Shifter Overdrive

by Scarlett Grove

  She shook her back, loosening her coat. In an instant, it was done. She’d become a massive gray wolf the size of a small car.

  Caleb and Elijah’s wolves sniffed around her, yipping gleefully as they panted and bared their teeth.

  She whimpered, still in shock, but Caleb nipped at her heels, encouraging her to follow them down the porch stairs and across the meadow toward the forest.

  The scents of the trees and soil and creek wove a tapestry of fragrances that provided her wolf with more information than the human inside her had ever even considered. The night forest was alive with beauty only the wolf could perceive.

  A gleeful sense of freedom opened in her heart and exploded in her brain. She yelped at Caleb and Elijah as they ran beside her. As she found her legs and her strength, she burst into a fast gallop.

  Lucy’s feet flew over the soft ground, kicking up fallen leaves and needles. She burst across the creek, the smell of the water dripping down her throat, invigorating her senses.

  She found herself pulling ahead of Caleb and Elijah. Their voices tingled inside her mind, telling her she was strong. She growled happily as she drew even farther ahead of the brothers. I am strong. She could feel the power coursing through her veins. It was the most exhilarating sensation she’d ever experienced.

  The brothers yipped behind her and took off after the tangy smell of a deer. She followed, pacing her mates as they hunted their prey. It was just beyond a stand of alder. She could hear its heart beating, smell its musk and blood. The brothers circled around on either side, and Lucy softly padded toward the grazing animal. The wind was coming toward her. The deer had not caught her scent. The wind changed, and the animal bolted, but Lucy pounced in that instant. She lunged on the animal, biting deep into his neck. Blood lapped over her tongue as the deer’s life force dripped down her throat.

  Caleb and Elijah joined her in the clearing, sending her mental messages to praise her prowess. She grinned in the dark before biting deep into the raw flesh. They feasted until full. Lucy’s blood ran hot with the fever of the hunt. She was more alive than she’d ever been. Bursting into a run, she bound off into the night.

  A new scent wafted in front of her, making her stop in her tracks. Caleb and Elijah caught up, growling angrily. Her immature animal link told her there was danger close by—the coyotes that had attacked Caleb.

  Lucy yipped and bayed, circling around the brothers. Her wolf was cocky and confident in a way Lucy never had been as a human. She wanted to attack and avenge her mate.

  She could feel them calling the pack. Full of bloodlust and bravado, Lucy followed the scent of the coyotes without Caleb and Elijah’s consent. They growled at her to stop but followed her anyway.

  Before she could think to go back, the coyote pack burst through the forest and lunged toward them. A moment of fear cut through her heart but evaporated as soon as she felt the first nip from a coyote.

  As if moving in a dream, Lucy fought beside Caleb and Elijah. Three wolves were a match for six coyotes. Somehow Lucy knew she was stronger than an average wolf.

  She bit into the leader’s neck and felt bones crack between her teeth. Blood bit her tongue as the other coyotes bayed and ran away just as the rest of the wolf pack entered the wood.

  She let go of the coyote between her teeth, and it lay limp on the ground, not moving. Dead. She yipped and jumped back. She’d killed a shifter.

  Voices and impressions filtered through her growing animal link. The pack soothed her, reassured her that she’d done the right thing. As she trotted through the wolves, she could sense their admiration. She, Lucy Zimmer, sexually harassed paralegal, had become an alpha wolf.

  Back at the farm, after washing and dressing, Caleb, Elijah, and Lucy sat around the comfortable living room eating hot fudge sundaes in their pajamas.

  Elijah had turned on an action movie on the big screen, and she sat snuggled up between Caleb and Elijah. “You were magnificent, Lucy. Truly magnificent,” Elijah said.

  “She is an alpha of the highest order. Such strength hasn’t been seen in Mystic Harbor for a generation.”

  “And to think she isn’t a natural-born wolf,” Elijah said, shaking his head.

