Authorized: Mercenary Shifters (Mercenaries For Hire Book 4)

by Becca Vincenza

  Authorized

  A Mercenary Novella

  By Becca Vincenza

  Chapter 1

  Apollo

  The bar was as stereotypical as it could get, right down to the broken jukebox that looked like it had been there before the bar originally opened. The floors were as old as the bar itself, that was for sure―the scuff marks, blots of unmistakable dried blood, and other varying stains. The food was barely considered that with the amount of grease that had accumulated on every inch of the meals. It didn’t matter, the beers were cheap, and the company pleasurable. Not another male or female were settled anywhere near my dark booth. Even the waitress-slash-bartender kept her distance from me.

  Good. Fucking great.

  My hand tightened over the sweating beer in my hand. The glass splintered a little and I released my tight hold. That fucking phone call.

  Not thirty minutes ago a man from my past called. The last thing I wanted to do was pick up. My instincts screamed to let it go, to just press end. But I owed Lucas Boudreau my life. That Cajun fucker had kept silent, holding it over my head like a guillotine ready to fall. He had never said a thing. Now this.

  “I’m cashing in my favor,” he said in his fucking arrogant voice.

  It’s been a while since I killed. I had washed my hands of that life. I wanted better. It sounded fucking pussy-like but it was the truth. The blood on my hands, the body count in my closet … I was done. Fucking done. Done being someone’s hired-hand bitch.

  “Give me the name then.” Last kill. Even I scoffed at my own thought.

  “Ah, no. This isn’t a kill. I need you to protect someone for some time.”

  “A protection mission?” I asked. Shifters didn’t ask for help of any sort, and for him to ask for this kind of help? Something felt off. My wolf’s hackles raised.

  “My mate’s sister.”

  “How unfortunate for you. This favor and we are even?”

  “Yes.”

  “E-mail me the details, I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  His e-mail hadn’t come in yet. As soon as it did, though, I would be off to protect his mate’s sister. Definitely unfortunate for him. Mates were a responsibility even before he had chosen the life of a mercenary. That I had for some time as well. Now, even living in this small ass town in the middle of nowhere, I still had to look over my shoulder. Couldn’t imagine how Lucas and his mate would live happily ever after.

  I downed the last few sips of my beer and slammed the glass down. Might as well get home and packed. Standing up, I snatched my jacket from the back of the booth and marched out, leaving a rather large tip next to my empty beer … mostly to make up for what my friends called my ‘charming’ personality. Or more accurately, friend, as in just the one.

  The trip home was too short, and an e-mail from the Cajun arrived right before me. A snarl slipped past my lips as I looked down at the notification on my phone. A medical facility? What the fuck was the Cajun up to?

  It didn’t matter, I had my location and job. If this meant I didn’t owe Boudreau then I would do it.

  ****

  Bleach. The stinging scent smothered my first impression of this place. Wolves had very sensitive noses, and even in my human form the smell hurt. Snorting out the scent, I growled at the thought of the Cajun sending me here. It had been a long drive, but the rewards were worth it. I loathed owing anyone, anything. The Cajun had this hanging over my head for years. Even if he would have forgotten it, I never would have.

  My work boots clomped heavily against the tile. A nurse passed by, a sweet little number―short, curvy, and full lips. Her scent screamed lust as she checked me out. I waited for the initial spark of my own desire to flare, but even as the blonde nurse passed, my cock remained where it was: soft and unstirred. It hadn’t been that long ago when any woman could get me riled up and get my wolf’s attention. So why had it become a challenge?

  I pressed forward, going to the room number that the Cajun left for me. He didn’t tell me much about the person I’d be protecting. Her name was Mallory, her sister, Mazy, had mated to Boudreau. Apparently, he got himself a human mate, with a human sister with medical issues. He didn’t tell me how or why Mallory had been admitted and I didn’t care. He did mention Mazy had gotten into trouble with some loan sharks.

