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

by Aimee Easterling

  “This thing my father thinks he’s orchestrating,” Aaron began, waving a hand between the two of us, “isn’t going to happen.”

  The shifter’s jaw worked furiously as he prepared to dive into a long-winded explanation that likely ended with, “It’s not me, it’s you.” But I beat him to the punch. “Agreed,” I said simply.

  “What you have to understand...” Aaron continued, then broke off as he realized I hadn’t offered up a single argument. And, predictably, alpha werewolfishness rose up behind my companion’s eyes at the perceived slight.

  Because, sure, Aaron had wanted to ditch me first. But I’d been the one shooting him down in the end...and that just wasn’t kosher. “Look,” the male started, advancing toward me angrily.

  This time it was Roger who placed a chastising hand on the shorter male’s shoulder, and my eyebrows rose at the abrupt change of roles. Rather than remarking upon the inconsistency, though, I gave the alpha’s son an easy out.

  “Under other circumstances, I’d be honored to become your mate,” I jumped in quickly, trying to make my voice sound honest despite the shiver of repulsion that raced up my spine at the very idea of mating with the Greenbriar heir apparent and leaving my own pack behind. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m in town for one reason and one reason alone. To hunt for my brother. Then I’m going home to my own pack where I belong. So, you see, choosing a mate isn’t in the cards...at least, not right now.”

  And even though I’d been eying Sebastien avariciously ever since the latter crossed my path—making the preceding speech a total lie—the alpha’s son accepted my explanation as gospel. “Well, that’s good then,” Aaron countered. “Because I can’t come to dinner tonight. That’s actually why I dropped by.”

  Now it was my turn to flinch. Chief Greenbriar wasn’t going to take that particular news flash well at all, and it looked like I’d been signed up as the bearer of bad tidings. I just hoped the city’s pack leader wasn’t the type to shoot the messenger....

  But while I remained profoundly concerned about the future—or rather, about whether I’d get a future—Aaron had apparently dropped all cares as soon as he got his own way. His eyes roamed greedily across the glass-fronted display case, and I sighed as I accepted the inevitable. Our meeting wouldn’t be over until I rustled up some grub for my uninvited guests. After all, werewolves were always hungry and heir apparents were used to being served.

  “What can I getcha?” I asked, pulling out a sheet of waxed paper to separate myself from whatever pastry Aaron might choose as his own.

  Rather than responding, though, my customer wandered idly down the row, proving that he was definitely not a decider. And in response, I tapped my feet for ten long seconds before plucking a chocolate croissant off the tray to hurry our transaction along. I knew what my customer wanted better than he did, proven by the real pleasure that spread across Aaron’s face when he inhaled the first bite.

  “And for you?” I asked, tamping down disgust as I turned to rat-faced Roger. I had a feeling my final customer of the day was a licorice type of guy...mostly because a potential rapist deserved to join that detested flavor on my shit list. Of course, I didn’t allow licorice in my kitchen, so I settled on a different guess in my efforts to hurry the duo out of the shop.

  “I’ll bet you like oatmeal cookies,” I suggested with false joviality, hand already reaching to snatch the final lumpy morsel off its transparent platter. But then my brow furrowed as the second shifter’s gaze instead latched onto the blueberry tartlets two trays down.

  Blueberry? That selection didn’t make any sense. Blueberry lovers possessed an inner core of steely integrity. And, sure, a tartlet was sweeter and less wholesome than the muffins I’d baked with Harmony’s mother in mind. Still...I had a hard time lining up Roger’s current choice with the man who’d pawed my landlady without permission the evening before.

  But Aaron had already returned to business, leaving me no time to ponder the conundrum at length. “Can you get to Dad’s house on your own?” the pack leader’s son asked, speaking with his mouth full as he wolfed down his croissant like a, well, like a werewolf. If I hadn’t already determined that Chief Greenbriar’s son wasn’t mate material, this display would have clinched the deal. After all, I preferred a little more savoring before the main event.

