20 Shades of Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Collection

by Demelza Carlton

  I blinked in surprise, releasing him, taking a step back. “I’m fine,” I reiterated, holding up my hands. Immediately I could see that I wasn’t. A trio of deep slashes ran down my left arm and blood ran out of the wounds, forming forked, dark red rivers over my skin. It looked horrid. I stared down at Ishan’s chest; I had smeared my blood all over his body when I grabbed him.

  “Libby?”

  I felt lightheaded. That was Libby, my human side, not Aurora. Libby was afraid of blood. I shuddered, eyes widening slightly as the smell hit me. It was never the sight of blood that got me, it was the smell. That smell. Rich and strong, coppery, human tinged with something else. A scent I couldn’t grasp; something like freshly cut grass and pine needles and crisp, cool air.

  I stumbled back, staring in bewilderment at my bloody appendage, then I felt my vision fade out around the corners, like I was going into a long, dark tunnel.

  Strong arms caught me, and I felt reality slip away.

  6

  Dreams and Revelations

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  The dream world, now familiar and comforting. As Ishan spoke I opened my eyes and drank in the bright light. I was standing on top of a verdant hill, crowned with a single tree, the beautiful cerulean sky stretching from horizon to horizon. The wind blew the grass, carrying with it tiny balls of fluff from the cottonwood trees, and the sun bathed the area in a golden radiance. To my side was Ishan, laying on the verdant grass, relaxed and comfortable as though he’d been waiting for some time.

  We were both naked, as we always were in this place. I smiled into his light blue eyes, the colour of the sky above.

  “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “A few hours,” he answered, shuffling towards me.

  I blinked in surprise. “That long? It seems like only moments…” It was true. My arm tingled ever so slightly; not from real pain, I knew, but from the memory. From remembering the Champawat Tiger’s claws slicing into me. “I should call Katelyn. She’ll worry.”

  Ishan chuckled, reaching out to touch my chin, gently rubbing it. “The girl who pepper-sprayed me?”

  I laughed and nodded. “Yeah. She tends to be quite protective of her friends.” I reached over and touched his face. “I wish I could come here more often.”

  Ishan rubbed his cheek against my hand. “I do too, but this place only exists when we’re both asleep and dreaming. We can only come here together, and while I would have loved to join you in your dream sooner, you were badly wounded. I needed to take you somewhere where you would be safe.”

  A surge of worry jolted through me, so alien in this peaceful, natural setting. The fluff of the white poplar trees floated all around me, wafting in the faint breeze, carrying with them the scent of flowers and earth. “How bad was the cut?”

  “It’s a little more than just a cut,” he answered. “A normal human would require dozens of stitches—maybe even surgery.”

  “And what did I require?” It seemed so strange to be talking about this change so fluidly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. As though every other day I was turning into some other species with supernatural powers.

  Ishan smiled, his hand moving to my cheek, his thumb tracing across my skin. “Rest,” he answered, “and bandages to stop the bleeding. Both of which you’re getting.”

  “Stop the bleeding? Was that necessary?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Rakshasa are tough, but we’re not invincible. We obey the laws of physics, more or less. Our brains need blood to function, our cells need oxygen… but less of all of the above, and we can do without for longer. We heal faster. In practically all ways we’re simply a lot stronger, faster, more resilient than humans.”

  “Practically all ways?”

  “Silver, being a metal with a strange connection to the moon, slices past our defences. Wounds inflicted by silver affect us exactly as they would a human, perhaps even worse.”

  I shuffled closer to him, sliding my hands around Ishan’s waist, tugging him closer. I pressed my bare chest to his, brushing my nose over his cheek, leaning against him and taking in his scent. “Why don’t we use silver weapons to harm other Rakshasa, then?”

  He nibbled on my ear, kissing down to the lobe. “Sometimes we do, but it makes us uncomfortable. The best way to describe our reaction to silver is an allergy. Injuries caused by silver throw our immune systems out of kilter. Just touching it can cause nausea, vomiting, headspins…”

  My hands wandered down to Ishan’s tan backside, cupping his firm, muscled rumpcheeks and giving them a firm squeeze. “I’ll be sure to throw out my jewellery then.”

