Tether: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 6)

by Mazzy J March

  “Let’s hear it.”

  He adjusted his posture and sat up straighter, his alpha showing again. Technically, both my mates were alphas, but Samson was the alpha. “I propose, Christie, you, and Gigi all move into the alpha house with me. That way, everyone is safe and Christie isn’t coming back and forth here to be with…her mate.”

  Tris chuckled a bit but then quieted. “How is it going to work? I mean, am I even allowed to stay at the alpha house?”

  “I am the alpha, and I say yes. It is for the good of…Christie.”

  I looked from one to the other. It would at least temporarily resolve the question of which house we lived in. We were still not moved into one or the other of Tris’ and my rental. “And how is it going to work with the jealousy and you two not biting each other’s heads off? That’s the real question.”

  They both looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. “Well, my only suggestion on that front is there be no sexual contact under my roof for the time being. That way, we take the matings off the table in order to focus on the pack issues and keeping Christie and Gigi safe. Period.”

  Tris flinched. “Ouch. That sucks for me.”

  It wouldn’t be easy, but it would probably prevent bloodshed. “Fine. But can you agree to get along? I can’t take it when the two of you are at each other’s throats.”

  “I can. Samson?” Tris was the first to respond.

  “I can, for her. I would like you all to move in as soon as possible. The rooms are ready.”

  I laughed and tinkered with the leftover lasagna in my plate. “Had this all planned, didn’t you?”

  Samson, in a move so not like him, took my hand across the table. “I hoped, female. I really did hope.”

  Thank you for reading Tether: A Shifter of Consequence Tale. Next in series is: Tremble.

  A Sneak Peek at the next Shifter of Consequence Tale: Tremble

  Available here.

  Two mates and me living under one roof. What could go wrong?

  A lot, actually. We’ve got a half-shifter, half-witch on our tails, scooping up girls from our pack. She’s like a ghost, so tracking and trapping her is like sifting air. Especially since her chief henchman is a hawk shifter with an axe to grind. Possibly literally.

  The females in my pack are being hunted, and I’m not going to stand for it one second longer. I have to do something. I just don’t know what yet.

  My mate and my almost-mate are now living under one roof, and the word awkward doesn’t even begin to describe what’s going on. But the pressure is on, and Samson will be mine sooner rather than later. Their legacy of rivalry is far too entrenched for twin brothers who should have one another’s back. And I know who caused it.

  But Samson wants me, and I want him.

  And we all want safety and peace for the pack.

  Tremble is the 7th book in a paranormal reverse harem shifter series featuring members of the Midnight Alder Pack. This is the third and final volume of Christie’s story. It is a why choose werewolf romance with a slow burn buildup sure to make your toes curl. Relationships develop over the course of this supernatural series and, of course, Mazzy guarantees an HEA.

  An Excerpt from Survivor – The First Shifter of Consequence Tale

  Available Here

  Chapter One

  “Little lady, your phone has been beeping for quite a while. Might want to tend to that.” The man’s gruff voice broke through my thoughts and slammed me back into reality. Great. Time for my pills. Again. Shit, didn’t I just take them? I pressed the button at the side of the watch and made it stop beeping. The man with the Mario mustache and tan jumpsuit took it as proof I’d heard him and grumbled something about kids these days.

  Didn’t consider eighteen a kid, but I guessed to him it was.

  I pushed the wheels of my chair forward a little until I could lean sideways and reach my purse without splaying myself all over the carpet in front of the movers. That kind of thing was generally avoided in my life, but it tended to happen when I least expected or wanted it.

  As if I ever really wanted it.

  My purse rattled with the sound of capsules in a glass bottle, and I fished the green-and-white speckled one out of the bottle and popped it into my mouth, no water required.

  I had been taking them for so long; they went down with no help whatsoever.

  Another man, one with the name Charlie embroidered into his jumpsuit, crouched down in front of me with a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. His fingernails were dirty underneath, and when he smiled, his chapped lips cracked a little. “That’s it for us. Are you sure you don’t want help getting the few things from the car? It would be no charge and wouldn’t take more than a minute.”

  I sighed and signed the bill for the movers without answering. What he was really saying was he wouldn’t mind getting the stuff out of my car since I was ill-equipped for the job. Probably make him sleep better tonight knowing my belongings weren’t stranded in the car.

  The thing was, even if it took me seven times as long to get everything out, I liked to do as much for myself as I possibly could. “No, thank you. I’ve got the necessities right here. I’ll handle it. But, thank you. I know it was a lot of books to haul around.”

  He chuckled and took the clipboard back, glancing over it to make sure everything was in order then tapping the pen against it with a brisk nod. “Heaviest boxes are always books. Always. You take care now, Wendi.” He had to reference the clipboard to get my name right but fine. At least he’d tried.

  The movers filed out, waving at me as they got in their trucks. I listened to the sounds of rustling gravel as they pulled out of the driveway and then onto the almost-deserted road. After closing the door, I wheeled myself into the center of the room and braced myself for what came next. The moving part.