  Then, remembering I’d been asked a question, I hastened to shrug off the male’s concern. “No problem,” I answered before shooing them both away from my counter. “Now, go. I really do need to finish cleaning up. Unless either of you wants to help...?”

  As expected, my not-so-subtle hint was enough to send the duo scurrying for cover. And, for the first time in several hours, I was left with nothing but baked goods and the memory of Sebastien’s shiver-inducing touch to keep me company.

  Chapter 13

  My brain hummed with questions as I jogged down the steps into the subway tunnel half an hour later...which is the only explanation I can give for why I neither smelled nor heard the mugger until his arm settled around my neck. Before I had time to retaliate, in fact, my attacker had pressed my spine up against his hard chest, giving me a good, long sniff of the aromas that should have clued me in to his presence several minutes earlier.

  The stranger smelled like lust and anger and fur, the last nearly hidden beneath a human-style cologne. “This must be my lucky day,” the stranger breathed, teeth lengthening into fangs as he proceeded to nibble the cartilage along the top of my ear.

  I suspected the bites were my attacker’s idea of foreplay. But they instead roiled my stomach and made me regret the oatmeal cookie I’d scarfed down while washing out the display cases and preparing the cafe for its nighttime rest. A teaspoonful of bile clawed its way up my throat and I opened my mouth to release odors that should have cued any sane werewolf in to my lack of interest.

  But apparently my attacker wasn’t sane. Instead, his whisper devolved into a nearly lupine growl as he continued spitting words and water droplets into my ear. “Imagine. A pack princess falling directly into my arms,” he hummed in satisfaction. “I’ve landed the perfect mate.”

  My over-protective cousins would have told me to hit hard then run for cover. But I was more curious than afraid. Did this male really think that a little cologne to shield his scent would allow him to get away with a crime of this caliber? What was going on in this city that a friend of the alpha’s son would attack a human one night and a strange shifter would go after me the next?

  So I merely twisted my neck to take in my assailant’s face. The male was clean-shaven, well-dressed, and looked far more like a pack werewolf than like a battered loner. Not that I recognized him from last night’s hunt...but I also hadn’t seen any of those shifters in human form.

  “You don’t look like an idiot,” I said companionably while my brain raced, trying to figure out whether my favorite self-defense move would require me to drop the box of pastries I still clutched in one white-knuckled fist. I didn’t particularly want to lose the blueberry muffins I’d stashed away to please my landlady’s mother, but I would if I had to....

  Meanwhile, I continued the attempt to return my attacker to his right mind. “You look like a smart guy without a death wish,” I added. “So I can’t quite figure out what you think you’re doing.”

  Rather than answering, the male tightened his grip, cutting off all access to air. He was serious, then, not just a friend of Aaron’s intent upon chasing me out of town. As if to further prove his point, the male’s left hand reached across to fondle my breasts...at which point I gave up on deciphering the mystery and stomped down as hard as I could on the arch of his right foot.

  The move should have worked. It would have too...had the male not been wearing such heavy boots that my attack made little impact. Without even grunting, my opponent swayed away from my flailing legs, twisting us both around until my lower limbs were clenched immobile between his hard-boned knees.

  “Not so fast, vixen,” he rum
bled. Then, pulling upon alpha dominance that he really shouldn’t have possessed, the male ordered, “Stay.”

  IN RESPONSE, I TRIED—AND failed—to shake my head in dismay. No. This can’t be happening to me. Not since Wolfie had provided a taste of my own medicine when I was a child had I been barked into line by a stronger wolf. There just weren’t many shifters out there below pack-leader status whose inner beasts were more powerful than my own.

  And as I fought against the order freezing my lips and legs in place, fear clawed its way up my throat for the first time all day. This doesn’t make sense, I growled silently, trying to keep my thoughts rational even as my wolf began whining and clawing against my insides. Why would a male so powerful he could freeze me with a single word be stalking deserted subway stations in search of an easy lay? Shouldn’t my attacker be busy guiding dozens of other shifters, creating a pack of his very own instead of poaching upon someone else’s?

