The All Encompassing: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 1)

by Daniels, May Ellis

  Lily’s up on the snowbank, raining bullets on the swarming, rabid dog pack.

  Fucking girl’s got grit, I’ll say that much.

  I stagger to my feet and unleash as much of my wolf as I dare. My neck swells against my collar. I feint left as Mr. Dogface comes in to finish me off, then call my fucking wolf and put everything I have into ripping the fucker’s throat out.

  I leap, my jaws snapping and grinding into the spirit-eater’s chest, shoulder, neck, and then his hands wrap around my waist and the fucker’s squeezing me, snapping my ribs. My eyes glaze red and I’m snarling and spitting and biting into him, and he’s snapping at me now, tearing my face open and digging his claws into my side and he’s killing me, the motherfucker, so I say fuck it and bring the animal out, my body swelling and cracking and I sink my lengthening fangs deeper into the spirit-eater’s neck, tasting cold black blood and digging for his jugular, and then there’s a snarl and I’m flying backward again, smashing into a cedar tree and bringing a shower of snow splinters and tree branches down.

  I can’t breathe. The fucking collar. I can’t breathe, and I know my wolf loathes me for holding him in this iron prison. He’d rather we both die than live a captive. But it’s not his choice. Not yet. I’m rolling on the ground and someone’s turned out the lights and the burning from my blackened skin is matched by the burning in my lungs—

  But I’ve killed him. I’m certain of it. Tore his fucking throat out.

  I look up, hoping to see the dog-guy dead on the ground.

  He’s injured. But he’s still standing, and his wound is far from the glorious killing stroke I’d hoped for. The bastard’s eyes widen in surprise as he spills black blood onto the pavement, and that surprised look alone is enough to make me howl.

  The spirit-eater is a Stricken.

  A powerful one, but a Stricken nonetheless.

  My fucking prey.

  His heart beating black.

  And suddenly I’m ravenous.

  “Not so chilled out now, huh motherfucker?” I growl, using the tree to stand.

  Dogface twitches slightly, smiles, then raises his arms like he’s Jesus preaching to a bunch of idiot Skins. Theatrics. Dude knows all my moves. The wound in his chest heals in the time it takes me to draw half a breath.

  I’m fucked.

  Dogface leaps at me, aiming for my throat, his black teeth snapping in that long jaw. I throw an arm up and he catches me in the shoulder. His teeth sink into my flesh and there’s that burning cold again. I scream and the bastard chomps down harder, tearing a mouthful of flesh from my bones.

  He’s eating me alive.

  I wrap my arms around the spirit-eater’s neck and give it a vicious twist. But he lands two quick jabs into my belly and then I’m on my knees, my breath gone, gasping and spitting blood.

  My world slows and narrows, like in these last few seconds of my life something’s finally coming into focus. Something I knew was true but couldn’t find the courage to admit.

  She’s my mate. The Skin girl.

  My fucking bloodmate.

  I look up and see Lily scowling and pressing the trigger on the Glock. There’s an empty clicking sound as a dog leaps on the embankment a few steps in front of her. She shrieks and brings the butt of the gun down on the dog’s head. The dog collapses into the snow, unmoving.

  The dogfaced guy above me moans and staggers back slightly.

  My wolf senses weakness.

  It’s his pack.

  The spirit-eater depends on them for strength.

  They might even be his link to our world.

  “Kill them!” I scream at Lily. “Kill his fucking dogs!”

  She gives me a look that says what do you think I’m trying to do, asshole, then hops off the snowbank and onto the road. Three dogs follow her, all snarling lips and piercing fangs and gleaming black eyes. It’s dark enough that she doesn’t see my wolf.

  Or else she does and she’s too far gone to give a shit.

  I stand and swing into an uppercut that catches Mr. Dogface right under the chin. There’s a hollow-sounding knock as the prick’s teeth smash together, then he’s stumbling backward, clutching his shattered jaw. I run at him, drive a kick straight into his belly, then grab him by the shaggy scruff at his neck and bite down, aiming for a kill. I taste his sweet black blood and for an instant my wolf roars, sensing victory.

