SKIN WALKERS:
YORK
By
Susan A. Bliler
Copyright © 2013 by Susan Bliler
www.susanbliler.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cover fonts, spine, design, and back cover done by:
Cindy Hubbard
Image courtesy of Shutterstock
Editing done by:
Leiah Cooper with
So I Read This Book Today…
http://soireadthisbooktoday.com/
As always thanks to my Beta, Cindy.
I couldn’t do this without you.
Thanks for believing in me when no one else did.
;o) ting
A special thanks to:
iCare Data Recovery
Oh how close this book came to being gone forever.
Lesson learned. Thank you for saving me!
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Susan A. Bliler.
DEDICATION
For Kathy
Thank you for being one of the few who actually reads my books. Thank you for always being there, and for always believing that I could conquer the world. It takes a special woman to love her husband’s children as if they were her own. What a blessing you are.
Chapter 1
The flight to the Philippines had been miserable. York McDonnough had turned down CEO Monroe StoneCrow’s offer of a private jet and instead took a commercial flight, which he’d regretted the entire thirteen hours crammed into the too small seat on the rattling death trap they called a plane. He could have shifted and flew or swam the distance, but he wanted to be in peak condition when he arrived to find Shy Brooke’s missing sister.
Shy. Thinking of her for the hundredth time in the past few hours only made his heart spasm painfully. He’d rescued the woman from the Megalya lab in Canada and once he’d realized her Walker didn’t want her, he’d had hopes of claiming her for himself. Hopes! He scoffed. Hell, he’d actually challenged for her. He wanted so badly what he’d witnessed between his Commander, Conn Drago and his Angel, Aries that he’d been willing to overlook the fact that he wasn’t afflicted by Shy. She wasn’t his.
Unlike the rest of his brethren Skin Walkers, he welcomed the idea of claiming his Angel…his mate. He longed for love and happiness and--Gods willing--children one day, but as more time went by, the less likely that his hopes would be fulfilled. It was heartbreaking because he knew he’d be an excellent mate. He was stronger than most Walkers and willing to sacrifice himself and his pride to keep his Angel happy. Most of the unmated Walkers saw claiming their Angel as a weakness, a way for a Walker to be hurt. It’s why most Walker males refused to seek out their Angel. Some even had the audacity to try to deny their mate once the affliction set in. It was infuriating and insulting, because York would give anything to find the intimacy of a relationship with his one true mate.
Sighing, York wondered for the millionth time over the span of his thirty-two years of existence if something wasn’t wrong with him. Was he even loveable? He’d had numerous discussions with StoneCrow’s Chief of Security, King Mulholland, regarding their similar upbringing. Both were bounced from foster home to foster home. King had assured York that it didn’t make them less worthy of happy lives, but more worthy. They’d seen what it was like, ripped from their families and forced to live lives of great hardship at a young age and while enduring inexplicable, heartrending changes. York hadn’t had the heart at the time to tell King that, unlike the Chief of Security, York hadn’t been taken from his mother…she’d given him up. He held no memory of her or his father. His first memories were of parents who weren’t his own, beating him and treating him like an animal, only to feign love and affection on the rare occasions the social worker saw fit to make a home visit. It’s why he’d hoped Shy would be his. He wanted to finally experience real love.
Stop thinking about it! He grumbled to himself as he stood and stretched his cramped legs before snagging his rucksack from the overhead compartment and shuffling with the miserable masses down the narrow aisle. He smirked to himself as most passengers cleared a path to avoid him. He didn’t blame them. He doubted the locals had ever seen anyone quite like him. Flaming red hair pulled into a tight braid hung to his waist, while sea-green eyes frowned at the displeasure of his stiff muscles. His shoulders brushed the overhead compartments on both sides of the aisle, head tucked to avoid rubbing it on the ceiling of the plane. Most passengers appeared to be of local ethnicity. The people were tiny. Even the men were slight in stature. It would have been laughable if the plane hadn’t been built to accommodate such slight humans.
Stepping off the plane, he stopped at the top of the stair landing and inhaled deeply. He relished the scent of fresh sea air after thirteen hours in a tin can with too many sweaty bodies, one pukie baby, and one elderly woman who’d packed her own lunch, which carried a scent that reminded York of a beast he’d once found decaying in the forest. He breathed in again, stretching his tense muscles and rolling his neck from side-to-side. The familiar scent of salt water reminded him of his beloved Ireland. He hadn’t been home in over a decade and hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sea until he’d seen it again. Hiking his rucksack over his shoulder with a sigh he tromped down the metal stairs.
Unlike in America, here people raced out to tarmac to greet their loved ones. He ignored their stares as he made his way toward the terminal.
“Red hair!” he heard one boy say excitedly in a thick accent.
York’s chest tightened. Regardless of the fact that he saw his own in the mirror daily, he would now forever associate red hair with Shy’s satiny locks. She would have been a good mate, his perfect match.
