Bitten shifter, p.20
Bitten Shifter, page 20
part #1 of The Bitten Chronicles Series
The shifters exchange uneasy glances. Even they look rattled, and I don’t blame them. The Alpha Prime’s mate is being stalked by a psychopathic vampire. Human First decided to toy with me, and he responded by wiping them out in a gruesome bloodbath.
It’s a message. A warning.
I feel hollow and cold, as though all the blood in my body has drained away. My mouth is dry, and my heart pounds so hard it feels as though it might crack my ribs. Exhaustion drags at me, but it’s the smell that pushes me over the edge.
The scent of raw, mutilated human flesh is suffocating. My head spins. The shifters might be able to tolerate it, but I’m not built for this. It’s too much.
It’s way too much.
“What did he leave?” someone asks, breaking the tension.
Riker steps carefully through the carnage, his boots squelching on the blood-slick floor. He tilts his head, examining the object on the sofa’s arm. When his green eyes flick back to me, his expression is troubled.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Riker glances at Merrick. Without a word, they have an entire silent conversation—raised eyebrows, subtle nods.
Whatever it is, it’s bad.
“Two squads, take Lark back to the van,” Merrick growls.
It feels like I’m being dismissed, a child sent to bed while the adults deal with something unspeakable. Frustration flares in my chest.
“What is going on? What did he leave?” My gut churns with the certainty that this ‘gift’ is meant for me—and I’m not going to like it.
“You don’t need to see this, Lark,” Merrick says. “You are swaying on your feet. We will talk about it later.”
I frown, shaking my head, unwilling to leave.
“Trust me,” he says, locking his gaze onto mine.
Trust him. I force myself to nod. I don’t want to undermine him in front of his people. “Okay. Later,” I say, my voice hollow.
With a final glance at Merrick, I follow the four shifters assigned to escort me out, another four trailing close behind. Riker catches up quickly, falling into step beside me as we head back to the van. Human authorities arrive just as we round the corner, their vehicles flooding the street. I’m relieved to be leaving the chaos behind.
Inside the van, my thoughts spiral as I shrug off the heavy jacket and place it across my lap like a weighted blanket.
“What did you see, Riker?” I ask quietly.
He does not answer immediately, his jaw tight as he stares out the window.
“Riker, please. What did you see?”
He glances at me, lips pressing into a thin line. “We will talk about it later,” he says, tone evasive.
“Tell me now,” I insist, my voice trembling. “Please.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There was a driving licence.”
“A driving licence?” My brow furrows. “Whose?”
He hesitates, shoulders stiffening. When he finally looks at me, his expression is resigned. “Lark,” he says softly, “it was Paul’s.”
“Oh.” The word escapes me in a whisper. “Do you think the vampire got him?”
Riker shrugs. “Probably.”
The vampire wouldn’t have Paul’s driving licence if he hadn’t taken him. “So that’s where he went. He didn’t just run off. He was taken, or he is already dead.” Bloody Paul.
I stare at the van’s ceiling, my mind spinning. The vampire went after Human First because they abducted me, messed with his hunt, and ruined his fun. He went after Paul because he gave them my name. Is this vampire clearing my slate of enemies, or is he simply enjoying the carnage?
I don’t know, and I don’t want to try to understand the mind of a serial killer.
“Do we know who he is? The vampire?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite my frayed nerves.
Riker looks at me carefully, jaw tightening. “Not yet. But we will. We have got pictures, and I’ve got his scent. He won’t stay hidden for long.”
I nod, locking away the chaos swirling inside me. I’m not sure how to feel. Paul is no longer my responsibility; he gave up that right when he betrayed me with Dove and sold me out to Human First.
What he has done is unforgivable. Is he even worth saving?
No, he’s not.
Yet guilt cuts through me like a blade. I don’t know if I can live with myself if I let him suffer and die. Unlike Paul, I can’t lie, cheat, or switch off my emotions at will. Even though I hate him for what he did, a tiny, broken, and battered part of me will always care.
