Shifter's Destiny

by Anna Leonard

  A moment, and no longer. He shouldn’t push her; he shouldn’t be here at all, he should never have made that promise to Maggie. No matter how he held it off, the rut was still burning inside him, and if he couldn’t take her, then it wanted him to leave this place and move on. If he didn’t find a suitable mate—a virgin, someone who would be acceptable to the herd—he...

  He didn’t know what would happen. The only stallions who returned were the ones with brides, or who knew someone waited for them back home. The bachelors, the unmated males...nobody ever saw them, nobody spoke of them. Once you left the herd, there was only one way to return.

  Nine years he had been a bachelor, roaming wherever the day took him, seeing every part of this country, meeting all sorts of people. But the freedom was over. He needed to find the proper mate. The rut told him that it was time, past time, and the urgency was rising every day he waited.

  “Tell me,” he said again.

  “That’s just it.” She spoke so softly he had to lean even closer to hear. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t know what we’re facing, I don’t even know that they’re not right and I’m crazy, imagining things.”

  “Those men back there used violence to try to take you back. That alone says you weren’t imagining things.” He could feel the anger rising again, the urge to lash out with hoof and horn. It hadn’t simply been Maggie’s call that had made him act with such vigor, although her fear-driven summons had been part of it. The look on Elizabeth’s face, the terror and determination to protect the younger girl, had hit him like a two-by-four. Her courage had driven him, as much as Maggie’s distress. “Nobody would listen to you?”

  “I told someone, a friend, about...about Ray, my worries about why he was hanging around Maggie. He died.”

  Her voice was bleak, the sadness in it tearing at Josh. “Died?”

  “They said it was suicide. Maybe it was.” Her voice said she wanted to believe that, wanted to believe a friend had abandoned her rather than believe that someone had killed him because of her words. Suddenly her hesitation to share her story made more sense.

  “I’m very tough to kill,” he told her, making it as much a promise as he dared.

  She took a deep breath, seemed to come to another decision. “Ray always made me uneasy, the moment he came to the Community.”

  “He wasn’t born there?”

  “No.” She shook her head, and the now-short strands swept along her chin, hiding her expression. “His mother came when he was...eleven, I think. She was the cousin of a member, Leigh, a friend of my parents. She was looking for a better place to raise her son. He’s older than I am, so I didn’t know him growing up. Everyone else likes him, his school friends all stand by him even now, but...I don’t trust anyone nobody dislikes. It means that they’re pleasing everyone. Honest people don’t please everyone.”

  He smiled at that—he had never thought of it that way, but she was right. When you spoke your mind, you pissed off someone, somewhere. “And you think Ray...what? Was dishonest?” Was he embezzling the school funds, or...

  “I think he looks at Maggie in a way that’s not right. No, not that way,” she rushed to assure him when his expression turned thunderous. “But... My parents trusted Leigh, and I think Leigh trusted Ray—and told him too much. About Maggie. I think that she told Ray what she can do. And he sees it not as a gift, but a tool.”

  Mustangs had been given that look for too many generations. He understood, completely. “And you? Why are they so determined to bring you back, as well?”

  “I’m the handle that works the tool,” she said bluntly. “Maggie will do anything for me. And I’ll do anything for her.” Their gazes met, and in hers he saw a resigned exhaustion that sealed his resolve: in the herd, they protected the young. The damned rut could damned well wait. There was no way he would leave the two of them alone, not until he knew that they were safe. There was no way he could leave them alone. He had given Maggie his word. He would see them to safety.

  He reached out and touched her hand, meaning only to reassure her. Instead, that touch sent shivers through Elizabeth, shivers that he felt rebound through his body, as well. Hot and cold, intense electricity in his veins, on his skin. He waited, half-afraid, for it to awaken the rut. Instead, he felt a slow smooth warmth coating him, subduing the rut for the first time in weeks; the touch triggered another avalanche of images and sensations of her body writhing against his own, the warm, wet pleasures of her depths, and his cock hardened, but without the recent urgency or itch.

  For the first time in weeks, he felt not irritable, but anticipatory, like a kid who knows that he’s finally going to get the much-wished-for present for his birthday. It made no sense, but he savored it, anyway.

  The moment drew out into an almost uncomfortable silence, broken when Elizabeth’s mouth opened in a long, involuntary yawn.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flushed with dusky rose, and Josh grinned, relieved to have something to reduce the tension. So long as he could think of her as someone in need of protection, like her sister, the rut seemed to be appeased. That was the only explanation he could think of.

  But he couldn’t count on that holding for long. Especially if she hit the fertile point in her cycle. He knew that the way he knew where his elbow was; a natural extension of his being.

  “You’re just as tired as Maggie,” he said softly, holding her gaze. “Why don’t you go inside and get some sleep, too? We’re not going anywhere for a few hours. By now anyone looking for you will have determined that you haven’t gone to any of the local officials, and that you didn’t buy a ticket at the bus station—” her gaze dropped, admitting that that would have been her next step “—and they’ll hopefully assume that you’re walking or riding your miracle pretty pony somewhere else.”

