Shifters Forever Worlds Epic Collection Volume 3

by Elle Thorne

Looks like I am now.

  Certainly did.

  The sun had set on a slow and lazy Sunday evening, probably everyone was busy getting ready for their Monday, and still, Range watched.

  His phone’s Bluetooth buzzed in his ear. He clicked to answer after glancing at the screen and verifying it was a call from home.

  Probably Asa checking up on me.

  “Hey,” he said into the Bluetooth earpiece.

  “Done yet?”

  Of course, it was Asa. He was always the first to check on him.

  “Almost.”

  “What’s left?” Asa’s tone was suspicious.

  “Wrapping up some stuff.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “Gotta run, Asa.”

  And Range did have to get into motion, at least, he had to get off the phone because the front doors opened, and out stepped Eira Winter.

  She wasn’t dressed for a club this time. She was in jeans and a jacket. Her hair was loose, and her features determined.

  Where you going, pretty lady? Range wondered.

  As soon as she’d stepped outside and to the right, she vanished into the parking garage.

  He was expecting to see at least a couple of the guys get out and head toward the front door. That’s what he would do if he were going somewhere to collect an item that had been stolen.

  What he didn’t expect—all eight guys to step out of their respective vehicles and head toward the parking garage.

  Now, they wouldn’t be doing that unless she was the item they were there to collect.

  Damn.

  This was not the simple ending to the story he was expecting. Nor was it the easy solution. And it sure wasn’t something he could walk away from.

  And he wouldn’t.

  The group stopped, and Ponytail gave instructions to a couple of the guys, who parted ways from the group and headed back to their cars.

  He stepped out of the truck, manually locked the door to keep the alarm from chirping, and slowly pushed the door until it clicked.

  He double-timed it to the garage and followed Ponytail and his posse at a safe distance until they’d entered the covered parking area.

  He trailed them, going from column to column.

  Then he saw them. Just in time. Six thugs against one defenseless woman.

  They had her circled.

  Range lowered, ready to lunge forward in a sprint. He could take those six. Okay, maybe not easily, but he could. Unless they had weapons. Yeah, he could still take them, but it might get bloody. For him. And real bloody for them.

  He didn’t get a chance to intercept the fight that the thugs were taking to Eira.

  Before he could react, she’d dropped, twisted her body, kicked out one of the attacker’s knees.

  He caught sight of her eyes. They’d gone from a deep violet color to glittering obsidian.

  The second attacker had a knife. She’d disarmed him, swiped it across one guy’s neck, then plunged it into the another’s chest.

  His first thought was

  —she’s not human.

  He knew she wasn’t a shifter, but she clearly was no mere mortal.

  Then, just like that—

  She collapsed.

  Flat out freaking dropped as if someone had turned her switch off.

  What the hell did they use on her?

  One guy was holding a blowgun. Yeah, just like the ones Range had seen in South America. But what the hell was in it?

  The only thing that Range could think of was a Tranq, like the ones developed to use on shifters.

  But she’s not a shifter.

  And your average tranquilizers wouldn’t do that, not even to a human. There’d be a lag between the time they darted her and the time she was unconscious.

  This had to be some special type of military-grade tranquilizer.

  Headlights shone to his right.

  The thugs’ two sedans pulled up.

  She was shoved—unceremoniously—into one of the vehicles and several piled in with her. The rest jammed themselves and their wounded into the second car.

  “Well, damn,” he whispered.

  So much for intervening.

  He’d been so stunned by her performance, he hadn’t moved. And she’d have taken them bastards, if it weren’t for whatever they stuck her with.

  As soon as the cars pulled out of the garage, he sprinted toward the pickup and gave chase, staying subtly behind, but not too far.

  He burned with anger.

  They’d lied to him.

  They were after her—not after some piece of property that she’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend.

  And I handed her over.

  A lamb to the slaughter.

  But what kind of woman could fight like that? Could move like that? She had better moves than some of the guys he’d served with.

  What the hell is she?

  And what the hell do they want with her?

  Chapter Seven

  Range had followed the vehicles, north of Houston, and then north of Huntsville.

  Where the hell are they going?

  Not much farther, they’d turned off onto a road, then taken a right at a fork, onto a dirt road.

  At this point, it would’ve been too obvious to be following, so Range found the perfect hiding spot for the truck and pulled it in, assuring it was well hidden in the thicket of trees that surrounded it.

  He shoved the keys to the truck in the brush beneath the front tire on the driver’s side, shifted into his wolf immediately, and followed the taillights of the second sedan, staying in the brush.

  The area was thick with woods and seemed uninhabited.

  Not long after, they came to another fork, a different dirt road, and turned.

  The road ended in a gate. One of the men exited the vehicle, and with a key, unlocked the padlock on the gate.

  Hidden by the foliage, Range watched, noting that a vehicle would not be able to enter or exit without the key, because the wooded area that surrounded the road provided a solid barricade.

