Shifter's Destiny

by Anna Leonard

  “There isn’t any other door or exit in here,” Josh said. “Damn it. I was sure...”

  “They wouldn’t want to come in here to open the door....” Elizabeth was thinking it through, being think-it-through Libby again, but it was difficult, her head fuzzy and her center of balance off. “And they couldn’t risk leaving them alone with a possible exit. Whatever they had become, they were human, too, and no matter how badly they’d been twisted, once the door opened a few times they’d remember that, and use it—or try to, anyway. So...outside, but near?”

  The exit they were looking for was at the far end of the row of doors, set into the wall, and accessible by the simple means of placing their hand into a shaped depression. The beasts, with their misshapen claws and padded hands, could never have managed it. The door slid open, leading them into a large stone tunnel that curved upward. Elizabeth sighed, and Maggie slid between the two of them, offering her strong, unbloodied shoulders for support. Together, ten minutes of a limping, staggering walk left them standing in a small garden on the outskirts of town, behind the maintenance shed.

  Elizabeth and Josh leaned against nearby trees, afraid to let themselves sit down, for fear they would not be able to get up again, while Maggie slid the faux-stone door back into place, to make sure nobody stumbled on the tunnel accidentally.

  “Come on,” Elizabeth said, looking up at the sky to try and gauge how much time had passed. “We still have to circle around to get back to the truck, and it’s going to take us a while.”

  “I can shift—” Josh offered, and both Maggie and Elizabeth turned on him, their “no” a vehement chorus.

  “We’ll make it,” Elizabeth said, offering him her hand. “Together.”

  * * *

  The truck was where they had left it, untouched. By then, Josh was only limping slightly, although his cuts and bruises were still worrying-looking. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of herself in the side-view mirror, and winced. It looked like she had a nice black eye forming, and the claw marks on the side of her face were already red and inflamed.

  “You’re going to need tetanus shots,” her sister said, not without sympathy.

  “We all are,” Elizabeth said. “Just to be on the safe side. And maybe rabies testing, too. Unless your people are immune to it, Josh?”

  He looked up as though he was going to say something witty, then his face scrunched up and he bent over, grabbing at the door handle.

  “Josh!” She made her way around the truck, cursing at her own injuries that slowed her down. “Josh, are you all right?”

  “Hold me,” he said. “Just...hold my hand. It needs to know you’re here, that you’re still here.”

  “Always,” she said, and took his hand up in both of hers, lifting it to her mouth for a gentle kiss. As simply as that, it seemed that the pain subsided.

  “You’re okay?”

  “I think so. But...” The spasm hit again, and sweat formed on his forehead, rolling down the side of his face as he tried to resist.

  “Maggie, you drive,” Elizabeth ordered, slamming open the truck’s door and loading him into the cab, and then climbing in after him. She kept her hand in his, wrapping the other around his shoulders, cradling him the way she used to when Maggie had a bad dream.

  “I’ve never driven before!” Maggie protested, but climbed in anyway, finding the keys where Josh had left them in the ignition.

  “It’s an automatic, it’s easy,” Elizabeth said. “Just get out into the road, head south and go slow.”

  Maggie didn’t hit anything, drive off the road or attract the attention of any policemen. Other than that, Elizabeth couldn’t have said anything at all about the trip back to Kit and Lou’s farm. Her entire focus was on the man shivering in her arms. Josh’s skin was completely filmed with sweat now, and his teeth were chattering, but his skin was hot to the touch, and every now and again it would ripple, as though he was being shaken from inside.

  He was fighting off the shift, she knew. He was terrified that if he let it take over, let the rut win, he would be trapped there forever.

  Guilt racked her; that he had been put to this because of her, because he stayed to make sure they were safe. He had put his entire herd in danger, if Ray discovered him, and placed his own future at risk...for them.

  “We weren’t worth it,” she said, not even aware that she spoke.

