Stoneskin Dragon (Stone Shifters Book 1)

by Zoe Chant

  What. How. Why?

  Then an even worse thought occurred to her: maybe she was supposed to be dead, too. Shifters were generally more resilient than non-shifters, and it was possible that she'd been drugged—or, rather, poisoned—with something that was supposed to kill her, and then left in the woods with the other victim.

  If only her memories weren't such a blur. If only she could think.

  How did they catch me? What did I do?

  There was a small, soft sigh from the body next to her. Casey nearly jumped out of her skin, and then laughed softly at herself. He wasn't dead either. Oh, thank God.

  Which still left her handcuffed to a naked stranger in the woods.

  Not the best day she'd ever had.

  The naked guy stirred a little, and then subsided back into sleep or unconsciousness. Casey decided not to bother him quite yet—if he felt anything like she did, it was probably merciful to let him sleep a bit longer—and instead took stock of herself.

  She didn't seem to be hurt, other than the headache. Her body was just like it had always been: wide hips, round thighs, a little more padding than she really wanted, and ample breasts that she was currently more aware of than usual, since normally they were contained in an industrial-strength bra to keep them from jiggling all over the place when she moved.

  Her headache was mercifully going away, but she was starting to shiver in the night's damp chill. It might be summer, but she was still in the Pacific Northwest—at least, she hoped she was still in the Pacific Northwest—and the nights were cool.

  Better get up and get moving. Which means waking up Sleeping Beauty here.

  Casey rose to her knees and bent over her unexpected companion.

  By now her eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness, as much as they were going to. Her new handcuff buddy was a white guy with dark hair and broad, powerfully muscled shoulders. Even lying down, he was big. She didn't really want to think about how tall he'd be standing up.

  She started to reach for his shoulder, then pulled her hand back when she noticed a long scar across the shoulder blade, going down his back. What was that from, a knife? Now that she was looking more closely, scars marked his skin like a constellation of past violence. There was a long set of parallel stripes over his ribs that looked like claw marks, and a little puckered scar above his left hip where she was pretty sure a bullet had gone through.

  Great, she thought. So not only am I stuck in the woods with an enormous naked stranger, but he's the kind who gets into fights a lot. Really violent fights. Better and better.

  Casey sat back on her naked haunches and studied him. She wished her head would stop hurting, and that she had even the faintest clue who he was, or whether he was in league with the people who'd put her here.

  There were tattoos on his right arm, the one she was handcuffed to. Casey had a little ink on her ankle, a small rose, but this guy had quite a bit more. She gave the cuffs a tug, shifting his limp arm so she could see it better.

  The one on his forearm was a dark blur, and she had to tilt her head to make it out: an assault rifle and the word Defend.

  Army, maybe?

  Much more dramatic was the big, elaborate tattoo that covered his upper arm, wrapping around his shoulder. It was a snarling bear, standing rampant on its back legs. Grizzly, she thought.

  Between the grizzly tat and the claw scars, odds were pretty good he was a shifter like her. Wendy used to be able to say she could tell by the way people smelled, but Casey couldn't. Maybe she just hadn't spent enough time around her own kind to be able to.

  Thinking of Wendy made a little ripple travel across her skin, a shiver like the fur rising along the spine of her lynx form.

  What do I tell him about me?

  Play dumb, she decided. Play innocent victim until she figured out more about who he was and what he was doing here. Maybe someone who got into fights with people who had knives and guns would be a good ally ... if he didn't turn out to be an even more effective enemy.

  She laid her hand on his shoulder. The skin was cool to the touch. Casey gave him a hesitant shake and called, "Hey? Mister?"

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