Willow Run: Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

by Hart, Melissa F.

  Dr. Amara pursed his lips, trying not to laugh, but the humor of the situation spilled into his voice as he tried to be professional. “So glad you decided to join us again, Dr. Ryersen.”

  “Do me a favor, stop calling me Dr. Ryersen. Willow is fine.”

  “Okay, but then you have to call me Chris.” He hummed a little. “Is it okay if I check your back?”

  Willow nodded, feeling the burning in her cheeks start to abate. Chris pulled down the back of her shirt collar. By this time, Willow’s skin was smooth and unmarked. He grunted a little in acknowledgement, letting go of her shirt. His voice was soft and measured when next he spoke.

  “Are you experiencing anything unusual going on besides how fast you healed and the fact you’ve been seeing people who look animal-like to you?”

  Willow bit her lip a little. “Do you consider eating an entire pound of raw ground beef unusual? Then wanting a rare hamburger a couple of hours later?”

  “Yeah, that’s unusual. What else?”

  “I—I feel amazing. Strong, like I could swim the English Channel, climb Mt. Everest.”

  Chris scratched thoughtfully at his beard. “Anything else?”

  Willow began blushing again. “I’m…” Her voice trailed off. How could she tell him that she had just screwed a virtual stranger, a handsome and interesting and gentle man, but still a stranger? And the fact was, despite having had sex earlier in the day, she wanted to jump Chris at that very moment.

  “Are you…” he searched for a professional way of phrasing it, “feeling hypersexual?”

  Willow starting putting all of her symptoms together and remembered her clinical psychology class from university. Everything fit—everything that was except her wounds healing ridiculously quickly. “Oh god, I’m not having some kind of manic thing going on, am I? Can a hit to the head do that?”

  Chris shook his head slowly. “No, nothing like that. We can’t discuss it here though. We need to go someplace more private.”

  Butterflies started multiplying in Willow’s stomach, and a feeling of panic swelled up. What was wrong with her? And why couldn’t her doctor tell her what it was right then? Why did they need to go someplace alone?

  Chris handed Willow her shoes. “Come on, we need to go for a walk. You’re going to feel much better with some fresh air.”

  A few minutes later, he led her into a grove of trees that ran behind the hospital. Willow sucked in a huge breath, and she did feel better. Her restlessness seemed to diminish, as long as she didn’t look directly at Chris. Every time she did, she felt like she literally wanted to pounce on him. He looked…delectable.

  Chris said little as they walked deeper into the woods, merely steering Willow by the elbow from time to time. Finally they were in a secluded hollow, the hospital no longer in sight.

  “Sit down, Willow.” Chris’ face was solemn, as if he was carrying out some terrible duty.

  Willow glanced around and chose a small outcropping of granite. Everything about Chris’s demeanor suggested he was used to being obeyed, and Willow complied.

  “Listen to me, Willow, and listen carefully. Everything you know about the world is getting ready to change.”

  A hard lump filled Willow’s throat. She was sure Chris was getting ready to tell her she had some kind of fatal condition. Maybe she felt wonderful because her brain was irreparably damaged, or some other weird neurological condition was going to kill her.

  “You weren’t attacked by any kind of ordinary big cat. You were mauled by a cat with a specific agenda.”

  Willow blinked, not comprehending what Chris was saying. “What are you talking about? Cats don't have agendas. Animals act from instinct and conditioning. I know, I’m a vet, remember?”

  “Like I said, this is no ordinary animal.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”

  Willow stood up, ready to sprint back toward the hospital. Chris grabbed her arms and held her in place. “Look at me, Willow.”

  Shaking her head no, Willow cast her eyes to the ground, not wanting to feel the barrage of contradictory feelings that hit her when she looked at Chris. It was as if she wanted to fuck him and eat him, all at the same time.

  “What are you feeling right now? Tell me!” Chris’s voice broached no dissent.

  “I—I feel like I want to jump on you. Literally. It’s crazy. I’m going crazy, that’s what you brought me out here to tell me, isn’t it?” Tears started to well up in Willow’s eyes.

  “No, you’re not crazy and you don’t have brain trauma. This isn’t easy to say, but Willow, you've been raped.”

  “Rrrraped?” Willow’s voice stuttered in confusion.

  “I don’t mean sexually, but you’re being forced to fulfill someone else’s desire for a mate, you’re being transformed into something beyond human.”

  “Beyond human?” Willow felt like all she could do was stupidly echo Chris’ words.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you have to believe me. You’re in the process of becoming some kind of were-cat. Maybe a bobcat, a lynx, a cougar, it’s hard to say until you fully shift.”

  Shift. There was that word again, the one that Guy had used. Willow’s started to breathe faster and faster, and she knew she was going to hyperventilate if she didn’t quickly get a grip. She was going crazy. She was standing in the middle of the woods with the Chief of Trauma of Mountainview Hospital and this respected doctor was telling her she was becoming something that couldn’t possibly exist.

  “The animal people you’ve been seeing? They are real, Willow, totally real. There are dozens of types, and we’ve all sought refuge in the Kingdom for two hundred years. Most of us are born to our condition, but some of us have been made. Only a shapeshifter can recognize another shapeshifter, and the fact that you are starting to see us means that you are becoming a were-animal. You were right. I am a stag. In fact, I am the king of my clan.”