He’d been sent out with a team of Skin Walker mercenaries to retrieve an imprisoned Skin Walker, Leto Reigns, from the Megalya facility that had imprisoned Leto for experimentation. They’d discovered Shy at the facility as well and the instant York picked her up to carry her too frail form from the facility, he’d been drawn to her. She’d been terrified and clung to him. The action caused his protective instincts to rise and against his better judgment, he allowed feelings to develop when he shouldn’t have. He scented another male on her…another Walker. Leto. He knew she was claimed, yet still he’d foolishly allowed himself to hope.
Shy Brookes, who’d been an intern at the Megalya facility, had become a captive herself after attempting to free Leto. While they held her, the Administration reported to her family that she’d been sent on special assignment to the Philippines in hopes of deflecting their inquiries. Unconvinced, Shy’s sister had traveled to the Philippines and was now missing. York had accepted the retrieval mission not only as a favor to Shy, but in hopes that distance would help him forget that she could never be his. Stalking toward the terminal, he clenched his fists at his own stupidity, but told himself it was the stifling heat and humidity assailing him in equal measure that was getting to him. He’d spent the last ten years of his life in the mountains of Montana, which meant any type of heat was too much. His hope for a temperate April in the Philippines instantly flew out the window.
Entering the terminal, there was no one to greet him. Monroe had sent him with enough funds to spend several months on his own on the small archipelago, leaving him to fend for himself.
Exiting the terminal onto a bustling street, he eyed Quezon City and grunted. Monroe StoneCrow, the dominant Skin Walker, was calling the shots o
n this particular assignment. He had gathered Intel verifying that Shy’s sister could be found here. York eyed the city from left to right, more than a little disheartened.
Just Great! It wasn’t what he’d expected. Having never been to the Philippines, his knowledge came from the little research James, his fellow Walker, had done via computer. He’d informed York that Quezon was a metropolitan area and home to the Philippines’ House of Representatives and the country’s national university. Still, York naively expected shanties and villagers riding donkeys. Instead, he was greeted by a metropolis that was one hundred times the city his Great Falls was back in Montana.
Looking up he watched sleek sky trains rocket across elevated rail systems, while beneath, seven lanes of traffic raised a ruckus that rivaled New York. Tall trees dotted the roadway, and a chorus of loud birds chirped merrily in an attempt to contend with the sounds of the city.
“Taxi?”
Looking down, he found a thin local reaching for his rucksack. Jerking it back he growled at the young man, sending the taxi driver reeling back with his hands up, “No! I put you bag in trunk, take you to hotel.”
York’s lips thinned as he frowned at the young man but stepped toward the waiting taxi.
“Good. Good.” The man opened the back door. “You get it in. I take you.”
York crammed his too tall frame into the back seat of the taxi and waited while the driver quickly rounded the car.
“I Benjie,” the driver began chatting before he’d even closed his door. “Where I take you?”
“Downtown,” York commanded, not really sure where he should start.
“I know.” Benjie prattled on, “I take you Shangri La first. You get room, check in. H’okay?”
Okay. York watched the city whip by at lightning speed. As the airport fell behind, towering buildings could be seen ahead denoting a bustling metropolis. He’d never been to the Philippines before, and the view out his window wasn’t what he’d expected. He smirked at his own naiveté. He’d half expected conditions comparable to a third world county. It thrilled him to be proven wrong.
The ride was shorter than York expected—about twenty minutes—and when the taxi pulled up in front of a towering hotel, York had to crane his neck to see up the front of the building. It looked like something straight out of Vegas. At least thirty stories, the building was all windows that gleamed in the beaming sun. The landscape was dotted with dozens of what appeared to be some form of local palm trees. A loud fountain splashed invitingly in the center of a courtyard that was circled by a driveway leading to the front of the building and rounding back out to the road.
Benjie pulled expertly to the front of the building and hurried to get York’s door.
York pulled a wad of pesos out his pocket and handed a large bill to Benjie. “Keep the change.”
Benjie smiled and nodded excitedly.
It was easy being generous when on a mission with someone else’s money. Monroe was paying for this particular mission, and York nodded in satisfaction at Benjie’s choice of digs. The lavish establishment was clearly high-end. Ignoring the looks shot his way; York hiked his rucksack up over one shoulder and headed into the hotel. He’d get situated, and then go hunting. Monroe had given him supposedly reliable Intel on where Shy’s sister might be located. Gauging from the size of the city though, York knew he had his work cut out for him.
Chapter 2
Three days later, York entered a too small bar and hid a wince at scenting sweaty bodies mingled with cigarette smoke and something that closely resembled sewage. Monroe’s Intel was proving less than stellar; leaving York to follow his own leads he hoped would guide him to his target.
Sidling up to the bar as discreetly as possible, York scanned the room and his heart thundered to a halt. “Shy?” What in the hell is she doing here? She’d cut her hair! Her once waist-length auburn locks were now shorn to a sexy little bob that framed her beautiful face.
York’s eyes scanned the bar for Leto and-- not finding him--York took a step toward Shy and froze.
Totally engrossed in conversation with a tall, wiry man with pale, dry hair that looked like a thin pile of hay sitting on top of his head, she hadn’t noticed his arrival. The man reached for Shy and when he did, she pulled her arm back, balled her tiny hand into a fist and punched the man square in the face.
