Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) (30 page)

Allan walked over to Clint and hoisted him over his shoulders in one swift move.

“He saved my life.”
So did you.

Allan glanced over. His smile widened and his fangs punched out. “Maybe you can thank him later.”

My head tilted to the side. “Bit beyond saving, isn’t he?”

Somehow Allan conveyed a shrug with Clint draped around his shoulders. He glanced down at Ethan’s withering head. “We need to go.”

With my heart stuck in my throat like a dry hairball, I ran into the grand foyer with Allan close behind me. And stopped, nearly causing Allan to collide into my back. In front of us, two figures squared off to fight in the middle of the otherwise empty room, making the space seem enormous. Wick and Tristan in Were form.

I recognized both instantly. Wick’s sweet rosemary scent and Tristan’s citrus and sunshine slammed into my pores and set my mountain lion and wolf grappling with each other for control. I staggered and gripped Allan’s arm as he came to stand beside me.

Settle.
I pulled my falcon up close to the surface, so close, my eyes tingled, partially shifting into the bird’s. Using the heightened vision, and newly cleared mind, I scanned the room.

Where was the rest of the pack? Allan’s elite vamp legion? My hearing sharpened, letting in sounds of yelling and bodies crashing into one another beyond the doors. The main fighting had moved outside, then, leaving the two leaders to battle it out here. Wick limped and oozed blood, looking more damaged than Tristan. My chest tightened at the sight and I swallowed. In nature a lone wolf couldn’t compete with a leopard and the same held true for Weres. It didn’t matter how strong and big Wick was on his own, his power diminished without his pack and his alpha dominance held no advantage because Tristan had the feline equivalent. The power they emanated clashed together in the air, a torrent of authority sent my heartbeat racing. I saw the truth, even if I didn’t want to believe it: if no one stepped in, Wick would lose this fight.

My gaze snapped back and forth as they circled each other.

“We need to go,” Allan repeated.

Without another thought, I tossed the decaying head at Allan. He caught it and frowned.

“Hold that for me?” My expression must’ve conveyed my desperation, because he nodded, shifted Clint’s weight across his shoulders and grasped the stringy hair harder.

“I’ll meet you there. When you’re done, fly to Lucien’s. I’ll wait outside as long as possible. After that, you’re on your own.”

I nodded, not wanting to dwell on the inner workings of Allan’s mind or why he’d become so eager to help me. I turned toward the circling Weres as Allan jogged out of the building. I couldn’t best a Wereleopard one on one. But I could buy Wick time to heal. With a sudden burst of manic energy and no time to think, I ran across the room and willed the change.

Flying across the room, my feline body slammed into Tristan’s sleek black fur before he could deliver a devastating blow to Wick. We rolled, slashing at one another.

Andy!
Wick shouted in my head.

Heal,
I snarled back at him.
Quickly!

Tristan shifted his weight and tossed me off. My body sailed through the air and came down hard against the floor. My head snapped back and I slid to the floor.
Oh God, that hurts.
I stood on wobbly legs, but the room wavered and I keeled over. Before everything went black, my muscles and skin folded, shifting back to human form.

****

Maybe Tristan really was an angel.
It would explain why this one looked so much like him. I stared into the familiar sapphire eyes and frowned at his wrinkled brow and stooped posture. Why would an angel worry?

“Hang on.” His silken voice smoothed over my skin and rolled down my body. It awakened other sensations, less pleasant ones. The pain came slamming back.
I’m not dead.

I moved my head and regretted it.

“Shhh...” Strong hands stroked my hair back. I looked up to see Wick bending over me. My head cradled in his lap.

My eyebrows bunched together as I looked back at Tristan. He kneeled by my waist, one hand resting on my hip and the other gently held my wrist as if taking my pulse. My attention flicked again to Wick’s upside down face. They were both alive. “Why aren’t you fighting?”

“You interrupted us, love.” Tristan ran a crooked finger down my cheek. He paused and then snatched his blood covered hand back. My blood. Wick growled.

Tristan looked away from my face and started to say something to Wick when the door across the room slammed open.

“Tristan!” A naked Angie ran into the room. “Do you feel it? Ethan’s dead. We’re free!” Her ecstatic expression soured when she saw both men bent over me.

Turn that frown upside down
. Why would she be upset? She didn’t like me.

Wick’s worried expression turned back to my face.
What?
he asked.

I must have spoken that out loud, or in Wick’s head.
He probably thinks I’m losing it. Maybe I am. Maybe my brain is leaking out with my blood.
I didn’t have much left. Not after Ethan.

“Her mountain lion has retreated. I can’t reach it. But her wolf…” Tristan’s hand pressed firmer against my wound. “Heal her,” he hissed at Wick.

Wick didn’t need to be asked twice. He leaned down and hefted me into his arms. Tristan kept the pressure on the wound and moved with Wick.

“Why do you care?” Wick asked.

Tristan stared down at my face, his intense blue eyes met mine. “My cat has seen hers.”

Wick’s arms stiffened beneath me.

Tristan must have seen it. “We can fight over her later.” Tristan glanced back to my face. “We need her to survive first.”

