by A. C. Arthur
He didn’t usually attend these meetings but after Eli and Nivea had brought the phone back to Rome, the Assembly Leader had called in everyone immediately.
“We did not take killing our own lightly,” the normally quiet shifter said.
“But you would kill them!” Jace yelled. “If you saw fit you would kill them because you thought you knew best who should live and who should die.”
“Calm down,” Rome stated evenly, yet dominantly. “We cannot erase the past. The Elders of the Gungi ruled the way they deemed appropriate. We will do differently because we now know more.”
“So if Boden wasn’t killed when he was supposed to be, instead taking refuge in the Sierra Leone rain forest and falling in love with the tiger princess, why is he here now and how is that tramp Bianca connected?” Kalina asked.
“At the end of Bianca’s video there was the Topètenia insignia intertwined with that of the Lormenia and the Bosinia, Croesteriia, and Serfins. I’d already known Bianca was a shifter but I was curious when I saw this so I did some background on her. That’s when I found out she was Acacia’s younger sister, born to a Lormenia female that was not Teodoro’s mate and so they’d been shipped out of the Sierra Leone rain forest before she was born. With Acacia dead I put two and two together,” Cole told them.
“And decided to keep this all to yourself?” Ezra asked.
Eli frowned. He’d been hoping that Ezra would keep their silence, that their past would not become a part of this conversation.
Nick, X, and Rome knew what had happened with them in the Sierra Leone rain forest, and Eli suspected their mates did as well. And because Ezra had used what happened to them to help Shya get better, the other FLs now knew as well. Nivea did not know and he did not want her hearing about the mistakes of his past. Not here and definitely not now.
“The why and how no longer matters.”
Baxter spoke up from his spot in the corner. He moved slowly until he was standing near Elder Alamar. “This time would have come regardless of the events preceding it.”
“What are you talking about?” Rome asked. “Do you know something you haven’t been telling me? Something else, that is.”
Eli stared at the Overseer as he came closer to the table. When Baxter looked up at him he knew exactly why. That conversation he’d thought he was overhearing weeks ago, the one that predicted the future of the Shadows, Eli had not overheard it at all. He’d seen Baxter and Elder Alamar having the conversation because he was a Seer, just as Baxter had told him. That’s why he’d heard nothing but whispers when he’d put a glass to the wall. It was a vision that he had no idea when had actually taken place. But right at this moment, there was no doubt that he’d seen Baxter and the Elder talking, conversing about what they should do about Magdalena’s vision.
“A morte ea destruição. O fim completo da corrida ou uma mudança catastrófica em quem eo que somos virá. Vai chover sobre as cabeças daqueles que não tinham nada a ver com essa luta e um será encarregado de nos ver passar. Um deles será responsável para o futuro de todos nós.” Elder Alamar spoke solemnly in Portuguese.
Baxter nodded and then looked to Rome. “It was predicted by Magdalena, the Seer of all tribes. She warned of death and destruction. The complete end of the race or a catastrophic change in who and what you all are would come. It will rain down upon the heads of those who had nothing to do with this fight and one will be tasked with seeing us through, she said. One will be responsible for the future of all.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Eli asked, his chest still heaving at the revelation, the acceptance of what he was.
It was Elder Alamar who spoke to him this time. “The job of a Seer is to see what has been and what will be. It is not their job to change the course shifters will take.”
Eli nodded, frowning at the Elder. “So they are privy to all this information but prevented from doing anything about it? That’s a fucking waste!”
Rome lifted a hand to silence Eli. “It is their way,” the Leader said. “It is what they were used to doing.”
Everyone looked to Rome at that moment, the FLs on the speakerphone remaining silent. Kalina reached for her husband’s hand. Rome laced his fingers with hers, his face grim, as he said without qualm or reservation, “We make our own future. From this moment on, we decide how this will end. We are the Shadow Shifters and we will prevail.”
Chapter 16
She was unlike any woman Dorian had ever met. From the moment she walked up onto that porch and looked at him he’d known it for certain, just as he’d known that he would follow her anywhere.
“You’re fucking fantastic!” she whispered, her face pressed against the wall as Dorian pumped deeply into her from behind.
They were in her hotel suite and she’d just come from the shower. He’d been on his phone, still trying to hook up with any of the surviving agents who had been at the cabin that day. Four weeks had already passed. The two agents who had been found were buried, their families still grieving their loss. And Dorian had yet to return to work. He had, however, left his sister’s house about twenty minutes after Rayna had introduced herself to him.
“I’ve been bad, mister officer,” she’d said, coming to stand between his legs just as he was leaving another message on an agent’s phone.
He’d quickly disconnected the call, rising from his seat and looking at her lush naked body.
“Then you must be punished,” he’d stated. “Turn around and assume the position.”
She’d quickly obeyed, walking—no, sashaying her curving hips—across the room until she came to the wall where she spread her legs and placed her hands up over her head. Dorian grabbed her wrists, pressed her palms into the wall, and used his foot to kick her legs open wider.
He’d slipped into her easily; her pussy was always so wet and so tight. He was breaking all the rules he’d sworn to live by, he knew that without a doubt. But he couldn’t stop it, wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
“You’re delicious,” he whispered to her in return, his tongue licking along her ear. “Delicious and dangerous.”
