Where to next?

City to city, he drifted, looking for clues as to where Parker kept Sue-Ellen stashed. It wasn’t as if Uncle Theo hid. The man kept making appearances on news stations and gave speeches to Congress, but that didn’t tell Brandon where his uncle lived.

Living as a transient meant it wasn’t easy to come by information or even find a place he could stay for more than a few moments before being chased onward. The homeless under bridges wouldn’t accept a monster in their midst. The sewers already had residents. The world where humans walked wasn’t safe for him.

No one trusted the man with the monster face, which was why he stuck to rooftops, an observer to the madness now happening in the world. A madness punctuated by violence.

People, or more accurately humans, moved about in groups. Guns—now mostly stocked with silver bullets—hung on most hips. No one went around unarmed, not anymore. In this new world, everyone watched with suspicious eyes and twitchy trigger fingers.

Religion had made a resurgence, and the Bible thumpers screamed that the time had come. Thing was, the religions couldn’t seem to agree on what that meant.

Months had passed since the initial reporting, months of people coming forward to say, “I have a furry side.” Months of trying to understand what it all meant. Months of folks getting killed, lines being drawn, and blood being shed.

At the thought of blood, his stomach gurgled, hungry again, always hungry.

Ssshould go down there and have lunch. Crunch some bones.

The voice in his head, once so distinct, now sounded more and more like his own. The months of running had taken their toll. It was hard to spot the line separating man and beast, the fight to remain in control a constant one.

The fact that he’d had to rely more and more on his violent side to survive didn’t help. Humans knew shifters existed, but that didn’t make them automatically accepted.

The SHC had appointed a spokesperson to deal with the news of their existence. One guess on who was chosen for that role.

Uncle Parker. The same bastard who’d purposely maneuvered them into revealing their secret took the stage with a great big smile. He didn’t do it alone. He brought out his trophy wife to show her off, her delicate humanity a political ploy meant to show the world that shifters could cohabit with humans. His children were of the perfect Stepford variety. Well groomed. Polite. Perfect poster children with a madman as a father.

Theo’s immediate family wasn’t the only one who made appearances with him. At times, Sue-Ellen, the niece Theo had lovingly rescued—lying fucking bastard!—stood by his side with eyes downcast and hands clasped in front of her. She offered shy smiles to the cameras and soft words. The media loved her.

But the media also loved controversy, so for every photo-op they blasted across the networks trying to promote unity, they countered with the opposite, showing clips of animals versus men, where the men lost unless they used guns.

The world was in turmoil. Ever since the Great Reveal—a term he should note was spoken in hushed voices by shifters everywhere—Parker’s words were played and replayed on all the news channels. News personalities kept asking the politicians in charge what they were going to do. Doctor Phil and other celebrities dissected what Theo said, and what he didn’t say but possibly implied. People recited Theo’s words on the street, trying to make sense of the revelation.

“My name is Theodore Parker, and I am here to tell you that, yes, shapeshifters do live among you. But despite what you might have seen, or think, you needn’t fear. We’re just like everybody else.”

What a crock of shit.

“Our kind is, with a few exceptions where my company was trying to help, peaceful.”

Whopper of a lie.

“We”—Parker drew Sue-Ellen close with a benevolent smile—“look forward to letting you learn about us.” Ha. The only thing Parker was interested in learning was what it would take to control those making the laws.

As one of his former inner cadre, Brandon knew what Parker was really after. He’d made his intentions quite clear. Being one of the hidden leaders of the SHC wasn’t good enough for him. Theo wanted more power. Wanted a spot in the limelight. So he shoved all of his kind out of the fucking closet into the public eye.

Madman! Usually, people would have laughed and smiled and placated Theo while they waited for the men in the white coats to take him away.

Except there were videos. Damning videos, the ones showing the shifters’ more feral sides. The clips of the battle at Bittech had brought a tidal wave of problems.

Violent animals attacking other animals. Beasts attacking humans.

Then there were the Bittech monsters—like me. More than a few had been caught on camera, their extra parts a source of fascinating horror.

Humanity felt threatened. Humans felt deceived.

The different became hunted. Which meant hunting right back. A man did what he had to in order to survive.

