Shifters Forever Worlds Epic Collection

by Elle Thorne

  Mason swiped at his eyes so he could see better.

  He pushed for a shift, needing his lion to step up and help, but the Tranq had fucked him up. He couldn’t push the shift into place. His lion paced and rumbled in Mason’s head. His anger surged, the adrenaline already pumping through his body at breakneck speed.

  The bear dropped to all fours, his mouth wide in a threatening grimace. Sharp canines, long and yellow, drool falling from dark lips and a crimson cavern. He opened his mouth to release another bellow.

  Now, goddammit. Shift. Now. He pushed his lion, knowing his inner beast had no control, but not knowing what else to do.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  All he needed was less than a minute’s diversion, he could pull his kit out of his pocket and be out the locked door, leaving behind the three bear shifters that were going to kill him.

  A scream pierced the air, angry and full of wrath, interrupting the bear’s roar. All three bears turned to look at the source.

  Evie.

  Her mouth was wide. Her shriek relentless.

  Next to her stood that bastard, Todd.

  Mason noticed the gouges that crossed Todd’s face. Something had transpired with Evie.

  Mason also noticed she’d been hurt. Abrasions marked the face he loved more than life itself. Then his lion scented her blood and roared.

  Forget the kit. He felt himself beginning a shift.

  Nothing would stop his lion now.

  Snapping bones and a grunt, followed by crunching and tendons stretching, tearing, then reforming, and his lion, in all his massive magnificence stood before the three bears. His lion leapt, flying through the large cage, landing on the lead bear’s back, digging his canines into the bear’s neck with an incapacitating relentless grip. He shook his massive head, severing the bear’s spinal cord, rendering him a threat no more.

  The two other bears leapt on Mason, claws digging into his side, fangs seeking purchase in his throat blocked by his thick mane.

  And throughout all, Evie’s scream was in the background.

  Chapter Eleven

  Evie stopped screaming.

  The bears had piled on Mason’s lion. And though she could see Mason’s lion moving beneath them, she knew it was a matter of time before they inflicted enough wounds to make him bleed to death, even if it wasn’t an immediate kill.

  Then she noticed them. Six more shifters were watching the fight from the other side of the cage. Not actually in the cage, but were they backups?

  There’s no way Mason can make it through this alive.

  She grabbed Todd’s arm. “Make them stop. They’ll kill him.”

  “Why should I?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want. Anything. Just. Make. Them. Stop.” Her voice was a shriek, but it didn’t override her tigress’s roars in Evie’s head.

  “Anything?” His eyes did that starburst thing. His smile was cruelly evil.

  What Mason had done in that picture, was pushed aside. She wasn’t going to let him die this way.

  She nodded. To save Mason.

  “Say it.”

  “Anything.”

  “You promise.” His fingers took hold of her chin, held it with a vise grip, pulled her closer to him. His other hand tucked her body against his, mound pressed against his thigh. He moved his thigh, rubbing against her.

  Evie fought the nausea from Todd’s touch and tried to concentrate on Mason.

  He dropped his hand from the small of her back, over her ass, cupping it, pulling her even closer.

  “Halt,” Todd commanded.

  The two bears looked at Todd.

  “Give it a rest.”

  The bears lugged their bodies off Mason and lumbered away, shifting into two men that were more like hulks of muscle and attitude. Their clothes rumpled but still on, as they always were after a shift. Removing a set of keys from his pocket, one opened the door. They slipped out, and he promptly locked it behind him.

  One spit on the ground outside the cage door in disdain. The other shifters milling about behind the barred enclosure turned to their friends and clapped them on the back.

  Mason was unmoving.

  “He’s dead.” Evie’s knees gave out and she began a collapse to the cement floor that smelled of death, blood, and bleach.

  Todd caught her, holding her against his body.

  “I doubt that.” He nodded to one of the men. “Check the lion.”

  The man leaned down and put his hand between the steel rods of the cage. He felt around, then, still squatting, he raised his head and looked at Todd. “I got a pulse.”

  “See?” Todd said to Evie.

  The man’s yell interrupted her response. He raised his arm from the cage, his hand dangling from the limb, held in place by a tendon.

  Mason was on his feet, bloody, unsteady, roaring.

  The man turned toward his friends. One had stripped his shirt off and wrapped it around his useless hand.

  “Get him to a doctor,” Todd barked. “Martinez will pay for that. Yuri was one of my best fighters. Our deal didn’t cover the lion shifter fighting tonight. It only covered this afternoon’s scuffle. Tonight, he fights. One on one. To make it fair.”

  “Look at him,” Evie hissed. “He’s in no condition to fight.”

  “He better hope his shifter powers heal him quickly.” The starbursts began their miniscule flares in his eyes.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I can. And if you don’t hold up your end of our agreement, I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk out of there alive. Just a tiny amount of Tranq, and he won’t be worth shit in the ring.”

  “I won’t back out.”

  But I’ll make sure you don’t live long enough to carry through on your threats.