  “Yes. You are,” he responded, a hoarse, hot whisper. “And that bastard...needed to be put down.”

  “Libby?”

  Elizabeth looked up, to see that they had come to a crossroads. “When I left, Ray’s men picked me up really fast after I left the farm, so I don’t know which way to go....”

  “Left. It’s just a few miles that way.”

  When they pulled into the long driveway to the side of the farmhouse, Kit was waiting there. His face was stern, but not angry, and the moment they tumbled out of the truck’s cab, it changed to a concerned worry.

  “Lou! My bag!”

  And then he was at their side, and his rough, annoyed voice was the most beautiful thing Elizabeth had ever heard. “You three, more trouble than a litter of orphaned pups. What did you do, go wrasslin’ with bears this time?”

  Elizabeth almost laughed, a hiccupping noise escaping her. “Sort of. We’re going to need tetanus shots? I think my cuts might be infected.”

  The next thing Elizabeth knew, she was in an overstuffed armchair older than she was, a homemade quilt over her shoulders and painkillers in her system, her feet up on a hassock while Kit looked at her leg, cleaning it out carefully. “Not too bad,” he said finally. “I’ll put a liquid adhesive on it, to make sure the edges heal cleanly, but it was more bloody than anything else. Looked scary, huh?”

  “Not even close to the scariest thing,” she said, and Kit nodded, like he understood. Maybe he did.

  Across the room, Lou was fussing over Josh, distracting him with doughnuts and iced tea, while Maggie teased the kittens with the end of her braid. Elizabeth looked at the cozy scene, and a cold hard knot in her body slowly started to dissolve.

  Ray was dead. Maggie was safe. This couple—utter strangers—had taken them in and helped them, and not had a thought other than to be good neighbors. If need be, she could leave Maggie with them, while she took Josh back to his people. Maybe they could talk some sense into him, find him his virgin.

  The thought sent a pang through her that had nothing to do with her bruises. The idea of letting him go, of giving him up to another woman...it hurt worse than anything the beasts had done. It hurt like losing their parents, like the fear of Maggie being hurt; a gut-wrenching, physical pain.

  She would do it. To save him, she would do it. But first...she wanted a memory to hold on to.

  * * *

  Her leg still ached under the bandage, despite the painkillers, and her face was stiff from the salve Lou had rubbed into the scratches, with the promise that in a few weeks they wouldn’t even leave a scar. Elizabeth suspected they would, that there would always be a mark from that fight. Right then, she wasn’t worried about it. Maggie was tucked up in bed, under strict instructions to sleep until morning, and Kit and Lou were sitting on the front porch, talking quietly, a pitcher of iced tea on the table and the dog snoozing at Lou’s feet.

  No harm would come to this house tonight. There was no threat lurking outside.

  Her feet carried her softly down the hall to the bedroom where Josh was sleeping. Except he wasn’t sleeping. She stopped in the doorway, and her breath caught in her throat. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, the light from the lamp casting his pale skin and blond hair into shadows.

  “Josh.” Was that her voice? Low and almost sultry, carrying barely across the room. He heard her, though; she suspected that he had heard her coming down the hall.

  “El
izabeth. You should be...” He stood up even as he was talking, and met her halfway across the room. Whatever objection he might have planned to make, whatever rational comment or excuse he was going to make, was lost as their mouths met, hungry and restless. His skin under her palms was smooth and hot, not feverish the way it had been before, but flame to her kindling, igniting the passion she had kept controlled all this time, hidden under fear and worry and exhaustion.

  This was not a start but a farewell; she had to let him go find a virgin, a proper mate, to keep him whole and healthy.

  “Will you love me, Elizabeth? Could you...for whatever time I have left?”

  The question infuriated her. She wanted to yell at him, to rail at him not to be an idiot...but there would be enough time for that in the morning.

  “I will be there for you, for as long as you need me,” she told him instead. “In any form.”

