Shifter Origins (Series-Starter Shifter Variety Packs Book 1)

by Aimee Easterling

  Whirling, I leapt sideways and found myself spinning up against a female who’d been preparing to dive in the opposite direction. My shoulder knocked against her foreleg and she fell...directly into the retreating ungulate’s flight path.

  Long legs and blunt teeth prove that elk consider themselves prey rather than predators, but even runners eventually fight back. The beast shrieked at what it must have considered renewed aggression, and one hard hoof kicked out sideways to slam into the female’s skull with a sickening crack of keratin against bone.

  The wolf beside me fell to the earth as soundlessly as death.

  Rushing to the female’s side, I leaned down to lick away the blood streaming from a cut across her brow. But before I could make contact, closed eyes opened and teeth snapped shut inches away from my muzzle, proving that the other wolf had no interest in being soothed.

  Well, if she can bite, she can walk, I decided. Stepping back, I paused and took in the scene that had, seconds ago, hosted two equally vigorous fights to the death.

  The clearing was now silent, the elk gone and the shifter-on-shifter scuffle ended. To no one’s surprise except perhaps the lupine underdog, the alpha’s son had been triumphant in the latter battle. And now the fox-scented male lay on his back with belly exposed to the heir’s sharp teeth.

  I held my breath, expecting further carnage to ensue. But after the merest hesitation, the loser reached up to lick the winner’s chin. And rather than growling further reprimand, the alpha’s son released the latter from his grasp. Just as at Haven, once subdued, the loser was set free.

  I overreacted, I decided, releasing my pent-up breath in a gust of relieved air. No one had died, no one had even been seriously wounded. Finally, we could return to the hunt.

  Only, Chief Greenbriar wasn’t content with the current state of affairs. The alpha’s displeasure bent down my spine until my tail tucked between my legs and my ears fell back against my skull. There was no explanation and no warning for his change of heart. Instead, our leader merely lashed out with a heaviness that threatened to split my body in half.

  And I wasn’t the only one affected. All around the clearing, I could hear my fellows similarly wince and whine. We’d failed to please our alpha. We’d failed the pack. Pain was our reward.

  Dropping to my belly, I attempted to escape into the earth. This wasn’t how I’d intended the hunt to end. For the third time that evening, I wished I could sweeten up my companions with a bin of distant cupcakes.

  Chapter 7

  Despite the less-than-auspicious middle of the hunt, we did manage to track down a deer in the wee hours before dawn. The lone animal didn’t possess enough flesh on its bones to turn snack into feast. Still, the carcass provided a bite of rich, red meat for each of us, the sustenance soothing ruffled tempers and cementing my temporary place in the pack. Good enough.

  After that, sleep deprivation caught up with me at last and turned pack-wide jubilation distant and hazy. I lay down nose to tail, flanked on either side by similarly exhausted werewolves...and when I woke, dawn was already coloring the distant horizon while the ground beside me had turned cold and bare.

  My host pack was gone.

  Shivering, I shook a spray of dew out of my fur as I rose onto furry feet. Someone had taken the time to bury the deer’s entrails, bones, and hide, so nothing remained of the previous night’s carnage save the jolt of warmth that always lingered in my stomach after enjoying meat in lupine form. Unexpected solitude threatened to extinguish that glow...but then curiosity snapped the sensation back into place with a vengeance.

  Because an odd, blocky object poked through the fog at the edge of the tree line. And when I padded closer, I recognized the shape at once. A suitcase. My suitcase.

  Cocking my head to one side, I tried to make sense of finding my own luggage—complete with untouched cupcake container—out in the woods when I’d last stuffed all possessions into a locked metal cage back at the bus station for safekeeping. The realization that Chief Greenbriar had ordered a lackey to trail my footsteps back to the bus terminal and retrieve my possessions froze the last hint of warmth out of my belly. The city pack had by-and-large seemed open and inviting last night...so why would they ditch me, stealing away in silence before delivering a clear warning to beat it out of town?