“What will Merrick do?”
Riker exhales through his nose, shoulders lowering slightly. “This is tied to you, so Merrick will go after the vampire. Not to save your ex,” he adds, meeting my gaze. “Merrick couldn’t care less about him. But he will do it for you—to keep you safe. He knows that if anything happens to Paul, it will hurt you. And hurting you? That’s not something Merrick will allow.”
He knows Merrick so well.
I pull the heavy coat tighter around me, trying to quell the trembling in my hands. “Why is this so hard?” I whisper.
Riker’s demeanour shifts, sympathy crossing his face. “Because you’re a good person, Lark. You care, even when you don’t want to.”
I bite my bottom lip, holding back a surge of emotion.
“We will figure this out,” he continues. “We will find out who this vampire is, where he’s hiding. And then we will sort it—if you give us the chance.”
I nod, my throat too tight for words. “Thank you,” I manage after a moment, my voice hoarse.
Leaning my head against the cool window, I close my eyes and let myself shut down, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the muted thrum of my heartbeat.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I burrow deeper under the covers, my nose barely peeking out from beneath the pillow. A stretch pulls through my limbs, and my nails clack against the sheets.
Wait—nails?
My heart skips a beat. I stare at my hand.
It’s not a hand.
It’s a paw.
A freaking paw.
I yelp, jerking upright, only to tumble off the bed in a flurry of fur and limbs. The floor greets me in an undignified heap.
I’m furry.
I’m furry!
What the actual heck is going on? Why am I furry?
This must be a nightmare. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up, but when I open them, the fur is still there. I bang my head lightly against the bed frame. Nope—definitely not a dream. Shouldn’t the sensory band have stopped this? The damn thing is still on my furry wrist. Wasn’t it supposed to control my shifts?
I slump back onto the floor and bury my face behind my paws.
My paws.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to think rationally. Okay, think human thoughts. Skin. Fingers. Toenails. Earwax. (Why earwax? I have no idea, but I’m grasping at straws here.)
I imagine my normal body.
Nothing happens.
Maybe I need to burn off some energy. Yeah, maybe that’s it.
Thank goodness the bedroom is big enough to accommodate a restless wolf. I push myself up on all fours, wobbling slightly. The sensation is bizarre but not unmanageable. The pads of my paws press into the carpet as I take a cautious step, letting my body move naturally.
Surprisingly, it feels… good.
I widen my stride, rolling my shoulders and dipping my head, testing my range of movement. A little stretch here, a little bounce there. I try a downward stretch, only to yelp when my tail smacks me between my back legs.
That is so weird.
Undeterred, I pace the length of the room, turning at the wall to head back towards the window. Each lap is faster than the last. Soon, I’m jogging lightly, then bounding in springy strides. I push off with my hind legs and leap onto the bed, bouncing once before landing on the floor.
This is amazing.
I can’t help myself—I do it again. And again. Sometimes I clear the bed entirely; other times, I bounce like an overexcited puppy. My tail wags embarrassingly, my tongue lolling out, but I don’t care.
It’s fun.
I’m so caught up in the joy of my impromptu acrobatics that I don’t notice the figure standing in the doorway until I screech to a halt, misjudge the timing, and skid chin-first across the carpet.
Oof.
Wide-eyed, I glance up to see Merrick, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched high.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice laced with amused confusion.
I try to answer, but it comes out as a jumble of yaps and whines.
“Yeah, uh… I don’t speak wolf, little mate. Are you all right?”
I nod.
“You shifted. Was that on purpose?”
I shake my head vehemently. No, I absolutely did not plan to wake up as my furry self.
“Ah, so it happened while you were asleep?”
I nod again, a soft whine slipping out.
“Have you tried shifting back?”
Another nod, this one more frustrated.
