Wolf Rock Shifters Books 1-5: Five BBW Paranormal Romance Standalone Novels (48 page)

It was around ten a.m. that they heard the SUV approach and eventually car doors and voices.

The door opened. Nash had waited all this time for this moment. The boss would finally be revealed. Who was he?

But the only people he saw were Cecile’s father, who looked unkempt and a little battered, Fargo and Larry, the shifter with the multi-coloured eyes. Brick seemed conspicuously absent, after being such a meat-headed presence the day before.

“What’s going on?” asked Nash, his impatience kicking in. “I thought his holiness, the lord commander was coming.”

“He’s here,” said Fargo.

Nash looked at Conrad Malcolm. “So it is you,” he said quietly.

Malcolm raised his head and looked into Nash’s eyes.

“Far from it,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t understand. You said…” Nash looked at Fargo.

“I think I can help you out,” said Larry, stepping forward. The wounds that had been on his face from the grizzly attack seemed to fade in front of Nash’s eyes. Then he pulled his shirt off, then his pants, and shifted into the form of a large grey wolf with light blue eyes. The same wolf Nash had seen attacking the calf, what now seemed like an eternity ago.

“Holy shit,” said Nash.

The wolf morphed then into something else: a jaguar. And then a bear; a grizzly with a drooping lip. And then Brick stood before Nash.

“I wanted to have a look at Conrad Malcolm’s daughter,” the man said. “But not as myself. This oafish body seemed appropriate.”

Then he shifted again, finally, into a lion who looked very much like Nash himself.

“So you’re a changer,” Nash said. “And the leader.”

“Nash, meet Lawrence Donner,” said Fargo.

“You knew this whole time?” Nash asked, his tone accusing.

“No. I didn’t. Believe me, this was a surprise.”

Cecile winced when she heard the name. She remembered it from her childhood; this man who had been arrested. She had hoped with everything in her that she’d heard the last of him. She remained seated on the cot, anxiously looking at her father for traces of injury.

“Why,” she asked quietly, “are you doing this? What do you want with my father?”

The lion changed then, and a naked, muscular man stood before her. He picked up his pants off the floor and pulled them on.

“Well, my dear,” he said, “Let’s just say that I’m paying a debt.”

“What do you mean? Dad, what does he mean?” Cecile was growing nervous now.

“He doesn’t mean anything,” her father muttered. He seemed disoriented and his voice made Nash think he’d been punched, if not kicked, in the gut.

“No. Nothing,” said Lawrence. “Aside from the fact that this man, your beloved father, stole my wife.”

Cecile stood now, and stared at the two men. The strong one, who looked as young as she was, and the one who now seemed so weak, bent over, his grey hair messed up, his clothing disheveled.

“What? Your wife? That’s not possible. My father has been single since my mother died.”

“No doubt. Well, in all likelihood he’s frequented some houses of ill repute—you’re not naïve enough to think he hasn’t had sex, are you, young woman?” Lawrence seemed to alter again now, his face aging a little, but remaining similar in structure. It was as though he’d only been concealing his years behind the façade of youth and vigour.

“When I was younger I had a few businesses back in Riverside. Your father worked for me. He was good, too. Very clever, very good at sales, if you want to call them that. Good, too, at intimidation. He was a big strong tiger, wasn’t he? Weren’t you, Conrad?” he asked, turning to Cecile’s father and putting a hand under his chin. “Yes. You were the best. And you were a handsome thing, too. The ladies certainly loved you.”

Malcolm let out a quiet sort of a grunt. Cecile wanted to run over and to protect him but she knew that she needed to wait. She had to find out the truth behind all of it. Maybe, at last, she would come to understand why her father had been lost to her.

“One lady in particular enjoyed your father,” said Lawrence, looking now into Cecile’s eyes. He approached her and as he did so, his own eyes changed colour, to a very light blue like her own. He put a finger under her chin as he’d done to her father and held his face only inches from hers. Cecile saw Nash take a step forward, prepared to strike should this man threaten to hurt his mate.

“Stay back, young lion,” said Lawrence, not turning his head. “This isn’t your business.”

“You’re making it my business,” said Nash.

“Am I? Are you worried that I’ll get my hands on your woman?” With that, Lawrence placed a palm in Cecile’s waist and pulled her to him. With the other hand he pulled gently at the garment which was wrapped loosely around her chest. “Worried that I’ll find my way to her naked body and have my way with her, as her father did to my beautiful wife? You know, she looked just like you, Cecile,” he said. “So lovely. And so tasty.”

