Shifters Gone Wild; Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  Time seemed to stretch into an eternity before she finally found a pulse.

  It was strong.

  Fast.

  “Motherfucker.” Storm’s deep voice made her jump, and she swiftly twisted to face him.

  He had transformed into a cougar too, and had been as naked as a jaybird when he had walked away with a stunned blonde in tow, obeying his brother’s command. Thankfully, he’d had the decency to put his trousers back on at least.

  He crouched beside Rath, a wealth of concern in his grey eyes.

  Eyes that matched Rath’s so perfectly it brought tears to hers.

  The fear she had been fighting pressed down on her. Not fear of Rath, or what he and his brother were, but fear that she was going to lose him.

  Part of her felt she should be afraid of him, but she felt as drawn to him now as she had been before she had discovered he wasn’t like her.

  She still couldn’t believe he could transform into a cougar.

  Or the fact he had protected her, had saved her life by taking a bullet for her and had killed Alexander.

  Ivy looked across at Alexander as Storm went into action, hauling his brother into his arms and over his shoulder, his words lost on her as she stared at the bastard who had come here to hurt them.

  Kill them.

  Her gut twisted as she looked at his body.

  She was sure she should have been shocked or horrified by what Rath had done to him too, should feel bad about it, guilty for her part in it, but it had been him or them, and all she felt was relieved that he was dead.

  “Ivy,” Storm snapped, dragging her back to him. “I’m going to need your help.”

  She nodded, pushed onto her feet and clutched her soiled hoody to her chest as she followed Storm to Rath’s cabin, trying to shut out the ache in her temple as it began to build again, reminding her that Rath wasn’t the only one who had been injured. Her own wound could wait. Rath came first.

  Storm set his brother down on the wooden floor and she stared down at Rath as he went into the bathroom.

  When he emerged and dumped several white towels, bandages and other items next to his brother, she startled from her stupor and pushed away from her fear.

  She wasn’t going to lose Rath.

  She moved to his right side, nudging his brother aside, and dropped to her knees. Her hand slipped on the fresh blood on Rath’s shoulder when she tried to lift him, his dead weight working against her.

  Storm crouched and grabbed his brother, lifting him for her, and she thanked him with a nod, and peered beneath Rath’s shoulder.

  “No exit wound.” She tried to remember what Yasmin had told her about treating bullet wounds, and wished her friend was here with her now, because she was sure Yasmin could handle this without breaking a sweat, would have Rath patched up and back on his feet in no time.

  “We need to get the bullet out.” Storm waited for her to place a folded towel beneath Rath’s shoulder before lowering his brother onto it.

  He straightened, stepped over his brother’s head, and rifled through the drawers in the kitchen in front of her. A knife flashed in his hand when he turned to face her and her stomach lurched.

  She must have paled, because Storm smiled tightly.

  “We just need to open the wound a little.” He kneeled beside his brother’s head and glanced at her, concern lighting his grey eyes, making them more blue. “I hope you have a strong stomach.”

  Those words told her what he wouldn’t, revealed her purpose to her and she swallowed hard, bracing herself against what she was about to do.

  “I don’t have anything else we can use.” Storm’s voice dripped with an apology.

  Ivy shook her head. “It’s fine. I can do it. Yasmin showed me what to do.”

  Although, the thought of sticking her fingers into Rath’s wound and seeking the bullet had her stomach churning and bile rising up her throat.

  “I’ll have to thank this Yasmin sometime.” Storm gave her another tight smile and then his handsome face shifted into a pained grimace as he looked at his brother. “I fucking hope you stay unconscious for this… and I’m sorry.”

  Ivy looked away the moment the knife pierced the wound, covered her mouth as the scent of blood in the air grew thicker, and her mind filled with images of Storm cutting his brother, not letting her escape the gruesome sight.

  Storm dropped the knife and pressed a towel to the wound, muttering dark things to himself.

  She drew down several deep breaths, dragging her courage a little higher with each one, feeling Storm’s eyes on her as he waited.

  Ivy nodded.

  He moved.

  She glanced at Rath, just enough to make sure her fingers hit their target, and balked as slick heat surrounded them, his flesh giving way as she pressed her fingers into the wound.

  “Breathe,” she whispered to herself, swallowed and closed her eyes, pressed deeper and ignored how her stomach lurched when a wet sucking sound broke the silence.

  She was going to throw up.

  “You’re doing great,” Storm murmured, voice soft and gentle, encouraging. “As soon as the bullet is out, he’ll be able to start healing the wound. He’ll heal fast, Ivy. You just need to get the bullet out.”

  She nodded, sucked down another breath to stop herself from vomiting and probed deeper. Bile shot up her throat when she felt bone, the jagged end of it scraping her fingertip, and she braced her other hand against the floor, sure she would throw up this time.

  Storm moved behind her and gently rested his hand on her shoulder. “Take a break if you need it.”

  She shook her head. “Something is broken.”

  “He’ll heal it, I swear. We don’t break so easily. You can’t keep a good cougar down.” He rubbed her shoulder, palming it softly.

