Protect and Serve: Shifting Forces
Cassidy McKay
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Copyright ©2012 Cassidy McKay
ISBN: 978-1-60521-755-0
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www.ChangelingPress.com
Editor: Bill and Margaret Riley
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
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Protect and Serve: Shifting Forces
Cassidy McKay
Aurora Monroe has detailed plans for her life -- and not one of them includes being barefoot, pregnant and under the thumbs of two decidedly alpha males. But what’s a girl to do when she has two sexy shifters both trying to claim mating rights?
When two paranormals on opposite sides of the war save an injured human, they unintentionally mark her as their wife. Bonded by blood, fire and passion, the gryphon and phoenix shifters do everything they can to keep their new human mate safe.
Getting her to go along with the plan is a different matter. She has no intention of following their orders. Found in defiance of both human laws and paranormal traditions, the battle for their rights turns into a fight for their lives.
Sex between a human and her two shifters can be spectacular, but is it worth risking everything for a chance at forever? Sometimes, the only way to have it all is by Shifting Forces.
Varick’s Blog (1)
“Paranormals are just like us. They deserve equal rights, equal status under the law, and no less than our full understanding and cooperation!” I watch from the outskirts, close enough to hear, but not a part of the crowd. A smattering of applause greets the pretty redhead as she finishes her speech on the stairs in front of the white columned government building.
A heated, spicy tingle warms my body as she steps down, her nipples tight and visible in the oh-so-proper sweater she wears over a blouse against the chill wind. Staid, gray slacks demurely outline her curvy figure. Mmm. Definitely my kind of woman… proper on the outside, but all fiery and full of fight on the inside.
Only a few dozen people brave enough to show up for the rally now stand in the square. It’s mostly your typical malcontents and troublemakers, but there are a few who look like they might actually give a damn.
I can’t decide whether the woman has balls of steel or is dangerously naïve. More than likely, a little of both. A tall, unkempt man makes his way to the front of the group, standing on the concrete base of a light pole like a monkey, spouting obscenities and tossing crap about how humans are better than paras. The crowd grows, becoming restless as the man yells, gaining the attention of the cops outside City Hall.
I stay in the shadows of the storefront across the street, where I can watch without being seen. Easier said than done most times, but I’ve gotten good at it. Most of us have. Coming out as a paranormal isn’t a fashionable, celebrity thing to do anymore. It’s a life sentence. The government took care of that. So much for equality.
I’m Varick Gerard. Used to be a paramedic, but now I’m labeled a criminal. Just because I’m a shifter, I was legally forced out of my profession, my home, and the comfortable life I once lived. Phoenix shifters aren’t inherently evil. Given the choice, I’d rather save lives than take them. I don’t like to fight. While some of the other paras here live for nothing else, it just isn’t my thing. I don’t steal, I don’t destroy things, and I don’t kill people unnecessarily. I may have lost everything else, but I still have my principles.
Me, I’m a loner. It’s a phoenix thing. Most of us are. I don’t mind being around people, I’m just not into long-term commitments. Sex? Yeah, I’m definitely into that. I can burn up a bed like nobody’s business. And that woman up there -- she’d be right at the center of my pyre of passion on most days.
But not today. Something’s in the air, I can feel it. I’ve been chased out of more cities than I can remember, just because I choose to survive. What’s left of the local police force musters in front of the building. Riot shields and batons at the ready, the leader shouts into a megaphone for the crowd to disperse. Chaos has a strong following in this town.
The cops advance in a restless, unsteady line -- a phalanx of toy human soldiers pitting themselves against the evil paranormals. Same shit, different location. That isn’t what’s bothering me, though. There’s something else, just on the edge… It’s like I can almost feel it, taste it, but it keeps slipping past me.
“Hey, phoenix-dude, come on! The goon-squad is coming out to play.” A short, pimply vampire pauses, motioning for me to join the unruly mob gathering in the shadows, waiting for their chance to pick someone off.
He’s annoying -- hangs around all the time, always trying to get me to kill something with him. I think he just wants to see what a phoenix can do. Lucky for him, I’m not really a joiner. “No thanks, I’m heading out. Good luck with that.”
He shrugs and sprints off, his fangs standing at attention and ready to rumble. Idiot. Time to leave this burg. I don’t need the cops on my ass or any more problems than I already have. It’s not worth the trouble.
A woman’s annoyed yell yanks me to attention. “Leave me alone! I haven’t done anything wrong!” The redhead struggles against one of the officers, landing a solid whack on his neck where the protective gear doesn’t protect. My smile fights to break free -- the girl’s a fighter, all right.
“Submit willingly, Miss, and you’ll just be charged with disorderly conduct.” The cop doesn’t look old enough to have graduated high school, let alone wear a badge. He can’t seem to decide between juggling his shield, going on to a more willing arrestee, or grabbing his cuffs and taking his chances against the wildcat.
