A Taste of Shifter Geekdom: Shifter Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 2)

by Annie Nicholas

  He yanked her kissing close. Their noses touching. The fire in his eyes scorched her retinas, but she couldn’t look away. “You don’t want to go home or you wouldn’t be working so hard to pass the marksman test. I can help you.”

  The despair cloaking her heart lifted. She set her hands on his biceps. “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “We have days before the test and only one of them has range practice.” Could he really help? Did she dare hope? If she could stay, than they’d have a real chance of being together.

  “We’ll manage.” He dropped his hands and stormed to the bus.

  Chapter Six

  “Julia! The target’s not moving. What the fuck?” Darrell gaped at her as if she’d shifted into a two headed dragon. “I don’t get it.” They stood outside, at the camp’s firing range. He’d drag her out of bed in the afternoon before the rest of the pack rose.

  She ground her teeth. A half hour of shooting and he was ready to give up on her. “I’m doing everything you’re telling me.” She shoved the rifle against his chest. “I can’t help it. Obviously, you’re not a good teacher.”

  He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the vampire scarecrow tied to a pole.

  She dug her heels in and struggled to loosen his hold. “What are you doing?” It was like fighting with a bear. He didn’t even break into a sweat. She blew out a frustrated breath and followed the last few yards.

  Pallas had made them run ten miles after the festival for creating a scene. She didn’t have the energy to fight Darrell. Everyone else was either sleeping or studying for the written weapons test and Darrell was here with her on his free time. The least she could do was not bite him, no matter how tempting.

  Darrell set her in front of the target and set the rifle in her hands. “Shoot it.”

  “From here?”

  He lifted her arms and helped aim the gun point blank range. The barrel almost touched its bald head.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Scared you’ll miss?” he whispered in her ear.

  She snarled and pulled the trigger. The scarecrow’s head exploded in a cloud of straw. She coughed and waved her hand to clear the air.

  “Praise Jesus.” Darrell fell to his knees.

  She jumped at his loud cry and stared in disbelief. Was he making fun of her? He didn’t know all the details of what was at stake, but he knew how important it was for her to pass. With the wooden butt of her rifle, she jabbed him in the forehead. “Jerk.”

  “Ow.” He pressed his hands on the bump forming on his head. “What was that for?”

  “Stop laughing at me.” Tears threatened to fill her eyes, No, she wouldn’t cry again. No one cried in boot camps. She bit the inside of her cheek and focused on the pain.

  Darrell rose, rubbing his head. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t cursed or something. Look.” He pointed to the decapitated scarecrow. “You hit it.”

  “No, shit. Even Blain could have it at this distance.”

  Darrell opened his mouth.

  She glared daggers at him, daring him to tell her that Blain could hit the target from the hay bales.

  He cleared his throat. “The point is you can hit it.”

  “Yay.” She raised the rifle again to shoot the target’s chest.

  Darrell dove to the ground and covered his head.

  She lowered the rifle. “What are you doing?”

  “Just a precaution.” He rolled onto his side, a huge grin on his face. “If the first time was a fluke, the bullet could U-turn like with the JFK assassination and hit me. My grandma could talk your ear off about her theories.”

  It took all of Julia’s will power to resist pulling the trigger. She didn’t care where the bullet went. “You’re insane.” She clicked the safety in place. “I asked a crazy person to teach me how to shoot a rifle. I may as well go pack my bags and quit. Save myself the humiliation of failing in front of everyone.”

  Jumping to his feet, Darrell blocked her escape. “I was having some fun, Julia. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” He gently pried her fingers from the rifle. “Don’t want you shooting me with this.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. If he only knew how close she’d come to doing just that. “Why? I’d only miss.”

  “Knowing fate, I’d think it would be the time you’d hit true.”

  She hung her head. “I really don’t want to go home. I hate it there.”

  He stayed silent and walked her back to the shooting line. She didn’t elaborate. Darrell liked her. If he knew she was promised to someone else, he’d stop pursuing her. Part of her knew that telling him was the right thing to do, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. She be forced to do so soon enough when Pallas kicked her out. “So your grandma’s a conspiracy theorist?” She asked to change the subject.

  Darrell’s eyes gleamed with mirth. “It’s beyond a hobby, almost an obsession. She says it keeps her young, but my pack’s descended from the French Loup that were shipped to Louisiana. So we’re all a little daft.”

  “You don’t sound southern.”

  “My pack moved north before I was born.”

  “And you’re a born wolf?” Werewolves gave birth to human children, which they called born wolves. If they chose to be changed into shifters once they reached eighteen they would have a better chance of surviving the infection. Regular humans could apply to packs to be transformed, like Ian had, but their chances to live through it were slimmer.

  “Yep, I was made on my sixteenth birthday.” He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.

  “That’s young and against pack law.” She hadn’t been given a choice when she became of age. She would have said yes if asked, but no one had. They just choose for her.

  “Did you miss the daft part of what I said?”

  She eyed his serious expression. “No, I heard you. Must have been hard to control your wolf.” Teenage hormones raging with the low threshold of control in a new shifter? Ticking time bomb.

