Southern Shifters_Shiftin' Sassy_Derria Pryde

by T. J. Michaels

  Nah.

  Now, as they stood before the council of Clan MacDonald—the resident psychics in these parts—Derria wished she’d just stayed at the bakery in Deal’s Gap. She would have happily continued to inhale Sienna’s awesome pastries and breakfast fare.

  Why?

  Because this fucking sucked.

  Here she stood in front of a bunch of crotchety, set-in-their-ways, no-care-for-the-present-or-future men who didn’t appreciate the reason she was here.

  They even sat up on a dais, for cripes sake. Really? A goddamn dais, as if they held court in the days of Henry VIII?

  Condescension didn’t begin to describe their behavior, and she wondered that they had a clan at all. Who in their right mind would put up with this bullshit?

  Even as she asked herself the question, she already knew the answer—people stayed because they knew nothing else. And if the choice was to leave their families and their safety nets, or stay here and take this crap, most would choose this dysfunction over loneliness and uncertainty.

  Then came another thought—where were all the women? There wasn’t a single woman in this room. In fact, she hadn’t seen any on her way in either.

  After taking in a subtle breath, she let it out deliberately slow. Then did it again. And again. She might be the feistiest of all her cousins, but only when she was at home. Derria could usually pull her calm around herself like a cloak during a hunt. In fact, of the younger twin set, Kotara and Koreas, super-genius scientists extraordinaire, Koreas was the quiet, no bullshit twin. It was hard to out-focus that woman. But Derria even had Kory beat with a focus that was unflappable on a hunt.

  Until today.

  In went another breath.

  Woooosah, Derria, woooosah! You can’t lose it in front of these people.

  She opened her mouth and explained yet again why she was here. “As I said before, I am here on behalf of the Shifter and Were Armed Tactics agency. You are not under their jurisdiction, so this is a courtesy call. I’m here on a sanctioned hunt. I don’t need any help and I will keep this as quiet as possible. But I don’t need your permission, either.”

  Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that last part. It was true, but the last thing she wanted to do was push anymore buttons than she already had.

  After the grumbling died down, she finally said, “The name of the man I’m looking for is Kerr Blackwood.”

  The council members all looked toward Lakota with raised brows, as if addressing her directly would break some kind of law, or perhaps give them cooties. “Blackwood? Aren’t they wolves? Correction, exiled wolves?” asked an ancient, gnarled man that reminded her of a saddlebag with eyes.

  At Lakota’s confirmation, an elegant, gray-haired male sitting next to Mr. Saddlebags steepled his fingers and looked pointedly at Derria. “Then why are you here?”

  Derria wondered the same thing. Dusty old farts. She gaze zero fucks about their snooty sensibilities, but she’d play along for a moment longer until she got what she needed.

  “This is a courtesy call,” she said…for the fifth time. “Since I may need to do some surveillance in your territory, it is very important that you know I’m here. However, I don’t want anyone else to learn of my presence. If word gets out, my quarry may run.”

  “Surveillance? On MacDonald land? Why would that be necessary, little girl,” asked yet another member, this one a bit younger looking, yet older sounding, than some of the others.

  Wow. She’d heard the expression “sucking down vinegar” to describe puckered up sour faces, but she’d never actually seen such a face until this asshat damn-near spat the word “wolf”. And she wasn’t even going to touch the equally funky assed words, “little girl” comment.

  Derria bit her tongue as a slew of emotions whirled through her body like, as powerful as a Pacific typhoon…but the feelings weren’t hers. Keeping her gaze forward, her mind sought out her escort just off to her right. Anger vibrated off of him in deep waves so strong she could almost put a color to them. Odd. What was he so pissed about? It’s not as if the backward thinking asshats were being condescending to him.

  Even still, he gave the silent impression that if she needed him, he’d have her back. And in all her years as a hunter, that was a feeling she’d experienced only recently, and solely with her cousins and their mates.