  Then reason and logic flew out the window as panic fully engulfed my inner wolf. She flung us from side to side with the force of desperation...or at least she tried to. But instead, muscles merely twitched impotently beneath our skin as the alpha compulsion held us in place as strongly as any hand.

  Okay, so that’s not quite true. Our struggles did manage to tip the cupcake box out of our fist, cardboard falling open against the concrete floor as blueberry muffins plus an array of treats intended for my Greenbriar hosts turned into so much flotsam to feed the rats.

  And as quakes wracked my body while failing to move me an inch further away from my attacker, I found myself screaming silently within my own head. I have Chief Greenbriar’s permission to hunt within the city! I told my attacker with my eyes. Then, as I grew more desperate yet: Don’t you know who my father is?

  Because it wasn’t as if Wolfie’s reputation was a local phenomenon. Even three states away, any shifter with a lick of sense should know that my father was bound to rip an attacker’s entrails out through his nostrils if anyone dared to lay an unkind finger upon Daddy’s little girl.

  And yet, despite all evidence to the contrary, this male did very much dare to break the law. He walked around me, gaze tunneling through my clothing as a smirk filled out his weak-boned jaw. Meanwhile, the male’s inner wolf rose so high behind human eyes that I wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted to rape me...or to eat me.

  “Delicious,” the male growled, hard fingers gripping my hips and pulling me up against his erect dick. My muscles refused to even shiver now as his head bent down to suck at the rigid tendons lining my neck.

  This is really happening, I realized. Now would have been a good time to carry a canister of mace in my pocket like my landlady did...assuming frozen fingers were able to move sufficiently to deploy the physical defense, that is.

  Then, before I could relinquish the final shred of hope, my attacker jolted backwards as if he’d been struck. And in the exact same instant, his cell phone chimed.

  It looked like my wishful thinking had borne fruit after all. I’d been saved by the bell.

  Chapter 14

  The mugger glanced at his phone’s screen then took off like a shot...leaving me frozen in place with no way to break free. Well, isn’t this delightful?

  I could see it now. After doing my best to keep my nose clean, I—rather than the males who seemed to be ignoring shifter laws right and left—would be the one tossed out of the city on my ear. Or worse.

  After all, human travelers would flood the station as soon as the next train arrived. I’d remain locked in place as travelers dashed from train to stairs. Most probably wouldn’t even notice the oddity, but I was sure at least a few would question me, prod at my unyielding form, and try to figure out what was going on.

  Then a good Samaritan would call the police. I’d likely be carted off to a human hospital, might be tested and analyzed by doctors who would find my blood work highly irregular...and highly intriguing at the same time.

  At which point, the carefully nurtured secrecy protecting shifter society would really fall into disarray.

  I didn’t expect any amount of effort to speed up the unfreezing process. But, to my surprise, pins and needles of returning sensation prickled into my fingertips while I was still pondering the implications of my current dilemma. And by the time the last echo of retreating shifter steps rang out from the stairs behind my back, I was up and moving in the attacker’s wake.

  Immediately, my feet took two lunging steps forward, my lupine half itching to track down the bastard and give him a taste of his own medicine...then to figure out why in the world this city of ordinary shifters had attracted so many would-be rapists to its streets. But instead, I found myself sinking down onto my butt, never mind the nastiness that threatened to rub off the well-traveled concrete and onto my best pair of slacks. I didn’t exactly descend into a sobbing heap of girlie goo. Still, I’ll admit that a single tear streaked down the curve of my cheek and I allowed my attacker to make tracks with no attempt to chase him back down.

  This isn’t what my first adventure was supposed to turn into, I screamed silently inside my own head. The excitement of the journey shouldn’t have descended into a jumble of ruined pastries, a missing brother who stood me up at every turn, and a pack of shifters who acted more like wolves than like men. I wasn’t supposed to feel like such a failure seated amid a heap of fallen dreams.