  “A small amount isn’t harmful.” He kissed down my neck to my shoulder, his head bobbing as he showered me with affection. I could feel his groin pressing against mine, firm and lumpy, responding to the close contact. “But pierced earrings, because a part of it is actually inside the body, are usually extremely uncomfortable.”

  That actually came as some relief. “I hated piercings. Too painful. I had clip-ons.” I spoke of myself in the past tense. Libby the Loser wasn’t me anymore, especially in this place, and I wanted to make sure that anything that was left was only a memory.

  His hands slid around my hips, slowly edging their way down the small of my back, settling against my bum. We exchanged squeezes for a moment, then he put his lips to mine.

  “Wait,” I mumbled into the kiss and he pulled his head back obediently.

  “Yes?”

  “I have more questions.”

  He nodded. “Questions. Go.”

  “Where am I? I mean, you know, the real me?”

  He smiled a warm smile, bumping his nose to mine, slowly rubbing it back and forth. “You’re with the coven. With the other Rakshasa, others of your clan.”

  The idea of other Rakshasa intrigued me. “But I thought we were from different bloodlines?”

  “We are, but our disagreements came second to your health.”

  I was touched, but also eager to meet others like us. “Will I get to meet them?”

  His smile widened. “One of them you already have, in a manner of speaking.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Vriko… he has the ability to restore form to broken things just by touching them. The pane of glass you broke on the night we met? He repaired it.”

  Blinking, I tilted my head. “I thought that was odd. I swore, black and blue, that it was broken.” I didn’t really like the idea that total strangers had been in my apartment without me even knowing they were there, but if Ishan trusted them, then I did too. “How did you know that, though?”

  “I have my sources. Both clans have a vested interest in fledglings, so I expect they know as much about you as I do.”

  I was strangely totally okay with this. “What’s your special power, then?”

  His smile became a coy grin. “I can predict the weather. Remember back in that club? I told you it was going to rain.”

  It was so obvious. “Of course. And it poured so hard it broke Katelyn’s house.”

  “Well, just the roof. Anything else?” Ishan asked.

  “What’s my power?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, and if you don’t know yet, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Oh.” I inhaled, closing my eyes a moment. “And I… need to know what you said earlier. During the dream.”

  Now his features fell slightly. “About the Altaica clan?”

  I nodded. When Ishan had brought me here last, we had made love and our true forms had been revealed. He said that our chance meeting in some dingy club had formed a kind of bond between us, triggering my transformation. But Ishan had white markings on his skin and mine were orange. This had seemed to surprise him.

  “More specifically,” I said, “about me being an Altaica. And you being a Rewa. What does that mean?”

  He hesitated slightly and I could sense his reluctance. I leaned forward, kissing him aga
in, urging him to speak.

  “It’s… it’s complicated. Do you remember when I told you that there were factions of Rakshasa? And that those factions don’t get along?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “The Rewa and the Altaica compete. They compete for territory, for pride and for status. Those of both clans take this very seriously, some more than others. Their struggle has been going on for some time, the pendulum of success swinging back and forth between the two, but always seeming to return to balance.”

  I turned away from him, eagerly wiggling back against his body, pressing my back against his chest. “No more questions,” I said, but Ishan shook his head.

  “Not tonight. You’ve been asleep for some time and your body is still weak from your injuries. I don’t want to exert your mind.”

  I snuggled my back against his chest, frowning. “I feel fine.”

  Ishan’s hands snaked around my waist, hugging me back to him. “Of course you do. This place exists in our minds, so you don’t feel the pain of the real world. Your body seems healthy so your mind makes you feel healthy.”

  Urgh. I treasured these dream moments and, despite what Ishan had told me, I felt on top of the world when I was here. I felt confident and comfortable and although I’d dreamed every night since meeting him, I still felt as though we didn’t spend anywhere near enough time together.

