Shifters in Seattle: Box Set Books 1 - 5

by Thorne, Truli

  "You’re a huge star. Why wouldn’t you get any part you wanted?"

  "It’s not always that easy."

  He sighs. It's hard to feel sorry for Cliff. Most people would kill for his problems.

  A knock sounds on the door.

  "Manager!"

  "Oh, great," Frankie says, standing up and walking to the door. "I’ll get it."

  "Let’s just make it through the weekend," Cliff says, grabbing his jacket off the sofa and heading toward his bedroom.

  She opens the door. "Sorry to disturb you, miss," the manager says, swinging his arms with apology. "I want to warn you that there’s a storm headed this way. Be here in a couple hours. Looks like it will be a bad one. Here are candles and matches in case the power goes out."

  "Did you find the modem?"

  "No, miss. We don’t have any of those new-fangled electronics."

  She sighs. "Okay. Thanks for looking."

  When she turns back to the room, Cliff's bedroom door is closing. "Knock on my door in twenty minutes," she hears him say.

  She grabs her backpack and pulls out her Kindle. If she can’t go online or text her friends, she can at least read. And if Cliff isn't feeling up to it, she’ll go for a walk by herself.

  She’s only twenty miles from downtown Seattle. She seriously doubts dangerous animals will bother her on Salish Island.

  10

  Cliff checks his face in the bathroom mirror. He’s too pale and his cheeks are hollow.

  Dude, shift, his bear says. You need to be a bear.

  Leave me alone.

  You're a bear shifter. If you don't shift for years and years, you turn into an asshole, or hadn't you noticed?

  Cliff doesn't know what he is. He just needs this headache to stop. He glances out the window.

  See that forest? It's our home. Shift and be yourself.

  Shift? It's been so long that Cliff isn't even sure he remembers how to do it.

  I'll take care of that for you, his bear says.

  Cliff slides open the glass door in his bedroom and slips outside. The damp air embraces him and he breathes deeply, feeling the vice grip on his head release just enough to encourage him to continue.

  Let's go, his bear says.

  He finds himself running into the thicket, running until his heart is pounding. He hears birds squawking and wind blowing and insects singing.

  He stops. The sounds of civilization are gone. He’s completely alone.

  Cliff closes his eyes and lets loose his bear. It’s that easy. He morphs from movie star to monster. Tremors rock his body, stretching and snapping his bones.

  He roars in shock as fur sprouts and a snout emerges, shaking his head as ears pop up and his neck bulges and swells. His body enlarges into something terrible and awful. Enormous. Vicious. Nothing can control him.

  The bear is free.

  Later, he won't remember running through the forest like a wild beast. He won't remember collapsing onto a bed of pine needles and passing out.

  He'll only remember waking up under a beautiful pine tree, staring at glimpses of the sky through tender leaves, feeling satisfied but uneasy. Feeling hopeful but determined.

  He stretches. He remembers that it takes him time to return to himself after a shift, and this is a beautiful place to rest.

  It's time to get well.

  Embrace your inner bear and marry your fated mate, his bear says. Frankie.

  Cliff doesn't understand, but he knows it's true.

  Frankie is his fated mate, and once he tells her who and what he is, if she accepts and loves him, his illness can end. He doesn't know how or why, still he's starting to trust his bear.

  But will Frankie accept the monster inside him?

  11

  Frankie can’t believe she managed to get lost on Salish Island. It’s only ten square miles. Her neighborhood in Seattle is larger and more complicated.

  She pushes through the lush undergrowth, trying to find her way back to the beach path or even the hotel. Maybe Cliff is at the beach?

  She doesn’t know why he’d leave without telling her. She knocked on his door after twenty minutes like he'd asked and then finally opened the door to check on him. She found the sliding door open and Cliff gone.

  The manager said the beach was a ten-minute walk and, once there, she would be able to watch the storm clouds approaching from the west.

