Let the Wild Out
By
Madelyn Porter
Let the Wild Out © Copyright 2013 by Madelyn Porter
First Electronic Printing March 2013, The Raven Books
Cover art by Michelle M. Pillow, © Copyright 2012-2013
Edited by Suz Gower
Final Line Edits by Nanette Sipe
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Published by The Raven Books
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Madelyn Porter.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
Published by The Raven Books
www.ravenhappyhour.com ~ www.theravenbooks.com
Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2013
Let the Wild Out
By
Madelyn Porter
This is fantasy. In real life always practice safe sex.
Let the Wild Out
Paranormal Shapeshifter Erotic Ménage Romance
Rachel Dunne thinks she’s safe from the politics of her people by keeping a low profile in America. When she comes face to face with one of the clan chiefs in search of a mate, she’s stunned yet incredibly turned on. There is a catch—one queen to two opposing clan chiefs. It’s hard enough fighting off the advances of one sizzling hot piece of alpha man-flesh, can she possibly resist two?
Dedication
To my BFF’s alter ego, Rory Michaels. I guess that would make me your BFF, or, um, my alter ego’s BFF is your alter ego, or are we the alter egos, or I’m your alter ego’s BFF and you’re my alter ego’s…damn. Who are we again?
Chapter One
Everyone should have at least two lovers.
That’s what Rachel Dunne’s crazy aunt used to tell her anyway. Her mother would have rolled over in her grave if she’d known her father’s sister had been given custody. After her parents died, Aunt Elvie was the only family member who could take her in. Rachel spent her teenage years under the care of a free lovin’, spirit séance havin’, illegal herb growin’, occasionally under arrest, Auntie Elvie. Luckily the sheriff was one of Elvie’s pot customer slash on-and-off-again lovers, and Elvie never stayed behind bars for too long.
It wasn’t an ideal childhood. But what Elvie lacked in modern morals and conventions she more than made up with love and patience. As for an Uncle Elvie, there wasn’t one—there were several. Elvie rotated her lovers like most people changed toothbrushes, and she always kept at least two of them around at a time. Though, for their kind, such things were not unusual.
Oh, Aunt Elvie also happened to be a bird shifter. Rachel always thought it accounted for her flighty behavior and great appetite for life. Though, how a bird shifter could get arrested in the middle of a forest was beyond her. Rachel suspected her aunt liked being put in cuffs.
For some reason, Aunt Elvie and her childhood had been on her mind a lot lately.
“What kind are you?”
Rachel pretended not to hear the man who spoke, keeping her attention on the ebook reader she held. She had seen him following her as she left the bookstore where guest authors, Mandy M. Roth and Michelle M. Pillow, had joint book readings. She’d felt his presence as she walked the streets and smelled him as he came into the coffee shop. She didn’t need to look at him to know he had dark hair and a rock-solid body. That much she’d seen from the reflection in the bookstore window. But experience taught her to stay away from other shifters. They had a wildness about them, an animalistic quality and a freedom Rachel fought hard to control in herself.
“What kind are you?” The unmistakable brogue of his Gaelic accent seemed out of place in the small Colorado town. That might account for his forward behavior. The shifters she’d met from overseas tended to have less puritanical ways. In America, unless on a preserve, shifters tended to mind their own business.
Rachel glanced at the hand he pressed flat against the table. There was no point in denying his claim. She could smell the shifter on him, as he could on her. However, his fragrance was potent and raw. He’d changed recently and, if the prickling sense of danger curling through her was any indication, he was dangerous. No wild bird here. Without looking up, she said, “I heard you the first two times, but my parents told me to never talk to strangers. Just keep it moving, buddy. I’m not in the life and I’m not looking for friends.”
The man turned his hand over so she could see his palm. An ancient, circular design had been burned into the flesh with a branding iron. It looked old, probably given to him in childhood in an ancient ritual. She stiffened, not needing further introduction. Rachel didn’t move for a long moment. She knew that mark. Everyone with shifter blood knew that mark. She’d never expected to see it in her lifetime, had hoped not. As far as she’d known, the marked ones were all living overseas, and she preferred it that way. Slowly lifting the back of her hand to her head in a subtle gesture of respect Aunt Elvie had taught her, she said, “My chief.”
“For someone not in the life, you know who I am.” He pulled his fingers into a fist. “Now I asked you a question. What kind are you?”
“Trout,” Rachel lied, finally looking up at him. “My kind is a trout. I’m diluted blood.”
She wasn’t sure it was wise to lie to her clan chief, but if he was asking about her kind, then being a tame creature of the river wasn’t useful to anyone. It had been a long time since she shifted, so her smell wouldn’t be potent at all. The lie would be believable. Hopefully he’d leave her alone now. Rachel fought the nervousness in her stomach. If he caught her lying to him she wasn’t sure what he’d do. The stories from the old country were brutal, practically medieval.
He slid into the chair across from her. “Trout?”
