Wolf Rock Shifters Books 1-5: Five BBW Paranormal Romance Standalone Novels (61 page)

E
stée awoke
to a brightly-lit room, the sun pouring in through a large window to the right of the bed.

For a moment she forgot where she was, her mind going to a childhood memory of a similar space in the family home where she’d been raised: comfort, warmth, light. A time before fear and stress had begun to rule her days.

But then images struck her in quick waves, sensations of the night with Dascha; his hands, his lips. His scent. The feeling of having him inside her, where he belonged, of her body and his moving in perfect synchronicity, taking him for everything he had, giving herself over to him entirely.

With a smile on her face she turned, extending an arm to reach for his warm body.

But there was no one on the other side of the bed; no wolf shifter, eager to have another go at her. No lover.

She rose, wrapping the top sheet around herself as she processed through the apartment, looking for signs of him.

“Dascha?” she called out softly. It must be ten a.m. by now; shit, why had she slept so long?

She looked into the bathroom, but other than a used towel hanging on the back of the door, no evidence of the man. Except for that scent, which sat on her like a second skin. His scent. His claim over her. She inhaled deeply, feeling herself sink into the floor at the memory of her ecstasy.

Wandering into the kitchen, she began to worry. But perhaps he’d just gone out to grab some coffee. She’d seen a shop down the road…

And then she saw it: his note, sitting on the table.

Have gone to deal with our problem.

Oh, no. She muttered the words out loud, rushing back to the bedroom. She rifled through the satchel for the package, but it was gone. He’d taken it.

Hurriedly she put her clothing on, grabbing an assortment of the new garments from her shopping bag. No, no. He had no idea what he was up against with Grendel. The man was ruthless, cruel. Beating an unworthy Alpha must have gone to Dascha’s head if he thought he could take on a mastermind.

Once she’d dressed she ran down the stairs, and as she did so she saw the apartment door swing open.

“Colin,” she breathed as the shifter walked in.

“Oh, good morning, Estée. I trust that you slept well…” he began before noting the expression on her face. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Dascha…he took off for London. To confront Grendel.”

“Oh God. He’ll be slaughtered by his men. Why would he do such a thing?”

For a moment Estée felt genuinely ashamed. “Because of me,” she said. “It’s my fault. He thinks he can get that man to forgive me, but he has no idea.”

“Well, we need to find him. At least we have an idea where to start, don’t we?”

“Do you think we’ll be too late?” she asked.

“I don’t know. But if we don’t leave now, there’ll be no chance. Come on; I have an idea.”

“
T
he flash drive
?” said Dascha, his hands at his sides, balling into tight, resistant fists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grendel looked as though he would tear the wolf shifter limb from limb, if not for all the potential witnesses in the building. The veins in his forehead pulsed, his neck reddening as Dascha somehow maintained his stoic expression, unwilling to break under the man’s icy gaze.

“Since I know that you don’t take me for a complete idiot, I think you know
exactly
what I’m talking about,” he said. “But come, let me show you around. Perhaps I can convince you why it’s important that you give me what I need.”

Dascha, confused but at least temporarily alive, watched as Grendel gestured to him to make his way towards the hallway which divided the large office from the series of laboratories occupied by busy scientists. Some were sitting, looking through microscopes; others examining data on computers or putting test tubes into refrigerators.

“What is this?” Dascha asked. “What’s going on here? I thought you ran some sort of financial business.”

“Every business is a financial one,” said Grendel. “The difference here is only in how I earn my billions.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” said the man, his smug smile so very punchable. “It’s rather complex, you see.”

He stopped before one of the windows and turned to Dascha. “These scientists are geneticists, you see. Hired by yours truly to engineer the perfect shifter.”

“You’re making clones?”

“No, not clones. We are making better versions of the shifters who already exist. Compiling genetic information in order to create what will amount to the greatest warriors that have ever been known.”

“And how exactly are you doing this?”

“We have accumulated a good deal of genetic information over the course of many years now. Abilities, shifted forms, all our potential, combined. You know by now that many shifters have gifts beyond the simple ability to transform; some are clairvoyant, for instance. Others have the gift of unnatural speed, or stealth, or teleportation.”

Dascha was aware of these gifts. He’d only ever been a shifter, never exhibiting these other traits. He supposed that this made him less of a target for men like Grendel. That was one saving grace to being relatively normal, at least.

Grendel opened the door to the first lab, stepping inside.

“Bring us Hegel,” he said to one of the scientists, who responded by nodding. The man left the room via a door on its other side, returning a moment later followed by a man so large that he had to bend in order to make his way through.

“Holy shit,” said Dascha, unable to help himself. The man was a fortress.

“Hegel has elements in him of bear, lion, and yes, even wolf. He is gifted with night vision as well, from owl DNA. And that is only the beginning.”