  Pulling out my phone, I stared at the smiling faces beaming back at me out of my digital address book. Despite the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, the array proved that I was never truly alone. Not when dozens of cousins and uncles and aunts would drop anything to come to my rescue...then never speak of the lapse again.

  I couldn’t contact any of them, though. Not when a mere breath of my predicament would send my father on a rampage, initiating an inter-pack battle that would tear our already splintered society apart. No, it was my turn to protect the pack...and that meant keeping my own counsel.

  As if I’d called his presence into being, a new notification popped up on my display, halting my scroll through dozens of familiar faces. Dad, the caller ID read, and I smiled around the pain tightening my throat.

  Predictably, Wolfie had sensed my moment of terror down the pack bond and had immediately picked up his phone to check in. It warmed my heart to possess a parent so perspicacious...but it also put me in a bit of a pickle.

  Because I knew I couldn’t leave Wolfie hanging. But I also didn’t trust my equilibrium sufficiently to speak aloud when my father was bound to hear the tremble in my voice.

  So when Wolfie followed up on his failed phone call with a short text—“Are you alright?”—I just tapped out a quick reply in the affirmative before powering the device down.

  I wasn’t dodging his calls. I was merely late to my meeting with the Greenbriar alpha. It was time to endear myself to the local pack.

  CHIEF GREENBRIAR WAS surprisingly cordial when I showed up without either his son or a hostess gift...and fifteen minutes late to boot. The alpha’s spouse, on the other hand, took an instant dislike to me that chilled the room by approximately twenty degrees in an instant.

  “You have a little something right here,” Andrea Greenbriar murmured, pointing to the spot above her left eyebrow. And even though she hadn’t meant to draw my attention to her own blemish, I caught sight of a healing laceration that was still visible on the other woman’s brow despite having been carefully caked over with concealer.

  So Andrea was the female hunter whose toes I’d stepped on the night before. Not a good first impression...especially considering the fact that her mate intended to bring me into the family as their one and only daughter-in-law.

  Of course, Aaron and I had formed an understanding to the contrary. Still, I immediately lifted my hand to pat at the offending area on my own head...and winced when my index finger came away streaked with frosting. Speaking of bad first impressions, turning up at a formal event dressed like a sugar-smeared baker definitely wasn’t the intr
oduction I’d meant to embrace.

  My muscles tensed as the fight-or-flight reaction kicked in, and in response the faintest hint of a smirk curled Andrea’s lips. She was mocking me...which was just the wrong approach to take if the female really did want to chase me out of her clan home.

  Up until that point, my wolf had been resting inside our shared belly. But at the first sign of opposition, she woke, straightening my spine and moving my finger to pop one frosting-smeared digit into our human mouth. Rolling our tongue from side to side, we made a show of savoring the sugary concoction. “Mmm, delicious,” I offered...then blanched as I realized I’d mimicked my own mugger’s unfortunate terminology.

  This time around, Chief Greenbriar was the one who picked up on my internal angst. “Is everything alright?” the older male asked, drawing me out of the crowd with one hand at the small of my back. And despite his ogling leer the first time we’d met in human form, the similarity of this alpha’s words to those of my own father tempted me to open up. I’m listening, his stance told me. Trust me, added his inner wolf.

  But I didn’t fully understand the undercurrents currently flowing through this pack. So, instead of succumbing to the urge to over-share, I merely shook my head and offered: “Long day, no sign of my brother.”

  Then, since the pack leader and I had ended up in a secluded alcove where no one else would likely overhear our conversation, I took advantage of the moment to press my own case. “But I wanted to talk to you about something. Is now a good time...?”

  “Of course,” the alpha answered cordially, flagging down a passing waiter then pressing a tall flute of something alcoholic into my hand. “And I’ll bet you’ll feel better after a drink.”