She’d chuckled then, pressing her ass back into each of his strokes until words escaped him and all Dorian could focus on was the slick in-and-out motions between them. When his legs trembled, release rushing through him like a tidal wave, his mind slowly began to clear.
He lowered them both to the floor afterward, curling his body around hers. They fit so perfectly, as if this was the female who had been made specifically for him. Only, she wasn’t a female, at least not a human one.
“The time is almost near,” she said in the quiet of the room. “What will you do?”
Dorian traced a finger from her shoulder, down her arm, to her thigh and down farther. She purred and he realized with a start that he loved that sound.
“What will you do?” he asked in return.
She moved then, just a little shift, before declaring, “Whatever is necessary.”
Then there was a bigger shift. Dorian jolted back, still not used to seeing her in this form. The white Bengal tiger was big, mostly white with its black stripes darker over its back, basically disappearing toward its underbelly. Its head was that of a vicious killer, its eyes of a sultry female, the one he’d just released his essence inside of.
When she opened her mouth wide, her tongue jutting out to lick around her mouth, his dick grew harder. It was by far the weirdest thing he’d ever experienced. The woman and the cat aroused him, although he’d never verbally admit that to another living soul.
Cat people did exist.
The reports had been true and Dorian had one right here, living and breathing and making him doubt every bit of conventional sex he’d ever learned. Fleetingly he thought of what his superiors would say. The ones who had chastised him for neglecting his other cases and fixating on Reynolds and Delgado. The very ones whose faces he would laugh in once this story hit the streets.
Dorian finally stood
up, one hand gripping his aching cock.
He sat on the side of the bed, legs spread, hand still jerking his length. “This is necessary,” he told her. “Now.”
The tiger took one step toward him, then in a blur once again became the female. She remained on her hands and knees, crawling toward him with a look of pure lust in her eyes. Goddamn, he loved that look. He loved those eyes, so eerie and yet so enticing. He inhaled deeply of the exotic scent she carried.
“You’re right,” she said when she was between his legs, her hands smoothing along his hair-coated thighs. “We can go over the plan later. Right now, first things first.”
Her breath was warm as she opened her mouth and lowered her head, licking the tip of his dick with her moist tongue.
“Right,” Dorian said, moving his hands from his length, burying his fingers in her hair, and guiding her mouth up and down. “This is definitely first.” She went down on him all the way, until it felt like his tip was touching her tonsils. He gasped, tightened his grip on her hair, and thrust his hips forward. “We’ll deal with them … after,” he continued before words were lost in the deep guttural moan of pleasure.
* * *
“We’re out of test monkeys,” Crowe stated with finality, as if his word really carried any weight in this room. “Each time we send one out, it doesn’t return. I don’t know what they want me to do now. There’s obviously a flaw and I can’t fix it!”
The man, the great captain of the U.S. Armed Forces, was falling apart. Sweat dotted his brow, his hands shook as he dragged them through his hair. He was pacing back and forth, threatening to wear a path in the lovely dark gray carpet that lined the rooms of the suite. It would have been funny if this human’s demise didn’t directly affect Boden’s ultimate plan.
With a resigned sigh, he smoothed a hand down the silk tie he wore. Dressing the part of a rich and influential human had become a ritual for him, the baser animalistic instincts he’d been born with still running close to the surface, however. Ready and waiting.
“The meeting is in three weeks,” he stated.
“I know,” Crowe whined. “I know. They won’t let me forget it.”
“Who will be there?”
Crowe spun around then, his lips drawn in a tight line. He wondered why Boden was asking, wondered how the man could be so calm in the face of this catastrophe. Boden knew all this and questioned why he had chosen this human to start things rolling in the first place.
“They’re all going to be there!” he yelled.
Boden sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. He raised his brows, aware of how intimidating that could be with his bald head and bushy brows. He liked that look as it cultivated the calm before the storm in his mind, the normal that layered over the beast. The low chuffing sound that emanated from his chest was the icing on the cake and had Crowe stopping, rethinking his answer.
“Every high-level defense delegate in the world will be there,” he said with a frown. “So far the Russians are making the top bid, but Pierson thinks the Chinese might have an ace up their sleeve. There’s a lot of money riding on this deal.”
“There’s a lot riding on this meeting, period,” Boden added. “Nothing can go wrong. Your hybrids have to be in place. Hundreds of them, ready to create the scene.”
“All we need is maybe fifty good ones, fresh out of the lab, to put on a show for the delegates. They’ll see what they can do without any interference and then the money will be on the table. We’ll deliver the merchandise later and to hell with what happens after they’ve taken possession. Right?” Crowe was nodding. “Okay, we can do that. Then we’ll all take our cut and get as far away from here as we can.”
The man had begun pacing again. Boden simply shook his head.
“I want hundreds of them. Five hundred to be exact,” he told him.
“No, that’s not necessary,” Crowe continued. “We just need a small amount. It’s safer that way because they’re so volatile. The more we create, the more unstable they become. Besides, I just told you I don’t have any more test subjects. Where am I supposed to get enough DNA to create five hundred more? And in three weeks no less.”