  And this knowing was kind of…nice. She’d never been the fluffy bunny type, but there was no denying that some serious warm fuzzies were traipsing up her spine right now. And it was the fault of the man standing just slightly behind her—Lakota Phillips.

  Turning her inner attention back to the council, she said, “Sir, I’m aware my bounty is a wolf. Wolves can run. That means they’re mobile. Mobile means they can cross invisible boundaries and pass in and out of territories. You know, kind of like I did when I came to see you.”

  “Who would dare?!” Mr. Vinegar sputtered. “No wolf would ever…”

  “Look, my bounty is a bad guy, and right now he’s more concerned about me than any sensibilities or boundaries of yours.”

  “So you believe you’re so much of a threat that you can make a mangy wolf cross into our—”

  Derria didn’t bother letting him finish. “Yes, I do believe I could, because I am a bad ass bitch who has probably bagged and tagged more rogue Weres in the first three months of this year than you ever did at my age. And I’m guessing that was a long, long, long, long, looooong time ago. Now, my courtesy call is done. Bye.”

  With a slight node, which was all the deference this bunch was going to get, Derria did a perfect about face and headed toward the door.

  She didn’t even need to look Lakota’s way to know he wore the smirk from hell. And she refused to question just how she knew exactly what he was thinking right now.

  Nope. Not going to question it at all.

  Why? Because she never asked questions that she didn’t really want the answer to.

  Chapter Three

  Derria’s head whipped a hard left as she turned to pin Lakota with a glare. He glanced her way.

  “What?” he asked.

  Holy crapdoodle! I can smell what he is. Can tell as easily as if he’d told me himself, as if I’ve had the knowledge this whole time. “You’re a jaguar!”

  “Yep. I thought you weren’t able to scent a species.”

  “Normally,” she said, “I can’t. And I mean, at all.”

  But now that she thought about it, she’d noticed an odd sensation in her olfactory system when she’d gotten up to pee in the night. And this morning when she’d walked into the main dining and hang-out area of the Dark Moon, she’d picked up some scents that hadn’t made sense—like when one of the staff had walked by her and the way he smelled had made her trouble radar scream “bear”, and go full-tilt. Yet he hadn’t said or done anything, except whistle as he’d swept the floor and opened a few windows to air out the place. At the time, Derria had chalked it up to just being tired, and had headed on out to meet Lakota in the parking lot.

  He’d stood there looking all kinds of edible in an all-black outfit—tactical pants and boots, and an evaporative cooling tee-shirt, like the ones she wore under her motorcycle jacket.

  With his deep golden hair pulled back into a pony tail, his dark brows and lashes totally set off a bright and intelligent pair of brilliant green eyes. And the moment she’d stepped out the door, his gaze had pinned her, made her feel like a butterfly on a piece of Styrofoam.

  He’d motioned to the Jeep and informed her that he’d be driving her today; and then suggested that she move her bike to the back lot, where she’d picked up even more odd scents.

  She was a fucking lion, so of course she could detect things with her nose. But she’d never been able to detect another shifter before. Ever. But that’s exactly what her nose had told her she’d caught wind of—shifters, half-breeds, to be exact.

  Hell, she’d never known there was such a thing. After she’d covered up her bike in that rear lot and m
ade her way to Lakota’s jeep, her mind had spun a mile a minute and hadn’t managed to stop twirling, even now.

  So what the hell is going on?

  She had no idea, but this, this whatever it was, had become stronger. Stranger.

  So would her senses become even more acute the longer she hung around here? Was it something specific to the Tail of the Dragon? Something in the water, in the air? In Lakota’s pants?

  Oh shut it. Do the job and leave Lakota and his pants alone, Derria.

  But her womb didn’t agree. And the more she thought on the man next to her, the more his scent seemed to imprint itself on her brain. It was like someone had blown an aphrodisiac into her face and rolled up all the windows in the Jeep! She wondered if…no, couldn’t be. Could it?

  She pulled out her tracker and switched it to communication mode. While penning a note to Pryde Ranch, Derria told her breasts and ass to stop tingling. God, it was like her whole body fixated and reached for the man.

