Shifter Secrets: Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  The small chime of the elevator arriving on the floor brought him out of his trance. Stepping off the elevator, Asher straightened his sand-colored suit jacket, cleared his throat, and made his way to the conference room. All of his siblings, as well as his father, were already sat at the long teak table, their eyes on Asher as he sauntered toward an empty chair.

  “Glad you decided to join us,” his father called over, bemused. Asher didn’t respond, simply spinning his chair around and plopping down. Picking up a remote control from the tabletop, the patriarch closed the blinds to the office. No one at that point was supposed to be on that floor, but just as the greeter had done, people were always lurking around for opportunities to advance their careers—whether that was done nobly or through other means.

  Quite frankly, that was the first time in over a year that Asher had attended a family board meeting, other than the one where…

  Asher pushed the memory away before it could fully resurface. Would his wounds ever heal? Clasping his hands firmly together, he gritted his teeth and focused on his father’s face. Carlyle Tallant was ghostly pale, and yet it didn’t age him. He had actually dyed his hair on the sides to give him a more distinguished and aged look with a touch of artificial gray. His hair, the faintest lines on the sides of his clay-colored eyes, and the single line above his brow were the only physical features which separated their father from his offspring in age. His curly raven hair was thick and glossy, his skin flawless and smooth; his knuckles were without the tale-tell signs of arthritis, and his physique was still the same build of a man well in his twenties.

  Objectively, Asher knew his father, along with the rest of his family, was strikingly attractive. Perhaps it was why their lack of aging was never called into question. The few times it had, they had easily charmed their way out of it. Asher had even seen his father make a grown man blush.

  “I’m assuming, since I’ve required all of us to be in attendance, that you know this isn’t a meeting about stocks or a public relations fiasco. This is a more serious matter.”

  Postures all around the table straightened, knowing he meant this had something to do with the Kingdom. Meetings weren’t often called for anything beyond business, because nothing outside of it ever really changed. Not a word was said, all waiting in anticipation of what was to come. Asher could tell his father was relishing the moment. What king wasn’t power hungry? The silence seemed to last an eternity, a slight smirk tugging at the king’s lips. Once he had his fill, he spoke.

  “As you know, the threat of witches hasn’t been present for hundreds of years. However, we don’t simply stay defenseless. We have scouts spread throughout the region to be sure those foul beings don’t attempt anything.”

  “We know this,” Eden interrupted. “Get to the point.”

  Asher held his breath, waiting for his father’s vicious temper. But, it never came. He and his brothers were accustomed to fury from their father when stepping out of line, even by a hair. However, Eden was protected by two things: being Carlyle’s only daughter and being the spitting image of their belated mother.

  The most his father did in response was hold up a hand to gesture her to be quiet. “Our scouts claim to have crossed paths with a mortal woman who smelled of dragon.”

  Gasps sounded, and jaws dropped. It didn’t need to be stated why that was so shocking. There was only one reason a human woman would ever smell of dragon: she was pregnant with a dragon’s child. But there hadn’t been a newborn dragon in five hundred years. After their grandfather had burned an important leader of the witches at the stake, their people had been cursed, unable to bear children. This couldn’t be real, it had to be a rumor; it was an interesting one at that.

  “Why give something so absurd attention?” Eden scoffed once the look of shock was wiped from her face.

  “This is not just some rumor being spread about. This was the account of two high-ranking scouts who swore it to be true. They both know I would have their heads on a spike for lying about something like this, not to mention wasting my time,” Carlyle actually snapped before straightening his tie and clearing his throat. It was obvious he was uncomfortable getting upset with Eden at even the lowest level. “I understand that, while it may be quite shocking, it is not something I am willing to turn away from on the off chance it is true. Because if it is, we need to figure out how.”

  “Well, this is exciting news, but what do you want us to do about it?” Theo pondered.

  “I don’t want word getting out about this, especially when it hasn’t been confirmed. We must get to the bottom of this before letting anyone know.”

  There was an intense silence surrounding them all, no one sure what to say or do. It was a matter of awaiting their father’s instructions. Once again, Carlyle savored the moment, knowing that any action that followed would do so because of his word. No matter the request, and no matter who it was given to, his command would be fulfilled. Their family and Kingdom knew all too well what happened to people who went against Carlyle Tallant.

  Finally, Carlyle’s eyes landed on Asher. “Since this is to be kept private and you obviously need something to do, I want you to lead the search for this woman.” Before Asher could protest, his father inserted, “You and Sebastian gather the men who first spotted her, and just a few more. As little as you can manage. One of the men who noticed this woman stayed there to try and pick up on her scent again.”

  Why me? Asher wanted to question him. He hadn’t been put in charge of anything since Olive had left him—he had been too deep in depression. Then again, he supposed that was the point. Carlyle wasn’t going to let him stay in this emotional and useless state forever. Doing his best to mentally accept all of this, he nodded and asked, “Is there a description of the woman?”

  “No,” his father sighed. “They, unfortunately, didn’t get a good look at her. The woman was in a crowd. They caught onto the scent, and no other of our kind seemed to be around. It had to have been a mortal.” Standing from his seat, Carlyle glanced at his children before sauntering to the door. “Take Sebastian to lead the charge with you. I want full reports every day and notice of any action taken.”