  Lucy kissed them each on the cheek, her lips brushing over the scratchy stubble on their skin. She licked her lips and took another bite of ice cream.

  Nestled between her two alphas, with the power of her wolf singing in her blood, Lucy knew no man would ever take advantage of her again.

  Cat Scratch Fever

  Mystic Harber

  After curvy magazine editor Makayla Phillips is run off an icy road, she is caught in the snow storm of the century. With a head wound and a badly sprained ankle, Makayla is lucky that Ronan Harding found her. In his isolated cabin, the reclusive mountain lion shifter nurses Makayla back to health.

  They fight each other and their blooming attraction as the snow traps them inside.

  They are from worlds so far apart, being together is impossible. Will they meet in the middle or will they lose what they want most?

  Chapter 1

  Makayla Phillips had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on her smartphone. She typed, "No Mom. I'm not on Dad's side. I'm on no one's side," and threw the phone into the passenger's seat.

  The split second her eyes were away from the road, a massive mountain lion pranced across her path. The sleek blond creature stood and stared at the on-coming car with gleaming, yellow eyes, its breath foggy in the cold winter air. She swerved. Thoughts of her parent's impending divorce evaporated as her world moved in slow motion.

  She twisted toward the other side of the road and the front wheels caught a patch of black ice. The car careened over the embankment. Her heart flew into her throat. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die, but all that Makayla saw in her mind was her gay assistant helping himself to her half-a-size-too-small-for-his-feet collection of designer shoes. Horror gripped her chest as the BMW sedan continued down a steep gravel hill, skidding sideways.

  There was nothing she could do but hang on for dear life. Her driver's side door fast approached a stand of old growth Douglas fir. This trip had been nothing but one disaster after another. Gaining momentum, the car impacted. The air bags deployed, and she was out cold.

  Makayla woke, drooling on an airbag. Sore, disoriented, she popped open her seatbelt lock. The driver's door was wedged against a massive tree. The entire car tilted at a forty-five degree angle, making it difficult for her to get her bearings.

  She needed to call for help. Where was her phone? She scanned the car and found it against the back window. Hefting her ample frame through the front seats, Makayla went dizzy and was forced to stop moving. The world tilted around her and threatened to go black again. She put her hand to her temple and felt a massive bump forming on her skull. Reaching as far as her arm span would allow, she inched the phone toward her with her fingertips until she could grab it.

  She turned it over and inspected the cracked screen. Shit, shit, shit. She pressed the power button. Nothing. Panic rose from the pit of her stomach and whooshed around her foggy head. She sucked back tears and pulled herself to an awkward sitting position in the passenger seat. Her fingers trembled as she pried off the back of the phone and replaced the battery before putting it together again. She took a deep breath and pressed the power button. Nothing.

  "No!" Fuck.

  She grabbed her coat from the floor, pulled it on, and shoved open the passenger side door. It took all her strength to push against the force of gravity pressing down on her. When she had the door open enough to climb through, she had to suck air into her chest in order to prevent passing out again. The dizziness subsided, and she climbed through the door. The gravel hillside that had so graciously carried her down the steep slope, was still several feet below her.

  She'd worn jeans and tennis shoes while at her parent's house. No one went around in pencil skirts and pumps in that part of Oregon. Her add
led brain congratulated itself for being so practical. She took a deep breath and dropped to the rocky ground below.

  Makayla held on to the car as the gravel below her feet poured downward. She made it just beyond the car before she was carried in an avalanche of rock further into the forest where she was deposited, on her behind, into the dense undergrowth. The jagged stones cut into her jeans, and she had to pick them off as she stood. Once on solid ground, she looked back up the hill. She was several hundred feet down a steep slope with no way of getting back up and couldn't see any way out. To her right was another steep drop. To her left was a half frozen pond. The only direction she could go was straight into the forest.

  She picked her way through the bare winter branches of bushes and young evergreen trees. The sharp lemon scent of fir needles filled her nose as she gripped the branches for support. She found a deer trail near the trunk of an old tree. Taking the path, she stumbled forward. Her head throbbed and her sense of direction whirled. Where was the car?