  She hit the send button, and prayed she’d get a response from home quickly while her body, mind and—as tough as it was to admit—her cat fixated on her escort.

  Switching the tracker back to GPS mode, she watched the little blue unmoving dot. She sighed, wishing she could go after her quarry now while he was just sitting there. But not yet.

  “So, what’s a full-blooded jag doing hanging out on the Island of Misfit Toys?”

  Jaguars shouldn’t even be in the North Carolina area or anywhere on the North American continent. They were jungle cats. Then another thought occurred to her before he could answer her first question. “And how does a jungle cat get a Sioux Indian name? The Lakota are a Northern Plains tribe.”

  “I’m assuming you know this from your line of work?”

  “Kind of.”

  He raised a brow, but said nothing as he obviously waited for her to continue.

  But she didn’t. Derria didn’t know this man and just because he smelled like heaven and made her skin tingle didn’t mean she would spill everything about herself.

  Finally, Lakota said, “Well since you’re not elaborating, I’ll just say that shifters of my species have a distinct advantage to non-shifting jaguars.”

  “Yeah?” she asked. “What’s that?”

  “We can get on a plane and go wherever the fuck we want.”

  “Smart ass.” She’d snarled the words but knew her own grin belied the growly quality in her voice. Lakota’s smile was blinding and made the hard lines of his face morph into an almost boyish countenance.

  “So,” she said, “now that we’ve visited the Clan MacDonald asshats, where to next?”

  “Clan Gunn, and then Clan Comyn.”

  “So cats then wolves. Got it.”

  * * * * *

  Lakota put the Jeep in gear, turned and headed back to the road that would take them away from the MacDonald’s lands.

  “That was fucking horrific,” Derria said. “Almost the worst meeting I’ve ever had regarding a hunt.”

  Lakota pulled off the road and slammed on the brakes. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

  At her puzzled expression, he held up one finger and gave her the universal “hold on a sec” signal, accompanied by a secretive smile.

  “Hey, it’s ‘Kota. You know the guest I’m supposed to bring to see you on business? Her name is Derria Sozi and we just had a less than pleasant meeting with the MacDonald council. No way am I going to let her go through that hell twice more.” He paused and listened to whoever was on the line, then said, “Yes, it’s a law enforcement issue and she wants to talk to you before she hunts in your territory. It’s a sanctioned hunt, though I don’t know the circumstances at the moment. We also need to talk to Gage, alpha of Clan Comyn. You up for a neutral location in, say, an hour? Sweet. Thanks man. I’ll call the other… Ah, gotcha. See you in an hour.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’ll be there, as well as make the arrangements with the wolf alpha. That way, they’re arranging this meeting instead of us. Keeps us off the shit list of the other two councils because they will definitely be pissed that they were excluded. If they find out, that is.”

  Had he really declared that he wasn’t going to “let her” do something? Derria didn’t particularly care for the whole “Me, man and me no let you!” thing, given, she needed no one’s permission to do a damn thing. But Lakota had just proven to be gorgeous and brilliant—a rare and attractive combination. After all, his bit of high-handed good intention did get her off the hook of having to deal with anymore of those council people, so…

  “Thank you, Lakota.”

  “Call me ‘Kota. All my friends do. May I call you Dare?” At her nod, his smile was as brilliant as the sun that had finally risen high enough in these mountains to chase the chill from the air.

  “So, I’m a friend now, Mr. ‘Kota?” she teased and wondered where this flirting woman who was masquerading as Derria Sozi-Pryde had come from.

  The man turned and gazed at her as he put the Jeep in gear. “I’d hope so. And I’ll stop right there because the rest of what I hope for would send you running back home, woman.”

  Derria gave him a look as smoldering as the one he was giving her right now.

  “Was that a dare, ‘Kota.” Oh god, her lioness was purring. Actually purring! And she hadn’t even done anything…yet.