  Lily screams, and out of the corner of my eye I see one of the dogs latched to her arm, dragging her down. A half dozen rabid dogs circle around her. In moments she’ll be brought down and torn to pieces. I clamp my teeth on the back of dogface’s neck, hoping to sever his spine.

  Cold black blood soaks my face.

  I smell burning skin and realize it’s mine.

  I can’t feed on him. He’s more than a Stricken. A lot more.

  Dogface gets two hands around my throat and tears me off his neck. Then he lifts me into the air. I watch as the ragged wound at his neck heals. He’s squeezing my throat. Crushing the life out of me. Fuck you. It’s over. In a second I’ll be unconscious, and a few seconds later I’ll be dead.

  There’s not much time to think, but I wish I’d told Lily about who and what I am. About the Purebloods and the Stricken we hunt. I wish I’d told her about the animal inside, yearning for freedom. Wish I hadn’t lied when she asked me if I had any secrets. But the lies come so naturally now I almost believe them.

  They’re who I am. And that’s the worst part.

  Dogface grins. Black stars explode in front of my eyes.

  I knew I’d go out fighting. I just never expected to lose.

  Smells of forest loam. A thick carpet of moss so soft my paws sink into it and I’m stalking through a dark wood, soundless, the scent of prey heavy in my nose. It’s better this way. Far from the world of Skins. A world of madness and pollution. Here an icy blue-black river runs through a remote mountain valley and the peaks are dusted white with late autumn snow—

  I’m home. I’m finally home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  LILY

  I TOOK DOWN three dogs before the piece-of-shit Glock jammed and I dropped it in a panic.

  Now I’ve got one hanging from my forearm, an ugly thing with black-and-tan fur and hideous black teeth shaking his head violently back and forth, ripping into my skin. It takes a while to realize the terrorized screaming sound is coming from me. The Glock’s on the road so I fall to my knees, snatch it up, press it to the dog’s head and fire.

  Nothing! Oh god.

  I pull the trigger again and again, and then something clicks and there’s an explosion of heat and noise in my face and when I look up the dog’s lying on the ground, half its head blown off.

  How many more rounds? Six at least. Maybe more.

  I unload two into the closest dogs. They drop and don’t get up, which is good—very good—because the way my night’s going I wouldn’t be surprised if these fuckers could walk through a hail of bullets and come out smiling.

  The remaining dogs retreat a few yards, suddenly uncertain. I leap to my feet, searching for Aaron, then hear a high-pitched keening sound. The dogfaced bastard has Aaron by the throat, holding him in the air like he weighs nothing. Aaron’s back is to me, and I see a vicious bleeding wound on the side of his neck.

  But it’s the dogfaced guy who’s wailing.

  Aaron screams at me to kill the fucker’s dog, and for a moment I stand motionless, blinking like an idiot, not understanding.

  Then my breath whistles through my teeth.

  It’s his dogs. He hurts when they do.

  The thought gives me hope. I don’t know what the fuck kind of monster Mr. Dogface is, but I know he can be hurt, and right now that’s all I need to know.

  Aaron’s head slumps to the side. His body goes limp. Dogface snarls and spits, then lower’s Aaron’s dying body toward his snapping teeth and then the fucker’s jaws open so wide it looks like he’s going to swallow Aaron whole. Row after row of black, razor-sharp
teeth glint inside the dog-man’s mouth.

  He’s a spirit-eater, and I’m watching him consume his kill.

  “No!” I scream, firing at the bastard.

  I miss. My hands are shaking too badly to aim. The dog pack circles around, crouched low, black eyes glowing—

  The dogfaced guy doesn’t look like a dog anymore. His head’s become a single set of giant snapping jaws, larger than a crocodile’s. This is a nightmare, I tell myself. A horrible, horrible nightmare. It has to be, because then a thick black tongue flicks out of the spirit-eater’s throat and laps at Aaron’s bloody neck —

  The vicious dogs circling me pause, yelping and barking, a horrible, maddening sound—

  Then there’s another sound. A quiet whoosh, and a shadowy shape flits inches above my head and crashes full-speed into the jawed nightmare-thing that has Aaron. The spirit-eater shrieks, a piercing, furious wail because there’s something on his head, clawing at him with long, sharp talons, ducking down and plucking at his eyes with a hooked beak—

  It can’t be. But it is. I know this beautiful creature.

