The doors slid close and Autumn stood in the center, the rise of the car leaving her already nervous stomach behind. Mirrors covered the walls on each side. She gave her reflection a quick assessment, making sure none of her blonde curls had escaped the tight knot at the nape of her neck that she’d wrestled her hair into. One thing she’d learned over the years: no matter how many letters she had after her name, as soon as people saw her, they judged her on her appearance—young, blonde, and female. She had to work her ass off to fight against the stereotype and always tried to appear as sensibly groomed as possible.
The elevator opened onto a corridor. She stepped out, craning her head left and right, trying to figure out which direction to go. Closed doors lined the corridor, but a smartly dressed woman hurried toward her, files clutched in her arms.
“Excuse me? I’m looking for General Dumas’ office.”
The woman offered her a faint smile. “Last door on the left.”
“Thank you.”
Autumn hurried in the direction she’d been pointed until she reached the correct door. A bronze plaque with Dumas’ name was positioned at eye level. She took another steadying breath and knocked.
“Come in,” a voice called.
She pushed open the door and walked through. A man in his fifties with silver hair sat behind a large mahogany desk. He looked up from his paperwork, regarding her with ice-blue eyes. He smiled, though something about the expression didn’t quite fit.
The man half rose and leaned across the desk, extending a hand toward her. “Doctor Anderson, I assume.”
She took his hand. His grip was cool and firm. “General Dumas,” she said. “It’s good to meet you.”
“You too.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, take a seat.”
She sat opposite, keeping her back straight, her ankles crossed.
“So.” He looked down at a folder of notes on the desk. “Doctor Autumn Anderson. Youngest woman to attend Yale and youngest to graduate. PhD in molecular genetics, a second PhD in molecular biology. And now, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, one of the country’s most sought after minds on DNA.”
She risked a smile. “I enjoy my work.”
“I see your father is also a scientist, a leader in evolutionary biology.”
“That’s right. I guess you could say my love for science is in the blood.”
He lifted his eyes to her. “And your mother?” he inquired, eyebrows lifted.
“She died when I was five years old. I don’t really remember her. My father raised me.”
“So you and your father must be close?” He offered her no commiseration for her loss.
“We get along, as long as the conversation turns to the topic of work.” She wondered why he needed to know all of this, struggling to understand how her often strained relationship with her father had anything to do with what they wanted her to work on now.
“And I see you’ve had some success splicing and manipulating genes to create new embryos of what could potentially be new species.”
“That’s correct, though of course, those embryos were never grown any further. That would be against the law. You’re not asking me to try to create a new species, I hope, General.” There was a teasing tone behind her voice.
He shook his head. “No, of course not. The species I hope you will work on already exists. But what I would like you to attempt to do is manipulate genes to mutate in a certain way in order for one gene to become another.”
“So what species is it you’re asking me to work on?”
“You don’t need to know what it is, you just need to know what result we need. Now, would you like the job, or do I need to find someone else?”
Autumn straightened. “I’m the best in my field. Good luck finding someone else.”
“Is that your way of telling me you don’t want the job?”
She hesitated. While she knew she’d find another job easily enough, it was never good to piss off the people at the top of the food chain. Plus, she had to admit, her interest had been piqued.
“Not at all, General. If you’d still like me on board, I’d be excited to find out what you have planned.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He rose from his chair and extended his hand. She returned the smile and shook his hand once more.
“Then, welcome to the team, Doctor Anderson.”
“So when do I start?”
“How does first thing tomorrow morning sound?”
The suddenness startled her, but she didn’t have anywhere else to be. “Perfect.”
He made his way around the desk to escort her from the room. Before he got the chance, a knock sounded. The door cracked open.
A huge man with caramel skin and piercing dark eyes dwarfed the doorway. Autumn had to stop herself from staring. He wore a tight black t-shirt, and she could just make out the swirls of some kind of tribal tattoo peeping from beneath the material stretching around the bulk of his bicep.
“I’m sorry, General,” the man said, his eyes flicking from Maxim Dumas to take in Autumn. “I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
Dumas shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sergeant. Actually, I’d like you to meet a new member of our team. This is Doctor Autumn Anderson. Autumn, this is Blake Wolfcollar, the head of our security team here.”
Wolfcollar … She recognized the name as being Native American. That would explain the beautiful complexion.
The imposing man didn’t smile at her. Instead, his dark eyes seemed to bore through her, and Autumn actually felt her heart stutter.
He put his hand out toward her and she took it, her small palm vanishing in his massive fist. The heat of his skin surrounded hers, burning into her as though he had a fever. He locked those intense, almost-black eyes on her and warmth flared to her cheeks.
“Doctor?” he inquired. “Does that mean you’ve come to assist with our medical problem?” His eyes darted to Dumas.
“Oh, no,” she said, wondering what the medical problem was. “I’m not a medical doctor. I’m a molecular geneticist.”
“I see. So you’ve come to work on our shifter problem.”
She frowned. “Shifter?”