  She let the self-mocking reference go, still too worried to be amused or distracted. “They won’t come looking for us here?”

  “That’s why I made you guys wait outside when I rented the room,” he reminded her. “Cash means they can’t trace me, and waving around my description, even if they have it, won’t make a difference—I have no connection to you, and have a history of traveling alone, so they’d have no reason to twig. And if they do come looking...” He reached out and tilted her chin up again so that she had to look at him. Her dark eyes were wide and the pupils dilated slightly, and her soft lips were open slightly again, showing just a hint of her slightly uneven white teeth. The rut battled again with his herd-protector instincts. Herd won. He didn’t kiss her.

  But oh, he very much wanted to. Kiss her, and do far more.

  “I meant what I said to Maggie. If anyone comes here, if anyone threatens you...I will be here.” He only hoped that they didn’t change tactics and bring guns. He was tough, but not even Mustang hide was impervious to bullets, silver or otherwise.

  “Go on, get some sleep.”

  Elizabeth balked. “What about you? You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you? And don’t give me that crap about sleeping standing up. I grew up in the country, I know damn well that horses lie down to sleep, and I suspect unicorns do, too.”

  “Not when we’re on guard, we don’t,” he said. “Now go, shoo.”

  “You’re not going to stay out here all day,” she said, standing up and reaching for his hand again, as though forgetting the shiver that had rocked them both just a minute before. “That’s silly, and also dangerous if one of Jordan’s men sees you in your other form—they’re not about to forget the horse that nearly neutered them.” She paused. “Unless you’d be more comfortable that way? I...I don’t...”

  She spluttered to a stop and then glared at him, her lips pursed and her glare sharp, and her body language showed exasperation, one hand fisted on her hip, shoulders back and pointed chin jutting forward.

  “This is all r
eally weird to me, Josh, and stop laughing, because I can tell that you’re laughing at me. Do were-unicorns prefer to sleep in four-legged form or two?”

  He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to. But there was no way to avoid it, not with the rut still itching hotly inside him and Elizabeth standing in front of him, indignant and brave and befuddled and elegantly adorable. He took her hand, and pulled her onto his lap, his other arm coming up to cup the back of her head and bring her closer so that he could taste that mouth properly.

  Once their lips met, the rut exploded. Her skin was smooth and smelled like apples and pine and a slightly waxy taste of the hotel soap, and underneath it all the deeper unmistakable musk of a woman. He was hard immediately, painfully so, wanting only to tumble them both to the cracked pavement, in public, and claim her then and there.

  He restrained himself, not letting the rut win, but his hold on her tightened and he plundered that sweetly tangy mouth with teeth and tongue, drawing incoherent but not unhappy murmurs from her throat. Her fingers closed over his shoulders, digging into the flesh, and he felt her entire body lean into him.

  “Josh.” His name was neither protest nor encouragement in her mouth, more as though she was tasting the word itself, finding him within those four letters. Josh, not Mustang.

  The sound of a car coming down the road reached them both at the same time, and they released each other, moving apart quickly and turning like one creature to watch the car. Her body was poised for flight, his strained to shift—he could protect her better with hooves than he could with hands.

  But the car kept going, not even slowing down as it passed the motel, and they both let out near-identical sighs of relief.

  * * *

  Elizabeth watched the car disappear around the turn in the road, not able to meet Josh’s eyes. The way she had reacted, what must he think of her? It was as though think-it-through Libby had disappeared utterly, as though she had never existed.

  “That was... I’m sorry,” he said, his voice oddly rough.

  “That was very nice, and I’m not.” She got up from the bench again, but this time didn’t offer him her hand. “The offer still stands. To share the room, I mean. Unless you’d be more comfortable outside?”

  He probably would, she could see it in his face. But he shook his head. “I’d be more comfortable keeping you two in sight. If you could loan me one of those pillows...?”

  They went inside, walking quietly so as not to wake Maggie. Elizabeth paused by the edge of the bed, watching her sister, who was snoring gently, a peaceful expression on her face now, as though dreaming of something sweet.

  Her fingers lifted to her own mouth, still feeling the tingle of Josh’s mouth on hers. It had been instinctive on his part, probably foolish on hers, but she savored the memory anyway. Everything had been worry and fear for so long, she had almost forgotten how to just have a moment of pure pleasure.

  Elizabeth slipped a pillow out from under the coverlet and handed it to him before pulling off her sweatshirt and slipping under the covers with her sister, wearing only a T-shirt and sweatpants. She turned onto her side, her hand curled under her cheek, and watched him put the pillow down on the floor and try to adjust his length comfortably on the thin carpet. Immediately she could tell that wasn’t going to end well. Sure enough, within minutes he gave up, got up and settled himself in the chair by the door instead. He propped the pillow against the wall behind him to provide a comfortable headrest, his legs splayed out on front of him.

  She knew the feeling of those legs, that firm chest, the heat of his hands, as well as she knew the feel of riding on his back, her fingers curled into his mane, and the two seemed to blend in her emotions, making her stomach flutter and the apex between her legs heat up in anticipation. Her brain was torn in two directions: the intense physical contact they had just shared, the warm sense of anticipation curling low in her stomach, against the fear and concern about the men hunting them, and the worry of what their next move should be. Deciding that neither one was anything she could do anything about right now, she asked another question instead.

