by Ann Mayburn
Then again, knowing me, she probably wouldn’t be too surprised that I’d latched onto some new thing to study. Yes, research was my hobby. Boring to most people, I know, but I loved learning new things. And with the advent of gaining an animal spirit, I had a whole new world of knowledge to explore.
Since my release from the hospital, I’d been on a researching tear about everything shifter I could get my hands on. Thankfully, Diana was able to supply me with tons of books and information, while Ted and his wife Janet patiently answered any and all questions. I’d pretty much sequestered myself at home, eating the food friends and family brought over as a welcome home gift and only venturing outside into my privacy fenced in backyard. My cats were overjoyed to have me home, and they didn’t care that I looked different. To them I was still mom, provider of catnip and cuddles.
The fact that everyone had been freaked out over my physical transformation didn’t help my insecurities. There was more bewb staring, as well as whispers about the real reason I was in a coma was because of a plastic surgery accident. Thanks to my new hearing, I was more than aware of what was being said behind my back, and it made me really sad to realize that a lot of people I thought were my friends really weren’t. When a few of my fake sympathetic cousins had left, the stink of envy and jealousy had been so bad I’d had to open my windows and light some of my cherry and vanilla candles to burn the stench out.
Once my final guest had left, I was completely beat from dealing with so many people. Not all of them were bad, just exhausting. My always wild Aunt Patty had grabbed my boobs and pronounced them as being ‘real’, then sang the ‘do your boobs hang low, do they dangle to and fro’ song. Complete with a lot of tit shaking on her part. My neighbor Kelly told me horror stories about all the problems busty girls faced. Like I never knew I’d hurt myself if I ran up and down stairs without holding my large breasts.
And evidently my small chested days of going braless were over. Sweater puppies my size needed big halters, and my ever so helpful mom had brought me a bag full of very practical bras. You know, the thick, super sturdy kind that make your breasts look like they’re suiting up for war. I know my mom had only good intentions, so I tried to pretend to be excited as she detailed all the support features that would help prevent backaches.
As I sat on my lilac marshmallow couch I hugged a pillow to my chest and stared out my back window into my yard. I loved my garden, but I seriously didn’t have the time to tend it so it was always a little ragged looking. The borders of the flowerbeds were overgrown, and I could probably spend a couple days weeding out there. I should really give in and just hire a gardener, but I didn’t like strangers in my space. Maybe I could see if one of my baby cousins wanted the job while they were still on summer break.
I was ready for a change in the weather, in my life, everything.
I was ready.
Yes, the thought of having mates still scared the crap out of me, but I was slowly adjusting to the idea. The more I studied the hyena culture, the more I came to understand it and the less I feared the unknown. Diana was right, having mates sounded pretty awesome—unusual sexual practices aside. My Alpha, Beta, Enforcer, and Omega would all be utterly devoted to me, and I to them. We would be suited to each other, and from what everyone said, being a hyena Queen was a pretty sweet gig. You got enhanced powers, mine would come online slowly over the next few years, a body that could take a beating in a fight, an animal spirit that would lend you strength and wisdom, and four husbands that used to be women.
Every girl’s dream!
Ugh.
Okay, I was still trying to wrap my mind around the whole gender swapping thing. In my defense, it was never something that had entered my mind. When you didn’t have sexual urges you didn’t realize a lot of the motivations of people’s actions. Now that I was researching it, I’d read thousands of honest, painful, and often uplifting blog posts about people being born with a soul of the opposite gender. Nothing about the hyena Queens or lion Rexes, no doubt they were too magical for the electronic media, but seeing things from the human perspective helped a lot.
Especially the posts by straight girls who ended up falling in love with male souls trapped in women’s bodies.