  Somehow, I had to managed to pack all of this stuff on my own. Suddenly, I was wishing I had been more of a minimalist. The movers had put the furniture where it belonged and gone so far as to put my bed together, but that was as much as I would allow them to help. I had to do this on my own.

  Part of being a big girl and all.

  It wasn’t as if I couldn’t move. No, I’d been blessed in that way. It was more that it took me a thousand years to do things it took average people only seconds to do. Like moving from this chair, my ever-present friend and foe, to the couch placed right where I wanted it, the larger-than-life window in the living room facing the forest beyond. I’d picked this place for the view. Tree branches bowed to each other in the distance, and I could see the sloping and elevation of the land.

  After eyeing the transition and mapping it out in my head, I put one hand on the arm of the couch and the other on one arm of the chair. With a great groan, I hoisted myself to standing and took a few steps forward, so when I collapsed into the couch, and I would, my ass would land first. My legs shook from the weight. I couldn’t stand more than five minutes at a time. Any more, and my muscles would just give out.

  It didn’t help that I’d been up at the butt crack of dawn, all kinds of nervous about moving.

  Still, it was better than falling over.

  I’d been in situations where my ass hit anything but the place I’d wanted it to. Like the floor, the side of the toilet, and my personal, painful favorite, the edge of the bathtub. That bruise lasted for a month.

  This time, however, my ass hit the softness of my couch, and I gave myself a second to catch my breath. Yeah, just that little movement made me feel like I’d run a marathon.

  I scoffed, hearing the sound echo off the walls. “Marathon, my ass. You can’t even walk all the way to the kitchen.”

  Okay, so I was a smidge bitter. Sue me.

  I reached out for the lightest box I could see, put it in my lap, and lifted things out. These were my office supplies. I didn’t work from home, per se, but I had a book blog and often planned out what books I would read for the month and logged them. Pens and pencils and highlighters cou
ld stay where they were for the time being.

  Scanning the room for something more pressing than my office stuff, I spotted a box with kitchen scribbled in black permanent marker in someone else’s handwriting.

  I leaned with a groan before scrubbing my hands over my face.

  I couldn’t reach it. All the boxes marked kitchen were right in front of the small island, another thing that had caught my eye when the realtor showed me the place. The house had an open floor plan, with an island lower than most, giving me a place to do my chopping and prep work. Already, I’d lined up several recipes I wanted to try out.

  “Back to the chair,” I grumbled but got in it before I ran out of energy. Which tended to happen fast.

  I wheeled over to the boxes, opened the flaps of the first one, and smiled at the stack of cookbooks inside. From five-minute bread to Southern cooking and everything in between. I’d found them all at thrift stores or used book stores and cherished them all.

  They were books.

  About food.

  How could you go wrong?

  I pulled out the books one by one and stacked them on the built-in bookshelves separating the kitchen area from the dining room. I was almost done with three boxes when a loud knock at the front door made me squeal and almost leap from the chair.

  After putting the rest of the books on the island, I rolled over and flung open the door, needing to know who had scared the shit out of me.

  A man stood there, hands on his hips. His eyes were targeted above me because probably he’d expected someone standing—as everyone did. Very little surprised me anymore.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, and he stepped back, his gaze dropping to my level.

  “Oh…um, yes.” He squared off his shoulders and pretended not to be shocked. I rolled my eyes while he did. He wasn’t very smooth about it. “I’m Brandon Graves, brother of the alpha of the Midnight Alder pack. It is requested all new shifters in the area report to the alpha for registry and to review the pack rules. You actually should’ve reported before you moved here…ma’am.”

  Being called ma’am was a first.

  I crossed my arms over my chest as his golden eyes did their best not to focus on my legs or the chair. It wasn’t like I was going to claw his eyes out if he looked. Sometimes, people went out of their way not to stare at me and ended up seeming to ignore my very existence.

  I wished he would look at me like he probably did a normal girl. I mean, let’s face it. He was six foot six of raw muscle, though his full cheeks and belly made it apparent he never turned down a meal, it didn’t detract from his overall boy-next-door charm.

  I swallowed as I begged the heat to retreat from my cheeks in his presence.

  Sexy didn’t begin to cover him, but he was one of those shifters, all pack and alphas and betas. That life wasn’t for me.

  I’d buried the mate and other wolf shifter bullshit a long time ago. I might’ve been born with the beast in my blood, but fate had other plans for me.

  He sounded so businesslike, but I could tell it wasn’t his true nature. He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with being the messenger.

  “Is there a website I can register on? Or a 1-800-shifter hotline to call? I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me.” Oops, I showed my sarcasm.

  After running his fingers through his sandy-brown hair, he looked at me and smiled a little but schooled it immediately. What a damned shame. That grin was meant to get girls to kiss him.

  “You need to come with me now.”