  He shrugged. “We believe what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” He handed her the gun. “Will you let this place kill your spirit?”

  Grimacing, she shook her head. She took aim, pulled the trigger, and missed by a mile. “Fuck.”

  “Okay.” He set her rifle aside. “Let’s take a break while I think of a different strategy.”

  She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets to warm. “I’m good at everything else we’ve done. I’m not first across the line when we run or swim but I cross the damn line. I don’t quit. Why can’t I do this?” She leaned against a hay bale lining the course while Darrell took the rifle apart. “I’m a born wolf too.” She added. You know, in case he wanted to know.

  He grunted.

  “It’s a relief to find out you’re one as well.”

  He stopped what he was doing. “Why?”

  “Because we’re different than those who are made.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That shouldn’t matter. We’re all born human and made into shifters the same way.”

  “It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Born wolves are raised in a pack. Even though we’re human as kids we’re still treated as shifters. We understand pack better than made wolves.”

  “The made wolves understand eventually. I’ve met a few humans who seem to understand shifter life well. Look at Pallas.”

  “Yeah, exactly, look at the hundreds of years old vampire who hangs out with wolf shifters for a living.” She looked in the direction of the manor. The roof was visible through the tree tops. “I’ve got my own conspiracy theories.”

  “See, you’d get along great with my gram. What are your theories?”

  “Why do you think he understands pack life so well? Look how he set up the manor like a pack house or what he did with the food when we first arrived.”

  “He’s trained werewolf armies. I’m sure he learned a thing or two.”

  “Yeah but…” The vampire acted like pack sometimes.
He knew when to defer to Ian as the alpha and when to order them as a teacher. That was instinct, not learned.

  “He’s a vampire.” Darrell shook his head. “There’s no doubt. A shifter can never be made into a vampire and they can’t be turned wolf.”

  “I know.” She turned her back on the manor. “He has secrets though.”

  Darrell snorted. “What vamp doesn’t? He can keep his secrets. I just want to graduate.” He handed her the rifle. “I adjusted a few things. Give it a try.”

  She restrained a sigh. Taking position, she took aim and pulled the dang trigger. The scarecrow’s hand exploded. “Oh my God!”

  “Woohoo!” Darrell picked her up and swung her around. “You did it.”

  “I was aiming for the head.”

  “Who cares?” He pulled her close, eyes hooded, bending for a kiss.

  She set her hand over his mouth. “We shouldn’t.”

  He set her back on her feet, a little too quickly, his smile gone. “Pallas is at the manor. He won’t know.”

  “So you think.” Let him think she held back because of fear of the vampire and not a broken a heart. She wanted him so bad her hands shook. It’s how she imagined withdrawal except Darrell was her drug and he was offering her a fix.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, tugging at the ends and sending shivers over her scalp. “You need to know one thing and one thing only.”

  She swallowed with a mouth gone dry. “Yeah?” The question barely loud enough to hear.

  “No matter what, I’ll protect you.” He retreated, giving her space. The vacuum he left stole her breath.

  She clenched her hands before they reached for him. Yes—no. God, yes. But…

  Fuck it.

  She jumped, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. She’d die of a broken heart, so be it, but at least for a few days she’d know what it meant to be with her fated mate. She’d fail her test and Pallas would send her packing. She’d be alone except for these memories to keep her warm. If so, she’d make them burn bright and hot.

  He fell between the hay bales to the ground, taking the brunt of the impact and holding her tight. Lips crushing together from the force of their desire, he rolled her onto her back. Cold hands slid under her shirt, resting just under her breasts. She gasped at the contact. His weight pinned her and she squirmed to free her legs so she could wrap them around his hips.

  His tongue slid along hers and he tasted like sweet mint. She moaned, deepening their kiss. She’d never suffered from such a fever of desire. Tugging at the hem of his sweater, her hands were blocked by a tucked in t-shirt.

  He cupped her right breast, running his thumb over her bra covered nipple. The cold air blew under her jacket and it harden to an aching bud.

  His t-shirt fought back as she tried to yank it loose from his waist band. She’d been wanting to touch him for weeks. Hadn’t even dared dream about it, and now she had him within reach, but he wore so many freaking layers.

  Pinching her nipple between his fingertips, he rolled it until her hips arched. He thrust his hips, rubbing against the apex of her legs. Even through two sets of jeans, she could feel his erection. Wetness dampened her panties.

  Hay stabbed her lower back as they rocked together, adding to her sensations. She couldn’t catch her breath and gasped between kisses. His crushing weight felt so good. What would this be like if they could actually get naked?

  She growled and tore his shirt free of their confines. Instead of running her hands over his back as she’d planned, she slid them into his jeans and cupped his hard ass. Strong muscles moved under silken skin as he clenched, driving harsher against her.

  He pushed off of her and broke their kiss to pull his sweater over his head. “I need to take off your clothes.”

  Satisfaction oozed through Julia at his tone of desperation. She stretched out under him. “I need you to take off my clothes too.” She glimpsed the sharp edges of his abs as he flung his sweater and shirt aside. Oh baby, come to Julia. The wind blew across the field and he shivered. “You’ll freeze.” She reached for his sweater, sad the weather wouldn’t cooperate for another fifteen minutes.