“Enough!” Boden finally raised his voice. “The stench of your panic is making me nauseous.”
He stood then, pulling out his cell phone to make a call. His teeth clenched as it rang and rang until the voice mail picked up. Boden tried another number. No answer there either.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
He’d been trying to reach Richard Cannon for over a week now and had not been successful. That bastard shifter owed Boden his life. In fact, his family owed Boden their lives considering all the heat he’d kept away from them by way of the Elders of the Gungi. One word, one note to the Elders that Cannon was taking their wayward youth and either killing them or selling them to Boden, and Cannon and his family would have been killed.
Boden had let the man live because he’d needed him. And now when that need was at its highest, the fool had the audacity to disappear. Well, that was not acceptable and Boden was about to show the shifter why it was safer for all involved to not try and swindle him. A hefty amount had been transferred into Cannon’s account just two weeks ago. The man owed him two batches of shifter children or the “test monkeys” as Crowe called them.
The debt was real and so were the consequences for attempting to double-cross him.
“Stop pacing back and forth and make yourself useful,” Boden yelled at Crowe. He walked over to the desk and picked up the hotel notepad and pen, scribbling on it as he continued to talk. “Get back to your lab and gather whatever hybrids you have left. Go to this address and bring me every breathing person in that house. Call me when the package is in hand for further instructions.”
Ripping the paper off the pad, Boden turned again to hand it to the whining captain. When the man looked at him as if appalled that Boden would send him on an assignment, Boden bared his lethally sharp teeth while thrusting the paper into Crowe’s chest.
“You got a problem taking orders, Captain Crowe?”
With shaking fingers Crowe reached up to snatch the paper away. The man’s eyes stayed fixated on Boden, too well-trained and too proud to admit he was about to shit in his pants from seeing a living, breathing, adult Shadow Shifter.
“No problem,” Crowe managed after clearing his throat. “No problem at all.”
Somebody’s in the house. They’re breaking stuff and cursing and
The first text message ended.
I think they’re going to take us
The second had come about a minute after the first and Nivea gasped, jumping out of Eli’s bed.
“What is it?” he asked, sitting up instantly.
“My sister’s texting me.”
Eli instantly fell back against the pillows, his head turning slightly to peek at the clock on the nightstand table. “At three in the morning?”
“Something’s wrong,” Nivea said, hating the feel of the words clogging in her throat. “Something’s happening.”
She was already dialing Amina’s number, hoping, no, praying that her sister would answer. When she didn’t, Nivea cursed.
“I have to go to her,” she said immediately, still clutching the phone in her hand as she moved to the chair where she’d begun stashing her clean clothes.
For the past three weeks she’d been in and out of Eli’s bed. In the last four days she’d been more in than out, and hence her clothes now occupied the recliner chair in the corner beside his dresser, her boots and tennis shoes side by side inside his closet and her toothbrush and favorite chamomile body wash in his bathroom. He hadn’t said a word about the things she’d brought into his room, no bitching and more disconcertingly—no acknowledgment. Yet, each time she’d attempted to go back to her own room, he touched her, kissed her, convinced her that this was where she belonged. Again.
Well, tonight, she knew where she had to go, despite the words she anticipated were about to come f
rom Eli’s lips.
“Are you crazy? You can’t drive to New York at three a.m.,” he told her, sitting up again, the sheet bunching up at his waist.
Of course he was naked beneath. Eli always slept naked and Nivea always enjoyed it. This morning, however, she was ignoring it.
“No, I’m not crazy. And yes, I can go to New York at whatever time I want if my family is in danger.” She was pulling on a shirt, foregoing the bra and afterward reaching for a pair of sweatpants.
“Nivea, stop,” he said, touching a hand to her shoulder as she bent over to put her legs in the pants.
“No, Eli! I will not stop!” she snapped at him with a glance over her shoulder. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it. That’s why I heard the vibration of my phone. A part of me knew something was going on.”
He didn’t argue that. She knew he was thinking about Ezra and how he had sensed something was going on with him even when his brother was all the way across the country.
“Let me see the texts,” he said when she was about to push past him to get to her shoes.
“What?”
He held out a hand in front of her. “The text messages, Nivea. Let me see them.”
She frowned and thought about arguing but figured what the hell, he wasn’t going to stop her anyway. Thrusting the phone into his hand, she moved around him and finally grabbed her tennis shoes while he read.
“Who would want to take them?” he asked. “Your father is still locked up tight here.”
Nivea looked up from tying her shoes quickly. “He wouldn’t hurt them,” she said. “He promised me he wouldn’t touch them as long as I kept quiet and I didn’t tell. I didn’t tell anybody anything about what he’s doing.”
She knew she’d said too much the moment Eli’s gaze went from confused to concerned.
“Maybe now’s the time you do tell me everything,” he replied.
Nivea stood. “Eli, I don’t have time for this. I have to go save them. I have to stop them from being taken. I have to!”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake until her lips snapped shut. “They’re more than four hours away from us, Nivea. Even if we leave right this second, odds are they’ve already been taken.”