  The halls were filled with doorways with numbers on the plastic squares next to them. The nurse’s station had been at the front and I checked in as a visitor for Mallory. I stepped into the elevator. The air here was a little less stifling of the detergent and disinfectant which was a nice reprieve.

  The doors opened to the fourth floor and I stepped off. The wolf stirred and his power swirled through my body, the familiar burn that felt like home. His power, our power, loosened my muscles and my senses expanded as the wolf rumbled. An underlying scent, a tiny trail; barely there but it called to us. Most likely it was a left over scent from a dinner that had him interested. I shook it off and the scent disappeared as quickly as it arrived, but the wolf remained close to the surface.

  This time I took the extra effort to make my movements softer than I had downstairs. The floor was eerily quiet, and the constant hum and beeps of the machines ran continuously. The low squeaks of the ever-moving nurses echoed, but the silence of voices unnerved me. I found myself at the bar because my animal required contact, companionship. The voices of the other people soothed the urge the animal craved. Silence like this rang in the ears, a pounding reminder of my solitude.

  I pushed aside the thoughts and stepped forward before the doors shut. Mallory’s room had been located halfway down the hallway. Tracking each scent of the patients behind the doors, I memorized them. Boudreau didn’t give me a time on how long he’d be gone. If it were a day, there wouldn’t be a need, but I suspected I’d be here for a while.

  At Mallory’s room, the door remained shut. It was a large, oversized doorway, with a heavy looking door and a metal door handle that gleamed in the light.

  Growling, I shifted my weight. Glancing around the hallway again, I gauged the route another mercenary might take. Boudreau wouldn’t ask me here unless he truly thought his mate’s sister would be in danger. After my time as a merc myself, I knew how most worked. Shifter mercs worked silently and under the radar. None of them would come stomping through a medical ward.

  No, they would come through other means.

  As I opened the door to Mallory’s room, the scent of sickness washed over me in a heavy cascade. The stench had been overwhelming, and my lips peeled back into a snarl that my wolf mirrored. I stepped forward to see past the beige curtain. At first I saw the poking upward of toes covered by a powder blue blanket, legs neatly placed next to each other. My line of sight brought me to a covered chest, and then to a pale, delicate face framed by red hair.

  Her pale skin, and the tubes attached under her nose, were a cruel reminder how fragile humans were. So this was Mallory. Her scent was mingled with sickness, and the cleaning products of the hospital.

  Mallory had a window in her room; I stepped over to it and made sure the lock and screen were secure. The wolf brushed against my skin again. He stirred as my gaze swept over the sleeping beauty on the bed. Mallory was a gorgeous but sick woman. A human woman.

  I walked silently out of the room as only a well-trained shifter and predator could.

  Oakmoss. The subtle scent that captured me before rose again. Barely there. Only a hint of a hint that my sensitive nose caught. I paused mid-step and turned my head and inhaled. The scent vanished. My curiosity would have to wait, didn’t matter either. Inst
ead, I took my stance in front of Mallory’s cracked door. Until the Cajun and his mate returned from New Orleans, this is where I would be staying.

  ****

  After returning from a short break at my motel room nearby, and an even quicker shower and meal, I found myself back pacing outside her door … just like the past three days. Fuck the Cajun for making this his favor. Fuck that scent for taunting me. I paced restlessly. The wolf hadn’t calmed since the scent flared three days ago and it kept getting stronger. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her door. I hadn’t gone in since I first arrived. With the agitated state of my wolf, and my own ornery self, going in that room wouldn’t help anything.

  My wolf had remained close to the surface, my already heightened senses strengthened further. The noises filling the building had started to drone together―the constant beeps and whoosh from breathing machines. All had been normal, yet I couldn’t shake this edginess.

  My wolf was agitated. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. I smothered the ever-constant growl in my chest. My gaze flicked to the doorway. Fuck this. I’d just check on her. That’d calm my wolf.

