Chapter 1
JESS
My mother was trying to fix me up with a vampire.
No, I exaggerate. If Cameron Malloch is a vampire, so am I.
Actually, we’re both shifters, but unlike most shifters, we have more than one form. I’d always believed my only alternate self to be a wolf.
I didn’t find out until I was older that I could also shift to a darkling. A ferocious winged humanoid with no moral code and a hunger for blood.
My mum, who had a practical side when she bothered to use it, figured that since she was part of the family who’d bequeathed me the multiform shifter gene, she ought to be the one to solve my demon problem.
“It would be the perfect match,” she told me. “Cameron is a multiform shifter and so are you. He has a darkling side, too. Plus he’s a very important man. He runs the Council of Protectors for all of Scotland.”
“He’s my cousin, Mum.”
“He’s only your second cousin. It would be quite legal.”
Right. But I wasn’t interested in Cam Malloch that way. Fortunately, he wasn’t into me, either, except as someone to mentor and harass.
Mum wouldn’t give up on the idea of an arranged Scottish marriage, complete with kilts, bagpipes and haggis. So I fled.
Which is how I found myself thousands of miles away from the Highlands in Whittier, Montana. Not such a dramatic change as it might seem. I was born here.
“Much though I hate to consider it,” my grandfather was telling me as we drove the rugged road from Whittier to his ranch a few miles outside of town, “I might have to sell off a few acres of land.”
“What? Why, Grandpa?” The beautiful expanses of meadow and forest with the Rocky Mountains looming majestically in the western distance had been in the family for generations.
“Well, darlin’, I don’t want to bother you with the details, but I’ve got a few debts to settle. Never fear, though. I do have an interested buyer in mind, a friend of mine. He’s a fair man who wants to keep the land as natural and pristine as we do.”
“Debts? How much? I have a little money set by. Maybe I can help. I’d hate to see you sell any of your ranch.”
“Thanks, honey, but I can’t take money from you. You’re a young woman with a bright future.” He started coughing as he gripped the wheel of our SUV. Ever since I’d arrived, he’d had a bad cold. “You’ll need your savings for yourself. Besides, it wouldn’t be enough."
"How big are your debts?"
"A man's debts are his own private business. Don't worry. I got it covered."
But I did worry, and I hated to think about Grandpa suffering from money problems at this stage of his life. He was the only one left from my father’s side of the family, and I loved him very much. If there was any way I could help out, I wanted to.
Meanwhile, I didn’t like the sound of that cough. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Grandpa? Your cold should be getting better by now.”
“Tip-top! It’s so good to have you home, pumpkin.”
He’d insisted on driving, but I could see that he was weary. We’d been into town to do a little shopping together. He’d wanted to pick up some of the foods I liked, and I’d needed a few art supplies. I’d moved back to Whittier a little more than two weeks ago, and Grandpa and I were still trying to learn each other’s ways.
My offer to do the driving had been brushed aside with his customary impatience.
For as long as I could remember, Grandpa had insisted on doing things himself. He liked to be in control, to run his own life, to be independent.
We were well into the countryside now, and I was enjoying the fresh air with the SUV’s sunroof and windows fully open. The evening was magical. The full September moon floated on a sea of wispy clouds. The breeze was warm and moist, scented with wildflowers and lodge pole pine. Crickets chirped, fireflies danced and the ground alongside the vehicle on the rough mountain road was bursting with the rich aromas of summer's end.
But as Grandpa weaved out of our lane, my sense of safety vanished. He corrected, but he seemed off somehow. Not quite as fit and sharp as he had always been. This was no great surprise, since he’d been stricken with cancer last year. He was in remission, but the treatment had taken a lot out of him. I’d been shocked at his gauntness when he’d picked me up at the airport.
As we headed up into hillier ground, we rounded a curve going a little too fast. I’d never thought of Grandpa as a man who thrilled to speed; so maybe his judgment was impaired. I was positive he hadn’t been drinking; I’d have smelled it on him. I didn’t make much use of my shifter abilities, but my sense of smell was hyper-acute, no matter what form I was in.
“Slow down a bit, Grandpa. If you’re revving up for the Indy 500, could you do it when I’m not in the car?”
He glanced over at me, grinning. Just then two headlights spun out of another curve up ahead and came roaring toward us down the straight-away. They were oddly spaced—too far apart. A truck? Ground fog on this part of the road wasn’t helping with the visibility.
As the lights approached, the distance between them shifted, and I realized they must be bikers. They whipped by on the other side of the road, their engines thunderous.
Grandpa must have been distracted, because he took the next curve too wide. I felt him fighting for control as the wheels started to skid. Shit! Just as I thought he’d managed it, we swung around the curve and were confronted with a bright light coming right at us. Another speeding biker?
The other vehicle was in the correct lane, but Grandpa had over-compensated. He reacted a split second too late. We veered into the biker’s lane.
I lunged for the steering wheel, but I was belted in. Grandpa swerved to get back on our own side of the road, but the SUV was bucking wildly now. We skidded sideways, brakes screeching. Then we flipped and started to roll.