Lawmakers scrambled to accommodate this unexpected development. How to integrate this subset of the population? When someone was accused of a crime, what laws should they use, human or beast? If a wolf bit, was it assault, or did he need a muzzle like a dog?

And who were the animals in disguise? In this politically correct world, could prospective employers ask on their applications? Was it discrimination to not want a werewolf working in a chicken factory? Should it be a status on driver’s licenses?

The suspicions of who might be hiding a wolf under their clothing caused many a person to seek medication for anxiety, and the sale of aluminum foil skyrocketed as paranoia reached new heights. As for the weapons industry, their stock shot to record heights, as everyone wanted to arm themselves.

Accusations flew, slapping anyone who seemed different. Innocents died as neighbor turned on neighbor.

All of Brandon’s family and friends chose to move underground, and by that, he meant they’d left their home—a home they’d held for generations in the Everglades. They changed their names as they split up and slipped into mainstream society. They had to struggle extra hard to appear normal. To appear human.

Not everyone could fake it. Some of the older generation chose to go wild and take to the swamps. Even in there, though, Brandon was a freak. He couldn’t hide easily, not with what Bittech had done to him.

And I can’t hide, not while Parker has my sister. The slimy bastard kept hopping around the country spreading his bullshit ‘Let’s all live together’ spiel. Eventually, Brandon would catch up to Theo, and when he did…

Crunch.

In the meantime, he had to survive. The fact that he lived, unchained and able to roam the world, didn’t help him. It didn’t make him normal again. When people saw him, they saw the monster.

They screamed.

He got annoyed.

Eat them. Fresh meat made a man—and his reptile self—strong.

Too often he told his inner self—a now much colder, more cynical dark self—to calm the fuck down. No eating humans. But they did tempt him, especially when they smelled of chocolate. Being a monster had not diminished his sweet tooth.

As he crouched on a rooftop, a living gargoyle observing this new city, yet another place he couldn’t blend in, he wondered why he even bothered to try.

Perhaps he should give up on finding answers or help for his monstrous dilemma. He should forget trying to regain normalcy and accept that this new look would stay with him forever. If he melted into the wilderness, went deep, deep into the woods and lived off the land, maybe he could stop the yearning. Perhaps, in time, he’d forget what it meant to be a man.

However, that would mean abandoning his sister, too.

With the rest of the family trying to keep themselves alive—and Wes doing his best to keep the special twins and Melanie out of science’s reach—it left only Brandon who truly cared about one girl’s fate.

Look at me, a real fucking hero. What a sad world he lived in when he was the last hope for his sister.

A whisper of sound alerted him to the fact that he shared the rooftop. He whirled and couldn’t help but stare at the woman who stood behind him; willowy shaped, with long hair the color of moonlight, and eyes even stranger than his own. She canted her head to the side, perusing him.

It fascinated him that, even though she looked fully upon him, his features glaringly evident in the neon light of the sign overhead, she didn’t run. She didn’t scream. Inhaling deeply, she tilted her head back, revealing the smooth column of her throat.

Kill her now before she calls for help.

It would only take one bite of that smooth column. One bone-crunching chomp.

He shook his head. No. He wouldn’t kill her, even if all his senses screamed that she meant danger.

Dangerous, how? All he could see was her fragile beauty—

The impact slammed him to the ground. The air oomphed out of him as her lithe figure landed atop him with more force and weight than expected. A hand, a strong hand tipped in opalescent claws, dug into his throat. Her eyes stared down at him, the orbs slitted and burning with green fire. Her almost pure-white hair lifted and danced around her head.

She was fucking hot. And on top of him, very much on top of him, and a part of him that hadn’t played with anything other than his hand since the change stirred with interest.

“What’s this roaming my city? A male, both unmarked and unclaimed,” she whispered, dipping down low. “I should take you right now.”

Perhaps she should. A certain part of him certainly thought so, and it didn’t help that she squirmed atop him.

The fingers around his throat squeezed, yet no panic infused him. If he was meant to die, then so be it. He tired of hiding. He was also curious.

Who is ssshe? Even his dark half took interest. It still thought she was dangerous, but neither man nor beast could deny her allure.