Whatever he said after that became lost in the foggy gray void my mind slipped into. My last lucid thought contained regret that I had two naked Weres hovering over me and I hadn’t thought to
look
. Pity.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Wick’s voice acted as a cool salve to the burning pain flowing through my body. The nerve endings in my skin screamed from the multiple shifts and felt so raw, the high thread-count sheet covering me may as well have been a coarse wool blanket used for horses.

“It hurts.” I opened my eyes to find Wick’s face inches from mine. He lay on his side on top of the sheets, resting his head on his hand. I’d woken up in this bed before. Wick’s bed. His room still smelled of man, wolf and floral dryer sheets. I inhaled deeply and let the comforting scent soothe away some of the pain.

“I know.” Wick moved a strand of hair out of my face, giving me a better view of the small crease between his eyes and the slight tightness to his mouth. He hesitated, as if to say something more, but a small smile appeared instead.

“Crap!” I bolted upright in bed. Ignoring the pain lancing through my body, I grabbed the sheets to throw aside. “The head!”

Wick’s hand dwarfed mine as he laid it across my fingers. “Allan presented it on your behalf.”

My lip quivered so I bit down on it. “Did Lucien accept it as payment?”

Wick let a breath out and his gaze cut away. “He said he’d deliberate on the matter and pass judgment after you’re healed.”

I groaned and flopped back into bed.

“It will be okay, Andy.” Wick’s voice encouraged me to look back up. Waves of emotion emanated from his skin and percolated in my nose. My brows knit together as I analyzed his scent—a hint of fresh cut grass on a summer morning, poking through his normal rosemary, spoke of happiness; happy because I was safe, happy because it was over? But the pungent stench of canned ham and the skin of a snake soiled his otherwise joyful aroma. Why the despair? The turmoil?

Our gazes met and all coherent thoughts ran away. Wick’s irises flashed yellow, his wolf close and despite many shifts and the damage I sustained, mine howled in response. My mountain lion, recessed deep in my psyche for recovery, couldn’t act as a referee, couldn’t prevent my wolf from rushing up and simmering just beneath the surface.

Wick inched closer, dropping his head to mine. His fingers tangled in my hair as he pulled my face to his. Soft lips pressed in a kiss that could only be described as delicious.

More. I reached up and pulled Wick closer, wanting the weight of his body against mine, to hell with my injuries. He groaned and strong arms enveloped me as he deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking mine. Heat pooled in my body, making me ache in all the right places as he ran his large hands up my rib cage to cup my breasts. His hot mouth trailed kisses along my jaw and neck. He paused, hovering over the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder, where the carotid artery pumped fast to keep up with my galloping heart. His warm peppermint breath brushed against my nerve endings while he waited, wordlessly asking a question.

I pulled back. “No mating bond?” I wanted him to keep going, to keep touching, kissing and holding me, but I also wanted to take things slow, get to know him under more normal circumstances before the ultimate supe commitment.

“Not yet,” he agreed, his lips twisting into a smile. He slowly looked my body over. “I honestly don’t think you could handle it right now.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.” Wick shook his head. His rich whiskey and cream voice rolled over my skin and sank into my pores with his next words. “It’s a promise.”

A knock on the door interrupted our teenaged make-out session on the couch. The air hummed with silence before a subtle creaking sound of working hinges shattered it. Someone walked into Wick’s house without waiting for an invitation. Must be pack.

Pushing Wick and his glorious mouth away, I sat up on the couch to greet our visitor. A woozy feeling in the pit of my stomach bubbled up and I swallowed. It had only been a week since I woke up in Wick’s bed after the Ethan takedown, and if I moved too fast, my body gave me a good bitch slap to remind me I still needed to mend.

Clint strutted into the room.

My stomach rolled. I swallowed again and squeezed my eyelids shut against the waves of nausea. Maybe hallucination. It couldn’t be Clint…could it? He might be a human servant, but he
died
. Glazed eyes and all. I’d seen it.

My stomach settled and I pried my eyelids open enough to squint through them. There, on the other side of the living room, stood a smug-looking Clint, smiling at me as if my confusion amused the heck out of him.

Holy crap!

My response came out in one breath. “
Whatthefuck
?”

“Allan said you had something to say to me?” He crossed his arms.

Wick moved off the couch and stood up. I averted my gaze to avoid the questions in his. I couldn’t explain the war of emotions going through my head right now anyway. On a normal day, I despised Clint and everything he stood for, but then he saved my life, interrupting Ethan long enough for me to recuperate and for Allan to arrive. The action cost him his life. Or so I thought. I’d wanted to thank him. But now…

“What the hell are you?” I asked. So much for voicing my gratitude. I would’ve been Ethan’s last meal if not for Clint. Well, Ethan had fed on me before he died, so technically I was his last—“And where do you buy your spinach?”

Clint smirked and stepped around to face me on the couch. “I told you I wasn’t without resources.” He leered down at me. “Did you miss me?”

“Only when I thought you were dead,” I grumbled.

“Well fun time is over. You’ve been summoned.”

Wick reached down and offered his hand. I clasped it and let him hoist me off the couch. Whatever Lucien wanted, we’d face it together. And it would be all right.

Born and raised on the Haida Gwaii off the West Coast of Canada, J. C. McKenzie grew up in a pristine wilderness that inspired her to dream.

She writes Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance.

You can visit her website at:

jcmckenzie.ca