  But after about two minutes, the so-called path dwindled and then disappeared. All she sees now is tree after tree after tree, stretching forever. Mosquito bites on her arms sting like crazy.

  No path. No beach.

  Now what?

  A pine bough caresses her cheek and she sinks to her butt, sitting down on a log.

  Is that the sound of running water? Is there a stream nearby?

  She wonders what it will be like to live in Los Angeles, a desert city without rivers or forests.

  The Pacific Northwest is all Frankie has ever known.

  Her mother moved them to Seattle from Los Angeles when Frankie was just a baby, to work as an English teacher at the community college. They always lived in the same apartment that Frankie gave up this month, a small cottage two blocks from the park. She never met her dad and doesn't even know who he is—her mom wouldn't tell her anything about him.

  But still.

  It was a happy childhood.

  The park was their backyard and they went there almost every day. Bike rides. Picnics. Walks. Her mom loved nature—as long as they stayed off islands. Her mom loved to laugh.

  They both did.

  When her mother was dying of breast cancer, Frankie promised she would finish her community college degree. She is fulfilling that promise to her mother.

  But now it's time to start her own life.

  She's ready.

  A mosquito buzzes her. Back up. Keep moving.

  She checks her phone again. No reception.

  "HELLO!" Frankie yells into the trees. This is crazy.

  She holds her phone above her head and walks in a circle, staring up at the screen, praying for reception.

  Nothing.

  She clomps along, making so much noise that any animals will be scared away. That’s what she tells herself, anyway.

  Was Cliff right to warn her about the forest?

  She holds still for a second. Just listening.

  She hears the buzz of insects and birds.

  Are those footsteps?

  She definitely hears footsteps.

  Are they animal steps or human steps? Chills run down her spine and every instinct tells her to retreat and hide.

  But what if she’s actually close to the hotel?

  "Hello?" Frankie tries, quieter this time. "Who’s there?" She realizes she’s whispering.

  The forest is so dense that she literally can’t see what’s beyond the next stand of trees.

  She inches toward the sound. Then she freezes.

  It’s breathing. Heavy. Wet.

  She hears someone. A living being. That’s good, right?

  But is it an animal? A person?

  Frankie holds her breath and peers into the leaves, straining to see more, straining to hear more.

  One more inch forward.

  And another.

  She can do this.

  She hears her own breath. Ragged. Frightened.

  No!

  An animal streaks across her field of sight.

  It’s huge and black. A wolf? A bear?

  It runs away as if it’s being chased. She turns and waits for whatever is following it.

  She waits.

  And she waits.

  Her own breathing is all she hears. Loud and raspy. Be quiet! She tries to still herself. Tries to regulate her breathing.

  A bell.

  She jumps out of her skin before realizing it’s her own phone.

  She got a text.

  She glances down at her phone, which is clutched tightly in her hand. Actually, she has a barrage of texts st
reaming in, one after another.

  She has reception.

  She clicks to her messages.

  It’s from Lawton! Yo, Frankie. What’s up? he texts.

  Just seeing his name on her phone makes her feel so much better.

  Dude, where have you been? You’ll literally never believe where I am. Lost. In a forest. Frankie types furiously with both thumbs, so happy to have someone with her, even if he’s on the other end of a message exchange.

  Where you at? he texts.

  Salish Island.

  Salish Island? WTF? That’s a shifter island.

  Shifters? No. Stop. I’m already scared.

  For real, girl. Keep an eye out for wolves and bears.

  Stop. She glances up from her phone. Is the animal back? Fear streams though her body.

  I’ve told you about my family.

  You made that up, dude. You were drunk.

  A drizzle starts to filter through the pines. The storm.

  She has to get back to the hotel.

  Lawton texts: No. It’s time for you to believe me, Frankie Knightly. Shifters are real and not all of them are nice like me.

  She texts: Who says you’re nice?

  Stop fucking around. Salish Island is thick with shifters.

  You do understand I’m lost in the forest, don’t you? Frankie types.