  It’s Star. Connor’s golden eagle.

  I don’t know how I know it’s her but I do.

  I recognize her somehow.

  By her scent.

  No time to ponder over how fucking weird that is. This is all weird, and that’s when I realize if I make it out of the mountains alive my life is never going to be the same. Lily Thompson, homicide hopeful, frumpy dresser, lousy girlfriend, depressingly normal in almost every way…yeah…that woman’s gone forever.

  The only question is: what have I become?

  The spirit-eater drops Aaron and swats and swings its clawed fists at the predator bird clawing into his face. The bird plucks one of the monster’s eyes from its head. Black blood flows from the socket.

  There’s a furious wail as the spirit-eater latches onto the bird’s wing, tears her from its head and throws her to the ground beside Aaron’s unmoving body.

  Star flaps against the pavement, her right wing bent at a hideous angle.

  The beast takes a step toward her.

  Then I know what I have to do. I have to kill. Something deep inside, long buried and ignored, lifts its head and snarls.

  I run in front of the dog pack, drawing their attention, then leap over Aaron’s bike and sprint across the road and crouch behind the snowbank. I wait until most of the dogs are gathered around the bike, then raise the Glock and fire twice into the gas tank.

  The explosion sends me flying. My head hits the hardened, icy snow and the Glock skitters from my hand. I shield my eyes while a column of smoke and flame burns fifty feet into the night sky.

  Ember’s whirl in the chill wind.

  Pieces of Aaron’s bike rain down, land with metallic clanking noises.

  Four flaming dog corpses are scattered around the road. Two maimed and burned dogs flee into the forest. The rest are gone, swallowed in the violent explosion.

  The spirit-eater has vanished.

  I crawl over the snowbank, hoping to reach Aaron, but I’m too weak. I lie my head on the cold road. Meltwater mixes with the dog’s blood and runs into the snowbank, staining it black. My eyes flutter and close. I’m so tired. Let me rest. Please.

  Footsteps approaching me. Leave me alone, I try and say, but the words die in my parched throat. I look up to see a pair of brown leather boots beside my face, then I’m staring into the sparkling eyes of a woman so wondrously beautiful she looks like a classical statue sculpted of marble. Her hair is a beautiful golden red.

  “Sit up, Lily,” the woman says, her voice soft but commanding. “He won’t remain banished for long.”

  My body feels like lead.

  “I don’t want…I can’t fight anymore. Please.”

  The woman’s smile is radiant. “You severed the tie that binds him to this world. But there are more dogs in the woods, and they breed quickly. The spirit-eater will return. He knows you’re here now.”

  “How?”

  “You revealed your true self during the motorcycle accident. Such power is very rare. It leaves a mark on the world, like a footprint in the sand. These marks can be tracked. That’s how the spirit-eater found you.”

  Spirit-eater? I feel like telling the crazy bitch to shut up.

  Except I’m the crazy one. “What’s happening to me?”

  “You’re growing into yourself, Lily. Into your true spirit. Like a butterfly unfurling its wings for the first time.”

  “I don’t feel like a butterfly.”

  “No,” the woman says with a smile. “You’re much more than a butterfly. Did you feel her?”

  I nod, unable to say anything.

  The woman kneels in the dirt and blood beside me, cradling her broken arm. “You have to set this broken bone for me, Lily. Then revive Aaron. He’s a brute, but he’s loyal. He’ll summon his pack to retrieve you.”

  “Revive him?”

  My throat burns with choking smoke. I’m shaking with fear and exhaustion. And I’m also near certain I’ve gone stark raving insane.

  “You’re not insane,” the woman says, leaning closer so I can see her broken arm. “You lived blind for a long time. Learning to see is difficult. Frightening. But you will learn. Now. Grip my wrist firmly with both hands and pull toward you. Slow. Steady. But firm, please.”

  I reach out and hold the woman’s wrist, too stunned to speak.

  “Now. Do it now.”