  “You have to play if you’re going to win. So, if I say yes, will it make you want to?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Make me want to what?”

  “Play, Derria.”

  “Most likely,” she said.

  “Then yes. That was definitely a Dare. Or should I say, Derria?”

  She laughed. “Did you just make a pun out of my nickname?”

  “Totally.” He stretched out his hand and gently smoothed the back of his index finger across her cheek. Derria leaned into the subtle contact—it seemed her body knew what to do even if the rest of her threatened to combust from the sheer smoldering glare sent her way.

  They got back on the road. Both of them smiled like loons, but as the tension ratcheted, neither spoke another word.

  An hour later, they were deep in the southern part of the Neutral Zone. It was a quiet spot well off the beaten path, and away from Deal’s Gap or any border zones. Derria and Lakota entered one side of the bright grass-filled glade, surrounded by trees. Moments later, four others emerged from the opposite side.

  The two alphas had brought their mates—Kitty, a female cougar was mated to Rafe, the Comyn wolf alpha—which blew Derria’s mind. And Lara was a, wait for it—a fucking witch?!—and the mate of Kane Gunn, the black cougar Guardian of Clan Gunn.

  A few introductions and handshakes later, they simply sat down in the grass and got down to business.

  Very careful to keep her personal life separate from her work life by super-wide margins, Derria stuck to facts, answered questions, and appreciated that they didn’t bombard her with their private life history unless it was related to why she was here in the first place. Honestly, time was of the essence and this hunt had to be wrapped up as soon as shifterly possible. Pun intended.

  They listened to what she had to say, and afterward, promised to keep her business to themselves in hopes it would help her catch her bounty without interference. But when Rafe stated that neither he nor their clan’s council had any idea of why this particular Blackwood was wanted, Derria was alarmed.

  With a fierce frown that made the skin between her brows bunch together, she put out in the open what they were all thinking anyway.

  “That makes no sense. No one knows what the man did to warrant…well, a warrant?”

  Rafe’s long legs stretched out in front of him. He appeared relaxed as he leaned back, resting on his palms in the thick green grass. But Derria knew better. All of these people were on alert, and she began to wonder just what in the hell was really going on up here.

  “While it’s true that the Blackwood pa
ck split off to themselves, it’s also true that they kidnapped my omega and friend, Simon. He was working on trying to solve our fertility problem. He’s also the only damn doctor in this area.”

  “And now the Blackwoods have him,” Kitty chimed in.

  “Fertility problem?” Derria asked. She was up here because of a fertility problem?

  Though Neesia had already given her the heads up, Derria listened to them confirm the details on the seriously low birthdate of shifters in the Dragon. She filed the info away and made a mental note to pass the details on.

  As to her hunt, usually it took some serious murder, or eating a human or something to get a shifter onto the S.W.AT. radar, and this guy was on that radar in a big way. Hell, Derria even had a kill order that gave her permission to “disappear” his ass if he chose not to come along quietly.

  She voiced her concerns to Lakota—pardon, ‘Kota—as they headed back towards Deal’s Gap.

  And suddenly the alert signal on her GPS went nuts.

  She yanked it out of her bag and grinned. “Kerr is on the move.”

  “Which way?” The strong lines of Lakota’s face became sharper angles as he concentrated on her directions.

  “Fifty meters. Hang a left.”

  She held on to the leather strap attached to the steel frame of the door with one hand and the GPS with the other. As she navigated, ‘Kota drove like a bat out of hell. Bouncing over the rugged terrain as they doggedly followed the signal from her tracking device, Derria was oh-so-thankful their vehicle had a four-wheel drive. Her motorcycle was a solid piece of work with special engineering to look sleek, yet take on rough roads, but no way in hell would it have survived off-road through this thick brush, forest and rock.

  So, thank goodness for Lakota and whoever had put him on her trail.

  No, she hadn’t missed the fact that nobody here seemed to know why she was here, yet ‘Kota had been waiting in that parking lot to meet her when she’d arrived.