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of what my body can and can’t do, mmm?”

  I felt him kiss my neck, felt his lips touch my skin. The gentle, subtle touch sent shivers up my spine although the hilltop was sunny and warm. I reached behind him, touching his hips.

  “Well,” Ishan said, “you make a compelling argument.” I felt his lips kiss down over my shoulder, little pecks that barely touched my skin. I closed my eyes, basking in the sensation.

  I leaned back against him but felt him move backward, easing me to the ground. I went with the motion, my hands grasping hold of his shoulders, pulling him over on top of me. I stroked my fingers over his broad, strong shoulders, slipping under his arms, wandering down his sides, and Ishan leaned down and kissed my forehead. It probably was true that getting it on in this place was not the wisest thing I’d ever done, especially with how badly my arm had been bleeding after the Champawat Tiger had slashed it up, but I didn’t care. This was my safe place and whatever storms were raging out in the real world, no matter what pain and stress and panic there was out there, this was a place of safety and comfort. This was a place where, unlike the real world, I could set the pace and tempo of my life.

  Ishan kissed down between my eyes, down over my nose, then to my lips. When they met I kissed him eagerly, firmly, pulling his bare chest against mine with my hands. I opened my mouth slightly, letting my tongue brush over his lips. I savoured the taste of him, his warm mouth, his pleasant scent filling my nose.

  I wiggled further into the thick grass, feeling the wind pick up as his kissing became more urgent, more needy. I felt his fingers roaming over my body, touching, stroking me affectionately. My hands gripped his sides, stroking over his dark skin, watching as the patterns began to emerge on his skin. The white and brown tiger stripes, like a tattoo growing over his entire body, began their slow transition into existence. I curled my legs around his middle, pulling him close against me, feeling his warm body against mine.

  He entered me and my grip on his shoulder tightened. I inhaled, closing my eyes and tilting back my head, basking in the wonderful sensations and the natural beauty of this place.

  The wind whipped the grass around me as we made love, his body sliding against mine, fluid and even, and I gave him a firm squeeze with my thighs, tracing my heel up and down his lower back. Ishan kissed my neck, his hands holding me close, and I wiggled down till my face was almost against him. He continued to work his hips, pushing himself in and out of me, his body thumping against mine.

  I closed my eyes, just for a moment, drinking in the feelings. I dragged my fingernails up Ishan’s back, gently scratching against his skin, breathing in the beautiful scent of the hill through my nose.

  “Harder,” I urged him, rolling my hips needfully below him, and he obliged; his body thumped against me, his warm skin bumping against mine. Ishan panted softly, breathing through his nose, gripping me with his hands. I slid my hands around his shoulders, giving them both a firm squeeze, then cupped his cheeks. I brought his lips to mine and kissed him; it was as though electric current passed between us as they met and I tilted my head slightly, kissing him with eager need.

  The hill around us exploded into life. The wind swirled around us and the sky above me became brighter, more vibrant, as the sun’s glow bathed the entire area in a soft, fuzzy radiance. The clouds evaporated, leaving only the most brilliant sapphire-blue sky.

  My body felt electrified. Ishan’s movements became erratic, but faster, and I gripped him tighter. “Don’t stop,” I implored, kissing over his face, my thumb tracing over his cheek. I bounced back against each of his motions, panting softly, and I felt the end begin. I closed my eyes, expecting the natural surroundings of the dream world to continue their dramatic surge, but things became too dark.

  I opened my eyes. The world was beginning to darken. Above me, the moon was crossing over the sun. It happened every time, and only I could see it. All our dreams ended this way.

  “Ishan… the eclipse. It’s coming…!”

  And so was I. And he, too; I could sense it. Waves of pleasure washed over me, and as the world grew dark I roared into the gloom, denying the end of the dream, celebrating our shared pleasure.

  The light faded, and the gunshot woke me from my sleep.