  Ivy nodded again and pushed past the broken bone, and grimaced as her knuckles hit his flesh, and the reason Storm had sliced the wound open wider made a sickening sort of sense. She pressed forwards, her ring and little finger sinking into the wound, allowing her to reach deeper with her other two fingers.

  Where the hell was that bullet?

  She stilled as her fingers brushed something and it moved. She twisted her hand, her eyes widening as she felt it was small, jagged in places, and moved freely. Definitely not part of his body. She opened her fingers like scissors and hoped she wasn’t doing any damage as she fumbled with the bullet, trying to get hold of it.

  Her breath lodged in her throat as she managed to get it between her two fingers, and her heart slammed hard against her chest as she carefully pulled her fingers up, her body trembling as she tried not to drop it.

  “You’re doing great,” Storm murmured again. “Almost there.”

  She wasn’t sure, because she couldn’t look, the thought of seeing her fingers in the wound too much to bear, let alone actually seeing them.

  Cool air washed over her fingers, helping her judge how far she had come.

  When they pulled free of Rath’s flesh with a sickening sucking sound, she sank back on her hip and brought her hand in front of her. Crimson covered it, but she shut out the sight of it, her focus on the piece of metal between her fingers.

  It looked so small, so harmless, but it had almost caused more damage than she could bear.

  It had almost taken Rath from her.

  Storm pressed the towel back against his brother’s shoulder as she looked down at Rath and let the bullet fall from her fingers.

  “Ivy.” Storm’s soft tone had her looking at him. “Stay… and give him a chance to explain when he comes around.”

  She nodded, wanting to ease him, because she had no intention of going anywhere, not until Rath was better at least.

  Not until she knew what crazy world she had wandered into at Cougar Creek.

  “What did you do with Gabriella?” She studied Storm’s face for a sign that he had hurt the woman, hoping that he hadn’t and that he didn’t intend to either.

  “That
her name?” He frowned at her, sandy eyebrows dropping low above his grey eyes.

  “She’s Alexander’s half-sister… but she’s a good woman, Storm.”

  She could see where he got his name as his eyes darkened and his face followed them.

  “I can’t trust your judge of character,” he bit out. “You thought that hunter bastard was a good man too.”

  It was true, so she let him off for snapping at her.

  He looked down at his brother, huffed and pushed onto his feet. “Stay with him. I’ll be back soon.”

  She wanted to stop him, because she knew he was going to see Gabriella, but when she opened her mouth to say something, the way he stopped in the doorway and glared over his shoulder at her made her think the better of it.

  He wouldn’t hurt Gabriella.

  Rath wanted to question her, and she doubted Storm would risk her clamming up by hurting her before his brother had a chance to speak with her, which meant she had time to convince Rath that Gabriella was innocent.

  Or at least she hoped Gabi was.

  Ivy had only met her a handful of times, and she had never seemed interested in Alexander’s business, but she had been travelling with her brother. Had things changed? God, she hoped they hadn’t and Gabriella was an innocent caught up in things beyond her understanding not someone who was now working for the same organisation as Alexander had been.

  She stared at the door, getting the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t matter to Storm if Gabi wasn’t involved in Archangel, because she shared Alexander’s blood in part, and his family had been responsible for the terrible things that had happened to Storm’s family all those decades ago.

  He was going to want revenge.

  Would Rath want it too?

  Ivy returned her focus to Rath, pushing out her concern for Gabi because he needed it more. She set to work closing the wound as best she could with what she had and bandaging it, and cleaned some of his other injuries, covering them with dressings. When her work was done, she took a cushion from the couch, placed it under his head, and covered him with a blanket.

  She turned the armchair near him around and sat in it, her eyes locked on him as she tucked her legs up to her chest and waited. Time trickled past, his breathing levelling out and a little colour returning to his cheeks. The day wore on, the sun moving across the mountains, and Storm came at some point to drop off her camera and pack, and check on his brother.

  It was close to evening when she finally moved, using the bathroom and then filling the kettle with water. She made herself a coffee, and as she turned, she found Rath watching her, a hazy edge to his golden eyes.

  She set her mug down, picked up a pitcher of water and poured him a glass, and kneeled beside his head.

  “I can’t believe you’re still here,” he croaked.

  Ivy helped him sit up a little, wincing at the same time as he did, and brought the glass to his lips. “I didn’t know anything about what Alexander was involved in… about what he wanted… or about… you. I swear.”

  He swallowed the water and eased back on a sigh, his eyes on the ceiling. “I know.”

  “I didn’t know anything about what happened to you and your family either. I’m sorry.” She set the glass down beside her and dropped her hands into her lap, her eyes on him even though he kept his locked away from her, as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

  “You don’t need to apologise,” he murmured and closed his eyes. “It’s in the past now… and while I still feel a sense of loss… I no longer remember what she looked like. I only have vague memories and feelings from time to time.”

  Ivy steeled herself, her heart stinging at the thought of him with another woman, one he had clearly loved, had mourned and part of him still mourned.

  “How long ago did you lose her?” She looked down at her knees, bracing herself for the answer, sure it would deliver another shock to her that would tilt her world even more off its axis.

