, in a public space of all locations, things halted. Thoughts. Heartbeat. Worries. Well, maybe mild panic still existed at the notion of being watched by others.

  No one noticed, though. Thank the skies for that.

  “Can we take this inside?” She whispered this against his lips, and used her fingers to grip at the neck cuff sheltering the bare skin there. She liked hooking onto this. It gave her some measure of control.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he responded, pushing out his bottom lip and moving her top lip with a nudge.

  Things escalated rather quickly after that. She turned on the spot and yanked Kit behind her, until he took charge, and bundled them both into the house. They were supposed to be seeing Fran in the training grounds, in that square between residential buildings, cleared away for practise, with benches all along the sides for spectators. Instead, Kit seized her in a rough embrace and explored her neck and ear with his mouth, needy, hot breaths stirring her senses into vivid life.

  How far was she willing to go? How far was she willing to fall for Kit, as those hands roamed over her clothes, as that body pressed in close to hers?

  Very, very far, apparently. They made it to the bedroom after some frantic, open mouthed kisses, and attempts to tug at one another clothes, which suddenly became too hot to wear. They didn’t need clothes right now. They needed nakedness. Bare skin against bare skin.

  This was what happened when all reservations got tossed out the window, crunched into the ground. When all you wanted was the person in front of you, no matter how unwise it may be. As they touched tongues, she could think of a few other things that tongue might be doing against her, and the crimson crept into her face, though not out of abashment. Out of feverish desire to continue. The places where she felt hottest also appeared flushed and vulnerable when Kit finally teased her out of her clothes, leaving her pale, bare body in full display to him.

  Golden eyes gleamed admiration, before he kissed her collarbone, the stubble scratching against her skin. It sent bolts of pure delight through her, like the sink of heat when you dipped into a hot bath after a long, tiring day. Nothing compared to that melting bliss.

  At least, not until today. Kit wore too much. She needed clothes off. Now. In between snatches of breath, she helped him peel off every last offending garment, wanting to drink in the body she had only caught glimpses of before, when he stretched, when he was changing clothes and she had to pretend not to notice…

  With all those clothes off at last, she feasted upon the sight of a body surprisingly tan for someone who had lived in a magical cave for their entire life. Evidently they did harness sunlight in some fashion, to give this kind of shade. He might have been a little loose about the hips, but still kept good shape, with impressive muscles spiraling from the sides of his chest, forming deep grooves for his armpits. Forming someone with the kind of body that ignited things in Isera she’d never noticed before. As for his length, well… she didn’t quite know how to react to the way it stood to attention for her. Flattered? Nervous, because it was her first time?

  Kit noticed her sudden shyness, and helped guide her to the bed. Isera didn’t know how to conduct herself, but determined to make it work, she melted into her emotions, melted into how his lips brushed against hers, how he whispered into her ear to relax, that she was beautiful, that he had struggled to take his attention from her from the moment they met…

  Such words had a way of firing up her thoughts, making them scatter out of her in a wave, until she sunk instead into his embrace. When he entered her at last, he did it slow and careful, to help her to adjust to the change. Eventually, he settled into a rhythm, one that she got lost in, arching her back to him, pressing her breasts into his chest, her lips against his, and closing her eyes to further enhance the bodily sensations.

  It didn’t start off with fireworks and explosions, but the way they shared each other like this lit a warm fire in her heart. This wasn’t so bad. Certainly something to do with him again in the future. Certainly something to experiment with. They still needed to figure out one another’s bodies, since neither were sure what pleasured one another the most.

  Kit liked being stroked along the arms, with her rubbing against the little hairs there. She liked it when he went slow and adjusted his angle slightly, because he hit something there that intensified with each contact. He stopped himself several times, informing her he did so to prevent himself from orgasming too soon, but after the fourth time, she really didn’t care. She wanted him to come.

  Murmuring encouragement in his ear, bucking her hips against his, he did just that. She didn’t, though he kept trying, right until his length weakened, and he no longer kept up the friction inside, or hit that spot. When she told him about the spot inside, he regarded her for a moment with those glorious golden eyes, until he slid the fingers of his right hand down her quivering body, with two moving inside.

  She guided him with moans and whimpers. He tried thrusting with his fingers, but it didn’t have the same impact as his erection. But when he moved them back and forth, instead of up and down, that created the perfect amount of friction and pressure, which tumbled her shortly into orgasm afterward.

  They might not have been graceful, maybe even awkward in the joining of hip to hip, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the experience they shared together, and the way they regarded one another, with deep respect. With making sure both got the best out of what happened.

  His presence wrapped around her like a blanket, secure and powerful, and the imprint of their act left invisible points of satisfaction inside her. She never imagined herself ever being bold enough to go so far, to allow the surrender to someone else. To place herself in someone’s arms and let them take her to a distant place.

  “That,” Kit said, a lazy grin upon those beautiful, happy features, “is something I wouldn’t mind doing again. Though… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at times.”