  Stopping to catch her breath, Makayla leaned against a tree trunk for support. The cold air made it through the thick layers of her down parka and she shuddered. Her hands felt numb. She could see her panting breath.

  She whimpered. Makayla was not accustomed to being so vulnerable. She was a take charge kind of woman who knew how to get things done. She'd been hiking before. Makayla was a Oregonian for God's sake. She'd just never done it with a mild concussion, in the middle of winter, in the middle of nowhere.

  Her vision doubled, and she stumbled forward. It was like that one time she'd tried mushrooms in college but far worse. Her frozen feet hit the ground one after the other, sending shock waves of pain up her legs. She pulled the parka hood over her head and shoved her numb hands into her pockets.

  A deer bolted in the wood, a branch broke, and a moaning cat growl cracked through the frigid air. Makayla's heart nearly stopped beating. She panted, trying to stay calm. Predators were hungry in winter. Her mind ran over the things she'd learned as a child. What do you do in case of mountain lions?

  She yelled and flapped her arms. Dizziness blacked the edges of her vision and she felt herself wobble. She coughed from yelling, her lungs sore in the cold. There had been a light snow a few days ago that had mostly melted off, but the forecast had predicted a record storm.

  With the strength of her determined will, she pressed herself onward into the forest, smacking sticks together to make aggressive sounds. The cracking of her sticks pierced her ears. All she wanted was a warm cup of cocoa and her favorite flannel pajamas. Another whimper escaped her lips.

  Stopping for a moment, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and checked the power button again. Still nothing. There has to be civilization around here somewhere. Right?

  She had gone to visit her parents who lived near Mary’s Peak and had taken the long road back to the highway. She was technically still in the national forest. The idea that no one would find her sent a shiver of dread up her spine. She should have stayed at the car. She turned around, trying to remember what direction she'd come from.

  Which way was north? Moss grows on what side of a tree?

  The sun was obscured by a thick layer of gray storm clouds. There was no way of knowing where she was going or where she had been. She screamed in frustration, making her head ache.

  Makayla crossed her arms across her REI parka and wept. She kept walking, but she wept. One foot in front of the other. Just keep moving. She would get out of this. She just had to try harder.

  As she came to a steep gully, she heard a crack in the forest behind her. Her already ragged breath grated in her chest. She looked around for signs of the predator. Flailing her arms around her head, she screamed. Her foot slipped under the momentum of her flailing and her arms wind-milled as she fell backward down the ravine.

  Chapter 2

  The mountain lion sniffed the cool air. The sharp lemon scent of fir needles and deep loamy soil mingled with the scent of frigid river water and blood. His massive paws padded along the forest floor, nimbly pouncing through the undergrowth. His nose twitched in the wind. A storm was coming. A big one.

  The source of the blood was along the ravine where dark earth plunged into a rocky riverbed. He pounced on a downed tree trunk and regarded the entrance of the ravine. He could smell the spray of a waterfall, the tang of a hawk, and the quivering fear of a rabbit in its den.

  He dropped silently to the riverbed and stalked toward the source of the blood, human blood. There should be no humans, let alone bleeding ones, in this part of his forest. This was his territory. No hiking trails, no visitors.

  Near the base of the waterfall, he saw the curvaceous figure of a woman. She lay on her side with her face buried in the ground. The acrid scent of hair chemicals and perfume bit his nose.

  His lips curled in a snarl. He hated humans and their stinking chemical smell. No good ever came from them being in his forest. Humans: noisy, smelly beasts who trampled the earth and left destruction in their wake.

  His ears twitched to listen for her heartbeat— thready but strong. He sniffed at the blood under her head. It had stopped flowing and was beginning to clot in her black hair. Licking at her cheek, he hope the damp contact of his tongue would be enough to wake her.