  “Let’s go. Now.” He yanked on her hand, pulling her toward the same set of double doors. “We’re going upstairs. You’re taking a shower and getting dolled up. You’re my date at tonight’s event.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mason was in a cage. How long had he been in Todd’s custody? Was it more than a day? Did they keep him sedated for a long time? After he killed one of Todd’s shifters, they’d transferred him to another cage in another room, then left him alone, a curtain covering all four sides. He’d lain there unable to move, letting his body heal as best as he could without an actual hibernation heal.

  He’d be far from 100 percent, but he couldn’t afford to go into hibernation now. It would make him way too vulnerable. He flexed his muscles and flinched when a gash in his shoulder split and began to seep blood once more.

  He’d overheard Todd’s shifter henchmen talking about a fight and how Mason was the featured attraction. That it had garnered the largest crowd they’d ever had, and security was spread thin.

  Hopefully I can use that to my advantage.

  Mason was almost ready. He felt well enough to give it a shot. They’d taken his cell phone but they’d left his wallet and kit.

  He glanced at the locks. Those wouldn’t be a problem. The problem would be the shifters running loose on the other side.

  Here goes nothing.

  One painstaking move after another, he rose to his feet and held onto the bars for support. After taking the kit out, he was through the lock in no time.

  Like riding a bike.

  He thought of his promise to Augie.

  Hey, man, it’s not like I’m doing it for the wrong reasons, he reassured Augie, wherever he was. Augusto Ray Ramirez.

  God, he missed Augie.

  He relocked the door behind himself, and put his kit up. Then slowly inched his way around the curtain, away from the door, because if anyone were looking for him, that’s where they’d come in. He flattened his body against the cage, trying to move the fabric as little as possible. The area was quiet but he could hear voices from another room.

  Many, many voices.

  The audience was here.

  Maybe I can get lost in the crowd.


  He looked down at his bloody clothing.

  Not for long, that’s for damned sure.

  He’d have to find something to wear that wouldn’t attract attention.

  At the opposite end of the cage, the room was dark, but that didn’t mean much to his shifter sight. Darkness never gave a shifter problems.

  Mason shot to his feet, he was against a wall. That would give him some protection from prying eyes. He took a second to orient himself and listen for approaching footsteps.

  Five seconds passed.

  Ten seconds.

  Nothing. Total silence. He took a step forward. He needed to find Evie. He didn’t believe for a second she was here of her own free will, but when he’d asked Todd’s punk-ass shifter guards, they’d given him no indication, snickering at his questions.

  He concentrated a moment, calling his lion forward, he slipped into the beginning of a shift, allowing his claws to extend from his fingertips.

  Shoving one razor tip nail through the curtain, he drew his finger down slowly, slicing through the fabric easily. Mason moved the curtain aside just enough to look out.

  Coast was clear. There was a door on the other side of the room, and curtains hung in rows, clearly indicating more cages, possibly more shifters.

  If there were shifters here, why were they so quiet.

  Then it occurred to him. They were probably Tranq-ed. He was the main attraction. Maybe that meant he was the only attraction.

  He’d make a quick dash to the door, then he’d come up with the next part of the plan. He took a deep breath.

  Here we go.

  Mason sucked air into his lungs, hoped he’d healed enough to have the energy for whatever he was getting into, and sprinted toward the door, passing curtains, slipping between the covered cages in the darkened over-sized warehouse of a room.

  His eyes were trained on the door. He’d stop just to the left of the window that was shoulder-level and he’d chance a glance through the pane. He noted the dim light shining through, but couldn’t tell what was on the other side.

  Just when he’d reached the door, it flew open, striking him in the shoulder.

  Damn.

  He felt the blood begin to ooze and nailed his body against the wall next to the door, hoping it was a human with no shifter sight to see him in the darkness and no shifter noses to pick up the scent of his blood.

  “Mason? Mason Martinez?” a voice came from the darkness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evie let the hot water wash over her. It stung where he’d backhanded her. Then it began to throb. She was sure that was nothing compared to what Mason was going through.

  And she knew Todd Scanlon was well aware that the only way Mason could heal would be if he’d go into a healing hibernation. That would make him vulnerable and difficult to awaken to defend himself.

  So basically, Mason was screwed. There was no way he could heal.

  Hot tears of frustration merged with the scalding water cascading down her face.

  This may not be the time to cry, but she couldn’t stop the tears. She had never felt such despair. Okay, maybe she had; she thought of the picture of Mason and that whore who was going down on him.

  Why do I even want to help him?

  Her tigress howled in her head, the sound painfully loud.

  Evie glanced in the mirror for one last look, ignoring the knock on the door for the second time.

  As if it matters what I look like.

  She was in the clothing Todd had provided. She found it laid out on the bed when she’d come out of the shower. A shudder ran through her at the creepiness of the idea that he’d been in the room while she was behind the frosted glass shower door.

  She surveyed the vision that looked back at her. The dress Todd had picked out complimented her skin tone, allowing the undertones of latte to glow. The shimmering green evening length sheath emphasized her auburn hair. And clung to her curves way too tightly.

  Fuck. This is a size too small.