  And with that pronouncement, Chris let go of Willow, and the space around him began to shimmer. The waves of energy rolling through the air hit Willow like the blast of a micro- explosion. She stumbled backward, instinctively raising her arms to protect her face and chest. Then, a moment later, an amazingly huge—and regal—stag stood before her. Dr. Christovao Amara pawed the ground and snorted, and at that exact moment, Willow fainted.

  TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK THREE: Catch as Catch Can - Volume 3

  ***

  Catch as Catch Can

  ***

  Synopsis

  Romance is confusing when you’re a shapeshifter in training and you don’t know who is responsible for your involuntary change. With only two weeks to prepare for her first shift, Willow needs a mentor—stat! Between her suspicions, her new instincts, and shapeshifter politics, though, life in the Kingdom is more than a little messy. Caught between the head of the shapeshifter council, her only friend, and the two sexy men pursuing her, Willow doesn’t know whom she can trust, or if she will even live long enough to find true love. As she prepares for all hell to break loose, there’s a new—and frightening twist.

  ***

  Willow shook herself as she came to, angry as hell over the fact that crazy stuff kept happening to her and that unconsciousness seemed to be becoming a normal state. She scrambled to her feet and instinctively launched herself at Chris, teeth bared. Although she hit him with enough force to knock a normal person off their feet, Chris seemed to barely register the impact.

  “Whoa! Come on, Willow. I know you’re spitting mad, but it’s not me you need to take it out on.” He grabbed her by the upper arms and held her at arm’s length as she struggled. After a moment, she finally calmed down. He laughed softly. “I’m glad you don't have all your strength yet, you are going to be one formidable cat.” Chris stroked her cheek soothingly, much as one might pet their housecat. “It’s going to be okay, but you have a lot to learn so no one takes advantage of you.”

  Willow slumped a little, uns
ure whether to give herself over to Chris’ pacifying caress, or if she should turn tail and run. Finally she pulled away from him, sinking to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees protectively. “So what happens now? Every full moon I go crazy and try to eat my co-workers?”

  Joining her on the mossy ground, Chris shook his head. “It’s not like that. You will learn to control when you shift, but you will have to change from time to time. It’s like a pressure that builds inside of you that you have to release so you don’t explode into a million parts. And extreme emotions—like fear or lust or even joy—can make it almost impossible to not shift. What you were experiencing in the hospital? That was you beginning to tune into the mental state of other shapeshifters—the nurse was worked up because she knew that unnaturally rapid healing is often the first sign of someone who has been turned. If the shifter that attacked you wanted you dead, you would definitely be six feet under right now. The opossum housekeeper has been worrying about a wayward son, so you saw her because her strong emotions were forcing open the barrier between animal and human.”

  “Can normal people see us when we shift?”

  “Only if you have completely transformed, and then they experience you as the animal you appear to be—which can be dangerous, if you happen to be an animal that some jerk wants to hunt, or run over, or simply torture for no apparent reason.”

  Willow rubbed her temple. This was all making her head hurt. “And what happens to your mind when you become an animal? Do you still think like a human?”

  “You do, mostly, but it's influenced by the nature of the animal you become. Big cats are restless, predatory, and often solitary. It also influences your tastes and behaviors as a human—thus the reason you devoured raw meat. That will ease a little with time. You’ll come to understand your new life and moderate those tendencies with your intellect and will.”

  Scratching at the ground with a finger, Willow looked at the dirt. “Is the reason I want to jump on you because big cats eat deer?”

  Chris laughed. “Something like that. Don’t worry, though, I can take care of myself.”

  A huge sigh escaped from Willow, and she straightened up a little. She might as well face all of the facts. “You said…that someone attacked me so that I would become their…you know—how do you know that?”

  “For centuries, shifters at the top of the chain did as they pleased—they are stronger, faster, tougher, and generally smarter than normal humans or small animal shifters. Sometimes the carnivores even ate small shifters while in animal form just to make a point. Our numbers have dwindled over time, though, killed off by humans either directly or indirectly through lack of habitat, and we are bound to our ancestral lands. We don’t know why, but our magic dissipates if we travel beyond our territory for more than a short period of time, and then, we simply die. Twenty years ago, we convened something of a summit for shifters living in New England. We chose three remote communities to which shifters could emigrate, one each in Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont, with the agreement that we would stay hidden, protect each other, and abstain from turning any human into a shifter. It was agreed that we would find safety in numbers, and only a shifter desperate for a mate would be so bold as to flaunt these rules. The urge to procreate is a powerful motivation.”

  “So the Kingdom is the shifter territory for Vermont?” Willow asked.

  “Exactly. When shifters arrive, we help each other find jobs—thus the raccoon nurse and the opossum housekeeper at the hospital, and we try to patronize shifter businesses as much as we can. For example, I hired a husband and wife team of beaver carpenters to build bookcases and cabinets at my home.”

  Willow couldn’t help herself; she sputtered as she laughed, “Really? Beaver carpenters? What, do you have were-sheep looking after your lawn?”