  After securing the lock behind the vehicle, they took off down the dirt road, with Range several feet behind and to the left.

  Not long after, the cars pulled up to a large building.

  From the cover of the trees, Range appraised the structure while men unloaded and unceremoniously carried a still unconscious Eira into the front door…

  The building resembled a cross between a garrison and a fortress, but built in such a way as to not raise eyebrows.

  Nice design, Range noted.

  If he were putting it together, he’d have done the same. It was faced with stone, but he detected a metal gleam in some areas. Stone reinforced by metal.

  What are they keeping out? Or keeping in?

  Chapter Eight

  Eira shook her head.

  What was I hit with?

  They’d found her. She didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know the berserkers had caught up with her. And who was next?

  She had to get word to the sisterhood to clear out the area. If they had one of them, that didn’t mean the berserkers would be happy. They’d want them all.

  Damn the bastards. Ancient enemies to her kind.

  They weren’t always our enemies, she noted.

  Berserkers hunted them, always seeking to find them in their hideouts.

  We should take the battle to them, she thought. Smoke them out of their lairs and destroy every last one of them.

  Berserkers came to be long, long ago. Once they were bear shifters, marauders, plunderers.

  And Eira’s kind were once mere mortal women. Until they were taken prisoners by the bear shifters. They prayed for help every day, to be freed from their captors and to punish the brutish bear shifters.

  And punished, the bear shifters were, as they’d been cursed, their bears driven to madness.

  Thus, the berserkers were created.

  Thus, Eira’s kind came to be.

 
That was then. Now, they used every means they could to find them, every means they could to discover a way to restore themselves to their former selves. Berserkers sought the answer to their restoration by capturing Eira’s kind.

  No, Eira would have no pity for berserkers.

  Serves the bastards right.

  Yet, a part of her wondered why she held such animosity toward a group whose ancestors committed the wrongs. Was it fair to want to make these berserkers pay for the deeds their predecessors had done?

  Today’s berserkers commit their own set of wrongs. Hunting us, kidnapping us.

  And no one knew what happened to the kidnapped ones. Were they tortured? Questioned? Killed? Kept?

  Eira’s eyes narrowed.

  Whatever the fate of a captive was, she didn’t intend to make it hers.

  Not for a second.

  She took measure of the room she was in.

  No windows. A single door that had no handle. And the walls were constructed of metal.

  What kind of metal, she wondered.

  She glanced around surreptitiously, wondering how they were keeping an eye on her, though she was sure they were.

  They in this case would be the humans the berserkers hired. Humans used as instruments to find and capture Eira, and any like her. Humans who were disposable.

  She didn’t see any cameras, but that didn’t mean none were hidden in the walls.

  Metal walls. She wondered if…

  She rose to her feet, her balance still off a bit from whatever they’d darted her with.

  —and what the hell was in that dart anyway?—

  She reached out and touched a wall.

  Eira flinched, jerked her hand backward and studied her fingertips.

  Burnt.

  Electrum. The walls contained electrum, an alloy which was her kind’s Achilles’ heel.

  Yes, only the berserkers would know this.

  She heaved a sigh, and turned around and around, slowly, looking for the cameras, or any sign that would indicate she was being watched.

  There.

  A tiny round reflection in the corner. She stood facing it and crossed her arms over her chest, letting them know she was waiting for the next step.

  Whatever that will be.

  Chapter Nine

  Range was patient.

  He had no idea how many more men were in the building—could be none. Or it could be two dozen.

  He knew the risk. He would be alone, fighting all of them, while Eira Winter was unconscious.

  It were these thoughts that he was immersed in when the front door burst open.

  Out flew the very woman who should be unconscious.

  Behind her came three men.

  She whirled on them, facing them, and raised her head releasing a battle cry.

  Holy hell, what’s this?

  His wolf’s hearing picked up a sound. If he didn’t know better…

  That sound was just like the one he made when he shifted into his wolf.

  Or at least it was like one of the myriad of sounds his wolf made as it took over his body. Bones crunching. Sinew stretching. Muscles elongating.

  He watched closely.

  Had he been mistaken? Was she a shifter?

  Suddenly, she leapt six feet into the air, then delivered a kick to the head of one of the men on her way down. “That’s for trying to rape me, asshole.”

  The kick she’d delivered had been to Ponytail’s head. His head snapped back, and it was clear his neck was broken.

  Another one of the thugs rushed her, and she dropped into a stance, then rose, flipped and—

  What the hell?

  Range had training. Lots and lots of one-on-one, lots of hand-to-hand, but the shit this woman was doing, the way she parried, darted, ducked, and took the men out was incredible.

  And Range was pretty sure he wasn’t needed.

  Until three more men came out.

  And one of them had the blowgun.

  Eira Winter’s eyes widened.

  Range knew what he had to do, and before he could plan his move, he was in his wolf form, and out of the bushes and going for the arm of the man who held the blowgun.