Dumas cleared his throat. “Autumn hasn’t been filled in on that particular part of things. She’s working on a need-to-know basis.”
Autumn felt herself shrink. So he wanted her on the team, but was clearly expecting her to work with less knowledge about the project than other members. Well, she would have to make sure that changed, but right now she just needed to get her foot in the door. She’d start to make waves later.
Shifter? What the hell is a shifter?
“Anyway,” said the man she now knew was called Blake. “We need you down in the … lab, General. There have been some developments.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute. I’ll just escort Doctor Anderson out.”
Blake flashed her a measured smile. “Why don’t you allow me to see the doctor out?” he said, addressing Dumas, but never taking his eyes off Autumn.
“Very well. Blake will take good care of you, Doctor Anderson. We’ll see you back in the morning.”
“Absolutely.”
The big, imposing man held the door open for her, forcing her to brush past him as she went by. This guy seemed to radiate heat. She’d have sworn she could feel him from here. What would it be like to press the length of her body up against his, with no clothing in the way?
She quickly glanced away, horrified at where the thought had come from.
Walking down the hall, the giant man followed close behind. When she stopped at the bank of elevators, he leaned across her and pressed the button to call the car. His proximity was so close she could almost turn her head and press her face into the solid mass of his shoulder.
They stepped into the elevator, Autumn sneaking glances in the mirrors surrounding them at the man next to her. A square jaw, strong nose with slightly flared nostrils, imposs
ibly dark eyes fringed with even darker lashes. A fine down of soft black hair covered the ridges of his well-muscled arms and she couldn’t help but stare as he reached across her once again to hit the floor they needed. They rode in silence and she didn’t think she imagined the tension filling the small space. They locked eyes in the mirror and both quickly glanced away. He cleared his throat and the doors pinged open. They stepped out, Autumn just ahead.
The security guards sat behind a desk, the metal detector acting as a barrier between them.
Autumn drew to a stop. “I think I can find my way from here.”
He gave her a nod, his dark eyes drilling into hers. “I’m sure you can.” But he made no move to head back to the elevator, but instead stood, still staring at her. “So are you looking forward to starting on our project?”
“I would be if I knew a little more about it.”
“You will,” he said.
She smiled shyly and glanced at the floor, wondering how to make her excuses. For some reason, just a bye didn’t seem like enough. She found herself drawn to this man, not wanting to leave his side.
“Well, I’m looking forward to telling my roommate about getting the job,” she said, realizing she was also telling him she didn’t live with a man.
Suddenly he stepped closer, lifted his hand, and placed the side of his index finger against her lips. His skin burned against hers. She was too shocked to react, step away, or tell him not to touch her.
“Our project here is a secret,” he said, his voice low. “You mustn’t speak of it to anyone.”
He seemed to realize the location of his finger and quickly pulled his hand away and took a step back. “Good afternoon, Doctor Anderson.”
Flustered, she said, “Good afternoon.” She turned and walked from the building, feeling his gaze follow her the whole way.
Chapter Three
BLAKE NEEDED TO run.
Though shifting into his spirit guide’s form was always agony, tonight, the need gnawed at him like an addiction. He sensed himself on the brink already, his body filling with the nerve-rattling vibrations that signaled the change.
He knew he could put the urge down to what he’d witnessed with Maxim Dumas and the captive shifters, but for some reason it seemed as if it had more to do with the blonde scientist whose path he’d crossed afterward. He couldn’t explain it, but something about her had captured his attention, and it wasn’t just the big blue eyes, elfin face, or the way her blonde curls had escaped her hairstyle to brush her long neck. At about five-eight, she was still far shorter than his six-foot-four frame, but she’d appeared strong, a jut to her jaw which had given him the impression that she meant business.
He’d been aware of Autumn being in the room before he’d even knocked on Dumas’ door. His keen hearing and sense of smell had been able to detect her, but he’d also been able to send his wolf guide into the room ahead of him. His guide had placed her image in his head, allowing him to observe her before he’d ever come face to face with the new doctor. He needed to learn about her. Her presence could change this whole thing. If she succeeded in her job, the whole world might change.
Blake had left the government building shrouded in guilt about abandoning the three shifters held captive. He wanted so badly to do something to help them, but his hands were tied. Peter Haverly had sensed his mounting frustration and sent him from the building. Though Blake’s command over his spirit guide was as strong as his kind got, he still ran the risk of stepping over that boundary and losing control. Both he and Haverly knew they couldn’t allow that to happen.
Already, the spirit form of his wolf had headed into the forest. Blake closed his eyes to connect with his guide. The scent of a small animal filled its nostrils and it darted its head that way, tracking the trail. Not that Blake’s guide was able to do anything about hunting the prey. Though his wolf, while in spirit form, could sense the world around him, it could not interact or affect it in any way. Only when they morphed together did his spirit get to experience the world for real—taste the hot gush of blood as it killed a meal, rejoice in the scent and feel of the undergrowth as it rolled in dirt and fallen leaves.