  Chris looked a little miffed. “What’s so funny about that? The beavers are very talented with wood. And for your information, I’m an herbivore; I can take care of my own lawn. I do know a great plumber, though, who happens to be…”

  “If you say ‘snake’ I’m never going to stop laughing.”

  “He’s a snapping turtle.”

  Willow rolled onto her back, holding her belly she was laughing so hard. “You are really blowing my image of shapeshifters as fierce and magnificent creatures. I’m being forcefully inducted into a society that sounds more hilarious than astonishing.” Wiping at the tears of laughter leaking from the corners of her eyes, she realized her amusement was merely a defensive mechanism and that she hadn’t yet asked the most crucial question. Sobering, she asked, “So what happens to me now? When will I completely shift?”

  “On the next full moon, the urge to shift will completely consume you. You should be among shifter friends when it happens. You shouldn’t resist it, just let it take its course. The friends will call you back after a time, to remind you to turn your will to becoming human again. It’s all very natural and doesn’t really involve much effort. We do it all the time when our children reach puberty and shift for the first time.”

  “What if I don’t have any shifter friends?” Willow asked, troubled.

  Chris reached out and stroked her cheek again. “You have me.”

  Ruminating over everything that Chris had conveyed, Willow started recalling each person she had seen morph into an animal. Katie was a wolf, and…holy shit, it hit her—she had envisioned Guy as a bobcat. He had used the word shift, too, instead of heal, and he kept calling her his little ‘wildcat.’ But Mace—Mace had told her about being the last catamount, lonely for a mate, and he had been explicitly pondering cross species possibilities—a hope she had dashed. Had one of them been the big cat that turned her?

  Swallowing hard, Willow looked up at Chris. “I—I think I might know who did this to me.”

  “If you know, you have to tell me. They have to be punished by the shifter council.”

  “There are two distinct possibilities, but I’m not going to point the finger until I know for sure. I don’t want the shifter council going after an innocent person like it’s the Salem witch trials.”

  Chris nodded gravely. “Fair enough, but when you know, it will be your duty to tell me. I’m not only the king of the deer clan, I’m also the head of the whole shifter council. You need to start getting used to the idea that whether or not you want to be, you are one of us now, and your survival depends on being part of our society.”

  Being a king didn’t sound very democratic, but maybe the council was a bit more modern, even if it operated like some kind of shadow government. Standing up, Willow felt herself stretch with a little shimmy, much like the old orange tabby with which she had grown up. Life was already getting really weird, and she only had two weeks until the next full moon to figure it out. For now, though, she decided she had to keep her wits about her.

  Chris unfolded his legs and stood in one graceful motion, his eyes liquid with desire and his mouth inviting. Willow felt something stir low in her body and found herself drawn to his charismatic energy. Did shifters ever step out beyond their own species, she wondered?

  As if to answer that unspoken question, Chris bent his head to Willow’s and his velvety lips brushed against hers. His hands ran down her back, causing a little thrill to race up her spine. Then his mouth pressed harder against hers, and he pulled her snugly to his body. His tongue was gentle but insistent, and his hands grasped her waist tightly. Willow could feel the excitement building in both of their bodies; she pushed her hands through Chris’s hair almost roughly, which seemed to excite him more. She moved her mouth away from his, kissing along his jaw, and down to his neck, and then, without any warning, she bit him.

  ***

  The drive home should have felt like sanctuary, but instead it just reinforced for Willow how absolutely bizarre everything in her life was becoming. She could still taste the metallic tang of Chris’ blood in her mouth. It had been more than a little awkward when he pried her off before she could really do any damage, a
nd Willow was still reeling from the realization of how easily her sexual desire had lapsed into literal hunger.

  Chris had been a good sport about it, but he was going to have a terrible hickey, and her predatory behavior was sure to put a damper on any romantic notions he might have held about the two of them. The worst part was that she no longer trusted any of her feelings for the men around her: not Chris, not Mace, and certainly not Guy. Was their countertop tryst merely a result of her new status as “human plus?” And what if he was the one who attacked her in the first place? How could she have a relationship with someone who had ravaged her and destroyed life—as she knew it—for his own selfish reasons?

  What now? Should she go and try to talk to Katie? She wasn’t sure now how to broach any of it with her friend, especially given the uneasiness with which they last parted. Who else could she talk to, though? It wasn’t like she could run to the Wetherwells with her situation; she could picture trying to communicate the fact that instead of taking care of animals, she was an animal, or at least partly one.

  Willow beat at the steering wheel in frustration. There was nothing to do but take the bull by the horns.

  ***

  Willow’s stomach feel squeamish as she drove up the long gravel drive leading to Mace’s house. His car was parked outside, which didn’t surprise her, since he never seemed to leave his property—at least not in his human form. Then Willow reminded herself that she had yet to see Mace even partially shift. Perhaps his story was just a story, or one that had been told to him by a real shapeshifter. Maybe Mace was simply an eccentric writer secluded in a backwoods Vermont village…or maybe he was the last catamount in New England. At least Chris had given her the key as to how to conclusively determine the status of anyone who might be a shifter.