  Meanwhile, the buzz of my phone, slipped into an external pocket of the hand-delivered suitcase, drew me out of my brown study. And, immediately, I winced for a different reason entirely.

  Oops. How could I have left my father dangling all night long without checking in? I’d probably scared Wolfie so badly when the borrowed Greenbriar mantle settled onto my back and hid our own connection that he’d likely jumped into his car to drive north and rescue me.

  I need to fix that, I thought, preparing to tug on Dad’s connection and reassure him the easy way. But when I rolled my shoulder blades experimentally, I was surprised to find the Greenbriar mantle still present and accounted for against my skin. Which meant I couldn’t set Wolfie’s mind at ease nonverbally, not when another pack’s network of connection continued to stifle my own.

  On the other hand, when I closed my eyes and sought the threads that bound me to other wolves, a tug in my stomach directed my attention west and proved that I wasn’t alone after all. Dad will have to wait, I thought, swiveling to face the newcomer even as Chief Greenbriar stepped out of the trees in human form.

  “Gretchen forgot to drop off your clothes when she brought the suitcase,” the alpha greeted me cordially, holding out carefully folded garments in one long-fingered hand. The gesture was strangely subservient for a pack leader. Still, my companion was walking on two legs while I still boasted four, so perhaps I was missing something that would have been obvious to a two-legged being.

  Shifting upward in an effort to tune into my more rational human brain, air turned cooler and damper against bare, furless skin in an instant. And it wasn’t only the fog that made me shiver as my companion drew closer. It was Chief Greenbriar’s eyes, which roved across my exposed body as if I was a horse at market that he was planning to sell...or to buy.

  In response, my hand rose to the chain that still dangled around my neck, clasping the key in one fist a moment too late. But that item wasn’t what had caught Chief Greenbriar’s attention. Instead, despite shifters’ usual casual approach to nudity, the alpha’s gaze resembled slaps and pinches as it slipped across my bare breasts, around my innie belly button, and down into the V between my legs. For the first time in my life, I was made to feel naked while...well...naked.

  “Thanks for bringing my clothes,” I said instead of commenting upon the alpha’s faux pas. And in response, my companion’s scent strengthened, the hard granite that he shared with his son turning rougher and more abrasive. Chief Greenbriar took a single step closer...and I bent to snatch up the plastic container I’d found atop my suitcase, using its rectangular bulk to fend off my companion’s further approach.

  “I saved you a cupcake,” I offered, noting the way water had beaded atop raspberry frosting as humid air adhered to the sugary coating. Remember your sweet core, I admonished Chief Greenbriar silently, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear my command.

  But it was almost as if the alpha had plucked the words straight out of my mind. “I’ll trade you,” he said, eyes returning to my face as he slipped the tupperware bin out of my hand and replaced it with a stack of folded fabric. Then, less like a wolf and more like a fine-food connoisseur, the older male took a single particle of pastry into his mouth before allowing his eyelids to drift shut in appreciation. “This is delicious,” he said at last around a mouthful of frosting and fluff.

  Just like that, the strange energy that had infused the air dissipated without a trace. And the male before me was once again a civilized man rather than a randy wolf.

  “I’m a wolf of many talents,” I answered, donning clothes far more rapidly than I would have done in the company of any other shifter. My stomach remained quea
sy, but my fears did ease a trifle...

  ...Only to return in full force as Chief Greenbriar opened his eyes and pinned me with a steely gaze. “I’ve decided,” he told me, “that you will make the perfect match for my son.”

  BACK HOME, I WOULD have laughed in the alpha’s face. Here and now, I instead felt like I was tuning into the grand finale of a TV series I’d never before watched while surrounded by the show’s most ardent and devoted fans.

  Because there was no way I planned to tie myself permanently to a Greenbriar werewolf when doing so would cut off the most important part of my life—the bond to my home pack. Of course, it would be rude to say as much. Instead, I pasted a polite smile onto my face...and deflected like a pro.

  “I didn’t get to tell you about my job earlier,” I started. “But I’ll be working on campus. Baking cupcakes. Well, and other stuff too. Plus manning the coffee bar and taking out the trash. Actually, I’m supposed to start today....”