This was the reason the spirit guides attached themselves to certain men and women. They got to experience the world as though they were alive. In return, the humans benefited from heightened senses and strength, and got to experience life in another form.
Not all shifters were the same. Some, like him, were chosen by their spirit guides at birth. This was rare and meant he was stronger and more attuned to his spirit than most. His spirit had been a part of him for as long as he’d been on this earth. This made him stronger, faster, and able to shift at will. Others were chosen later in life, so they never became as completely in tune with their guides. These shifters didn’t have control over when they shifted, and occasionally they didn’t shift at all. Plus, not all shifters, just like not all spirits, were good. Some worked badly, drove their human counterparts crazy, or used them to murder.
Blake had travelled deep enough into the forest now to avoid any accidental happening upon by regular humans. From his own sense of smell, he was certain none were near, and his wolf guide hadn’t crossed any.
While the change only took minutes to occur, to Blake it felt like hours, the agony so intense the seconds stretched on. He couldn’t risk being found mid-shift. He was all but helpless then, at his weakest point. As both man and wolf, he was big, strong, and feared by most. When not fully in either form, he was as helpless as a newborn.
Pausing in the depths of the forest, he kicked off his boots, leaving them in the dirt. He tugged his t-shirt over his head, enjoying the night’s air against his bare skin. Whipping open the buckle of his jeans, he popped the button and shrugged them from his body so he stood naked, surrounded only by trees. Blake closed his eyes once again.
Come to me, he willed. Be one with me.
Instantly, he sensed his wolf guide being pulled backward through the ether, like a rush of energy blasting toward him. He stood with his shoulders back, his face lifted to the sky, his fists clenched.
The spirit hit him like a blast of power, knocking him back. He staggered to keep his balance as fire surged through his body, feeling like every nerve ending had been set alight.
Blake roared in pain, his face lifted to the night sky. All around him, roosting birds burst from the trees in a flurry of flapping wings.
The sound of every bone in his body breaking ricocheted like gunshots inside his head. Red-hot splinters of agony pierced every part of his body. He fell to his knees, his head hanging down. He felt his jaw change, jutting forward, his mouth suddenly full of long, sharp teeth. His ears unfolded from the top of his head. Instantly, his hearing became even sharper, the scents of the forest causing his nostrils to flare.
His entire skin prickled as though someone were piercing it with a thousand needles as individual strands of fur sprouted. An ache at the base of his spine signaled the growth of his tail, then the skin split and the new appendage unfurled.
The shift was complete.
Blake hung his head, panting, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Slowly, the final residues of pain began to subside.
He shook his body, like a dog after a swim, sending his fur flying around his rippling muscles.
As a wolf, he stood almost as tall as he did in man form. His beautiful silver fur was streaked with black down his face and body. Blake’s muscles burned with strength, and he lowered to a crouch before springing forward. He took off at speed through the forest.
In the back of his mind, he sensed his spirit guide’s presence. He experienced such clarity when they became one. Normally, as a human, a part of his mind always seemed to be somewhere else, like a daydream he couldn’t shake. But when he and his wolf resided in the same body, the world grew sharper than he’d ever thought possible.
His guide remained quiet, content to simply experience the world for real. Should it need to let Blake know somet
hing, it placed the image in his head—rabbit, human, trap—and he took steps to either hunt or avoid.
Occasionally, Blake wished they were able to communicate in words, but his guide wasn’t human and never had been. It communicated in the only way it knew how—through images and emotions.
Movement came in the distance, in the undergrowth ahead. A skittering of hooves in leaves, the snort of hot air through nostrils. All these things washed over him, the knowledge without even having to see it—a deer, a young buck. He could tell simply by the weight of its movement on the ground and the hormones the animal gave off. The animal had sensed him too, something he knew from the sharp tang of fear pheromones that assaulted his sensitive nostrils.
Blake paused, a moment of uncertainty rippling through him.
Had something else alerted the deer, something else made it skittish?
No, surely he’d have sensed it.
The one drawback of being wolf was no longer having the benefit of a spirit guide to send ahead. When they resided in the same body, his guide became a part of him, and he his guide. The guide was tethered to earth and to the physical bonds which tied them together. He couldn’t send it ahead to get a sense of what lay before them.
He smelled the sweat quivering on the deer’s flank, the hot gusts of its breath. His wolf guide thrust images into his head—blood, meat, the satisfying lust of the kill—and pushed him onward.
Blake ran through the forest, leaping fallen logs, swerving around trees, breaking through bushes. The deer also ran, hooves drumming a tribal beat against the forest floor. Blake panted; hot breath on a cool night. His muscles were strong and tireless. The deer was still some distance ahead, but he had plenty of time to reach it. This was how wolves hunted, long distance running in order to run their prey to a point of exhaustion and then pounce. Of course, normally, they hunted in a pack, but he was a lone wolf and different from regular wolves. He was bigger—easily four times the size of a regular wolf—with fierce senses and didn’t tire so easily. Other factors came into play at supernatural level, such as his ability to heal quickly.
Autumn's Blood: The Spirit Shifters, Book One Page 2