“You are fine,” Merrick says, his tone gentle. “May I come in?”
I nod, clumsily rising from the floor. After a full-body shake, I prance to the bed and leap onto the rumpled covers. The once-pristine bedding is now a disaster zone—pink pillows and cushions scattered everywhere. I flop onto my side with a long huff.
Merrick steps in and sits on the edge of the mattress. His fingers move through my fur, stroking in a slow, soothing rhythm. It feels incredible. When he scratches behind my left ear, my back leg betrays me, thumping uncontrollably.
He chuckles, low and rich. “You are adorable as a wolf, you know.”
I growl and turn my head to glare at him.
He tugs gently at the fur on my neck and gives me a mock shake. “Don’t be mean. That was a compliment.”
I feel a twinge of guilt and lick his wrist in apology. His lips quirk into a smile.
“Sometimes this happens when you are stressed,” he says, still stroking my fur. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s normal. You will get a handle on it. After the first couple of years, it will stop. For now, it’s completely routine.”
I close my eyes, leaning into the steady motion of his hand.
“Everything’s going to be all right. Do you want help transforming back?”
I sniff, uncertain. I’d like to try on my own, but what if I can’t?
“It’s an alpha’s job to help the pack,” Merrick continues gently. “And I’m your mate, so I’m here for whatever you need. If you would rather stay in wolf form for a while, that’s fine too.”
A soft whine escapes as I tilt my head toward him.
“Okay,” he says, understanding. “Do you want my help?”
I nod, ears flicking forward.
“All right then. Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, and a strange warmth floods my body—like liquid magic, soothing and coaxing. Alpha magic, maybe. Pack magic. I’m not sure, but it works.
Slowly, my body begins to shift. Ouch—it hurts. Bones crack, and ligaments stretch and twist as my muscles rearrange. It feels like an eternity, though it must only take a few minutes to transform back. I can’t believe I slept through this earlier.
“You are okay,” Merrick murmurs, brushing my hair back from my face. His voice is a steady anchor, pulling me back to reality.
Then the cool air hits my skin. My eyes snap open, and I let out an undignified squeak as I realise—I’m naked.
For a forty-seven-year-old woman, freaking out like this is mortifying. Scrambling, I dive under the covers, wrapping myself in the sheets like a human burrito. My fingers fumble desperately until I find my discarded pyjamas, which must have been kicked off during the shift. Somehow, I manage to wriggle back into them beneath the covers.
When I finally poke my head out, Merrick is laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You might be the funniest person I know,” he says affectionately.
“I forgot I’d be naked,” I mumble, cheeks burning. I find a wrinkle on the duvet particularly interesting. I smooth it with my fingertips, avoiding his gaze. “It was just… a bit of a shock.”
He grins. “Shifters are okay with being in the buff, you know. It’s pretty normal.”
“Yeah, well,” I reply, glaring half-heartedly, “I was human for a very long time. It will take me a while to get used to this whole nudity thing.”
Probably never.
“I will leave you to get some sleep.”
“I don’t think I will be able to,” I say, then immediately betray myself with a yawn. The running around in wolf form clearly took it out of me. “How did you know I’d shifted and needed help?”
“Because it sounded like a herd of elephants stampeding in your room,” he says with a quiet laugh. “I wanted to check you were not fighting a vampire.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heat. “Right. Sorry about that.”
“It’s no problem,” he says gently. “I will take you somewhere proper next time—somewhere you can run free and feel the grass under your paws, wind in your fur. Your first proper shift, and you had to do it in your bedroom.” He shakes his head, regret clouding his face. His voice drops, rough with exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Lark. I should’ve been here. I’m a pretty poor excuse for a mate, letting you go through that alone.”
“I’m okay,” I say softly. “You are here now. I’m sorry for waking you.”
“Don’t be. I wasn’t sleeping—I couldn’t. I was in the gym, taking it out on the punching bag.” He leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. “I have all this rage and nowhere to direct it because everyone’s either abducted, hiding, or already dead.”