My bet is on the girl.
“Disorderly conduct, my ass! I’m exercising my right to free speech. You have no right to arrest me for speaking my mind. I didn’t call this gathering, and I’m not going to jail!”
Oops. Wrong thing to say to a cop, Lady. The officer drops his shield, whips out his handcuffs, spins the girl and cranks her arms up behind her back in an impressive display of defensive tactics. He has her cuffed in no time flat.
Freedom of speech only applies when you’re saying what they want to hear. Outright support for paranormals definitely puts you on the wrong side of popular opinion. It usually gets your ass thrown in jail on a trumped-up charge, with an obscenely long wa
it for a court date. Been there, done that.
Guess the redhead has bigger balls than brains. Pity, I could have done something with that girl’s fire-- and those cuffs… oh yeah, she has definite bedroom possibilities.
I continue down the street, willing my growing erection back down to a simmer. The area’s getting a little too crowded with all the “normals” forcing their opinions on everyone else.
My gut clenches into a tight fist of need when I glance back. The girl is searching in my direction, clearly looking for a savior. But that’s not me, not anymore. I hung up my badge a long time ago. I’m nobody’s hero.
* * *
The rogue paras quickly take advantage of the police distraction, surging from the shadows to overwhelm the crowd of humans in a violent free-for-all. Screams of terror, shouts of command and a chorus of confusion are punctuated by the sharp staccato of gunshots in an all too familiar refrain of horror.
I hear the distinctive, scratchy radios of the military echoing off the buildings in the square before their camouflage personnel trucks rumble into view. They hop out of the back of their trucks and line up like good little boys and girls, ready to follow the government’s every decree. Unfortunately, they’re not very discriminatory when they get called in by locals. If it moves, it’s a target. Whether the recipient is para or normal, the military either can’t tell or doesn’t want to.
The rich, coppery scent of fresh blood whips by me in a zephyr of wind. Get the fuck out of here! What are you waiting for, Christmas? But another smell blows in the wind, too, breaking through my shell of antipathy with a sledgehammer of need. Yes! That’s it. That’s what has been drawing me since I came here.
Separate from the mob, between the rogues and the military, a small knot of police and civilians huddle near the stairs on the edge of the square. Surrounding themselves with their ineffective riot shields, they look frantically toward the reinforced government building.
Fools! It’s too far. You’ll never make it! Heat rushes under my skin as I stand in the middle of the street, staring at the doomed group. The auburn hair of the woman shines like a beacon between a gap in the scarred plastic shields. Inhaling as a frigid blast of wind brings in the storm, her scent envelops me like a warm blanket of need, numbing my highly developed sense of survival.
Bullets rip past me, smacking the wall like bugs on a windshield. I ignore the danger, letting the unexpected feelings surround me, settle in and fill the empty places in my soul. It’s her. It’s the girl. My cock rises in my jeans, constricted by the tight denim. Awash with unreasonable lust, I shake my head, forcing the desire back. “No way. Not her, not now.”
I fight against my conscience, my innate sense of order battling with the instincts of my kind. I have nothing to offer her, no way to win against the horde determined to kill the humans, or the military determined to kill everyone.
Against my will, I feel the fiery burn. The rush of adrenaline flows through me -- scintillating, arousing, and powerful. My bones shift, transforming arms into wings, flesh into fire, and common sense into passionate fury. Lifting into the sky with a rush -- one word, one thought, one feeling -- consumes me:
Mine!
Kender’s Blog (2)
I’m Kender Russell. Been in the military since I turned eighteen, and I’ve made it my career. Turns out I’m good at killing. Paras, normals, shifters, whatever needs dead, I’m all over it. I kind of have a taste for it, I guess.
Most of the guys in my unit think I’m normal, like them. By that, they mean human. But I’m not. There’s a few of us paranormals who’ve kept under wraps. I’m a gryphon shifter. Yep, eagle front half, lion back half -- wings, tail. I’ve got the whole gryphon package. But nobody here knows that. Kind of like that old “don’t ask, don’t tell” bullshit. They didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.
We fight against the scum who slink into the darkest parts of the cities. Crime rate’s gotten so bad it’s chased people out into the rural areas. The humans thought they’d be safe out there. Just makes them easier targets. And the abandoned cities? Well, paranormals have been on the outskirts long enough.
When we first started mixing with humans openly, those in positions of power started passing laws. Small ones at first, slipping subtle things in with popular, vote-getting bills against crime and corruption. Most people were too frightened of their own shadows at that point to read the fine print. They just wanted someone to take over and clean up the mess. I can understand that, it’s a normal response. But now the politicians are using those laws against us. Paranormals are considered “the mess” and we have to fight to survive.