I wasn’t sure what happened after that. My body responded as it did when confronted with a threat—I started to shift. Not consciously. I rarely shift on purpose anymore.
And of course, it wasn’t my wolf that emerged. She never did in these situations. It was the Other, my wild, ungovernable self, the darkling. “She might appear at times of stress,” my cousin Cam had warned me. “You must learn to control her if she does.”
Much as I hate my darkling self, those wings are useful at times. As we came upright after the second roll, I exploded out through the open sunroof. I was soaring over the road before the SUV had even stopped tumbling. I’d escaped, but I was muddle-headed, and it was difficult to think clearly.
My shifted brain took over and controlled my flight. As I soared over the road on my midnight wings, I used my improved vision to scan the tops of trees. The hillside. The road and the ditch beside it. There was thick ground fog all around, and I knew I carried my own dark aura when I was in this form. I was grateful for that, since it helped to disguise me, but the fog was hiding my grandfather.
Where was he? Had he shifted, too? He couldn’t shift to a winged creature; he was a simpler being than I. He was an ordinary wolf shifter. He wasn’t twisted like I was. It wasn’t Grandpa’s side of the family where the taint lay.
I tried to focus the seething thing that was my mind and the terrifying thing that was my body. I didn’t want this ferocious flying self. What I needed was my wolf.
Control the shift. You’re in charge. Take the form you prefer. Don’t allow the creature within to dominate you.
Bones I hadn’t felt cracking cracked anew. Pain washed through me as my body realigned itself. My skin prickled as hair sprouted. My skull groaned as my nose and jaws lengthened. The wolf shift was more dramatic than the darkling shift since darklings resembled the human form in all but our wings, our claws, and our eerie elongated bones.
I dived, and flight turned to a giant leap as the ground approached. There. There. I landed on all fours, my paws scrabbling for balance. I growled and shook my head. I lifted my tail like a jaunty flag. I felt good as my wolf. I loved her. But lately she hadn’t come when I’d summoned her. The Thing insisted on coming instead.
The air was full of the smells of countless small creatures— rabbits and mice, squirrels and foxes, cats, dogs, skunks, and chipmunks, birds of all varieties, groundhogs and deer. And the droppings, urine, and musk of all living creatures as well.
But I also smelled the human world. Burning rubber and vehicle exhaust. The dust and grime from a million particles that had just dislodged in the crash. Fire? No. Blood? Yes.
I bounded toward the wreck. All my bones and muscles ached, but I didn’t think I was hurt. I’d escaped before the SUV had shuddered to a halt. But Grandpa? I was freaking out, not seeing him anywhere. He was here, though. It was his blood I was smelling.
It should have been his instinct to shift when danger threatened, but he was getting old and losing his edge. Had he escaped the SUV? Had the window been open on his side? I couldn’t be sure.
As my eyes adjusted from human to darkling to wolf, I darted around in crazy circles, searching for Grandpa. I could hear soft, anxious whines coming from my furry throat.
The SUV had rolled over several times and landed off the road in a ditch. It was lying on its side.
Where was he, dammit? Was he trapped in the wreck? Injured? Dead?
And what about the other guy? The one on the motorcycle whom we had nearly rammed?
As soon as I thought it, I felt something. I can’t really explain what it was—you know that sensation you sometimes have when you’re being watched? I had that. But even stronger. It felt as if someone had lassoed me with an invisible rope and was hauling me in.
My gaze was drawn up toward the road, and the fog seemed to clear for me. I saw the motorcycle first, its headlamp still illuminated. It stood across the road at an angle, but it had not overturned.
The biker was standing beside it. Straight and tall, legs braced and hips cocked in an arrogant fashion. He was staring down at me.
Good. He wasn’t dead.
Something about him was familiar, but it was too dark to see his features. He didn’t rush to help. He was probably pissed off, given that we’d almost collided with him. Although, come to think of it, he’d been going a lot faster than we had. Too fast for this curvy road. He’d materialized out of the fog, right in front of us.
I knew he was also a shifter. A wolf, and an alpha. I could always sense other shifters. All of us could.
If he had been in his animal form, his body would have been rigid and his tail high in the air, signaling his dominant status. Expecting me to submit.
A primal stab of terror reverberated through me. Shit. I pushed it down, taking a deep breath. My adrenaline was pumping, but that must be from the crash.
As for the dude up there, he didn’t look injured.
Screw him. I tore my gaze away. Where the hell was Grandpa?
There. One of the car’s doors was open. And then I saw him. He was lying on his back in the ditch, tossed free of the SUV, still in his human form. He looked broken.
No! My heart screamed as I sprang toward his limp body. I was shifting again even before I landed in the dirt at his side. I ignored the pain as my body reshaped itself to my naked human form.
Grandpa was naked too. That meant he must have started to shift right before the impact. He was unconscious. There was blood.
The darkling in me thrilled to the blood in a way that made my human self sick to my stomach. I heard the sound of something crashing down the hillside, but the roaring of fear for my grandfather was so loud in my ears that I paid it no mind. My head was pressed to Grandpa’s chest, my fingers to his lips. Could I hear a heartbeat? Was there breath?
