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

by Aimee Easterling

  Only then did he notice bruises hidden by remnants of fire. Fresh purple discolorations on her face and older yellow markings on her wrists spoke to a long captivity. Had her jailer left her here to die after setting this fire? Had nature somehow chosen to spare the girl’s life, leaving flames to split and stream past her unburnt body?

  Around him, charred trees were already fading into the black of night. The mage wouldn’t have gone far. Knowing he was unable to outrun a dragon, the evildoer would have hidden nearby and waited until the coast was clear before returning to the scene of his crime.

  When that happened, the girl would be caught in the crosshairs. And regardless of her identity, Mason couldn’t leave her behind to be captured...or worse.

  Despite incipient danger, though, the shifter found himself shaking his companion gently rather than transforming and immediately grabbing her up in his talons. Well, she wasn’t actually a girl. If Mason had to guess, he’d say she was only five years his junior, making her just over two dozen years of age.

  “I’m going to take you back to the Aerie,” he murmured, hoping she might hear his words despite every appearance to the contrary. The idea of the sleeper waking while he soared through the darkening sky gave him pause. Should he instead curl around her slender figure in dragon form and put off travel for the morning? Would regaining consciousness while wrapped up in a dragon’s embrace be any less horrifying than opening her eyes to see the ground streaming by hundreds of yards beneath her feet?

  But Sarah would fret if Mason didn’t return before morning. And the girl seemed to be out for the count. She’d be safer and warmer in his bed.

  “In a bed,” Mason corrected himself. “She’d be safer and warmer in a bed.”

  As quickly as the thought hit, his body changed. Fire that had lain dormant in his human belly exploded outward, the blaze burning away skin and replacing that soft shell with scales even as his body returned to its most familiar form.

  The transition was agonizing in its perfection, like an opera singer’s voice spiraling higher and higher until it shattered glass. But unlike the broken goblet, Mason splintered apart only to reform into a more perfect whole.

  Wings spreading for balance, he gently scooped the girl up to lay atop his forepaws. Her head lolled to one side like a boneless doll’s as she curled against his chest.

  But what pierced him was her scent. She smelled like a fireplace on a winter’s night. A hint of smoke, a waft of peppermint. Six baby dragons curled into a floppy heap while their mother sipped tea in front of a warm fire.

  The memory fed the flames in Mason’s belly and he surged upwards without a single beat of his wings. Heat alone was enough to cause his dragon body to expand and rise.

  As Mason ascended, he rearranged the slogger’s head so it nestled against the crook of one elbow. No need for her to wake with an aching neck due to dangling like carrion from his claws. He wanted his treasure to feel as protected as he had been on that long-ago evening when Sarah read fairy tales to sleepy dragonets before comforting flames.

  Beating his wings at last, Mason whipped up spirals of ash-laden air as he rose toward the newly emerging stars in the dark sky above. The burn site was further away from the Aerie than he’d originally assumed, but he embraced the solitude as he soared homeward through the cooling night. Embraced the chance to be alone with his thoughts...and with the treasure cupped in his taloned paws.

  Even if the Fade is real, we’ll find a way to fight it, he decided. Everything seemed possible right then, even beating back an evil that came with no face or name.

  Yes, first thing in the morning Mason would beard Jasper in his lair and see what his friend’s deal was. He’d set Sarah’s mind at rest if there was nothing to worry about. And if Jasper actually was ill...well then, together they’d find a cure.

  Smiling, Mason only noticed that the return journey was taking longer than it should have when his muscles began to drag. A similar distance would usually offer just enough exertion to stretch the kinks out of widespread wings. But now he felt like he’d been flying all night before he caught the first glint of moonlight reflecting off the Golden Reservoir to the east.

  Mason’s body shrank as mass turned into energy to fuel his flight. Once as large as the biggest whales in the far-off oceans, Mason was now little more than an aerial dolphin.