  “You’re babbling,” Chief Greenbriar interrupted after a long moment. His nostrils flared and he cocked his head in consideration. But to my relief, the older man appeared amused rather than annoyed by the cascade of trivialities.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry,” I answered. “I just really, really like cupcakes.”

  Having run out of further blind alleys to talk us down, I held my breath, hoping the verbal detour would succeed. Unfortunately, Chief Greenbriar didn’t let me off the hook so easily. Instead, he pierced me with one of those gazes that seemed to peer directly into my soul before pinning me right back down with pointed words. “You’re saying you traveled all this way to work a job among humans?”

  And there it was, the call to either lie about my brother or tell the unfortunate truth. Something in my gut said that Chief Greenbriar wouldn’t be so thrilled to invite me into his pack if I let slip that I wasn’t simply a mating-age female hunting for a new pack to call home. But would I be putting my brother at risk by bringing his presence into the limelight?

  With no better option on the table, I accepted the inevitable and told the truth. “No, sir. This has nothing to do with humans,” I admitted, ignoring the vivid mental image of dark hair falling across equally dark eyes that impinged for a brief instant upon my internal landscape. Shaking my head ever so slightly to remove Sebastien’s face from view, I elaborated. “I’m here hunting for Derek....”

  Then I winced, realizing I lacked a surname to tack onto that threadbare explanation. For all I knew, the first name I’d been using wasn’t even the right one. Because my brother had initially introduced himself online as Roadrunner, and he’d equivocated for quite some time before offering any additional information beyond that. Who was to say “Derek” hadn’t been lying, at least by omission, when he finally coughed up a real name?

  And who was to say—given my previous lack of contact with biological family—that Derek was even my brother at all?

  None of my internal confusion was lost upon Chief Greenbriar, who placed a fatherly hand atop my bowed shoulder. “If you don’t even know this male’s last name, perhaps he’s not worth searching for,” he told me kindly. “My son, on the other hand, has a pedigree that traces back to the Mayflower. In twenty years, he’ll be alpha in my place...and you could be that alpha’s mate.”

  I could have argued that I’d never been told this heir apparent’s first name, which definitely put him a step below Derek on the know-o-meter. Still, that wasn’t the point.

  Instead, I spent a moment assuming the demeanor of strawberry shortcake, all fluffy and sweet with vanilla-flavored whipped cream on top. Then I tilted my head to emphasize our height difference before playing my trump card. “I think I gave you the wrong impression, sir. I’m not here to find a life partner. I’m hunting for my brother.”

  “Ah.”

  Chief Greenbriar’s self-satisfied smirk relaxed my shoulders for the first time since I’d woken up alone on the cold, hard ground. My temporary alpha hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of me spouse-hunting outside his nuclear family, but I felt as clearly as if he’d spoken that he was quite willing to let me stay on in order to track down an elusive sibling. After all, what better way to trick a non-pack female into partnering with his son than to keep me close at hand where I could be easily managed?

  Sure enough, when the alpha spoke again, it was to lay out ground rules I was easily able to accept. Well, not the first one—I lied and told my host that I already had a place to stay when he tried to offer up his guest room for my accommodations. But I willingly agreed to dine with the Greenbriar family every evening...despite the sinking suspicion that a single mating-aged son would be the only shifter to show up at the event, turning what should have been a pack affair into a de facto date.

  “I appreciate your hospitality,” I told Chief Greenbriar rather than arguing the point. These rules I could live with, and I was glad to have been let off the hook so easily.

  But my temporary alpha continued speaking, talking over me as if I hadn’t even opened my mouth. “And on the seventh day, you and Aaron will make your mating bond official. It will be my pleasure to welcome you as my daughter-in-law and as the newest member of the Greenbriar pack.”

  Well, at least now I knew my supposed fiancé’s name. It was a start, right?