  “You never did answer Maggie’s question,” she said quietly. “Are you a unicorn who changes into a man, or a man who changes form?”

  He winced, as though she’d hit on a sore point, and she fully expected him to tell her to go to sleep and stop pestering him. But instead, he answered.

  “There’s enough non-Mustang blood in the herd now, we’re born two-legged. Then after a few weeks, we make our first change. It’s a big party, sort of like a first birthday.” His voice was low, but she could hear the fondness in it, as he remembered simpler days. “We switch back and forth pretty evenly when we’re kids, and then mostly stay two-legged as teenagers.”

  He stopped, and she wanted to get him to continue, fascinated by this impossible, fantastical world he was showing her.

  “It’s where we learn to be human—we are human, in all the ways that count. We have the same social cues, the same cultural history. Just...a little different. We go to school, date, get part-time jobs and make our parents crazy. After that, the females have a pretty normal life. They go to college or learn a trade, get jobs, settle in.... The males get kicked out.”

  She made a noise of protest and he glanced up at her. “Oh, not like that. It’s more...the herd is built around females. We’re like horses in that regard, at least—a stallion might do the hard kicking, but the oldest, wisest woman, the one with the most experience, makes the decisions. So when we’re young and prone to challenging everything that moves, we get sent out to do our damage elsewhere, and come back when we’ve had some sense nipped into us.”

  She could tell that there was more to it, but exhaustion was creeping up on her, abetted by the surprisingly comfortable mattress and the feel of her sister’s sleeping body that had—the moment Elizabeth got into bed—curled instinctively against her back.

  “Go to sleep,” he said, gently. “I’ll tell you more when you wake up.”

  And with that promise, and the memory of his mouth on hers, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  * * *

  Despite the surprising comfort of the chair, Josh found it impossible to sleep himself, and once he was certain that Elizabeth was soundly in the grip of her dreams, he got up and made the shift. There was barely enough room for him to move, between bed and desk, but he found it easier to think in this form. There were fewer options, fewer distractions. Fight or flight? Choose one, and act on it.

  Interestingly, the rut quieted when he was this self. It was still there, an instinct surging within him, but when all your moods were instinct based, not depending on rational thought, it was easier to deal with and control them. It was dangerous, too. He could feel that, even though nobody had ever told him so, specifically. The longer the rut went on, the more the drive to find his mate drove him, the stronger the urge to shift to four legs, where things were simpler, morality black-and-white: survival or death. The two-legged form was limiting, slow and weak. No mate would ever willingly choose that, and if he didn’t find a mate...

  That was the thing never spoken of, he realized suddenly. The thing boy-children were never told. The reason why so many young stallions never returned to the herd. His four-legged self understood what his two-legged self refused to acknowledge. If he didn’t heed the rut, didn’t find the Pure One, the lifetime mate, he would become a bachelor stallion; forever in four-legged form, never human again.

  Mustang liked his four-legged form, but not always-and-forever.

  The girl had called him. He accepted that now, in this self. It was a simple fact, not to be questioned. He had answered, and accepted them as herd, as responsibility. He watched them sleep now, remembering his dam sleeping the same way with one of his younger siblings. Family. The longing rose up in him, a loneliness that was wholly human matching the call of
the rut, mixing into a bittersweet brew.

  How could he choose between two such powerful pulls?

  Elizabeth stirred, a little murmur escaping her as she slept, and he felt a surge, not in the rut, but that softer, gentler but still intense emotion. He shoved it down. The rut was cleaner, more understandable, more manageable. His two-legged form might be confused but he knew the truth: Mustangs chose women without family ties, without past experiences. Virgins. That was the way it had always been.

  For the first time, watching Elizabeth sleep, he wondered why.

  Chapter 8

  The sky was pale blue above her. Elizabeth lay on her back, the smell of fresh grass and roses surrounding her, and stared at the blue as though it was the most magical thing she had ever seen. That sense of peace, of contentment, wrapped itself around her like the pair of arms that held her close, a warm chest at her back, the sound of someone whispering in her ear. She couldn’t make out the words, didn’t recognize the voice, but she was so calm, so comfortable, that she didn’t feel any desire to turn and see who the speaker was. It was enough to be there, to float under the blue sky, and not have any worries....

  Except she did. Even in the dream, Elizabeth could not let go of reality, and it reached for her, cracking the blue sky and reaching with putrid gray limbs, clawed fingers clutching at her. The wind turned cold, and the arms slid away, even as she was turning, trying to find them, trying to escape the claws looking to rend her apart....

  The dream faded, blue skies and clawed beasts swirling into the rise to consciousness, and she woke to the faint pink light reaching through the window, under the curtains, feeling completely disoriented. Where was she? What time was it?

  The sound of her sister’s soft snores reassured her—wherever they were, they were together. Then the room came into focus, and she saw Josh sitting in the chair, watching her. His face was in shadows, but she could still make out the line of his chin, the strong nose that echoed the lines of his equine form, the stubble on his chin....