  Look at Google Maps. Now.

  OK.

  She clicks to Google Maps. Every fiber of her being is on alert, ready to run.

  It looks like she’s...Yup.

  Smack in the middle of the forest. The little dot of the hotel’s graphic is to her right. She turns to walk toward it and when she looks up, she gasps and drops her phone.

  Jesus. Cliff is walking straight toward her.

  And he’s buck naked.

  "Cliff?"

  His muscles are so chiseled they look like they're photoshopped.

  His face is strained and his entire body is streaked with dirt and pine needles.

  "What happened to you?"

  He doesn’t speak, just takes her arm and gently guides her down a sloping hill.

  She stops to pick up her phone and tries not to stare at his body as she bends down.

  Nope.

  Can’t do it. He’s ferociously hot, even when filthy.

  Relief floods her body.

  She’s safe.

  Even though he’s naked and something obviously happened to him, she knows he’ll get her back to the hotel.

  "Cliff..." she tries again. "What’s wrong? Where have you been? Why are you naked?"

  He shakes his head.

  She glances back down at her phone.

  The reception has disappeared.

  If she wants to text Lawton again, she’ll need to come back to this hill. No way. She makes a mental note never to be alone in a forest again.

  She lets Cliff guide her.

  He moves like an animal, easily slipping through the brush and trees with grace and speed.

  Cliff smiles down at her, then moves his hand from her elbow to her hand, holding it gently and continuing to pull her forward. Heat throbs between them.

  "Where are your clothes?"

  He doesn’t speak. It’s like he doesn’t know how to speak. He shakes his head.

  Something is seriously wrong.

  They need to get back to the bungalow.

  Suddenly, there it is. Right in front of them. And thank god, because the rain begins to pour.

  Her jaw drops.

  "How did you find the hotel? I’ve been looking all afternoon."

  He just smiles and opens the sliding glass door to the living room.

  Once inside, he squeezes her hand and drops it. Her hand tingles, feeling lost without him.

  "Cliff? What’s going on?"

  He walks into his bathroom and shuts the door.

  "Talk to me. Don’t be such a jerk!" she yells.

  She looks down at her phone again. It’s completely dead.

  What on earth is wrong with Cliff Tatum?

  12

  After his shower, Cliff is surprised to find Frankie still in his room, sitting on his bed.

  "Hello," he says quietly, glad his voice has finally returned.

  He wonders how he’ll be able to convince Frankie that she is his mate. Where does he even start? Hello, I’m a bear?

  No. He doesn’t want to terrify her.

  "Tell me what happened to you out there," she says. "Why were you...like that?"

  "Hungry?" he asks. "I’m ordering room service. Any allergies?"

  Frankie shakes her head warily, as if she expects him to be unkind or odd.

  He's starving.

  He walks back into the living room and picks up the phone to dial room service. "We’ll take two steak dinners."

  She follows, keeping an eye on him. He tries to smile. He doesn’t want Frankie to be afraid of him.

  "Medium rare. With everything," he adds before hanging up the phone.

  He watches Frankie sit on the edge of the couch and lean over to take off her wet shoes, her breasts pressing into her thighs. The curve of her back calls to him.

  He feels his cock rise up. He wants her.

  "I should take a shower too."

  He nods. "Go ahead. Room service said the food will take an hour." He’s never been into inexperienced women. Too much work. But with Frankie he doesn’t care about that. More evidence the bear is right.

  He checks his e-mail while she’s in her room.

  When Frankie rejoins Cliff in the living room, she's showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Her long blond hair is rumpled and sexy.

  He yearns to touch it.

  "I hope you like steak," he says.

  "Who doesn’t?" She leans back on the couch.

  "Wait till you get to LA," he laughs, walking toward her. "So many people are vegetarians. Or vegans. Fruitarians. Macrobiotic. Gluten-free..."

  "What’s macrobiotic?"

  "Grains, vegetables, fruit. No meat. Lots of water."