  Chapter 8

  The dawn meeting with Chief Greenbriar took the wind out of my sails so thoroughly that I slumped atop my suitcase for ten solid minutes before remembering I had places to go and people to see. But first, I pulled out my phone and paged back through missed calls. Dad, Dad, Dad, Mom, Dad, a cousin, an aunt, an uncle, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.

  At least I wouldn’t have to flounder around trying to decide who should be contacted first. The frequency of Wolfie’s calls suggested he was a hair’s breadth away from worried-parent meltdown. Time to pull out the big guns and remove my father figure from the hunt.

  To that end, I spent another minute unzipping my suitcase and rifling through my possessions in search of the small plastic container that held my own personal party favor. And when I popped open the lid to the single-serving cupcake box, my throat tightened with homesickness so abrupt it nearly sent me scurrying back to the nearest bus station with my tail between my legs.

  Because I’d half expected to be sent on my way with a joke cake, maybe something built out of doggie bones to remind me to trust my lupine instincts. I’d been ready to take my father to task if he dressed up the icing in my least favorite color—orange—or ruined the sugary concoction by imbuing it with a yucky licorice flavor.

  Instead, Dad must have spent long hours with frosting bag in hand in order to craft the work of art that currently sat atop my pastry. The scene was as elaborate as that found on the highest class wedding cake despite its diminutive size.

  Haven—my home—sat upon a field of chocolate, small houses interspersed with wolves and humans built from spun sugar seasoned with carefully applied food coloring. I could pick out individuals easily, not just based on their location across the landscape, but from their stances and actions as well.

  Next door to Wolfie’s and Terra’s home, my gardening aunts were busy tending roses that spiraled up the face of my own small cottage. Meanwhile, my car-loving uncle scrubbed his Ferrari while two pups frolicked in the spray of water that was supposed to be washing down the sleek black hood.

  Off to one side stood my parents, Dad in lupine form and Mom human with one loving hand resting atop her mate’s furry head. Their customary pose showcased more than two decades of shared affection, and I could almost smell their signature aromas as I leaned in for a closer look.

  That was just the window-dressing, though. The clear purpose of this cupcake message lay in the exact center of the village green: a tremendous yellow flower that didn’t actually exist. Well, the plant wasn’t literally present in our community gathering space...but metaphorically I knew at a glance that the floral monster referred to me.

  Because “Buttercup” had been my father’s pet name f
or me ever since I was a child. And the plant was not only physically central to the scene, every eye was riveted upon its glowing yellow expanse.

  The cupcake meant love...and Dad knew I’d be unable to eat the dessert without picking up the phone and giving him a call. So I pressed his name on the screen with one sticky finger even as I licked a cousin off the edge of the frosted panorama. This particular teenager tasted like oranges and cinnamon—his signature aroma perfectly replicated in sugary splendor. Exactly how long had Dad spent crafting this offering to have imbued such loving detail into every aspect of the scene?

  “I’m eating my cupcake,” I croaked around a mouthful of frosting and tears as soon as the click on the other end of the line indicated my call had gone through. And while a human father would have been torn apart by the emotion so vividly apparent in my voice, Wolfie merely hummed his approval with the smugness of a wolf.

  “Then I guess we can turn around,” Dad growled, his voice just barely human. And I couldn’t prevent the short bark of laughter as I realized Wolfie really had jumped into the car as soon as the Greenbriar mantle obscured his usual ability to tap into my mental state.

  Wait a minute. He wasn’t.... “You’re driving?” I demanded, imagining the four-car pileups that would result when Wolfie decided to slide around corners at his inner beast’s behest....while completely disregarding all human rules of the road. Preventing my father from driving was one of the pack’s most closely adhered to tenets. What had they been thinking to give him access to the keys?

  “Relax.” This was Mom’s voice, fainter but still easily understandable despite the phone’s tinny speaker. “I’m the one behind the wheel. And I’m pulling over...right...now.”

  Only when Terra spoke did I notice that there was a second item at the bottom of the box where the cupcake had recently sat. Once again, my throat tightened as I recognized the small rectangular card, worn and tattered from the endless games she and I had played during my three-year-long Monopoly obsession.