  “Don’t be,” she managed through a whisper, still wanting to drift away in that lovely wave of emotions tugging at her blood, her mind.

  “Okay then. I won’t.” He lay there beside her, brow furrowed, casting deep shadows across his face. “So what now? Do we… talk? Get dressed?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel like moving just yet.” Isera rolled onto her side, propping up her head on one elbow. “I guess we can talk.”

  “I don’t really feel like talking. Or getting up.”

  They compromised instead with some tentative cuddling. Strange how this somehow felt more intimate than the act of a few moments ago. Delving into one another until they orgasmed? Nothing compared to this.

  Maybe they could stay like this for a few hours yet…

  Chapter Seven

  After that first time, Isera found more excuses to get in close, hot and intimate with Kit. The memory of him seared itself into her brain, along with every delightful, shivering moment. The cascade of emotions. The whispering of affection. The sensation that she hung over a dark, endless pit, and instead of shying away from it, had pitched herself over and fell right over into where those strange feelings led.

  She still didn’t fully understand them. But she did know that she wanted – needed – more of Kit in her life. And he gave her just that. More stolen moments when no one
was around, lips pressed into lips, hands exploring, not always sexual, just for the pleasure of contact.

  More emotions stuffed into her than what she knew how to deal with. She pushed those nagging, confused babble of thoughts as far away as possible, and instead tried to enjoy this new branch of pleasure. Without the guilt. Without the shame.

  Not that they could hide it from Fran for long. In fact, they probably succeeded in hiding it for about three days until Fran walked into her brother’s room, then promptly walked back out.

  “That room stinks of sex. You guys, you’ve been at it already? Thought it would take longer.”

  Isera groaned and lowered her head into her palms, whilst Kit stiffened. “So what if we have? Do you have a problem with it?”

  “Oh no. No problem. But you know it might cause some issues if people think you’re sleeping with the outsider. I know the Old Ones and Narak said it was okay, but…”

  “We’re not going to have sex out in the open,” Kit said. “We’re not beasts.”

  Oh blasts. Could they stop talking about sex so openly? The crimson covering Isera’s face threatened to burn every last nerve ending to cinders. She didn’t want to lift her head back up from her arms, ever again.

  “Please put a sock or whatever on the door if you guys are having one of your little sessions, because that’s not something I want to see. I’ve spotted enough of my brother’s cock for one lifetime.”

  “Fran!”

  Although Isera couldn’t see their faces, she sensed a wicked grin brewing behind Fran’s words as she said, “Does it still have that way of curling at the tip? That was pretty weird, right?”

  “Fran! Stop! Skies, you never let go of that, do you?”

  A soft, feminine hand rested on Isera’s scalp. “I caught him masturbating one time when we were younger,” Fran helpfully informed Isera. “He was so distraught about it that it was my go-to memory to set him off for years.”

  “If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to turn into a dragon and eat you.”

  Isera finally peeked when she heard Fran roar with laughter, taking her hand away. Kit stood up, his face tight with rage, and held out one hand. “That’s it. We’re doing it. No backing out!”

  Stifling some of her mirth, Fran reached over to clasp her brother’s hand, thumb at the ready. When they started their thumb war, it grew so violent that Isera hastily ducked out of the way, going to sit on the edge of the doorstep whilst brother and sister wrestled for dominance. The blush in her cheeks receded in place of laughter, the kind that sprang tears to her eyes.

  Well. They’d taken to the whole thumb war thing well. Isera smiled in fond memory of Elise, in that little mud hut of hers. Of showing Seon the game for the first time, so bewildered. Seon had a more severe personality than Kit, so she didn’t put her all into it. They still tried it on occasions, though.

  This was what she wanted to see more of in the world. Shameless, roaring laughter, faces beaming pure joy as well as frustration, anger dissipating in face of a better emotion. They didn’t get enough of it. They really didn’t.

  Fran finally won the scuffle by twisting her brother’s arm in a rather impressive way. Though she had thinner muscles and a slender frame, apparently that hid a wicked strength. Well… they were both wyrms. Not so surprising.

  Which made Isera suspect that Kit quite deliberately held back a large portion of his power when dealing with Isera, so as not to hurt her.

  Nice of him, really. Quite considerate and all.

  With Fran’s blessing (and constant teasing), along with Alron’s possibly jealous or pleased glare, the relationship continued. Though Isera couldn’t hold off all the thoughts about the school, about her friends. She wanted to wait for an opportunity to express to the Old Ones or Narak that her leaving wouldn’t bring the end of everything they knew it. She just needed her friends to know she lived.

  Unfortunately, change happened. It always did.

  Six, maybe seven weeks into her life here, of immersing in an impossible world and an impossible amount of intimacy with someone she always used to regard as her enemy, screams invaded the air.

  It jolted her awake instantly, along with Kit, who had fallen asleep with his arm draped over her.