I think I identified with those women the most. I was straight—I thought, and I definitely felt attracted to men now. During TV watching marathons with my mom, it was her comfort thing, I’d started to admire good looking male actors, and even felt a little flush of heat now and again. For someone who’d never experienced any sensation that could be considered sexual, that was groundbreaking. My reactions to beautiful women weren’t the same, so I figured I just liked men. It’s how I was born—or reborn, or whatever.
As I tried to reason out how to label my future relationships, I realized I was once again trying to analyze everything in a scientific way. I was trying to identify unfamiliar concepts and emotions, and label them so they could be put into their neat little boxes. A place for everything and everything in its place. Except people were a heck of a lot harder to classify than minerals, and I wasn’t even really sure what to call my future relationships. If a woman was in love with a man who was now totally a man, but born totally a woman, did that make her gay? Did it matter? Did I really give a poop about what strangers thought about my sex life? Did I have to try and shove myself into an ill-fitting box so society could feel comfortable about how to judge me?
No, not really.
After all, I’d spent the first twenty-five years of my life labeled as an asexual curiosity at best, and a freak at worst. If I cared what strangers thought about me, I’d have gone insane a long time ago. Learning to focus on the people who mattered, instead of the random public’s opinion, was a hard lesson I was glad I learned early on in life. I wasn’t saying I was immune to strangers whispering about me, but I no longer obsessed about it like I used to. Well, okay, I still obsessed a little, but I didn’t let it stop me from going out into the world.
And I was finally starting to embrace my new form. I realized I was acting like a total idiot the other day when I was being all dramatic about being too pretty. Every vain, vapid woman I’d ever met came rushing through my thoughts and I’d been totally embarrassed by my behavior. Me—the girl who’d always wished she’d feel attraction, was now sexy as could be and I was whining about it. That wasn’t to say I was totally comfortable with how I looked now, but at least I was no longer trying to pretend nothing had changed.
I was busting out of my old clothes, so I’d had to do an online shopping bonanza for new duds. I was no longer a size four, but rocking some double-digit curves. Having had modest breasts my whole life, I was totally unprepared for how hard it was to dress with big boobs. Either the shirt was big enough to fit my top and gaped at my waist, or it fit at my waist but my chest was about to bust out. And my waist-to-ass ratio was way off so I had to either wear tight, fitted jeans or go around with a gaping waistband. I’d opted for wearing long hippy skirts with elastic waistbands a lot instead.
And I might have ordered a ton of racy underwear while I was redoing my wardrobe. It may sound shallow, but I really liked the sight of my new curves in sexy underwear. I wasn’t sure if it was desire, but I felt a definite pulse of heat between my legs the other day. I’d been trying on a black lace teddy and imagining what it would be like to walk into my bedroom wearing it for my husbands. The thought had sent a pleasant shiver through me, ending in my pussy with a weak flutter of pleasure. I’d almost cried at that little bit of action. Just the fact that I could feel something, that I’d begun to fantasize about sex, was groundbreaking for me. When you had no hope, even the faintest hint of a chance was a miracle.
With a sigh, I tried to pull my old cardigan over my tits, but it wasn’t happening.
I tossed the light sweater onto my seafoam green bedspread, then flopped back on the mattress. I needed to leave for work in ten minutes, and I was having a hard time getting out the door. Since coming home I’d pretty mu
ch been a hermit, locking myself away from the world as I came to grips with my new life. Part of my reason was practical. If I didn’t go out I wouldn’t get in any fights.
The thought of someone ripping my throat out was not my idea of a good time, so I’d stayed inside. But I couldn’t do it any longer. I was itching to return to my life, to feel the sunlight on my face. Though I was still figuring the whole shifter thing out, I knew my spirit animal wanted to explore her new environment. She yearned to discover the world and was pushing me to leave. While I might be scared of getting beat up by some random stranger, she didn’t have that problem. No, I had the sense my spirit animal was a badass bitch and she didn’t like me hiding.