With that, he licked her cheek from her chin up to her cheekbone. Cecile winced and Nash felt his claws and canines try to force their way out. He wanted to tear this man to pieces.

“What the fuck do you want?” asked Cecile, whose hands were still behind her back, feigning entrapment.

“I want to show your dear daddy what it’s like to lose the woman he loves.”

“So none of this was about money? None of it was about controlling the town?”

“Oh, don’t mistake me, darling. I love money. It’s my favourite thing. Next to repaying my enemies. And I have no greater enemy than your father. He took my wife—your mother—and he walked away, as though I’d never done a thing for him. He’s an ingrate, a bastard, and he deserves what’s about to come to him.”

“My mother was my father’s mate. You should understand that, you freak,” she protested, her rage increasing.

“Freak, is it? I suppose I am, a little. Able to turn into almost anything or anyone. And yet I lacked the power to save your mother when she died. I lacked the power to keep her for myself. All these skills and I couldn’t have the one thing I wanted.”

“What are you going to do?” Cecile asked finally.

“Fargo…restrain our lion friend, would you?” asked Lawrence. Fargo grabbed Nash’s hands and pulled them behind his back, slapping on a pair of handcuffs faster than Nash could react. The one trait that the weasel had going for him was speed, which was even greater than the lion shifter’s, and Nash grimaced at the realisation that for once, the bastard had the advantage over him. He felt the cuffs with his fingers and realized that they weren’t the same as Cecile’s; these were simple steel handcuffs. Fine for humans, not so effective on shifters.

“So you asked what I’m going to do?” said Lawrence. Canines eased out of his gums, growing to sabre-tooth-like lengths. “I’m going to kill you, of course.”

With that, the man leaned in and Cecile felt sharp points ease their way into the flesh of her neck.

In a split second she threw the steel cuffs to the ground and shifted, her tiger lunging at the man, who shifted in turn. Suddenly Cecile faced herself: a white tiger, prowling before her, its icy eyes staring her down.

She positioned herself sideways, her back arched, ears flat on her head and snarled at him.

Nash watched both cats, his hands attempting to free themselves from their shackles. This wouldn’t end well, he knew. Cecile was strong and fit, but Larry was stronger.

Conrad Malcolm, who stood hunched and facing the two great cats, seemed to snap to attention though. When one of the white cats leapt at the other, tearing at its side, the man who’d looked so weak and beaten down suddenly contorted into what looked like physical agony. Nash remembered that it had been years since Cecile had seen her father in cat form. But now he was changing, slowly and painfully, into a tiger.

Fargo saw it, but a little too late. He shifted too, leaping at the large cat who swatted him out of the way with his paw. The weasel went flying into one of the hard wooden walls and the wind was knocked out of him.

Nash, meanwhile, saw the brutal fight between the two cats, each of whom was giving and getting in equal amounts. The white fur was now caked in spots of blood and he knew that Cecile was suffering from multiple wounds.

Malcolm snarled, his tiger strong yet looking helpless as he paced, trying to allow instinct to kick in.

Nash knew that it was to him to win this fight, and that he was in for some pain of his own.

With a cracking of bones he shifted, the cuffs holding his paws twisted behind his back. He snarled and winced as he employed every ounce of strength to tear the weak chain between them apart, shattering the cuffs as he went.

It took a moment to settle and observe, and to know which cat was which. While Malcolm occasionally lunged, Nash could tell that he was confused as well. But finally Nash settled on Cecile. The thin brown circles surrounding her pupils gave her away; Lawrence lacked them and his eyes were pure bluish-white.

Lawrence leapt at Cecile, his teeth sinking into the back of her neck and Nash could tell that he meant to break her bones. He couldn’t wait any longer; he lunged at the tiger and did the same to him, tearing him off his mate and throwing him across the room. The weasel was charging around, utterly helpless, and Malcolm made his way over to his daughter and positioned himself in front of her, a wall of feline protection.

But she didn’t need it. Nash had the upper hand in this fight. Each time Lawrence leapt at him he was greeted with a quick swipe of a gigantic paw or a bite to the neck. The one time that Lawrence managed to get the upper hand, he found his mouth full of thick mane, his teeth unable to sink into the flesh that they craved.