Some of us are fighting for equal rights. Same story throughout history, I’m afraid. If you have money, it’s the rebel thing to do -- to come out as a paranormal. We have politicians, high-society, celebrities, and successful business people among us. It’s a lark for them, and having money cures a lot of ills.
But it’s bad being a paranormal if you aren’t rich or famous. Then you’re pissed on, shut out, and forced into places and situations that only get worse when the government declares war against you. The outlaws in the cities we clear out didn’t all start bad, and they’re not all paras. But when you have no other choice, you have to survive somehow.
I made my choice. It’s the same choice a lot of us make. I hide what I am and pass as a normal in the military. I do what they tell me to, and I fight who they tell me to. I kind of like eating, and not being hunted. Yeah, not being hunted is good. I hate having to hide who and what I am, but a guy’s gotta live, right?
“Okay everyone, file out! On your guard, you know what we’re up against.” Sergeant Turner’s voice grates over the troop, loud over the transport truck’s engine. My legs are cramped from riding so long, but I feel my adrenaline ramping up. It washes the piddly shit away and clears my brain for more important things. Like keeping my ass alive.
“Holy shit, will you look at that?” A fellow soldier stares down the street, his eyes wide. He points to the square, where a small group of people huddle against a wall, surrounded by a couple of cops with battered riot shields. “They’re in trouble.”
The rogues we’re here to evict roar out of the buildings in a disgusting stream of fucked-up mutants. I look back at the sergeant, hoping he’ll bypass orders. I know what they are; we all do. We’re here to clean the scum out of the city, with as few military casualties as possible. That’s what we’re paid to do and why I have a job.
But those people don’t look like paranormals. They look human, scared and under attack by the rogues. There aren’t supposed to be any civilians here, human or otherwise.
“Sarge?” He’s staring south, evaluating the situation. He shakes his head, standing his ground to let the fight come to him. We have cover here; choices. Escape routes if needed. It’s a good place to make a stand, and we’re outnumbered. I glance back at the horde and know what he sees, but I refuse to accept it. That group has no hope, no escape.
In the years we’ve been in the military, our troop has fought together, bunked together, and faced more shit than a swarm of city sewer rats. We’re trained soldiers, ready on a moment’s notice to follow orders without a second thought.
“Kender, stand steady! Do not put the team in jeopardy.” The Sergeant’s hand lands heavily on my shoulder. “Those people are already dead, son. It’s not worth it. Let’s fight the battles we can win.” He’s already lost a son to the paras in this war. He even took me under his wing like a surrogate son when I lost it in my first battle. While he has a major prejudice against paras, he’s never given me bad advice when it comes to war. He knows what he’s talking about.
Nodding, I fight the emotional rush pulsing through me, practically dragging me towards the red-haired girl in the huddle. She seems different than the rest of them. Paranormal? No, that’s not the feeling I get from her. She’s human as far as I can tell.
Not worth it. I should take my mentor’s advice. Stay with the troop. Just
handle the outbreak as ordered. Keep your secrets safe. Follow your orders.
“Run!” A cop’s shout pushes the little group into frantic movement. But the fight is too close for them to make it to the building before they’re overrun. Several of the rogues break off from the main charge, chasing after the humans. I notice a man behind the chaos -- standing stock-still in the middle of the street. In a bright flash of movement, he transforms. A phoenix shifter! He rises into the air, plunging toward the group.
She’s in danger! They’ll never survive.
Overwhelmed by a forceful tide of panicked rage, I forget everything I’ve learned. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve spent my career hiding. I have to help her!
My sergeant’s hand grips my flak vest, pulling me back as I tense, gathering myself to run to them… save them. “No, Kender, no! I won’t lose you, too, damn it! That’s a suicide run!”
“Fuck it, she’s mine! I’ve got to save her.” I shake him off, his orders dimming in my sudden obsession to protect the girl. My shifter surges to the fore, shoving my humanity aside. In less than a heartbeat, my skin melts away and I feel the bones in my body transform in blurring movement. I flex my wings, lifting into the air as a full-blooded gryphon, leaving my friends, my mentor, and my human troop behind.
“What the hell? Kender, you son-of-a-bitch! You’re a god-damned traitor!” The sergeant’s astonished yell is mixed with rage as I race toward the endangered group, my secret revealed at last.
Sorry, guys.
The phoenix’s determined advance forces me to the utmost limit of my flight speed. The rogues are all over the humans. I don’t know if I’ll make it in time. He’s closer than I am, coming under attack as he tries to pass over the larger battle. What in the world? He’s fighting them. He’s trying to save the girl, not attack her.
Protect and Serve Shifting Forces Page 1