  And not a perky dolphin frolicking as it leapt out of froth-topped waves either. Rather, a tired, sore dolphin who could barely hold onto the woman still cradled against his chest.

  The conclusion was as obvious as it was unpalatable. Either the slogger was secretly made of lead—unlikely given the heart he could hear beating beneath the roar of the wind—or the sickness Mason had been pretending didn’t exist was affecting him every bit as much as Sarah thought it was gripping his long-time friend.

  Everyone knows it hits the twinless first. Which meant it was Mason’s own damn fault if he died. His own damn fault for failing to rein in his brother’s overflowing enthusiasm and allowing Sam to drown.

  The reminder of his twin’s success and his own failure was vividly obvious now that the broad lake just upstream of the Aerie had come into view. The massive hydroelectric project had resisted encroachment by the Green, creating safe havens for house-boaters and also powering the Aerie’s burgeoning electricity demands.

  Yes, the lake was a brilliant engineering marvel. An idea that could only have sprung from the golden boy after whom the reservoir was subtly named.

  But Sam didn’t live to see his namesake completed because I let him perish in the making.

  Closing off that train of thought, Mason focused instead upon his own labored flight. He’d do no good to either Jasper or to this rescued slogger if he allowed the Fade to pluck him out of the air and send him plummeting toward the hungry Green.

  So he gritted his teeth and pushed onward, ignoring aching muscles and itching throat alike. He forced heavy wings to flap until the Sunsphere rose out of the forest below, the top gilded with the glow of the crescent moon.

  Landing on the small platform at the summit of the dome, Mason mantled his wings and placed the redhead down on the concrete floor as gently as his aching muscles would allow. Only then did he see what tired eyes had missed in the descent.

  Ash all around him. Ash dusting the pavement in the distinctive shape of a reclining dragon.

  Ash marking the spot where Jasper had faded away.

  Chapter 4

  “...to the lowest level.”

  The words emerged as if from a dream as Fee slowly drifted back toward consciousness. For a long moment, she relaxed into the astonishing sensation of being alive and unburned, but then icy adrenaline surged beneath her skin.

  Danger!

  Like all fire mages, Fee carried the faintest aroma of smoke around with her wherever she went. By contrast, dragons smelled like the flames themselves. Like marshmallows gently browned over a flickering campfire. Sweet and inviting, but oh so much more dangerous than that rare childhood treat could ever be.

  Tensing, Fee fought the urge to leap to her feet and run for cover. Based on odor intensity alone, the enemy must be located no more than a dozen inches away from her chilled skin, plenty close enough to burn her to a crisp or at least clap her into chains.

  But perhaps if she pretended to be sleeping, she’d win a short reprieve. Strangely, Fee found herself craving those precious seconds of continued vitality, grasping them with an intensity that negated her suicidal impulse earlier in the evening.

  Despite everything, she wanted to live.

  Malachi was right, Fee thought with a silent laugh. Not only had he guessed correctly that his daughter would still obey even when out from under his overbearing thumb, but he’d also won the gamble that a dragon would be unable to resist carrying Fee back to its lair unharmed.

  Because the air and voices swirling around her could only come from one place. The Aerie, the heart of the enemy’s territory. Exactly where Malachi had wa
nted her to end up.

  “To your chambers, Lord Dragon?”

  This voice emanated from a simple human, no sensation of fire about his person as he slipped cupped palms beneath Fee’s armpits and hefted her partially into the air. Another set of hands gripped her feet, raising her far more gently than she would have expected given the circumstances.

  After all, she was a prisoner...wasn’t she?

  Fee could only hope her captors hadn’t yet discovered the secret strapped around her waist. The secret wrapped in flame-retardant fabric to prevent stray sparks from blowing her sky high. The secret that she and Malachi had built to end this war before it fully began.

  Wind cut through Fee’s thin t-shirt and slipped between strands of tangled hair to lick at her scalp. Air sometimes boosted fire, but tonight the former element was her enemy, making limbs shiver and teeth chatter. Any moment now, she’d be forced to stop playing possum in an effort to prevent frostbite.