Nash twisted around under the tiger, his paws reaching out and embedding themselves in the cat’s flesh. Lawrence lost his balance, falling over in pain and frustration, as Nash positioned himself on top again, grabbing the tiger’s chin in his mouth.

Lawrence went limp, his body submitting. Once again he’d lost. He’d lost the woman and the fight.

It was Malcolm who transformed first, wrapping a wool blanket from the cot around himself.

“Desiree came with me of her own volition,” he said quietly. “She was never meant for you, Lawrence. You should know that. You’re a shifter and your pride has always gotten in the way. I understand, though.” As he spoke, the cat stared at him, his body at the mercy of the lion whose jaw was still clamped on him. “I’ve lost myself. I’ve lost my instincts, my tiger. I forgot who I was for a while. But I’m a shifter too. We’re not meant to abide by human rules. When we find our mate, that’s it. You know as well as I do that Desiree and I would have died rather than lose one another. She was mine, and I was hers, and the day she died I lost my life.”

From behind him a voice said, “Not your life, dad.” Cecile had changed, covering herself again with the overcoat that was around her on the floor. Spots of blood penetrated the fabric. “I’m still here.”

Nash turned his eyes towards her and saw that she, the strongest woman he knew, was crying.

Her father turned to her and threw his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice choked. “For everything. My sweet girl.”

“It’s all right. I lost you but now you’re back,” she said. “Don’t forget who you are again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Lawrence shifted, near unconscious on the ground.

“Fucking hell. What are you going to do with me?” he moaned, blood trickling down his chest and arms.

“I don’t care what happens to you,” said Malcolm. “This is my home now, this town. And my daughter’s home. It’s populated by shifters, and they’re good. You don’t belong here. Give them back their money. I’ll let the wolf alpha decide what to do with you after that.

“And you,” he said, grabbing the weasel who was cowering now on the floor, “Will be punished along with him or I’ll hang your tiny head on the wall of my study.”

“For the record,” Lawrence muttered, “I still hate you, Malcolm.” With that he passed out.

“I hate you too,” said Cecile’s father.

Cecile draped some clothing over the lion who still stood over Lawrence as the man shifted, pulling his clothes on. Nash was largely unharmed; worthy of the same title as the horse Flak Jacket.

He turned to Cecile, who threw her arms around him in spite of her wounds.

“We need to get you looked after,” said Nash.

“I need to thank you, young man,” said Malcolm. “I owe you an apology.”

“It’s all right. You weren’t yourself. No apology necessary.”

“Well, let me make it up to you. Your reputation in this town has been tarnished. I can help you.”

“That would be great,” said Nash. “But the one thing I really want is this.” With that, he put his hand on Cecile’s head, the one part of her that seemed unscathed. “We need to look after her. She’s a rare and precious gem.”

“Agreed,” said Malcolm.

N
ash called Zoe
, who with Colson, Maddox, Kyla and various members of the wolf pack came to guard Lawrence and Fargo until Tristan’s return, which was to occur the following morning. This crime against both humans and shifters was too much to forgive, and while Tristan had issued pardons in past it was widely held that he would offer a stern punishment in this case.

When the prisoners were secured, Nash brought Cecile and her father to the local hospital to have their wounds tended.

“They’ll be fine,” the doctor told him. “Cecile’s wounds are many, but superficial, and she heals remarkably fast. That seems to be her particular gift.”

Nash thought about the theories that were quickly spreading that all shifters had gifts outside the obvious ability to change shape. He had yet to find his own, but the notion that his mate could heal quickly somehow reassured him. He wanted nothing more than to know that if something happened to him, she would nevertheless be protected.

“How are you feeling, gorgeous?” he asked as she sat up on an inspection table.

“Not bad,” she said, smiling at him, her beautiful light eyes sparkling under the hospital lights. “And you?”

Nash looked over at Malcolm, who was sitting some distance away, being tended. He was smiling. This was a wholly new experience for Nash.

“I’m good. Very good. Listen—do you want to go on that date?”

“I guess we never did, did we?”

“No, we certainly didn’t. I think it’s time we spend some time together without distractions.”

“I agree,” laughed Cecile. “We should do something completely banal like go to a movie.”

“Yes, that. As long as I can have you, I don’t care where on this earth we go or what we do. And I need to take you to bed. To a proper, warm, comfortable bed. I don’t think I’ve managed to explore every single morsel of you yet.”