  The brothers met eyes. Asher inwardly sighed. What in the hell were they about to get involved in?

  2

  The scent of ash overwhelmed her sense of smell, taking over the other four, rendering them useless. The first to react was sound, hearing hushed words that seemed unpleasant and certainly not English or a language she recognized. Footsteps came from near and far. She was unable to guess how many people were approaching her. Touch; she went to bring her hand up but was met with resistance. What felt like a rope dug into her raw skin as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. As far as taste went, her mouth was the driest it had ever been. It hurt to swallow her own saliva. How long had she been here for? She didn’t want to open her eyes, but something in her gut urged her to do so. Reluctantly, she peered through her messy hair to see a familiar face.

  Her body filled with an immense fear, every molecule in her being screaming, no! He held a knife and a book, chanting with such devotion that it made her eyes focus on his gaze. Her stomach. Blood, so much blood. Her reaction was to scream, but only a hoarse whimper came out.

  The man’s reddish-brown eyes zeroed in on hers as a sickening grin grew on his face. He tutted the girl, “It’ll all be over soon, my dear.”

  Then, there was a piercing wail, one that caused her exhausted eyes to nearly pop out of her head. It was so tiny, so frail… It couldn’t be…

  But it was.

  Carlyle held up a premature baby by the ankle, showing it to the surrounding crowd. “This child is an abomination, its conception unnatural, and therefore will only bring the downfall of our great Kingdom. We sacrifice this son in the name of our dragon ancestors!”

  “No!” she screeched, her voice unrecognizable even to herself.

  It was too late. Carlyle was raising the knife to the baby. Her entir
e body tensed, so desperately wanting to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. Her baby, her poor, poor baby. Why couldn’t he just kill her?

  The people let out a horrendous cheer. It chilled her to see so many people clap and praise a man for killing the most innocent thing alive—to give applause as a mother wailed, tied down just feet away from where her firstborn son was slaughtered in front of her.

  Adrenaline coursed through Olive’s veins as her body jerked upright, a layer of sweat forming on her skin as she tried to catch her breath.

  Terrifying. That was the only word Olive could put to the nightmare. To take her breath away and leave her utterly helpless wasn’t an easy thing to do. But a few visuals of Carlyle and her child left Olive in a haze. A droplet of sweat fell from her chin onto her clasped hands, making her realize that she was no longer in the dream, that she was safe.

  A sigh of relief left Olive’s lips, brushing a hand through her hair as she tried to recollect her thoughts. A sudden knock came to her bedroom door, and Olive knew, without any introduction from the person on the other side, that it was her best friend, Esme. If there was any sort of savior out there, it was Esme. She somehow always knew when Olive needed her.

  “Come in,” Olive called through the door, stretching out her limbs. The door seemed to burst open, and Esme swooped in beside her with an ice-cold water bottle and a warm rag. The sight was enough to bring a weak smile to Olive’s face.

  “Are you okay? These dreams are getting worse.” Esme frowned and placed the wet rag on her forehead. She then opened the water bottle, forcing Olive to drink it, as she preferred to hydrate herself with whatever sugary beverage was available.

  The two had a unique friendship; although they’d only known each other for a year and a half, they had a bond unlike any other. Esme was like a best-mom-friend, someone who always had Olive’s back, even if it inconvenienced her, yet was also very much a “go with the flow” kind of girl. Olive had always admired her so much for that.

  Making the decision to leave her past behind was one the hardest of choices Olive could have ever made. Luckily, she’d had Esme, who had agreed to come with her, but Esme was so used to a life on the road. She was a drifter, never staying in one place too long, and she seemed to be content with that. Olive wasn’t on that spectrum—she was one to set out plans and stick to them. Going into the unknown always gave her paranoia.

  “Olive?”

  Snapping out of her endless thoughts, Olive rubbed her forehead with a small nod. “Sorry. This dream was different from the others. It’s still got me on edge, you know? It’s hard to explain, but it feels like these nightmares, dreams, whatever, are telling a story. And right now, I’m in the middle of the most complex part of the series.”

  “Well, I don’t know too much about how dreams work or anything, but the way these have been going on have to mean something. C’mon, we have to get you ready.”

  At first, Olive had no earthly idea what Esme was referencing, but then it clicked into place. She had a babysitting job that day. Her eyes widened at those words, along with a series of cuss words leaving Olive’s mouth. “I forgot!”

  Olive threw the covers off herself and hurried towards the shared bathroom. A quick glimpse in the mirror was enough to earn a few grumbles from her. A night of tossing and turning didn’t exactly give you that stylish bedhead look. Shutting the door, Olive undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away all memories and feelings that stuck with her after the dreams. They had been happening ever since Olive had left, making her question if leaving was even the best decision. Nothing had prepared her for a life on her own, which was why having Esme on the journey meant so much to her.

  As Olive rinsed her skin off, her attention became focused on the sole reason she had left in the first place: her baby bump.