  Rath let out a long sigh. “Thirty-six years ago.”

  Her eyes widened. Two years before she had been born.

  She lifted her gaze to Rath, but he kept his eyes closed, shutting her out. Why? Because he didn’t want to tell her these things? Or because he feared how she would react?

  “How… how old are you?” Her heart pounded again, a strange airy sensation flowing through her, making her feel as if she was floating, dreaming all of this.

  He grimaced. “One hundred and forty-eight.”

  Wow. She swallowed hard at that, stared wide-eyed at him, trying to make herself believe he was telling her the truth. What reason did he have to lie to her? If he had wanted to lie, he would have told her he had lost his wife only a few years ago and that he was the age he looked—somewhere in his late thirties.

  Ivy could only stare at him as she worked to make that slowly sink in. Rath was almost one hundred and fifty years old, was a century and then some older than she was, and had fought in some sort of battle before she had been born.

  “Who is Archangel?” And why would they want to study someone like Rath, or use her in such a sick way?

  “Hunters.” His voice cracked, and he struggled to clear his throat. He grimaced as he coughed, his right arm twitching, hand flexing.

  She picked up the glass of water, lifted his head and placed it to his lips again, held it there as he drank deep, draining the glass. When he was done, she eased him back down onto the pillow and went to stand.

  Shock whipped through her when he seized her wrist with his right hand, not letting her move away, a low growl on his lips.

  His eyes widened slightly when he looked at his hand, surprise flashing in them, and he released her and sank back against the pillow. Blood bloomed on the bandages over his gunshot wound.

  “Sorry,” he croaked. “I’m… I…”

  He turned his face away from her.

  He didn’t need to tell her the reason he had reacted, had stopped her from moving away from him. She could feel it in him, and that was stranger than anything she had seen yet.

  She had panicked him by going to move away and he had reacted on instinct, needing to keep her near to him, because he feared she was going to leave.

  “You were telling me about Archangel,” she prompted gently as she eased back onto her knees beside him, showing him that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Nothing he told her could scare her away.

  She had seen what he was, and while it had shocked her at the time, she wasn’t afraid of him.

  When he didn’t speak, she filled the silence, hoping to reassure him.

  “I’ve travelled the world as a photographer.” She shifted onto her backside and crossed her legs. “In South America, when I was looking for jaguars in the Pantanal, I met a tribe who worshipped them and believed they transformed into humans during certain times of the year.”

  She had thought it local folklore until today though.

  When Rath edged his head towards her an inch, she continued.

  “I met a holy man in India who spoke of tigers devouring human souls so they can walk in our world.” She had figured him for an eccentric determined to sweep her up in his story to charm some money off her, a tourist in his eyes.

  She looked at Rath, canting her head to her right as she took him in and remembered the incredible sight of him transforming into a huge sleek cougar.

  “So maybe it isn’t so crazy that you can change appearance… maybe you’re one of those shapeshifters the people I met spoke of with reverence.”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m not a jaguar, or a tiger. They’re a pride species.”

  The way he spoke of them told her that there were other shapeshifters out there in the world, and the tribe and the holy man were right to believe in them.

  “You have a pride.” She tucked her knees against her chest. “Storm, and the others here.”

  He frowned. “We’re solitary creatures in reality, but at times, we act as a pride.”

&nbs
p; She recalled him saying he was a solitary kind of guy, and that he couldn’t understand why people liked cities, and now that aspect of his personality made a lot of sense to her. She knew cougars, had done her research into them before, when she had debated tracking them to photograph them a few years ago. They preferred to keep to themselves, but would tolerate other cougars at certain times, especially during winter when food was scarce, going so far as to share it with other cougars who had shown them the same kindness.

  “Is a cougar your only form?” When he looked at her, a line forming between his dark eyebrows as they dipped low, she added, “Other than this one.”

  He nodded, grimaced and rubbed at his shoulder with his left hand.

  Ivy leaned over and caught his wrist, stopping him. “You’ll aggravate it. We had nothing to sew it with, but your brother assured me it would heal once I got the bullet out.”

  His grey eyes widened and zipped to her. “You removed the bullet?”

  She rolled her shoulders. “I have a friend who’s a doctor… an overprotective friend. She insisted on training me in all aspects of field medicine, just in case.”

  Her eyes dropped to her hand on his wrist and she couldn’t stop herself from stroking her thumb over his skin as her thoughts weighed her down, the tempest of feelings she had been swept up in just hours ago swirling through her again, fear of losing Rath at the front of them.

  “You’ll really heal?” She kept her eyes on her hand, afraid of looking at him as she asked that, although she wasn’t sure why. Because he might tell her that he wouldn’t? Because he might see in her eyes that she needed him to heal, that he had frightened her and part of her was still convinced she was going to lose him?

  He grunted, clenched his jaw and brought his right hand up, placing it over hers. “I will, Ivy… you don’t have to worry about me. I’m strong.”

  She nodded and blew her breath out on a strained chuckle. “I’m still finding it hard to fathom everything that just happened. Suddenly the man I’m… you’re a cougar… and Alexander is trying to kill me… and everything no longer makes sense.”