  Where the dream world was a peaceful and serene moment on top of a brilliantly lit hilltop, the real world was an uncomfortably cold bed and a faint, lingering pain in my left arm. I forced my eyes open.

  I was in a dimly lit section of a cave. Faintly glowing electric lanterns hung from the ceiling, dangling from hooks driven into the stone. The bed I was sleeping on was sitting straight on the stone ground, something that struck me as intensely odd. I was covered in a thin blanket which did little to keep out the southern cold.

  Sitting, I swooned slightly, feeling lightheaded. The world seemed slow and dull, like I’d been drugged. I held my arm up in front of my face, struggling to see in the gloom. It was as it always was: dark skin, unmarked. Not a scratch on it.

  “Feeling better?” came a voice. It was clearly a woman’s, but deeper than it should have been, throaty and purring. It rolled like a stone coming down a mountain. Further down the cave, towards the gloom, I could see a pair of bright green eyes and the outline of a face.

  Strangely, I wasn’t afraid. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “To be honest I feel pretty rotten. Am I supposed to feel so nauseous?”

  “You lost a lot of blood,” the stranger said, “and we had to give you something to make you sleep. Because of what we are, it takes powerful drugs to force us to slumber, and powerful drugs have equally powerful side effects.”

  I frowned, blinking away the fuzziness from my eyes. “I thought I was asleep already. I remember fainting in my apartment—”

  “People move in their sleep,” she interrupted, “and so do Rakshasa. But when a person moves, it’s just a person. A Rakshasa has claws and teeth and is much stronger. They can be dangerous, even as fledglings. We had to make sure you were still while we moved you. If you woke up, in pain and disoriented, your instincts could have taken over. You could have attacked us, or ran. If we lost track of you, the humans might have found you, and that’s a situation we want to avoid if we can.”

  It made sense, but that didn’t help the feeling that I was going to throw up. I peered into the gloom, trying to see the face of the person I was talking to. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Asena. Don’t be alarmed.”

  Stepping from the shadows into the light, a lithe but muscular woman covered in orange tiger stripes revealed herself, wearing
a tank-top and a pair of loose, baggy pants. A long tail snaked behind her, almost touching the ground. She moved with exceptional agility, putting one foot before the other, her movements graceful and fluid. It seemed odd to see her at rest, as though a creature so adept at moving would be unnatural when still.

  “I’m not alarmed, I’ve seen other Rakshasa before,” I said, doing my best to smile despite the churning of my belly.

  Asena nodded, her tone mysterious and vaguely annoyed. “Yes, so we gathered.”

  I regarded her, curious now. She had the same orange colour I had, the mark of the Altaica. I with my kind, other Rakshasa like me.

  “I… Ishan told me about the Rewa. And how they and the Altaica don’t play nice together.”

  “Did he now.” Her tone dropped slightly at the mere mention of the other clan. “Perhaps you could tell me how you met ‘Ishan’, and what you know about the Altaica?”

  I shuffled on the bed, tugging the bedsheets up a little higher. “He told me that the Altaica have orange stripes, and that the Rewa have white.” An important fact came to my mind. “I have orange.”

  “We know.”

  I was in my human form, now, as I’d been when I passed out. How she knew that escaped me. “The Champawat Tiger has orange stripes. Is he one of our clan?”

  She paused, regarding what I’d said. “How did you know he was a Rakshasa?”

  “He tried to kill me.”

  I thought she was going to press the point but to my infinite relief, Asena shook her head. “The one you know as the Champawat Tiger is Altaica by blood, but he has long since surrendered any link to our clan. He works, and hunts, alone.”

  Hunting. The word conjured bloody images in my mind. What did the Rakshasa here eat? Did they hunt the local animals? I imagined Ishan leaping upon his prey with hungry eyes, tearing their throats out, opening their veins and letting the warm, red blood spill out. Australia didn’t have deer or anything that large predators could eat. Kangaroos, maybe, or wallabies, but nothing larger than that.