  I pull.

  The woman grimaces. I soften my grip on her wrist.

  “No, no,” she says, “keep pulling…almost there…”

  There’s a quiet grinding sound, then a slight pop as the bone moves into alignment.

  The woman’s face relaxes.

  “Good,” she says, unwinding a crimson scarf from around her neck “Now: tie this around my arm. I should be able to fly.”

  “Fly?” I say with a laugh. “Of course. You can fly. Why the fuck not? Hey. I’d like to shit gold bricks. Can I do that?”

  The woman gives me a patient look that’s infuriating and soothing all at once. “Give your animal time,” she says quietly. “I think you’ll be quite pleased with what you’re capable of.”

  “Like passing through RV’s instead of being flattened by them? Can I do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shitballs,” I say, very quietly.

  There’s nothing but certainty in the woman’s gold-speckled green eyes.

  My breath catches in my lungs. Something the woman said just then—

  “My…animal?” I ask, not certain I want an answer.

  She smiles. “Give it time, Lily. That’s all I can say.”

  “You’re the bird that attacked that…thing?” I ask without really meaning to. “The golden eagle? Star?”

  The woman lifts her hands, palm out, and says, “Yes. It’s me. Apologies for frightening you the other day. At Connor’s? Sometimes my animal gets the best of me.” Star lifts her head and sniffs the wind and her eyes narrow a tiny bit. “I need to leave now.”

  “Why?” I ask, suddenly terrified of being alone.

  “Because I shouldn’t be here…” Fear flickers over Star’s face. “If he knew…”

  “If who knew?”

  Star purses her lips. “Thank you for setting the bone—”

  Then she stands and I scramble to my feet alongside her. I’m so tired I could sleep for days, and there’s a hollowness in me where my old life used to live. It wasn’t much of a life. But it was mine. I had…control. Or so I thought.

  Star turns her back without saying goodbye, runs down the road a short distance, leaps into the air and transforms into the beautiful golden eagle that crashed into me at Connor’s.

  The eagle climbs above the trees, swoops into a ravine and vanishes.

  I watch the sky, hoping she’ll return.

  Then the hiss and pop of Aaron’s burning motorbike reminds me where I am.

  I walk to Aaron’s side, bend down,
cradle his head in my arms, then check his pulse. He’s alive, but barely. The wound on his neck is…healing. Like closing up right before my eyes. I hold him to me, and a few moments later he groans and stirs. There’s no blue-white light, but I wonder: Did I revive him? Or did he simply wake up?

  It’s not a question I want an answer to.

  “Sorry about your bike,” I say, nodding at the flaming wreck of metal and plastic.

  Aaron looks at me, then at the bike, and gives me a pained smile. Even when he’s broken up and bleeding he’s beautiful. The bite mark on my neck. I’d forgotten about it. But now it begins stinging again.

  “Fuck it,” Aaron says, lifting his fingers to my cheek. “Bikes can be replaced. You can’t.” Then he puts his hand to his forehead and winces. “That was one mean-assed puppy dog. Definitely not house trained.”

  I break into a grin. The crazy bastard.

  “Did you see her?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  He didn’t. Good. For some reason I don’t want him to know about Star yet. I want to keep that secret to myself for a little while. “Nevermind.”

  Aaron looks at me strangely, tries to sit up, fails, collapses back into my arms. “Big bad biker’s not quite ready to get out of bed,” he says with a rueful laugh.

  “That’s fine,” I say quietly. “I kind of like holding you.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  SHIORI

  I TASTED THE bear-man’s blood and knew I was not alone.

  Sometimes that’s all hope is: the knowledge we are not alone.

  Anik scents us to Sedna’s lair. Her door slides open to reveal a cave littered knee-high with chewed bones. The half-consumed, decomposing bodies of her former lovers are piled around her throne.

  Anik races into the room. I try and read him, but my packmate’s lost to me.

  Alone with her.

  The door slides closed. Dread chills my flesh.

  “Welcome, my love,” Sedna says. “You’re generosity knows no bounds.”

  Anik rushes for her, arms wide. He sees what she wants him to see. Believes what she wants him to believe.