  Shouting, panicked shouting filled the residences. A door slammed. Fran leaving her room. Isera fought to get her clothes on, heart beating rapidly. The screams tore into her skin, stirring tight anxiety in her heart, her stomach, squeezing her throat. They came out like the choked howl of a dying animal. Kit stumbled out of the house first, and they saw two people, both humans, yelling words. One of them grabbed a trashcan from the side of one of the lanes and started hitting it with their sword, creating a horrendous racket.

  “We’re being invaded! We’re being invaded! The enemy is in the swamp! They’ll soon be here and we can’t stop them! Get up! Tell everyone! Someone tell the Old Ones!”

  Narak stumbled out under the enchanted night sky, his face akin to venomous fury. He sped off in the direction of the Old One’s castle, clearly to inform them. On the way, he shrieked, “Transform! To arms! Prepare to fight!”

  “Oh no,” Kit whispered. He clutched Isera tight. “It’s happening. I knew it would.”

  No time to think. No time to waste. Isera dug into the place of her magic, letting it infuse her soul. Ready for action. She might still not be there, still struggling with that new technique Fran tried showing her, but no way was she going to stand by and be useless.

  Frantically, she went with the others to bang on doors, cry the alarm, and people rushed out, some confused, others terrified, and a select few determined. Drakes and wyrms transformed, and humans stood wary and ready with magic or swords.

  Through the entry swamp tunnels came the outpouring of humans with yellow eyes. Hard, cold yellow, bitter as lemons, barking orders to one another.

  They transformed as well into their brittle, white-washed forms, making Isera think of dirty yellow stains upon her clothes.

  “Abominations! Kill them all!”

  Oh no… the ugliness of Isera’s world finally collided with this one. No more tranquillity. No more peaceful decisions. Only blood and death.

  She dashed to where a tentative frontline formed, Fran right on her heels, eyes glowing with the light of power. Alron gave a manic scream before bursting into silvery drake form, practically frothing at the mouth, chewing and gnashing his teeth. In the chaos, Kit managed to seek out Isera’s hand and squeeze it, pressing his cheek to her knuckles, before moving ahead, transforming into wyrm form.

  Fran remained in human form, clearly intending to use her magic. Narak dashed out of the cave, a dim figure in the darkness.

  The fire burned in Isera’s soul. When the enemy wyrms packed up enough, they charged, their heavy feet stomping across the stone, shattering decorations, breaking marbled sections of floor. They shrieked with rabid fury, hatred consuming their minds.

  The drakes and wyrms on Wizen’s side geared up to charge as well, though it was more scattered, less organized than the enemy. Both sides clashed in a howl of tooth and talon, of drakes diving from above. Fran stretched out her hands, fingertips frosting, and finally completed her transformation. Left in her place, charging forward – was a wyrm coated in blue frost. Wherever Fran made contact, her foes simply dropped into deep, hypothermic sleep. Magic from the humans impacted the front line, fireballs and lightning and spumes of water. Isera strained, desperately clinging to Fran’s words, Fran’s efforts, hoping to conjure that sensation she discovered into something cohesive.

  Flames sputtered in her hands. They grew into orange sized balls, but no larger.

  Please. There has to be more than this…

  Some of the mages glanced at Isera and nodded, identifying her on their side. For now.

  The battle raged on. The enemy wyrms rampaged through the beautiful streets, and the enchanted sky above flickered slightly, its magic force disturbed.

  Why did they have t
o do this? Why couldn’t they just reach out and be peaceful, let this civilization live in harmony?

  Instead, they suffered losses on both sides. Wyrms and drakes dropped from the Wizen side. The front most mages now scattered, backing off to try and use their magic effectively.

  Bitter tears chomped at Isera. She wouldn’t be doing anything with this magic. She flung off the balls anyway, and they hit their target – an ugly, mottled foe who simply shrugged off the damage.

  She backed away from the fight, searching through a hastily assembled weapons rack. Better off with a sword or something. She pulled out a halberd before dropping it. Too heavy. She settled for a normal broadsword, teeth gritted, awkwardly standing against the incoming enemy. They pushed through the line of Wizen citizens, despite the terrific losses on their side. She couldn’t see Kit anymore, though it was hard to see anything in this mess, hear anything over the clang of swords, crackles of magic and dying screams from every direction. Fran still fought, now joined by Narak, who possessed magic of his own. Whilst she emanated frost, he had jolts of lightning spewing from his scales, enough to harm anyone who came too close. They formed a pocket which Wizen mages exploited, creating a safe zone. But for how long?

  And in all the chaos which Isera backed away from, hot shame burning her cheeks, because she wasn’t fooling anyone with her skills with a sword – she saw a group of wyrms shifting into human forms. Heading into the castle. Some had gotten past the frontlines, but she didn’t realize that many did. And who guarded the Old Ones?

  Oh no.

  “The Old Ones are under attack!” Although she shrieked the words, no one heard her. Panic seizing her, she turned tail and dashed towards the castle. Someone sprinted from the right, a sword clutched in their hand, hot on the heels of the last wyrm.