  The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him, but he let her lead him back to the bed, and then sat down and reached up to unbutton the long-sleeved shirt Lou had loaned her, after seeing the ripped remains of her sweatshirt. Elizabeth shivered as he exposed her skin, then again when he rested his fingers on the swell of her breasts, trailing calloused fingertips down into the plain cotton cups of her bra, grazing her nipples and making them tighten with anticipation.

  “How can such a strong woman have such soft skin,” he asked, before leaning forward to taste that skin for himself. Elizabeth shivered, wanting to rush him; as much as she loved the slow tender feel of his hands and mouth on her skin, she itched to return the favor; her hands stroked his bare shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle underneath, remembering the feel of his other form under her hands and legs, as well. They had never had sex before, but they had moved together before, and she knew how to ride him...literally. The thought made her laugh, the sound as light and freeing as sound that had escaped her in what felt like...probably had been more than a year.

  In that instant, she thought she could feel the weight of her parents’ deaths fade. Not gone, never forgotten... but she and Maggie had a future now. And, for this night at least, that future included this man.

  With that thought, she leaned forward, her hands on his shoulder pushing him back onto the bed, his feet still on the floor. She straddled him, her injured leg forgotten, her knees bent outside his thighs, and let her palms rest above his shoulders. Her body arched so that she was just over him, within reach but not touching.

  “Elizabeth...” His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes dark and hooded as he gazed up at her. His hands lifted to rest at her waist, the warm fingers spanning her hips, but not pulling or tugging, just resting there, barely above the waistband of her jeans. “Your leg, and you have a concussion, you...”

  “I’m fine.” Any dizziness she felt was because of his nearness, the tease of his touch, his scent. She smiled down at him, and let her mouth brush across his face, a soft butterfly caress. “I want this.”

  The next thing she knew, she was the one on her back, his long fingers no longer resting, but working to undo the snap of her jeans, sliding them down off her long legs, careful of the area where she had been injured. Elizabeth was thankful she’d never put her sneakers back on, because she didn’t think he could have managed them, he was moving so quickly.

  And then he was back over her, having also rid himself of his own jeans in the process, and her breath caught in her throat. Not quite hung like a stallion, no, but she was just as thankful for that—what he brought with him in this form was more than pleasing. She shifted, reaching up to touch him, cupping the weight, feeling the texture, at once soft and scratchy against her palm, the silkiness of the shaft as she slid her hand up, slowly. He shivered, his entire frame braced against her investigation, and she could feel the impatience coursing through him.

  “I want this,” she said again, letting her other hand tangle in his blond mane, bringing him closer to her own body. She had said it with her kiss, but she needed the words, too, now. “I want you. Whatever form you’re in. Your courage, and your kindness, and your hard-nosed attitude, and your awful sense of humor, and...”

  Anything else she might have said was cut off by his mouth covering her own, then moving just as swiftly down her neck, his tongue tracing a line along her pulse even as his hands lifted her hips up off the bed. Her head pushed back into the pillow in anticipation as his mouth reached her hip bones, and his warm breath touched the delicate flesh below. The urge to be more active warred with the desire to let him take over, and only the thought that this might be their only time, their last time together, allowed her to relax into his ministrations, letting his hands and mouth explore her. His low laugh at discovering how wet she already was made her smile in response, even as a blush stained her cheeks. He shifted, allowing himself a better angle, and her smile turned into a gasp as his tongue mimicked the sexual act, diving into her slick channel then retreating, then returning again. The ache in her thighs grew, along with a quiver in her lower belly.

  “Damn it, Josh....” She wasn’t sure if that was a plea or a curse, but his rumble of laugher sent shock waves through her lower body, and she gave up all pretense of patience, reaching down and hauling him back up so that they were face-to-face.

  The taste of her own juice in his mouth was odd but not unpleasant, and the feel of his hands gathering her up, the feel of the skin of his back and buttocks under her hand, overwhelmed everything else. She shifted, feeling the length of his shaft brush against her belly, and reached down, her hand meeting his own.