  Growing up, Olive had always been a scrawny little thing, and when she finished puberty, the most she had were subtle curves. Then, at almost seven months pregnant, her curves were certainly more than subtle. Her small frame caused her growing stomach to appear even more prominent. Elderly women occasionally stopped her on the street to ask when she was due. Nothing made her more uncomfortable than when strangers touched her stomach.

  Asher would never get to touch her stomach.

  The thought caused her whole body to ache. God, how she missed him. Any time he came to mind, it was like the air was sucked out of the room, and she felt moments away from keeling over. Her mind was on a nonstop loop of missing Asher and reminding herself she was doing what was best for her child; their child.

  Sometimes she wondered if it would have been best to confront him with it and then run away together, but she knew that he wouldn’t have listened. Asher would have been overjoyed to have a child, of course, but he was under his father’s thumb, whether he would admit it or not. He wouldn’t understand the uneasy feeling that Carlyle gave her from the very moment they had met.

  None of that mattered now. Only Olive, the baby, and Esme did. They would be their own quirky little family, and that was going to have to be enough for her.

  Stepping out of the shower, Olive used her towel to dry her impossibly long hair and pulled it into a bun on the top of her head. Since this was her first time meeting the couple she was babysitting for, she should have to put more effort into her appearance. But she was going to be watching after a two-year-old. Getting put together didn’t seem worth the effort. Besides, it would more than likely be the only time she would be able to babysit for them.

  Olive and Esme had been getting by working odd-end jobs, posting and responding to advertisements on local Facebook pages anywhere they went. Olive mostly stuck to housekeeping and babysitting while Esme put her bartending license to use, getting jobs for just a night or two on every town they went to and bringing home over a hundred dollars a night in tips. Esme had a charming and magnetic personality, both flirty and crude, tough and quick-witted, all the while being sensitive, secretive, and protective. Even after a year and a half of close friendship, Esme remained a great mystery to Olive. The girl wasn’t the type to share lengthy stories about her life; she’d rather have you pick up bits and pieces as you hung around her. It was fascinating and kept Olive’s attention, for sure.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, Esme beamed up to her from the kitchen. “How are you feeling? Want some eggs and toast?”

  “Maybe just some toast and juice,” Olive replied, patting her stomach. The little one never really had Olive in touch with her appetite first thing in the morning, which was fine by her. Anything was better than spending the first couple of hours of every morning with her head in the toilet bowl.

  “You need to feed him,” Esme tutted.

  Olive let out a cheerful laugh. “Why are you so certain it’s a boy?”

  “Because I know, and I’ve never been wrong,” Esme winked.

  One bit of information that Olive had gathered about Esme was that her family had been predominantly women, having lots of sisters and aunts. Being the youngest of them all, she had witnessed many of her sisters go through pregnancy and give birth. Apparently, Esme had never been wrong once about the gender of the baby. What a useful superpower, Olive would chastise playfully.

  “He’s plenty fed. Did you not see me kill that mac and cheese last night?”

  “Who didn’t see that?” Esme poked as she sat a small plate of toast and a glass of juice in front of Olive.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Mhmm, just tryin’ to care for my daughter and sweet grandson.”

  After more banter and a few slices of toast, Olive and Esme were out the door. While babysitting and cleaning really took it out of Olive, she was thankful for it. It kept her busy and gave her the opportunity to really feel independent, like perhaps she could raise the baby on her own. Although it wasn’t much, Olive managed to stash away ten dollars or more a day to have when the baby arrived. Of course, nothing she could ever provide would equate the life of luxury the
little one would have if Asher were in the picture.

  3

  After Carlyle left the room, Asher sank in his chair. That entire meeting had been done in the fashion that his father thrived off of. Mysterious, beating around the bush, and then dropping a bombshell before quickly exiting.

  “I don’t believe this.” Eden shook her head. “I mean, isn’t it more likely it was just a dragon the guys didn’t know?”

  “Are there any dragons you aren’t aware of?” Theo mused. After five hundred years of their population at a standstill, everyone knew everyone. Even if you didn’t know their name, you knew their face, as well as their immediate family.

  “Well, even Father said the guys didn’t get a good look at the girl. She could have just been a dragon.”

  That didn’t make sense either, though. On top of everything else, dragons didn’t necessarily have a scent they were aware of, unless it was their mate or mother. It was more of a sense, an aura you could feel in the presence. The smell only became prominent when a mortal woman was pregnant with a dragon child. It was a phenomenon that hadn’t been explained. Osric, their grandfather, was the first dragon-shifter, and he was a mere two-thousand years old. So that only left fifteen hundred years of repopulating before their lineage had been cursed. It wasn’t a whole lot of time to figure much of anything out.

  Five hundred years of nothing new also left a lot of room for infighting. Other clans within the Kingdom were constantly talking of overthrowing the Tallant family, thinking they could lead better than Carlyle. After all, Osric was the one who had cursed them all by being far too cocky and prideful and burning a witch leader at the stake, inciting the largest witch hunt in mortal history. Yet Carlyle had a certain charm, as well as a heavy, demanding hand. Nothing was going to budge him from his throne. Not for quite some time, at least.