  Marching to the door, I pressed my hand on the doorknob. Oakmoss filled my senses again in that same teasing scent. The earthy scent calling me home, called to my wolf. As quickly as it came, it passed over me only to disappear again.

  The door swung open and the familiar sight of the beige curtain greeted me. Stepping forward, my gaze sought out the tip of her toes. The blanket laid flat. My breath came out in heavy pants as a hot, fiery rage beat into my gut. My wolf tore at my insides, howling and screeching.

  Mallory wasn’t here.

  “Fuck!” I roared, spinning around.

  Chapter 2

  Mallory

  Pain ruled me.

  Bones crushed into a fine dust.

  My insides being ripped apart.

  Every second of it, utterly alone. I didn’t have the strength of my animal. I didn’t have the companionship of my animal. I was completely alone in my pain. My sister hadn’t answered my calls, and I gave up on waiting for her. My parents had been gone for a long time now. Instead, in my solitude, I fell.

  Oblivion. I had fallen into a timeless pit of darkness and silence. There were moments I wanted to claw out of the deep blackness, other times I eagerly dove back into its pits.

  Snow. Crisp. New. An Arctic chill that had a hint of a bite. But it reminded me of home. Where I lived before the darkness, we had all four seasons, but my favorite had been winter. Everyone complained about the snow, the cold, the ice on the windshields. It was so easy to get caught up in the negatives, that people often forgot about the sparkling sprinkles in the freshly fallen snow. The feeling of warming up next to a fire after a day of play in the cold.

  The scent blew over me like an Arctic breeze that reflected its hauntingly sweet scent. It called me forth from the darkness. The scent hadn’t been constant, but it brought me closer and closer to breaking through the surface each time I caught it. I knew, just knew I was seconds from bursting through the barrier of darkness.

  Waking wasn’t like in the movies. It wasn’t a romantic slow awakening, of fluttering eyelashes or the subtle parting of my lips. It was fast, disorienting, and pulled me from the only place I knew for years. Fear gripped me hard, and a wildness I had never felt engorged my chest.

  My chest sawed with heavy breaths. I couldn’t get a handle on my breathing, I couldn’t catch air to live in my lungs for more than a few seconds. My arms had a series of pinching. Then the fear that had washed through me amplified. The wildness screamed, screeched at me. Shift. Shift. Too late.

  A hand pressed against my lips, blocking out the limited air I could breathe. My nostrils flared, the scent of the arctic chill crept into the room. It soothed the wildness that had been clawing inside of me. My eyes trained onto the door, away from the body that was attached to the hand.

  A musty, wet heat scent came from the hand pressed against my lips. The fingers pressed so tightly that bruises started to form under his unrelenting touch. His nails pinched my skin and I refocused to him. Gaunt, pale skin, greasy black hair. His presence immediately flagged my internal need to run. I had learned a long time ago when faced with a larger predator, I had no choice but to flee. I didn’t have an animal to protect me; I had been born latent, doomed to an animal-less existence until I met my mate. If I ever met my mate.

  “I knew you were mine,” he whispered, his murky brown eyes glazed over with a sheen of madness. Something inside of me rebelled his words with a fiery rage. I didn’t belong to him, I belonged to the other scent. The one that still called to me. The stark light of the room made it impossible for me to dismiss his crazed eyes and his possessive hold. His other hand was wrapped firmly around my too thin thigh. Gods, how long had I been a prisoner to the darkness?

  “Mmm … the nurse is coming soon. When she does we will take our leave.” He leaned forward, his humid breath coating my cheek in slime. What I wouldn’t give to rip my face from under his hand and snap my teeth at his nose.

  The thought had come on wicked quick, and surged a bloodlust in me I had never felt. I tampered down the feeling, assuming it rooted from the fear. I didn’t even know this man. He had a long face, framed by his long, greasy hair and high cheekbones. There was something about him … A memory itched at the back of my head. The memory was there, and then gone again before I could fully grasp it.

  “You will do as I say, Mallory, or I will have your sister killed.”