  But then the original voice rumbled toward her, rich and deep and only a few inches away from her ears. “Yes. It’s warmest there, close to the furnace.”

  Then Fee was being carried away from the sweet marshmallow aroma and out of the biting wind. Down through a sea of hushed voices and stuffy air until chatter was replaced by the cool and quiet of heavy feet stomping down an empty stairwell.

  Through no action of her own, she was being drawn ever deeper into the dragon’s lair. Malachi would be so proud.

  “Do you think Lord Mason realizes what he’s doing?” asked a younger voice near her feet after her bearers had been walking for at least five minutes. The men were leaving the staircase behind now, entering a space that felt tremendous and airy around Fee’s carefully relaxed limbs. “Should we tie her up?” the youngster continued. “Lock her in?”

  Despite her best attempts at pretend somnolence, Fee tensed at the words. Because while she could break free of these humans, that would mean using her magic prematurely and leaving behind a trail of death and destruction bound to alert enemy dragons to her intent sooner rather than later.

  Not the best choice for herself or for her mission.

  “Lord Dragon is well aware of the danger,” said the older voice, breaking into Fee’s panicked thoughts as he answered his partner’s question at long last. Although this second man had initially questioned overt orders, he was now adamant in his support of the shifter who had plucked Fee from the flames. “Apparently he believes the benefit is worth the risk,” her bearer continued as he led the way into the dragon’s personal domain.

  Immediate danger averted, Fee dared to open her eyes a slit and take in the view. Dimly lit room circled like a donut around a stairwell at its core. Windows lined the huge exterior wall, but other than that decadent expanse of glass the space looked nothing like she’d expected.

  When Fee had imagined a dragon’s den, she’d pictured heaps of jewels and gold covering the floor, intricate silk tapestries lining the walls. Perhaps even a few maidens chained to the bed if the dragon was so inclined.

  After all, the shifters in question were all-powerful. Everyone said their greed knew no bounds.

  But instead, this particular room was stark and simple. A kitchenette filled the area to her left. Beside it, a dining nook boasted three chairs, only one of which appeared to have been sat upon if the layer of dust elsewhere was any indication.

  Meanwhile, papers upon papers spread out across the table’s flat surface. Did the Lord Dragon spend his meals working? Did he read reports and pen notes in the margins while absently chewing on what appeared from the crumbs to have been a simple slice of toast?

  While Fee was still assessing the initial view, her bearers turned in the opposite direction and carried her toward a mattress partially covered with rumpled blankets. At the sight, her lips quirked upward into a stealth grin. This, at least, made sense. She’d yet to meet a man who willingly made his bed in the morning.

  And yet...why would a dragon lord need to tidy his own space when he oversaw scores of human helpers to do the task for him? Abruptly, the disheveled bedding turned into yet another conundrum, and Fee fought down a shiver as she pondered the evidence of her own eyes.

  Was it possible Lord Mason’s life was every bit as hard-working and lonely as her own? At the thought, her skin flinched away from the hard bulk of wires and explosives wrapped around her middle.

  She couldn’t afford for doubt to enter her mind, though. So Fee instead focused on what she knew for a fact.

  Dragon lords were evil and greedy. Malachi was on a sacred mission to save ordinary humans from the shifters’ overbearing rule. And Fee’s own task was a means toward that very important end.

  “She could be anyone!” the younger voice countered heatedly, his adamant words bringing Fee back to her immediate surroundings with a jolt. “She’s definitely a mudslogger,” he hissed. “You know they’re desperate down there on the ground. She could steal all the silverware. She could murder Lord Dragon in his sleep.”

  The boy had a typical teenage temper. Still, Fee was surprised to find that his hands were gentle as he and his partner set Fee down in the middle of the dragon shifter’s soft yet rumpled bed.