“Well, by all means, be my Columbus. Discover me, baby.”

“I will. And I’ll be dividing you into territories to be conquered, just for the record.”

“I look forward to it.”

W
hen Tristan
and Nikki returned to their home with their new baby girl, whom they’d named Trista after her father, the pack and many of the town’s shifters were there to meet the three of them, including Dascha, the surrogate alpha who’d done a poor job of it.

“I’ll be having words with him,” Tristan told Kyla and Maddox when they expressed concerns.

No one blamed Dascha in the end for his inability to function properly. But it was clear that he needed more experience before a pack leader was to be in his future.

“I hear that I have you to thank for the resolution of this situation,” Tristan told Nash.

“You have a lot of us to thank,” said the lion shifter. “I merely did the job that was assigned me.”

“Well, that takes a good deal of fortitude and strength,” Tristan conceded. “People think the tough job is being the alpha, but sometimes it’s accepting another role that’s the most challenging.”

“I’m not great at being told what to do,” Nash admitted. “But I’m getting better.”

“Well, you’re welcome in the pack anytime, Nash. Anytime.” With that, Tristan shook his hand.

The wolf pack, led by Tristan and supplemented with those shifters who’d been involved in taking the crime ring down, determined that Lawrence Donner would be expelled permanently from Wolf Rock, but not before being given a ceremonial scar. This practice dated back hundreds of years to when pack members shamed a criminal by giving them a physical mark. It had a double use: as the clear trait of a law-breaker and as an identifying characteristic, in the event that the changer Donner should shift into an unrecognizable animal.

In Donner’s case, he was given a small black tattoo at the top of each ear. Animals tended to have less fur in that area, and so the tattoo would show clearly even when Donner shifted into his various incarnations.

The mark was that of a wolf’s head, snarling.

I
n the weeks following
, the town settled back down. Meetings were held to discuss what must be done in the case of future attacks. Aside from the wolf pack, a task force was organized, which Nash led; it was composed of the strongest shifters in town who would take charge of capturing anyone who threatened the other townsfolk. Some of the younger shifters who were coming up through the special school were given roles as well, dependent on their particular skills and gifts.

Nash’s parents forgave him, and more than that, his mother threw her arms around him and praised him as a hero, which he had to admit gave him a certain pride and almost made his own terrorizing of the town’s residents worthwhile.

Cecile rented a small house on the outskirts of town and her mate spent most of his time with her, discussing their future together. While he also spent some hours each day at the ranch, helping his parents, she checked in regularly on her father, who was becoming downright philanthropic, helping to fund building projects in town, donating to the Shifters’ School and generally seeming more like his old self.

The only missing link was Cecile’s sister Estée, who was still in Europe. Cecile had heard from her almost daily for months and suddenly she’d seemed to disappear.

It wasn’t until several weeks had gone by without word from her that Cecile went to their father.

“I don’t know where she is. At first I thought maybe she’d met someone and had just gotten busy, but now I’m worried,” she said.

“Me too.”

Conrad Malcolm summoned the task force to his house, including Maddox, Tristan, Nash and Colson, and discussed the matter.

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Tristan said. “But I have a thought. Dascha needs a distraction. He’s feeling better; his heat is over, though his love life remains unresolved. He’ll mend just fine, but he’s not fully back to his old self. I want to send him to look for her.”

“If you think that’s best. The last place she was seen is London,” said Cecile.

“Then that’s where he’ll go. He needs to earn his stripes within the pack again, and this will do it. He’s become a good tracker, Cecile. If anyone can locate her, it’s him.” Tristan turned to Malcolm. “And don’t worry, sir. We’ll bring your daughter back.”

T
hat night
after they’d made love, Nash and Cecile fell into a fitful sleep. Life, they knew, would be perfect if only they could discover that Estée was all right.

Dascha left the next morning, but first he came by their house to see them. He looked like a healthy, strong wolf shifter; not like the sickly man Nash had met at the cabin.

“I promise,” Dascha told them before he drove to the airport. “I won’t come back until I find Estée.”

With that, he shook Nash’s hand, hugged Cecile and left them and Wolf Rock behind.

After they’d watched his car disappear into the distance, the two mates entered their house and prepared to begin a long life together, their bond strengthening with each hour that passed.