Immobilized by shock, York couldn’t believe that his little Shy had just attacked someone…anyone! He remembered her as quiet and timid and…well, shy. His moment of surprise was short-lived though as Shy jumped back out of the now angry and bleeding hay-hair man’s grip.
If York thought he’d been shocked moments earlier he was outright stunned when Shy winked at the man before lifting a foot and kicking him hard in the belly, sending the man doubling over, then to his knees as the air whooshed out of him in a great, “Oooomph!”
York was about to spring into action to defend Shy when she finally turned and faced him. Their eyes locked, and it happened! After years of waiting, hoping, and yearning…
York’s gut wrenched as if he’d just been slammed by a fucking semi. Dropping to his knees, he tried to suck in an agonized breath as he heard a high-pitched whine and a flash of ethereal light winked off his halo, momentarily blinding him.
Curling his fist into his still clenched abdomen, he roared as his incisors elongated. He knew he was in public and should have better control, but he couldn’t hold the partial shift back. He knew it! He’d known it all along…Shy belonged to HIM! Agony and elation seared through him in equal measure. Even through the torment of affliction, his full lips curved into a smile. York McDonnough finally found his Angel!
***
Watching the hot ass red-head fall to the floor, Sky Brookes was a little disappointed that instead of a knight in shining armor, he was obviously just some drunk guy who was too blitzed to even be able to stand. Damn shame! He was so her type. Large and imposing with muscled arms covered in tats. He had his long hair pulled back into a braid hanging to his waist while a matching auburn goatee highlighted a savagely hewn jaw. She’d noted sea-green eyes before he’d fallen to his knees.
Dropping her eyes to the idiot gasping for air by her feet, she pulled her ankle away from the man’s wimpy hold and smiled to herself. Unlike her twin sister, Shy, Sky refused to take shit from anyone.
When the back door of the bar slammed open and whistles began sounding, Sky raced for the front door, noting that Big Red was still down on all fours. Her lips curved in a smile as she raced toward him with three police officers hot on her tail. Not stopping she lifted one leg and stomped it on Big Red’s back, right between his shoulder blades as she used the man as a spring-board to vault herself over his still crouched form. She felt him shift under her, but by the time he rolled and made a grab for her; she was already out the front door.
Flicking a glance over her shoulder, her feet skidded to a halt when she saw Big Red roar up from the floor and tackle all three officers at once with his massive arms. Impressive…for a drunk!
The three puny officers bounced off the behemoth and landed on the floor, cursing like angry chickens in their native tongue. When Big Red turned to scowl at her, Sky couldn’t help herself. She smiled broadly and winked at him before blowing him a kiss then turning to race down the crowded street. Yum, tattoos and chivalry.
***
Locking eyes with Shy had York dropping back to one knee. He gritted his teeth against the pain that seared him. It was the most exquisite torture ever.
Slowly getting to his feet, York used the Skin Walker telepathy known as the mystic, the mist for short, to quickly probe the area searching for Leto, Shy’s supposed mate. When he felt nothing, he turned and stormed out the door as the police officers helped each other off the floor. The last thing he needed was to end up in a Philippines jail while Shy was running around the sovereign state without protection.
In the street, his eyes darkened as he partially shifted, utilizing the enhanced s
centing ability of the grizzly. He picked up a familiar feminine scent a fraction of a second before his nose was overwhelmed by the numerous street vendors and the food—if you could call it that—that they were pushing. He sneezed before frowning down the street ignoring the numerous stares and outright gawks he earned.
At six-seven, he was easily the tallest person in the street, on the block, hell, probably in the whole damn archipelago! His waist-length fiery red hair didn’t help either.
Reaching up he pulled the braided rope of his hair over one shoulder. He was glad he’d opted to bind it today. He didn’t want to think of the attention he’d get if he’d worn it down.
Stalking off, he headed the direction Shy had run. He’d find her and Leto and confront his fellow Walker. Shy wouldn’t spend one more night as another Walker’s mate.
Chapter 3
After cutting through several alleys and zig-zagging a few blocks, Sky slowed her pace and looked over her shoulder. Nothing. Thank God!
She lifted a shaky hand to her temple and winced, Oh come on, not now! One of her migraines was pounding behind her temples, warning of its imminent arrival. She eyed the street, knowing she needed to get to her motel ASAP before the migraine hit, and she lost partial vision in her left eye. It was an ailment that had sprung up over her youth and had her parents so terrified of a brain tumor that they’d taken her to every specialist they could find. Finally, after years of meeting with dozens of Doctors, enduring hundreds of tests, and countless MRI’s Sky had been diagnosed with ocular migraines. Similar to a regular migraine, hers were accompanied by temporary loss of vision in her left eye. Sometimes the vision loss was partial and sometimes full, depending on the severity of the migraine. The one throbbing behind her eyes now threatened to be of epic proportions, and she knew why. Stress, lack of sleep, and caffeine all contributed to her migraines, and having been searching for her sister, Shy, for weeks she’d been surviving on long hours, late nights, and gallons of coffee.
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