  “That would require him to actually sleep,” the older man said wryly. Despite his kind words, though, his right hand shot toward Fee’s neck as fast as a snake might strike. In reaction, her breath caught in her throat and she sent frantic mental tendrils reaching for fire. Fire to burn, fire to protect, fire to send her explosives flaring to life....

  Only the man’s palm changed trajectory at the last moment. Through slitted eyelids, Fee watched as a soft blanket was drawn up beneath her chin, the action she’d thought an attack instead turning into a parental gesture of quiet concern.

  Still, she cradled the fire against her racing heart just in case. Held her muscles tensed and ready for attack until voices disappeared back toward the stairs from whence they’d come. One man reached back to flip a switch and leave her in darkness, but neither paused to lock the door. No, they simply trotted away toward the human levels above.

  And as darkness fell, the scent of charred marshmallows rose to encircle her, warm covers easing the final chill out of aching bones. Fee told herself to rise and make sure she hadn’t been locked into this strange round room after all. She definitely needed to call her father and let him know she’d been granted free reign of the dragon’s quarters through a fluke of luck.

  But, instead, Fee found herself subsiding into Mason’s soft sheets, magic dwindling back into the air from which it had come. Her eyelids refused to pry themselves open, and one hand stubbornly tucked itself beneath the contoured pillow to cradle her sore neck.

  The sensation of safety enfolded her like an absent mother’s arms. A dragon’s rich, deep voice murmured out of memory. And, willingly, Fee slipped down into her first true sleep in nearly a decade.

  Chapter 5

  The room was bright with morning sunlight by the time Fee emerged from slumber. Her bed—the dragon’s bed—was located on the eastern side of the circular tower, so there was no delay between sun slipping over the horizon and light turning the insides of her eyelids from black to gray.

  The surprise was the hour. I slept all night?

  Fee couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken relaxed and refreshed to the brilliant glimmer of morning sunlight. Usually, nightmares pried her awake in the wee hours. She’d toss and turn for what felt like an eternity, then rise and sip a cup of herbal tea during the long, solitary wait for dawn.

  Now, she swung her legs over to the edge of the bed and sunk bare feet into a rug that was unaccountably warm despite spitting snow drifting through the air outside the windows. Lush carpeting soothed blisters on her toes, the only sign of the tremendous forest fire that had left her body surprisingly intact despite burning boots to cinders.

  Glancing around, the fire mage was relieved to see that the dragon’s den remained empty. In daylight, though, the space appeared significantl
y less spartan—if no less solitary—than it had the previous night. Lord Mason didn’t surround himself with gaudy signs of his wealth, but every facet of his quarters had been chosen with comfort in mind.

  Soft sheets, heated floorboards. I could get used to this, Fee thought as she padded over to the closest window.

  She had half a mind to take advantage of the shiny shower stall she could see through the open bathroom door, to wash away the scent of forest fire and bask in what she suspected was limitless heat. But water and fire mages didn’t mix easily. Fee couldn’t afford to lower her magical defenses even so far as to take her typical bird bath of damp cloth against grimy skin, not today when the enemy was so close at hand.

  And exhilaration rapidly faded as gaze drifted to the nearest window. Through the glass, Aerie buildings rose above green trees like monstrous sentinels. A dragon circled around one of the skyscraper peaks, unnatural flame flaring bright as beast transformed into man.

  Unwillingly, Fee was reminded of her duty. Heated floorboards and shiny shower stall or no, she wasn’t here to meet this Lord Mason. She was here to kill him.

  And as she took in the four blocky towers less than a mile distant, Fee realized she’d ended up in the wrong part of the Aerie entirely if she wanted her mission to be lauded as a resounding success.

  I need to call Malachi.

  Slipping fingers beneath knotted sweater sleeves, Fee pried loose the hidden cell phone at her waist and powered the device back to life. But then she paused and walked a quick lap around Lord Mason’s quarters instead, ascertaining that no one was hiding in the one area she couldn’t see from the other side of the enclosed stairwell. She couldn’t risk being caught at her illicit task.