“Yes, my chief. A fish. When I change I swim in streams and try not to get hooked by fishermen while avoiding other spawning creatures. You can see why I’m not interested in the life.” Rachel made a move to stand, refusing to look into his eyes in case he sensed her fear. “If you would excuse me, I have to get to—”
“Wait.” He reached for her hand. The warmth of his touch took her by surprise.
“Yes?” Was it just her imagination, or could she feel the scar on his palm? Her attention focused on it, on him. Awareness shot through her.
“Who are your family? Which clan?”
“My family is gone. My aunt, Elvie Dunne, raised me. She passed two years back. My father, her brother, belonged to yours, the Duncanis clan. I don’t talk to any others. Any other questions you have are better directed at someone else. I hear there are shifters living in Colorado Springs. Perhaps you should try there.” Rachel withdrew her hand and he let her go. “Excuse me, Chief, but I can’t lose my job.”
“No reason to be so formal. Call me Douglas.”
She nodded, not saying his name or meeting his eyes. Grabbing her ebook reader, she held it a little too tightly.
As she walked away, she detected his whisper, “I’ll be seeing you, little trout.”
Rachel really hoped not.
*
Douglas absently scratched at his scar as he watched the petite brunette leave the coffee shop. A fish? She couldn’t be the shifter he searched for. As chief of one of the two shifter clans, he needed a powerful woman, a woman whose shifter blood was strong; a woman the other clan chief would respect and also be willing to take as a bride. Since the Medieval clan battles, that was their way. One bride to the two male chiefs.
As chieftess queen, his future bride would act as an intermediary betwee
n the two clans, and none would know which father sired her children, though occasionally the lineage could be guessed at merely by looking at the offspring. The oldest child would go to the oldest chief, the second to the youngest, and the third to the oldest chief again, continuing back and forth for however many offspring there were, to be raised according to the father clan’s traditions. For this reason, royalty never married royalty, instead choosing a bride who showed signs of strong shifter blood.
A fish? Too bad.
Douglas had grown up with these facts of his birthright and accepted his destiny. After forty years as an unmarried chief, his people were restless for new royal blood. When the chiefs didn’t have children, his people had a tendency to panic. Without leadership, the old battles could be resumed and chaos would ensue. Thousands had been lost in those dark times.
Chief William of the Cononious Clan had just ascended to his rule after his adopted father, the former chief, Tobias died. The people had been pushing them both for a bride. In truth, he did not know William well. The man was not Douglas’s blood brother. They had not been raised together and only met every other year at clan rituals. Now they would be sharing a wife.
With his father newly in the grave, William didn’t have time for the search. It didn’t matter. Douglas and William both knew what to look for. The bride had to be strong, full-blooded and, though hardly an official requirement, young and pretty. Though, “young” to a shifter was much different than young to a human. A shifter’s lifespan was three times as long as any so-called mortal.
It was too bad. The little trout shifter was pretty. She would have definitely been a candidate if not for her diluted blood. Though some shifters still cared about such things, his decision was more practical. With diluted blood, she’d not live as long as he did, and she would potentially give the chiefs less children. Since Douglas’s own mother had given birth to only one child, leaving Tobias to adopt William, the people were anxious to replenish the royal lines.
Still, the panther inside of him was interested. If not a wife, then a lover while he looked for a bride. After he married, there would be no more lovers. It was their way.
Feeling his pocket vibrate, Douglas took out his phone. William had texted him about the picture he’d snapped of the pretty brunette. “Who is she? She is very beautiful.”
Sighing, Douglas answered, “Not who I thought she was. Just a pretty woman.”
He closed his phone. A waiter appeared carrying food. “You going to pay for the lady’s sandwich?”
Douglas glanced to where the woman had disappeared and smiled. “Can I get that to go? She had to leave suddenly.”
The waiter nodded and disappeared. Douglas took out his wallet. He smiled. Part of him was very happy at the idea of not having to share this woman.
*
England
William deleted the text from Douglas and again brought up the picture of the brunette woman. When he’d first seen her, his body had lurched in interest. It was the first positive feeling he’d had since the death of his adopted father. Douglas’s mother had died giving birth to her only son and neither of the old chieftains wanted another mate after that. The Duncanis chief had his male heir in Douglas, so the Cononious chief had adopted the orphaned William as his own.
In truth, he didn’t know Douglas, at least not beyond his reputation. Where William was studious, it was said Douglas was reckless. It might have been due to the fact William shifted into wolf, a form known for its inherently wild temperament. He had to fight for control against his natural urges if he was to be a leader.
Douglas was a panther, a refined animal until cornered, which could partially account for the chief’s lack of control as a man. He didn’t have to try very hard to fight the beast within. He’d also been born into royalty and his shifter subjects didn’t watch his every move as closely. Douglas’s uncontrolled appetites as a man worried William when it came to choosing their bride. He’d probably pick someone just as untamed. Luckily, though, William would have final say in whomever Douglas wanted.
Hearing footsteps, he closed his phone and looked towards the end of the courtyard. The English weather was unseasonably cool, but he found he didn’t mind it. Outside, the world seemed quiet and still. It was inside the English manor house that seemed full of chaos and demands.