Gently, I reach over and squeeze his hand. He curls his fingers around mine, and for a moment, his gaze lingers on me. Then he leans in, pressing a light kiss to my forehead.
“So,” I say, quieter now, “do you have any updates on the vampire? Or about Paul? Is he… alive?”
I feel bad asking—it’s only been a few hours.
“We don’t know yet. But it’s odd for the vampire to leave Paul’s driving licence without leaving…” He pauses, watching for my reaction.
“His body,” I rasp.
“We might find him in a couple of days—or not at all.”
A chill settles over me. I don’t want him to be dead. Miserable? Yes. Dead? No.
Maybe the vampire is using Paul as bait—how sporting.
“Do we know who he is?” I ask, my throat tight.
“Yes.”
“We do?” My mouth falls open.
“His name is Leonidas,” Merrick says grimly. “He is an old vampire. He used to serve on the Vampire Council about two hundred years ago—long before my time as the Alpha Prime. They have been keeping tabs on him. I’ve got a full dossier.”
“Can I see it?”
He hesitates. “Are you sure? It’s not light reading.”
“Yes, please.”
“All right,” he relents. “Why don’t you get changed, and I will meet you in my apartment?”
“Okay. Thank you. Oh, and Merrick? I love the pink cushions—thank you so much.” I beam a smile at him.
His icy blue gaze drops to my lips for just a second, and he visibly restrains himself, chuckling under his breath as he steps back. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmurs, voice low. Then he prowls to the door.
He pauses, looking back at me with a soft, lingering expression, before gently closing it behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Whatever he is imagining, he can forget it. Yes, he’s seen a glimpse of my bare skin by accident, and sure, we have kissed—once. It was the kiss to end all kisses, an epic kiss, but I’ve got bigger things on my plate.
I know life is fleeting, and part of me thinks I should be climbing Merrick like a tree—but I won’t. Not yet. I have so many things I’m dealing with, and adding intimacy to the mix isn’t wise, especially when my wolfish hormones are all over the place.
The least he can do is take me on a proper date.
I slip out of my pyjamas and into something comfortable: leggings and a jumper. After a quick check in the mirror, I pad down the hall and knock on his door.
“Come in,” Merrick calls.
Stepping inside, his scent hits me like a tidal wave. It’s everywhere, saturating the room, wrapping around me. The man smells ridiculously good—cedarwood and leather, with a warm hint of amber. My wolf stirs, and a wild part of me wants to roll around on the carpet to soak it in. Must be a wolf thing, because that’s just plain weird.
The thick grey carpet muffles my steps as I cross to his sofa and sink into it. Merrick’s apartment blends the building’s gorgeous architecture with a sleek, modern twist. It feels effortlessly elegant yet lived in—a reflection of its owner. If this is just his temporary accommodation, I’d love to see his permanent home.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks.
After running through a few suggestions, I opt for coffee. As he wanders off to make it, I can’t help checking him out. Bare feet, grey, low-slung jogging bottoms, and a white T-shirt clinging to every sculpted muscle. The man is a walking dream.
“The laptop’s on the side,” Merrick calls from the kitchen. “No password. You will find the information on the desktop.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I pick up the sleek device and open it. There’s a detailed report on Leonidas. No recorded last name—maybe a string of them over the centuries, lost to time. Who knows? What is clear is that this vampire is ancient, around two thousand years old, and one of the last of the oldest vampires.
And he is hunting me.
Of course he is. Why not throw an ancient, psychotic vampire into the mix? If life’s going to pile on, it might as well be over-the-top. Give me a magic nobody recognises, turn me into a super-rare shifter, and pair me with the head of the entire shifter world. I’m over it. Somebody else can be the centre of the universe for a change.
I don’t want to be greedy.
Why is it that people who want to stay in the shadows always get dragged into the spotlight?