  My eyes widened, and I my stomach dropped violently. Gut wrenching fear consumed me, leaving me feeling cold.

  As if he had sensed the defiance in my gaze, he threatened me with the one thing I would not risk. Mazy. She was my only family. My only anything. Friend, person to lean on. As pathetic as it sounded, she had become my whole world. After our parents’ death, and my accident, I couldn’t work and I couldn’t go out. I had physical therapy, where I worked with humans.

  Taking my reactions as a confirmation, the man nodded slowly.

  “Oh, my sweet Mallory.” He released his tight grip on my thigh and brought his hand to my face. As he brushed the hair from my face, his fingertips grazing over my jaw. I flinched from his touch and he snarled lowly.

  “In time you will welcome my touch. You don’t understand yet, because your animal is just awakening, but you will understand what it means to be my mate.”

  ****

  The next two hours felt utterly surreal. It was a flurry of people and action. Fear kept me quiet and complacent. Asher, the shifter, had told me his name, and who exactly who he thought he had been to me. Something inside of me rebelled at his words, when I tried to act on it he hissed a warning and promised me he would kill my sister. She owed him a lot of money, and currently had been held by his men at a remote location. He constantly reminded me that things would get better when my animal was fully settled, and then I would understand the bond between us.

  He was a fool and a lunatic. My animal wasn’t coming to the surface because he was not my mate. The gods would not be so cruel. I had seen my parents together, and they had been true mates. My father was ever so careful with my mother. He would never hurt her … not like Asher had already done to me.

  The doctors and nurses here knew I had shifter blood. When Asher claimed to be my mate, the female nurses swooned. Humans knew about shifters, and it was rare for one of us to be in their care. Because I was latent, and I was more human than animal, I had to be treated like so. Asher insisted that I needed care they couldn’t provide. And the attending doctor didn’t know what to do since Mallory hadn’t visited in weeks. The nurses piped in, saying how they had been so worried, but Asher assured them that she needed some time away.

  With all his velvety lies, and charm, he won them over. Unfortunately, humans had little information on our care, and when Asher stated he had a doctor with all the right credentials, they released me into his care.

  Asher helped me swing
my legs over the side of the bed. He had been impatient to leave. His nails lengthened and bit into my fragile skin, and I moved faster, trying to escape them. My toes touched the tile and I shuddered. It’s both a magical and terrifying experience. This would be the first steps I have taken in … gods, I didn’t know how long.

  In the car accident that had killed my parents, I had broken both legs in multiple places. I had been to physical therapy but it wasn’t looking good for me. It was how I ended up here, according to what the nurses were rattling off. They confirmed that during my stasis my legs had fully healed, but I lost a lot of muscle mass.

  “Oh, what about the stern looking man who is usually hanging around outside your door?” one of the nurses called out as Asher started to push me out on wheelchair. My back straightened, my hands tightening together. I craned my neck to look back at the nurse, but Asher’s hiss of air stopped me.

  “Do not endanger yourself, mate.” Asher’s lips brushed against my ear.

  Fear floated through me, smothering like smoke.

  “Yes, he’s a friend. I had someone go relieve him of his duties,” Asher said with perfect cadence.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the nurse nod, her lips thinning, and she swallowed visibly. Did she not believe him? Did I dare to hope? Asher’s took in a sharp breath, scenting me. My fear masked any notes of my suspicions of the nurse. He pushed the chair forward. Releasing his grip on one of the handles, he touched my bare arm. The feel of his fingers trailing down my arm caused me to suppress a shudder. His touch invoked disgust, a sense of wrongness. It was more bone deep than fear; something inside of me rejected his touch.

  Asher wheeled me out of the room that had been my home for so many months according to the nurses. What had been months to the outside world, felt like years to me. Even before I had been lost to the darkness, I had been sheltered and blocked from the world. I understood why Mazy had done what she did―she worried for me―but … I longed to be free. Now I was escaping one prison for another. A much more dangerous one.