  She tried to take a deep breath. Clearly Todd liked his women to be dressed a little on the sleazy side. She tugged the bodice up, seeking to cover her cleavage a bit more.

  Either that or he can’t tell what size a woman is.

  She gave the mirror a dirty look, then turned and opened the door.

  “It’s about time.” Todd’s eyes had that odd sparkle again. “Thought I’d have to break in to get you to join me.”

  Todd was in a black tux, blood red carnation boutonniere vivid against the dark fabric. He leaned against the door’s frame, his eyes appraising Evie, running the course of her body, making her cringe with every sweep of that dark, eerie gaze.

  “I’m ready.” She tried to draw his transfixed stare away from her body.

  “Tonight, you’re mine.” He licked his lips.

  Over one of our dead bodies.

  Hopefully yours.

  Todd escorted her through dark tunnel-like hallways. She recognized the concrete passageway. It was the same route they’d taken when she’d watched Mason fighting in the cage earlier. Except there was a difference now. She recognized the sound of many voices and saw light coming in from windows of the double door entrance where the hallway ended.

  The sound of conversations, the low buzz of talking infiltrated the long tunnels with their rustic unfinished cement floors.

  Todd’s men surrounded them, two in front, two in back. All six stopped at the entrance. Evie couldn’t see in the windows as they were blocked by Todd’s muscular, thick henchmen. Todd nodded to one. He opened the door.

  Todd stepped over the threshold onto the black polished floor. Evie paused to get her bearings.

  The warehouse setting had been transformed to an opulent coliseum. Attendees were attired as though at a black tie affair. Glittering evening dresses on the women, black and white for the men. She took it all in, absorbing as much as she could.

  A large cage was in the center of the room, surrounded by seating and waiters that floated seamlessly from guest to guest, balancing trays with champagne flutes and cocktail glasses. Shifters didn’t drink; they weren’t affected by alcohol, so clearly the alcohol was for humans in attendance.

  How can shifters allow humans to witness this? How can shifters do this to their own kind?

  She gave Todd a dirty look. He stared at the visage before them, his face painted with lust.

  He enjoys this. He likes the blood sport.

  A waiter approached, handed Todd a flute. Todd nodded to the waiter then turned to Evie.

  “Drink.” He handed her the delicate crystal.

  She shook her head. Her stomach was roiling from stress. She’d vomit if she drank.

  “Now.” His lips flattened into a line, a tic appeared at his temple. “Or else.”

  He didn’t need to tell her what the or else part was.

  She put the glass to her lips and drank down the bubbly liquid that tickled the roof of her mouth.

  She lowered the flute.

  “All of it.”

  Evie fought back the grimace and downed the contents.

  I don’t even like champagne.

  “Good girl.” Todd’s smile was victorious and didn’t reach his eyes.

  Bastard.

  The guests turned slowly, as they realized Todd had entered. Many nodded, some waved, and all stared at Evie.

  She tried to focus on their faces, striving to find one she recognized, someone who could put a stop to this madness of shifters fighting each other for fun, but her world felt like it was beginning to spin.

  Bewildered, she looked to Todd for answers. He was studying her carefully.

  That’s when it hit her.

  You motherfucker.

  He’d given her something. It made her mind feel like she was swimming through sludge; it made her body feel encased in quicksand.

  “Let’s go.” He took her hand, pulled it over his forearm as if she were holding him, then covered her fingers with his hand, keeping her in
place, as if he were escorting her.

  She barely noted they wound their way through the crowd, then to the other side of the room, around the milling guests.

  On the back wall, a brushed metal elevator door awaited next to a flight of stairs.

  “I think we better take the elevator,” Todd announced. “Evangeline isn’t feeling 100 percent,” he told his flunkies, as if he didn’t know why she wasn’t feeling well.

  As if he isn’t the cause of it.

  Evie kept her mouth closed. She wasn’t sure she could control her anger at the situation. She had no idea what he’d given her. She wasn’t aware that any type of drug would do this to a shifter.

  The elevator ride was smooth and quick, the doors opened to a private box overlooking the coliseum setting below. Evie bypassed the plush seating, making her way methodically toward the glass pane window. She took her steps slowly, her feet felt incased in lead boots.

  She held onto the polished wooden bar at waist level and leaned her forehead against the cool surface of the window.

  Below her, dead center of the area, a cage surrounded an arena that resembled a large boxing ring. The cage’s bars were constructed of shiny obsidian-colored tubes. Lights—many lights—reminding Evie of a theater’s stage were poised above the cage, ready to spotlight every bite, ever slash, every injury.

  And Mason’s going to be in there with God knows who and God knows how many.

  A shudder of pure horror and fear made a wave over her body.

  The guests were laughing, heads thrown back. Buzzes of their conversation made it through the glass, thanks to her supernatural shifter hearing, and Evie could pick up portions of dialogue.

  “… my money’s on the lion.”

  “… I’m betting on the bears.”

  “… when was this put together?”

  “… I just got the text today.”

  These were portions of the exchanges below, enhanced by laughter, the clinking of toasting, the murmur of flirting.