Plus, I was curious to experience the world with my enhanced senses. Slowly, ever so slowly but surely, my eyesight was getting better as was my sense of smell. My hearing was always good and hadn’t seemed to change much, but I was for sure stronger. Ted had brought over some hand weights for me, and one of his boys had set me up with a training routine. At first I thought he was crazy for giving me such heavy weights, but a few days into my work out I was handling the fifty-pound dumbbells with ease.
I’d gained so much power I had to relearn my own strength or I’d send doors smashing into walls. In many ways, I’d felt like a puppy with too-big feet stumbling all over the place and breaking shit. Thank the Goddess I had my own house so I didn’t have to explain all of this to a roommate.
Knowing I couldn’t procrastinate anymore, I grabbed my brown leather backpack off the bed and headed upstairs. As I reached the main floor, I smiled when I realized I now knew why I’d always liked having my master bedroom in my basement. Even though I was a latent, some hidden part of me had craved the feeling of being in an underground den. That was how most hyenas slept, below ground. We liked the feeling of safety and security it brings us to be surrounded by Mother Earth.
It only took me a few minutes to brew up some coffee in my travel mug with the picture of a unicorn fighting a dragon on it. As I twisted the purple top shut, I wondered if unicorns were real. I mean we had witches and shifters, why not dragons and unicorns? Though it might be harder to blend in as a dragon.
I lived far enough out in the suburbs that crime really wasn’t an issue, so when I stepped out my front door and a big man walked out from behind the porch post, I nearly crapped myself.
Instead of screaming and running away like I would have done in the past, my first instinct was to fight.
I almost dropped my coffee and launched myself at the man, until a familiar scent reached me.
“Whoa, Syn, calm down,” Jerry, one of Ted’s hulking boys, said in a low voice. “You’re snarling loud enough for your neighbors to hear.”
Until he said it, I had no idea that yes—I was indeed snarling.
And I sounded fucking terrifying.
My growls abruptly cut off, and I burned with embarrassment. “Goddess, sorry, Jerry. You startled me.”
“No shit,” Jerry huffed.
Like most bear shifters, Jerry was thick and wide as a barn. With his dad’s dark hair and his mom’s easy smile he was a good guy, if a bit goofy with his thick-framed glasses and freckles.
“What are you doing here?”
“Driving you to work. Don’t want you to be late on your first day back.”
“I have a car, I can drive myself. Why are you here?”
The teasing left his smile, and he shook his head. “Come on, let’s get going. Traffic’s a total bear this time of day. No pun intended.”
“Har-har. Why are you really here, Jerry?
He shrugged.
“Why?” He mumbled something about talking to his dad and I poked him. “Why, Jerry?”
“We’re going to be late.”
Having had a lot of guy friends growing up, I recognized the look of a stubborn male when I saw it. “Fine. But I’m calling your dad.”
He merely nodded then helped me into his giant, deep red truck then climbed in the other side.
Once I was buckled up, I dialed Ted’s number.
He answered on the third ring, “Syn, everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m with Jerry on my way to work. Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”
The truck vibrated to life as Jerry backed out of my driveway. “Oh, no reason.”
“Ted,” I growled. And I do mean growled. “This is my life, I have a right to know if something’s up. Why is Jerry here, and acting all weird?”
“The hyenas have been asking about you, and the lions.”
“Shit.”
“Now, now. It’s nothing to get upset about.”
“Don’t blow smoke up my ass, Ted. If it wasn’t a big deal Jerry wouldn’t be here.”
“Syn, if it was a big deal Jerry wouldn’t be there, I would. We adore you and your family, kid. I’ve known you since the day you born and I don’t care if you are a hyena. Janet and I love you like you’re one of our own. I’ve put out the word that you’re under my protection. Nobody should mess with you, and if they do, Jerry will take care of it. He may act like a goofy oversized puppy at times—”
“Hey,” Jerry said in an offended voice, obviously listening in on our conversation.
Ted continued on, clearly ignoring his son, “But he’s a good kid and a great fighter. He’ll keep you safe.”