  The feel of both their hands guiding him into her was the most erotic thing she had ever felt.

  “Elizabeth...my Elizabeth. Mine.”

  His voice, rough and strained, was asking, not demanding, and she answered the only way she could, by lifting her body and accepting him inside, until their bodies were skin-to-skin, her hands cupping his backside, his bracing himself against the bed. They waited there for a second, taking in the sensation, and then, with a wicked grin, Elizabeth pushed forward against him, and he took the hint, starting them on a slow rocking motion. Skin-to-skin, their breath mingling as they moved, it felt to Elizabeth less like the first time than the hundredth or more, and yet every sensation was brand-new, sending her pulse racing and making her skin tingle with anticipation, even as the age-old motion brought her farther and farther up the familiar spiral.

  What was less familiar, though, was the feeling of an echo in the sensations, as though she were hearing her own heartbeat, or...

  A particularly intense shiver ran through her, but it seemed unconnected to her own rising orgasm, and in that instant she realized where it came from.

  Josh.

  Her eyes flew open—she hadn’t been aware of closing them—and met his gaze. His normally dark eyes were all pupil, the whites almost silvery, and his skin had the same kind of hazy glow around it that she saw when he shifted.

  But his body was firm and solidly human above her, inside her; the soft words he was muttering under his breath clearly understandable as curses, said so softly as to become endearments, and the look in his eyes was totally focused on her.

  “I can feel you,” she said. “I can feel...” Her breath caught as he pulled her forward during a surge, lifting her off the bed, bringing her forward so that she was upright, straddling his hips, face-to-face, and that change in position, that final surge, was enough to break the rising spiral and drop her into the hot, hard fall. Her body clenched around him, feeling—impossibly—the echoes of his own orgasm as a storm within a storm, each of them locked in their own private fall but shared, as well.

  They collapsed onto the bed, Josh turning as they fell so that she landed half on top of him, half on her side. Sweaty flesh touched, and they were too tired, too limp with pleasure, to even think of moving away.

  Elizabeth was pretty sure that the room was spinning. “That..
.that was...” She paused, and managed to lift a hand far enough to brush a lock of hair away from his face. “What the hell was that?”

  “I...don’t know.” He grinned at her, a look so full of ego that she almost laughed. Then the grin faded, as though he was suddenly able to think again. “You felt me.”

  “Yeah.”

  He lifted his hand to capture her own, holding it against his chest. “I felt you. Back in the lab, I felt you. And again, here at the end, like an undertow, knocking me down, until I couldn’t tell what was up or down, what was me or you....”

  He stopped, and she could tell that he was doing some sort of mental inventory.

  “The rut. It’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “It’s gone. It’s been a part of me for almost a month, Elizabeth. And now it’s gone, like...like a broken bone that’s finally healed, or...”

  “But...how? I’m not...” She couldn’t say it, even now. She wasn’t a virgin, hadn’t been a virgin. Hadn’t been what he needed, to save himself.

  Josh began to laugh, his free arm hugging her to him so roughly she let out a squeak, unable to breathe. “Because we’re hidebound traditionalists, ten generations’ worth,” he said into her hair. “And I was so caught up in the itch, so sure what I was supposed to be looking for, my brain was totally overwhelmed by my littler, stupider head, and refused to listen to what it should have followed all along—my heart.”

  She shook her head, not sure what he was babbling about.

  “Elizabeth, my Elizabeth. Never trust traditions. At a guess, someone translated ‘untouched’ to mean physically, ‘pure’ to mean virginal.... How could they expect you, incredible you, who stood up to monsters in human form, and faced down real monsters, who gave up everything she knew and loved to keep her sister safe, who saw a human heart inside the shape of an animal...” He let her go and shifted far enough away that he could lift her chin with one hand. His eyes were wet—so were hers. “How could they imagine anyone more untouched by evil, more pure in her love...anyone better suited to capture a unicorn?”