  She didn't stir. He couldn't leave the woman bleeding into the riverbed. Even he had more compassion for humans than that. He sniffed the wind and sensed electricity in the air. There would be snow tonight, a lot of it, more than this part of Oregon had seen in decades.

  He shifted. His body shimmered and contorted. Bones snapped and reformed in a hair's breadth of an instant. He stood tall and naked in the chill wind. His chiseled muscles twitched. The sensitive human flesh pricked from the cold, and the smooth river rocks poked into the bottoms of his bare feet.

  He knelt beside the unconscious woman. Slipping his arms under her shoulders and the backs of her knees, he scooped her feminine body into his arms. Her head lulled back and he could see her face and smell the native scent of her body under the smell of blood and perfume.

  Her plump red lips opened slightly, revealing her pink tongue and straight white teeth. He looked down at her form. Her round breasts rose like rolling hillsides and her wide hips tapered deliciously into her waist.

  The smell of her at this proximity and the feel of her softness against his hard chest made his mouth water involuntarily. He lifted her neck to his nose and took a long, slow drag of her scent. Mmmm, intoxicating. It had been a long time since he'd smelled a woman this close, human or shifter.

  He made a low groan and carried the unconscious woman down the riverbed. Carrying her all the way home would take too long in this form. In one deft movement, he wrapped her arms around his neck, flipped her on his back, and shifted into his massive lion form. Her legs fell around his back and he easily carried her down the flat riverbed.

  When he reached the path toward home, he carefully pounced up the ridge. She began to slide from his back. He shifted into his Halfling form. With one hand, he held her arms around his chest and with the other, he held her legs around his waist. With powerful lion's hind legs, he charged through the wood.

  He flew past the trees, moving deeper and deeper into the forest. The smell of snow pressed against his senses. A billowy flake blew in front of his path. By the time he made it to his cabin, there was already a thin coating of white over the ground.

  He brought her inside and deposited her in his bed. He shifted human and placed his hand on her wrist to feel her heartbeat. She was cold. Too cold. Her red lips had turned purple, and blue circles had formed on the pale skin below her eyes.

  After pulling her from her cold damp clothes, he tucked her under his blankets. His human body responded to the sight of the woman's plump fresh, and the beast inside him roared. He growled at himself and pulled on his buckskin trousers.

  His cabin was equipped with both a fire place and a wood burning stove. He gathered logs from outside and built up the fi
res until the cabin was toasty warm.

  Ronan looked at the woman in his bed. Revulsion and desire fought for dominance. He hated visitors. He didn't even like the other shifters to come to his cabin, let alone a bloody human stinking of perfume and laundry detergent.

  He crossed his arms and scowled. She had a head injury.

  His cabin was twenty miles from the nearest road and further from the other shifters who lived in Mystic Harbor on the coast. He wouldn't be able to count on them for help with his human problem.

  Unlike many of the other shifters, Ronan Harding refused to use modern human technology. He felt it cheapened a shifter's very existence and he preferred to live off the land as much as possible. The human in him required a minimum of human comfort. The mountain lion in him just wanted to be left alone.

  He didn't have any of those cellphone contraptions. He didn't even have electricity or running water. Ronan was happy to live as if the twentieth century never happened.

  If he needed money for human goods, he took his animal pelts to the nearest town and hiked home his supplies. He didn't need much, a handful of rice, salt, knives to skin his pelts. That was it, and that was the way he liked it.

  The woman groaned in the bed and turned to her side. He should clean the wound. Humans didn't heal like shifters, and the cut could fester. He sneered. He didn't want to touch her, no matter how good she smelled under all that chemical cologne, no matter how prettily her plump red lips puckered in her sleep.

  He drew a handful of dried wild bergamot from a glass jar and threw it in a baked clay bowl. The tea kettle on the stove held hot water which he poured over the dried herbs. The bergamot infusion would fight infection and clean the wound.

  Ronan covered the infusion with a plate and let it seep for several moments. When it was ready, he dipped a cloth into the green water and pressed it against the woman's skin.