I blinked back the sudden burn of tears as Jerry drove out of my neighborhood. “Thanks, Ted. But I don’t want you to endanger your family or your clan. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”
Ted was the Clan Leader of a small group of thirty-six bear families that lived in a more rural area to the south. I’d met some of them, and they were all nice, average people who I now knew just happened to be bear shifters. While a few were standoffish, for the most part his clan had been welcoming and kind. I definitely didn’t want to draw the attention of the lions to Ted’s people when they’d been nothing but generous to me.
“I’m not. So far there hasn’t been any mentions of threats or bounties on your head. It’s more like someone is curious.”
“Great. I hope it’s not psycho Barbie.”
That was my personal nickname for the female lion who had attempted to kill me that night. Her real name was Malorie Tuxton. The male lion had been her brother Devon, and they were among the ruling class of lions. Or, in Devon’s case he’d been a part of the ruling class before his recent death. According to Diana, Valaria had torn his throat out so bad his head had fallen off when they went to bag his corpse. I kept trying to picture the sweet blond girl in her pretty pink dress tearing out chunks of someone’s throat with her teeth, and just couldn’t do it. Though thank goodness she had, otherwise I’d be dead right now.
When I’d kept Malorie and Devon from hurting Valaria that night, I’d stepped right in the middle of a dynastic war. Competition was fierce among Rex Corgan’s children for his favor, especially the daughters. The Rex allotted money and power to his favored offspring, and most of them were hungry for it. They competed among themselves, sabotaging each other, and it was rumored that one of the elder daughters smothered her baby sister in her cradle.
Valaria used to be a favorite, until she started seriously dating a female witch.
That was a big no-no in the shifter world because she was a fertile female. All shifter women that could have children were encouraged to breed as much as they could. In the old, and not so old, days that meant arranged marriages based on power, not love. Because witches and shifters couldn’t, in theory, breed, and Valaria’s witch happened to be a female—well, daddy lion was not happy with his offspring’s choice of mates.
Ted grunted. “Don’t worry about the lions. I think with them it’s more of a matter of they’re trying to figure out if they should thank you for saving Valaria’s life, or kill you. I forget which one.”
His teasing tone had me smiling despite myself. “Nice.”
“I have to go, so you’re okay with Jerry taking you to work?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, he’s fine.”
“I’ve already cleared him with security. He’ll be nearby in the building, but not right at your side.”
“Thanks, Ted.”
“Call me if you need me. Love you, kiddo.”
“I will, love you too, Ted.”
After we hung up I stared out the window for a few minutes before turning to Jerry. “So, the hyenas want to meet with me? Shouldn’t I talk to them? You know, get the down-low from the source?”
“You will, just give it a few more weeks. Trust me when I say you’ll want to be in full control of your animal spirit before your first meeting. I have no doubt they’ll send someone to test you, to see how dominant you are, and I also don’t doubt they’ll want to see you fight. You haven’t been trained in any way beyond those basic self-defense classes you took in college. They’d either hurt you bad, or you’d lose control of your animal spirit and slaughter them. I’ve sensed your Queen, Syn, she’s a very intimidating hyena to those she views as a threat. Take this time to bond with her and reassure her that you don’t need to fight with every dominant hyena you come across.”
“Great, so I’m going to be a psycho bitch?”
“Until you get your mates, kinda.” Jerry cleared his throat. “See, uh—your mates have something in their secretions that your body absorbs during—err, intimate times. Their saliva will literally act like a drug on your body and spirit animal. If you ever get too riled, an—um exchange of secretions will help you even out and regain control of your spirit animal. Though I’ve heard with hyena Queens that their temper can be really volatile, and they need—uh, calming from more than one mate. You know, from their secretions.”
I couldn’t stop the giggle that burst out of me at the sight of big, brawny, Jerry blushing and mumbling. “Secretions? Really, Jerry?”