William always wondered if the fact he wasn’t born into the life of royalty made it harder for him. Douglas always seemed at ease with his role. William often felt like an imposter.
“I thought I’d find you out here,” Magda said. The old maid had been with the family for over two hundred years. She’d been his caretaker when he was younger, always following him, always whispering duty in his ear until his thoughts were incessantly filled with what he must do and how he must act. He knew that look on her face well. She wanted him inside with his guests.
Before she could speak, he preemptively stopped her. “I was answering a message from Douglas in America and needed the quiet. It was about a potential bride.”
Her expression instantly changed. She wasn’t excited, not really, not as he imagined most people were when talking about a wedding, but she seemed pleased that he was thinking about marriage in general. She nodded, all censure fading from her features. “When you’re finished, we need to go over the preparations for tonight. The vampire king will be here at dusk.”
Unable to help himself, he said, “Be sure to hang wreathes of garlic on the window.”
“Boy,” she warned, even as she tried not to smile. It was no secret that Magda hated vampires. She thought of them as lower beings, even lower than humans. The woman was a shifter elitist.
Then, on impulse, he said, “Douglas needs me in America to look at candidates.”
“Why doesn’t he bring them here?” Magda asked, clearly not seeing the wisdom. “Or, better yet, find a bride here.”
“We’re trying to be discreet,” William said. “It’s been agreed between the two of us that we should find a bride from America for there are too many politics at play here. However, we cannot risk angering the old European families. So, if I am there to meet with the other chief to oversee the conditions of our American brothers, no one will question it if we happen to find our wife amongst the Americans.”
“A heathen bride.” Magda shook her head. “Let me see who he has in mind for you, boy.”
William opened his phone and brought up the picture of the brunette. “Here’s one he’s seriously considering.” There was no reason to mention she wasn’t suitable.
Magda eyed her. “She’s very skinny. What kind is she?”
“I’m not sure. Douglas won’t say over the phone in case others watch what we’re doing. That is why I must go to Colorado.”
“What about Lisbetha? She’s very pretty and from an old family. Or, if you prefer someone less meek, how about Faith or her younger sisters, Hope and Charity? They are all very pretty girls and their father is well respected.” Magda had offered each girl before. “If you want wild, then choose Ginger. Dark, take Judith. Blonde, Lisbetha again.”
As if bidden by their names, Lisbetha and Ginger appeared in the distance. Lisbetha smiled and lifted her fingers to greet him. Ginger leaned into the other woman, lifting her hand to cover a whisper before giggling. Without waiting to be summoned into his presence, the young ladies walked towards him. They batted their lashes and dipped their chins in a practiced effort to get his attention. Threads of silver filtered through their eyes. All he had to do was say one word and they would follow him anywhere, let him do anything. If such a thing wouldn’t complicate his life in the extreme, he’d have taken either of them to bed to find release.
“My chief,” Lisbetha breathed. Her blonde hair curled around her face, each lock pristine and purposefully placed. He’d never seen her shifted, but he was told she was a rare bird called an Asian-crested ibis, which made her incredibly special. Though hardly powerful in the sense of physical strength, rare animals were prized.
/>
“Mm—my chief,” Ginger said, the low tone full of invitation. She was bolder than the others, often running through the forest when she knew he was there, rubbing her kitten scent on the trees, walking naked in human form, breasts pushed out and lips pursed. Seeing his attention on her mouth, she licked her bottom lip.
“Ladies,” came his obligatory answer.
“Mistress,” they said in unison to Magda.
Magda paused a few seconds too long, as if waiting for William to strike up a conversation. When he didn’t, she urged, “Would you two be so kind as to see to the hall? We need to ensure the servants did not put out the real silver.”
“Of course,” Lisbetha said, eager to please. Ginger pretended to pout but let her friend lead her away.
“You could have given them some encouragement,” Magda scolded.
“Why? To do so would be cruel. They would be better off setting their sights on another.” William eyed his phone, thinking of the woman Douglas found. “Douglas would never consent to them.”
“Very well. If there is no stopping you, I will pack our bags.” Magda turned to leave.
“No. I wish for you to stay here.” William stood and placed his hand on her arm. He took his phone back from her. “I’ll trust you to keep me informed of all that happens in my absence. I need someone I can trust to see to things. You, better than anyone, knows what must be done.”
“Yes, my chief.” She nodded once, a curt, disapproving gesture, and turned to go.
Chapter Two
Rachel ignored the burning in her lungs as she ran through the woods. The nature trail was long and isolated, just as she liked it. Running full speed was as close to the freedom of shifting as she could get. Most people stayed to the well-worn paths, but she preferred to be alone, and there was no better place than on the land Aunt Elvie left her. She liked to visit the old house in the woods at least once a month. Along with it, Elvie had left her enough money to live on. Rachel still worked though, training wait staff and keeping the accounts at a sports bar and grill. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was work and gave her the freedom to make her own schedule. Plus, if she was at work, she didn’t have to go through the depressing chore of cooking for one.
Let the Wild Out Page 1