“And what exactly is his purpose?” asked Dascha. “What are you going to do with him? Keep him locked up until you need to sic him on someone? Seems to me that you’re building really big slaves.”

Grendel laughed. “Well, in a sense you’re correct. I do intend to sell him,” he said. “For ten or so billion dollars, to the highest bidder. And for every Hegel I produce will come ten billion more. You see, each of these men is worth hundreds of humans to the military.”

“You are creating an army?” asked Dascha. “You’re fucking nuts. You can’t do that.”

“Can’t I? Well, I’ll admit that it’s not entirely legal. But then again, the military is famous for ignoring the letter of the law. But don’t you worry; these aren’t slaves. They’ll be treated well, paid, even, for their troubles. Given homes. Isn’t that right, Hegel?”

The gigantic shifter nodded silently, his eyes trained straight ahead.

“What does any of this have to do with me?” asked Dascha.

“The drive that you’ve so cleverly removed from the jade tiger contains some…important…information, which I would rather not lose. Genetic codes for shifters, information that I acquired some time ago. And I want it back.”

“Well, then, you’re going to need to promise me that you’ll leave Estée alone. Forever. Because I’m not giving it to you for anything less than that.”

Grendel’s jaw clenched. “You are in no position to bargain with me, Dascha. Our friend here could snap you in half, if I demanded it of him.”

“Aw,” said Dascha, approaching Hegel. “He wouldn’t do something like that, would you, buddy?” With that, he slapped the enormous shifter’s back, his hand smarting from the impact. Hegel didn’t flinch.

“He would, in fact. They’re awfully obedient, you see,” said Grendel.

“Well, you’ll just have to kill me then. Because I’m not giving you that drive until you agree to my terms. Oh, and I should probably tell you,” said Dascha, extracting his cell phone from his pocket and hitting a button. “I’ve been recording our entire conversation, which I just emailed to someone very close to me with the instructions to release it to the public and to Scotland Yard if anything should happen to Estée or her family.”

Grendel tensed once again, his own hands clenching into furious orbs, knuckles going white.

“Fine,” he said. “I’d hoped to extract a sample of DNA from her. White tigers are very rare, you see. But I will leave her alone. And you will guide me to my drive, or you’ll be divided into eighty pieces at the hands of our friend here. Understood?”

“I think I’ve grasped your meaning,” said Dascha, once again eyeing the enormous Hegel. “Let’s go.”

“
I
’ll take
you to the place where I left it,” said Dascha. “The Tower Bridge, so we’ll do this quietly and calmly. I don’t want any humans harmed. Understood? If you try anything…”

“You’ll bite my arse with your big, sharp fangs. Yes, I know.
Wolves.
A bunch of bloodthirsty lunatics, you are. Now, let’s go find this flash drive of mine, shall we?”

A half hour later, the wolf shifter found himself once again wondering how the hell he’d gotten to this place as he stood in the center of the Tower Bridge, facing the Thames River. Small boats cruised by underneath him, cars circulating behind him, and two enormous shifters stood on either side of him as Grendel watched from a few feet away, an amused smirk on his face.

All told, it was as good a place for a public meeting as any. Estée was hopefully far away by now, safe from pursuit. And, thanks to him, she would even be able to return to Wolf Rock if she so pleased. Even if Grendel pursued her, at least the British police force wouldn’t.

In his hand, Dascha turned over the tiny drive which he’d extracted earlier from the jade tiger.

It had occurred to him as soon as he’d seen the small cat that the scored lines in its belly were more than cracks; they were the outline of a small compartment. And so, as Estée had slept that morning, he’d removed it from her bag and pried it open, pulling out the flash drive from within. This, he knew, was what Grendel sought. The cause of all their problems.

E
arly that morning
, before heading to the office building, Dascha had fulfilled his fantasy of seeing the Tower Bridge up close, making his way deliberately to its center, where he’d found a small hole underneath the steel railing; just large enough to conceal the drive, holding it solidly in place with a piece of gum that he’d been chewing.

As he’d stood looking over the boats below, he’d contemplated the spot in the exact middle of the London landmark: the perfect halfway division between the two halves of the bridge underfoot. When tall boats needed to pass underneath, it would split in two, each side of the horizontal roadway angling itself sharply upwards to let the vessels pass through below.

“What’s so important that this man was willing to ruin Estée’s life over it?” Dascha had muttered, studying the small object before concealing it in the hole and making his way towards the nearest Tube station.

And now he knew the truth. The idea of constructing super soldiers of genetic material derived from his species didn’t sit well with him, to put it mildly. The shifters of Wolf Rock worked to get society to accept their kind and now, Grendel was creating another chasm between them and humanity, defining them as an anomaly. Something more animal than human; unfeeling beasts intended for combat, for killing.

But the military wasn’t really Dascha’s concern. Every bit of motivation for the last forty-eight hours had only to do with one woman’s happiness and safety. He would do anything for her; if he had to, he would even go so far as to return the drive to its owner. The consequences of his action could be dealt with another time.