I couldn't be sure. I could see from the weird angle of one of his legs that there were injuries, broken bones.
I felt rough hands on my body, pulling me away. I resisted, but the hands were strong.
“Let go of me, dammit!"
“Get out of the way,” a deep, authoritative voice said. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Was that you driving? Are you drunk?”
It must be the shifter. What a jerk. “No one’s drunk, but my grandfather is elderly. He needs help.”
“Step aside, lady.” The word he used was “lady,” but he said it in the same tone as he might have said “bitch.” “I know what I’m doing, I've got some EMT training. Give me room."
I couldn't bring myself to step away, but I did make space. It would have been hard not to. He had that alpha voice—confident, commanding. People did what he told them to do.
I knew that voice. I hadn’t heard the rough, impatient tone before, but I recognized the husky timbre, the Western drawl. I couldn’t place him in the dark, though. I hadn’t been around these parts long enough to know the members of the local wolf pack. At least, not since my early teenage years.
It didn’t matter. Whoever he was, introductions could wait.
The dude dropped down in the dirt and started examining him, his large hands moving over my grandfather with a certain expertise.
"I can help,” I said. Grandpa wasn’t responding. “Tell me what to do.”
"Call for an ambulance. There’s a phone in my back pocket. Pull it out and use it.”
I did it without even thinking. I guess I must have noticed with part of my brain that the ass covered by the leather pants was firm and trim, but I was wrapped up in Grandpa, not focused on this biker dude.
I dialed 911 and gave our location as best I could. I’d just finished explaining what had happened when the guy kneeling over Grandpa ordered me to hold the phone close to his mouth.
He snarled something into the mouthpiece, adding, “broken leg, possible internal injuries, pulse weak but steady, breathing okay, possible concussion, lacerations but no arterial bleeding noted. What's your ETA?”
Ten minutes, they reported.
“Okay,” the man said, shoving the phone back in his pants and continuing whatever he was doing to help Grandpa. “They’re on their way.”
“How is he?”
“I think he’s stable, but I’m no expert.”
“You said you were an EMT.”
“I said I had some EMT experience. Volunteer fire department stuff. But I’m not a fucking physician. What the hell were you doing, racing around that curve? Don't you know how dangerous this road can be at night?”
What a tool! “You were the one speeding.”
“Are you hurt? You got out fast. Couldn’t you take him with you? That was some fucking high leap.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. What had he seen? He had to know I was a wolf. No alpha would fail to pick up on that. Besides, I was standing here bare-assed. The biker was still fully clothed, so he obviously hadn’t needed to shift to avoid the crash. He was jerking off his leather jacket to lay it over my battered grandfather.
This gave me a glimpse of broad, muscled shoulders and a tall powerful body. He was young and strong. My human eyesight wasn’t as keen as my wolf vision, but it was good enough to see that this was one fine specimen of a man.
I remembered with some effort that he’d asked a couple of questions. “I think I’m okay. Not injured. What about you?” He didn’t look hurt, but it seemed only polite to ask.
“I wasn’t the one who lost control and crashed my vehicle.”
As he said these words, he turned his head so we were face to face. His expression changed. Mine must have done the same. I knew the bastard, all right.
“Cade Derringer?” Goddamn. He was the alpha wolf, leader of Grandpa’s pack. They were friends, too. Grandpa talked about him constantly.
He grinned. Derringer’s smile was charming—oh, he was a charmer all right. Melting women’s panties off wherever he went. I’d met him on two occasions since I’d been back in Montana. Both brief, and both hot.
He had actually put his hand on my ass, almost the first moment we’d met. He’d made it clear that he couldn’t wait to get me alone so he could work his sexual mojo. According to the local gossip, any woman the alpha wanted, the alpha got.
Worse, I’d sensed that Grandpa wanted the same thing Cade did—me in the alpha’s arms. That was all I needed—my grandfather trying to fix me up with his friend. What was going on with all these people trying to hook me up? I suppose it was because I was twenty-four and had never had a serious boyfriend. Why couldn’t they just leave me to sort such matters out myself?
Anyway, who cared about that? Here I was, standing before this man naked, with Grandpa injured, maybe dying. And all because the alpha leader of the Whittier wolf pack was still the wild motorcycle-riding hothead that he’d been as a teenager. Yeah, I remembered him from then, too, even though Mum and I had left town when I was thirteen.
Back then, Cade Derringer’s dad had been the alpha leader, and his youngest son had been infamous. Everyone in Whittier had known Cade as the biggest bad boy fuckup in town. His high school class had voted him Most Likely To End Up Dead Or In Prison.
He’d had a motorcycle then, too. He’d even joined one of the local motorcycle gangs, something that was strictly against the rules for shifters. How he’d ever ended up in the responsible position of alpha leader of the pack, I couldn’t imagine.
He didn’t look the least bit responsible.
He looked as if he wanted to forget all about the injured man on the ground so he could push me down in the ditch and do filthy, sexy things to me.
The hell of it was, I wasn’t sure I’d even resist him if he did.