  He latched onto the man’s forearm, dislodging a joint and making the man drop the weapon.

  Eira watched, stunned and frozen for a second, before she attacked one of the men.

  Range attacked a different man, going for the throat, slashing at tender flesh with long canines. He fought next to Eira as other men came out of the building.

  Seconds later, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The man with the blowgun had risen and was taking aim at Eira.

  Range growled.

  He was too far from the man. There was no way he’d be able to put a stop to it.

  Eira turned a panicked eye toward the man.

  When the dart flew from the barrel of the blowgun, Range did the only thing he could.

  He leapt in the way of dart, steeling himself for the second that it hit his shoulder, hoping that it wasn’t a Tranq—a specially engineered tranquilizer that could affect a shifter.

  The dart pierced his wolf hide and lodged itself into his flesh.

  He snarled in response to the pain and went into beast-mode, attacking the dart-blower, taking him down. Range picked up the blowgun between his jaws, and with a mighty crunch, severed it into pieces. Since he was still standing, it obviously wasn’t a Tranq.

  But what was it?

  Eira watched him from the corner of her eye as she leapt and dropkicked one of the attackers.

  The men were down.

  Not all were dead, and he had no idea if more were coming.

  He looked at her pointedly, then trotted toward the trees.

  Chapter Ten

  Eira couldn’t have said what was going on, but out of the blue, here came this massive wolf, snarling and attacking the thugs who’d captured her.

  And then he’d taken the blowgun out of commission. How did he know? Could a wolf have instincts like that? To ascertain the threat of that weapon?

  And now the wolf was taking off for the forest. And yet after a few paces, the wolf turned back to look at her, as if urging her to follow.

  She assessed the situation, and figured that was her only option.

  All of this took less than a second to process, then she was running after the wolf, and shortly after, she was keeping stride with the beast.

  They ran and ran, until finally they reached a pickup truck.

  She paused to catch her breath and study the sight before her, then she looked at the wolf.

  Why the hell would he bring her here?

  And then, before her very eyes, she witnessed something she’d only ever imagined.

  Of course, she knew about shifters.

  That’s how berserkers came to be after all, from bear shifters.

  But witnessing one changing right before her very eyes, even being supernatural herself, that was something to behold.

  The creaking and crunching, the sound of tearing and groaning, as animal flesh gave way to human flesh was unsettling, to say the least.

  The resulting human was a shock.

  “You,” she exclaimed. Her voice breathless, though the run had not caused said breathlessness.

  Before her, the man from the club. She narrowed her eyes.

  This is no coincidence.

  The man was tall, that much she’d been right about. And he was muscle-bound, from what she could tell, under clothing that was rumpled.

  And here I thought they shifted naked. So much for lore.

  His face was chiseled, carved from granite, with eyes that matched. And close-cropped hair. Close-cropped, as in military cut.

  To say he was attractive would not give credit to the gods that had created this magnificent creature. A creature that shouldn’t be here. A creature that raised her suspicions.

  “What are you doing here?” she growled, and the sound of her own voice reminded her of the an
imal sounds he’d made earlier.

  A small smile broke the angles of his face, taking him from an I could kick the world’s ass look to one that was dangerously sexy. “I’d say I was saving your ass. That’s what I’d say I was doing here.”

  “Who said I needed help?”

  “Judging from the way that blowgun took you out the first time, you needed someone’s help. That’s for damned sure.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Range fought the urge to bite down on his damned lips. Now why the hell did he go and tell her that he’d seen her knocked out by the blowgun?

  His exclamation didn’t go unnoticed, he saw. Her eyes, already narrowed with suspicion were slits now.

  And still the woman was drop dead gorgeous, in a crazy way.

  A crazy, wish I could take her right now way, he noted.

  Her cheeks had an angry bloom on them. “What the hell—”

  “You really want to stay here and visit? Talk about how I happened to be at the right place, at what I’d call the right time?” He dropped to his knee and scooped up the keys from under the leaves at the bottom of the tire, then rose and jingled them near his face. “I suggest we get the hell out of here before your friends come looking for you.”

  It didn’t look like she was going to argue that point.

  She frowned at him and opened the door, jumping in.

  He followed suit and started the truck, pulling out quickly and wasting no time to getting the hell out of there.

  Eira Winter was seated as close to the door as she could be.

  You’d think I have something contagious.

  They were off the dirt path, but still on some country road headed back to I-45.

  She’d been silent the whole time, as though processing.

  Or plotting.

  Range wouldn’t put it past her. The woman was something else. He’d never seen someone fight quite like she did. Even in the Special Forces Unit, none had those specific skills.

  It was like watching a form of martial arts he’d never seen before.

  “What are you?” he asked her.

  She said nothing, her profile stoic.

  “Look—” patience was not one of Range’s virtues, “—seems only fair that since you know about me… about what I am.”