“
L
et’s have it
.” The voice made the hair on the back of Dascha’s neck stand up, bringing him back to the present. There was something so bloodcurdlingly vile about the guy, and he found himself wondering what the hell his shifted form could possibly be. A snake? A scorpion? It seemed that no one knew, for all that they feared him.

The wolf shifter, noting a tall sailing vessel making its way towards them, turned to face Grendel after pulling the drive from its hiding place, holding it out on display. The enormous shifter guardians, no doubt products of Grendel’s experiments, eyed the small payload.

“Here you go, pal,” Dascha said through clenched teeth. “I hope that you and your brick shit-houses enjoy whatever freaky porn is hidden on this thing.”

“These two strapping lads are my insurance policy,” said Grendel. “In case you decide to misbehave.”

Behind the wealthy shifter, cars drove along the bridge in both directions, unconcerned by the quiet altercation in their midst. Tourists walked by, looking down at the Thames and up at the two towers at the bridge’s ends. No one seemed overly concerned by the giants who guarded like stone golems over the well-dressed billionaire between them.

“So I take it that we’re done at last?” said Dascha, offering the drive, his palm open.

Grendel reached for it, but Dascha was fast, his fingers balling around it, enclosing it in a tight fist.

“Not so fast,” he said. “I want to know what’s on it.”

“It’s not important.”

“Oh, come on now, Grenny. If it weren’t important, you wouldn’t have brought Mike and Ike here to help you extract it from my palm.”

“There is genetic information on that drive that will advance us to the next level, beyond anything mankind has seen. Let me simply say that there are shifters in this world who are willing to sell their information for a price, and that it is much appreciated. They would make our friends here look like lightweights.”

“So,” said Dascha, casually tossing the drive into the air before catching it again, and delighting in Grendel’s gasp, “It’s worth a lot of money.”

“Yes.”

“So what’ll you give me for it?”

“You’re joking.”

“Of course I’m joking. Here,” said Dascha, handing it over. “I don’t like what you’re doing. I don’t like you, and I’m not overly fond of your buddies here. But as long as you’re willing to leave Estée alone, I can walk away and ignore all of it.”

Grendel inserted the drive into his breast pocket. “You’re more intelligent than you look,” he said. “I wonder if you’re a good swimmer, as well.”

With that he turned away. “Time to find out, boys,” he said, flipping his hand up and issuing a silent order.

The two bodyguards stepped forward as Dascha backed into the railing, his hands grasping it, feeling for the split between the two halves of the bridge.

Of course it had all been too easy to be true; no way was this asshole just going to let him go, knowing what he knew. Perhaps he wasn’t worried after all about Dascha recording their conversation; the man was ruthless, after all.

“So this is how you do business?” he said, stalling for time.

“Not business, Dascha,” replied Grendel. “This is how I dispose of waste.”

As the two large men began to lift him off the ground, the wolf shifter realized something: no car had passed by in some time; no tourist. The bridge was quiet, abandoned.

This could only mean one thing.

“Fellas,” he said, smiling at the two shifters. “Do you really want to do this? You don’t have to follow his commands, just because he’s got the fanciest suit jacket, you know.”

Neither man listened, though. They seemed in fact incapable of doing anything other than obey Grendel; it was almost as though they’d been brainwashed. Obediently, they pulled Dascha upwards so that he all but sat on top of the railing.

Just as he was about to fall into the wet abyss far below, though, a grinding sound echoed around them. As the ground began to open up under their feet, the two men grew confused, temporarily losing their balance and composure. Dascha shifted his weight to the right, slipping out of their grasp so that his feet managed to reach the ground.

“Get him,” hissed Grendel. But Dascha was quicker than the two behemoths. He slid out from under their grasp, leaping to the opposite side of the divide as the bridge split apart. He turned and saluted as the other men disappeared from sight, tumbling backwards, the angle too steep for them to catch him as they went sliding back.

Dascha leapt down the incline to the opposite side of the river, running as fast as his feet would take him and landing hard on the horizontal ground. He began to walk among stunned tourists who’d watched the whole thing, puzzled as to how a man could have a near-death experience and bounce back so quickly.

By the time the tall boat had passed underneath and the bridge had come back down, Dascha had managed to hide himself inside a large group of tourists taking photos and video on the opposite side of the Thames. His eyes were peeled for Grendel and his men, wanting to assure himself that they’d given up, left.

And at first he didn’t see them; only the flood of cars beginning again to drive their irritated passengers across, tourists making their way out to look at the city once again.

But then he spotted them: two heads higher than the others. Their faces weren’t turned to him, though. As the tourists spread out, Dascha spotted what was happening: Grendel was standing, arms crossed, his body language that of a smug, satisfied prick as he watched his men in action.

And between the two giant guards stood Estée.