  He did a push up over her, lowering himself so they were eye to eye. “I plan to make us sweat.”

  She could barely breathe. Afraid if she moved, she might wake up.

  “Are you okay?” He tilted his head while gazing deep into her eyes.

  “Never better.”

  Distant laughter startled both of them. Darrell rose to his knees, giving the field an once-over. Julia scooted from under him and sat up. No witnesses yet.

  Darrell pulled his sweater back on and helped her to stand.

  From the forest trail leading from the manor merged Belinda, her roommate, with Gregor and Luke. She waved. They all carried rifles.

  Julia’s heart sank and her body ached with unquenched need. Maybe they could go for a walk in the woods?

  “There she is,” Belinda sang out. “Hey, it looks like you hit the target. See you’ll pass the marksman test with Darrell’s help.”

  He bent and picked up her rifle, handing it over. “She still needs lots of practice if she wants to pass.” His gaze was filled with regret. “We’re not done.”

  Belinda pulled a strand of hay from Julia’s hair. “I see how hard you’ve been at work.”

  A blush bloomed over Darrell’s cheeks. “Practice makes perfect.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next night, Pallas crouched on the edge of route eleven where it ran along the edge of his land. A two foot cross stuck out of the dirt with a garlic garland hanging around from the tip. He jerked it from the ground and tossed with the others in the trash bag he carried over his shoulder. The townsfolk had been busy today.

  He sniffed the garlic and pulled out his cell phone, hitting number one on his speed dial. It rang once.

  “What?” Daedalus, his clan brother, answered. He was Pallas’s resource on modern culture.

  “The locals are planting crosses and garlic on my property. I doubt these are symbols of well wishes.”

  “Fuck, Pallas, did you kill anyone?”

  “No.” He’d sworn not to kill unless in defense with the exception of an occasional evil doer who wouldn’t be missed. Unfortunately, the sheriff in Alberg was vigilant and would notice if any of her flock was missing so he’d been suppressing his darker urges.

  “Something has brought your existence to their attention.”

  “I went to a harvest festival last night.”

  “You what?” Pallas could hear Daedalus slam his hand against something solid. “You’ve never cared to attend such functions in the past. Why would you go now?”

  Pallas pulled the cell phone from his ear while his brother continued to shout. Once it quieted, he returned it. “As I recall, three hundred years ago we couldn’t attend any festivals. I was under the impression that I was a legal citizen of this country as a vampire.”

  “Did you scare the shit out of them?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled and twirled a cross between his fingers. “I must be the talk of the town.”

  Daedalus sighed. “Is it so difficult for you to behave?”

  “I only called to understand why crosses and garlic?” His brother told him to live openly, but not too openly. To drink from humans, but not to drink too much. Was nothing sane in this age?

  “It’s to drive you away or keep you on your land. I can’t remember which. Read Bram Stoker’s Dracula. You can thank him for this nonsense.”

  “Is there a movie? I don’t care for books.”

  Daedalus hung up on him.

  “Love you, miss you too, dear brother.” He slid the phone in his back pocket. Honestly, he hadn’t expected to frighten people to this extent. Normal looking vampires lived out in the open in present day. He’d watched one interviewed on television when he lived with Daedalus and Sugar, so why would he have expected the locals to react this crazy. He and Daedalus were not the
only of their kind to be awake. Maybe the Nosferatu still hid in the shadows.

  The lights of an oncoming vehicle approached. Maybe they wanted to gift him with more religious icons and vegetables. He stood, crossing his arms, and concentrated on the driver’s mind. Daedalus didn’t approve of meddling with humans in this manner but Pallas was tired of picking up their trash.

  He skimmed over the driver’s thoughts and recoiled.

  The sheriff. His mind sizzled from her mental touch. Someone needed a stiff drink and a hard fuck. She was so uptight.

  She parked her police car and exited. “What are you up to?” Her sunglasses were folded in her shirt pocket and strands of hair hung loose from her tight bun. She rested her hand on the butt of the gun, flexing her fingers.

  He tossed the bag of trash at her feet. “Picking up what people have left all along my fucking property.” Her suspicious tone stung. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it. If these people were going to treat him like a monster than he’d act accordingly.

  She pursed her full lips as if in thought then dropped her hand from the weapon. “What did they do now?” Searching inside the bag, she pulled out a cross and held it out. “I thought these didn’t—”

  Pallas threw his hands in front of his face and hissed as if facing the sun. It seemed like an appropriate reaction.

  She dropped her arm holding the cross. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean—why are you laughing?”

  He held his sides. The sight of her wide eyes and open mouth. It was the first time he’d seen her not annoyed. “It doesn’t work, but I couldn’t resist.”

  She tossed the cross at his head. “You’re an asshole.”

  He bowed. “So I’ve been told. Many times.”

  Cheeks flushed and lips thinned, she glared wooden stakes in his direction. “I have been harassed all afternoon because of you.”

  The angrier she became, the more he grinned. “What have I done wrong now?”