  "More steak for me, then." She shrugs.

  "Wolfgang Puck has an incredible steak house in Beverly Hills. I’ll show it to you."

  "Are you asking me out on a date? Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t even speak to me."

  "And you called me a jerk," he says, smiling. "You’ll need to try the steak there, that’s all there is to it."

  He keeps flirting with her, without even trying.

  She’s your mate, dummy, his bear says.

  I thought I told you to shut up.

  Since when have I listened to you? his bear retorts.

  His inner bear is like an annoying kid brother who thinks he knows everything about everyone.

  I do know everything. You’re the dummy who has not only forgotten his past but completely misunderstands his present.

  A knock at the door is too quick to be room service, but Cliff is happy to be distracted from his bear.

  When he answers the door, he’s surprised to see the director Antonio Ford leaning against the threshold, holding a bottle of scotch. He hands Cliff the bottle. "I come in peace," Ford says.

  "Ford, it’s good to see you," Cliff says.

  Ford is a Hollywood hipster, with nerdy glasses and leopard-patterned flip-flops. He’s a great film director. His graying black hair hangs over his forehead. He pushes it back.

  "Now don’t be mad, but I’m dating your ex." Then he sees Frankie on the couch. "Oh, hello. Cliff has moved on, I see." He walks into the room and shakes Frankie’s hand. "Antonio Ford, pleased to meet any woman of the great Cliff Tatum."

  "I’m Frankie Knightly," she says. "Not his woman. His production assistant."

  "Even better," Ford says with a chuckle. "I’m looking for production assistants for my next film. We start shooting next month. You available?"

  "Umm. Yes?"

  "What was that you said about dating my ex?" Cliff interrupts. "Are you and Elle together?"

  "Man, it happened so fast. Like
a whirlwind." Ford nods. "We’d been friends for years, of course. You know that. Incredible woman. I couldn’t stop myself once we reconnected. The energy of that woman. Well, you know. What am I telling you for?"

  Elle knows how important the role in Antonio Ford’s movie is to Cliff. He tries to smile like it doesn’t matter. "Sure, sure. Where did you reconnect?"

  "On the ferry. This morning."

  "This morning." Right after she throttled Frankie.

  "Do you believe in love at first sight? Do you believe in fate?"

  "No. But I do believe in the charm of the most highly paid TV star in the world."

  "Cool. Cool. So you’re good with this, then?" Ford moves to the door.

  "Would it matter if I weren’t?"

  "Uh..." Ford stares at him awkwardly for a moment, then drops his gaze.

  "No problem, Ford. I’m fine. I’ve moved on, as you say." He glances at Frankie, sitting on the couch, listening to their conversation.

  "You coming to my screening tomorrow?" Ford asks. "I'd like to talk with you afterwards."

  "Absolutely." Maybe he will still get the role.

  "Cool. Cool. See you then. I need to get back to Elle." He pushes back his mop of hair again. "The energy of that woman."

  As Ford leaves, the room service arrives.

  The bellhop sets up near the patio. He's brought a beautiful table covered with a white cloth, two pink roses in a small vase, and steaming, covered plates.

  A bottle of champagne rests in a bucket of ice.

  "I have to be in the hotel for tonight's red carpet," he tells Frankie as they sit down. "Ford’s film is screening at eight. Are you coming?"

  "Yes, I'll be there," she says.

  "I'll have to sit with the filmmakers. But I'll reserve a ticket for you in the balcony."

  "Don't worry about it," she says. "I have an all-access pass, remember?"

  There's an awkward silence. Their lives don't intersect easily. She digs into her steak while he devours his food before turning to open the champagne. There’s a comfort in their silence. They enjoy each other's company.

  Make your move, his bear insists.

  "I'm enjoying seeing you eat."

  Is that the best you can do? ‘I’m enjoying seeing you eat?’ Seriously?

  She smiles.

  "You look very beautiful tonight," he adds.