Her lips hovered devastatingly close, the heat of her breath warming his skin. “How did you come here? Tell me your name.”

A name? What name should he give her? The one he’d started in the world with no longer seemed to fit. He was more than just a simple Brandon and, at the same time, less than the naïve man he used to be.

“My name is…” Ace? No, he wouldn’t use Ace either. That was Andrew’s rude misnomer, the other madman involved in the genetic experiments at Bittech.

What did that leave?

“I am no one, and I come from…” Don’t spread your taint to a town already devastated. “Nowhere. Who are you? What are you?” Because she smelled like him, but…different.

Sssmells yummy.

Very yummy. As in he wanted to lick her from head to toe yummy.

“What do you mean, what am I?” Her brow crinkled. “I am the same thing you are.” Her shoulders drew back, her head tilted imperially, and for a moment, shadowy wings glistened silver at her back. “We are dragon.”

At her serious claim, he gaped then snorted before he outright laughed.

“Why are you giggling?” She seemed perturbed at his reaction.

“Men don’t giggle. We guffaw. And I’m guffawing because that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. I’m no dragon. I’m nothing anymore but a fucking mess.” Bitter words for a bitter fate.

“What is your family name? Who are you descended from?”

Was there any point in hiding? It wasn’t as if anyone used his name anymore. “Mercer.”

“Never heard of them. Are you from the European contingent?”

“More like Florida, and not from any hoity-toity pack or family either. Just one of several gators my ma popped out.” He shrugged. “I’m not even the biggest. Wes has got like half an inch on me.”

“You are not making any sense. There are no dragons in Florida on account of the seadrakes. They’re very territorial.”

“Listen, moonbeam, I think you might have forgotten to take your meds this morning. Dragons aren’t real.”

“But by your own words you believe in shifters?” Her lips quirked.

“Of course, because I am one, and given your lovely claws, I’m guessing you’re one, too.”

“No, I am dragon.”

“Sure you are, and even if I believed you, dragons are still shifters.”

“Don’t let my mother hear you say that. She’ll wash your mouth out with castor oil.”

“Does your mother know you escaped your room?” A padded room he’d wager, given her delusion. Dragons. Really? He might be funny looking, but he wasn’t gullible.

“I don’t need permission to roam this city. Especially not from my mother.”

“What about your father?”

“I don’t have one anymore.”

“Let me guess, he was a dragon, too.” He couldn’t stop the smirk.

“As a matter of fact, he was. We lost him to a plane accident.”

“So, what, did he fly into a propeller?”

“Of course, not. It was a small Cessna plane, and it got caught in some cross winds and crashed. According to Mother, he was probably so worried about outing himself that he didn’t abandon the craft and take flight.” She shook her head. “Usually, he would have healed any injuries sustained, but I don’t think he counted on the plane exploding when it landed.”

Her fantasy world deepened, and he couldn’t help but feed it. “So, your daddy was a dragon. And what of your mother.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dragon, too, of course. It is the only way to make one.”

“Of course, it is.” Had to admire the depth of her delusion.

“We will make some fine dragonlings to carry the family name.”

Choke. What? “Slow down, moonbeam. We won’t be making nothing because you seem to have forgotten I’m not a dragon.”

She leaned down and sniffed. “You smell like one.”

“What I smell like is a man on the run whose skin hasn’t seen anything but lakes and rivers in weeks. Let me assure you, I am most definitely not a dragon.” Or daddy material.

Curiosity shone in her gaze as she cocked her head. “Then what are you if not dragon?”

“I’m what happens when science goes wild. The man the world knows as Parker—”

“You know Parker?”

“Unfortunately.” He grimaced. “He’s my uncle.”

“What?” She jumped to her feet, a grip on his shirt pulling him up after her, impressive given he wasn’t a lightweight. Although, he should note that he wasn’t as heavy as he used to be. A lack of proper meals did that to a man. “You’re related to that whoreson? I didn’t know he was a dragon. I thought he was some kind of low-born lizard.”

“Not right on either account. He’s a wolf. My aunt married outside the family. Apparently, she had a thing for dogs.”

Her lips pursed. “I can see you have interesting lineage. You may not want to mention that to my mother or aunts. We need them to think you’re a suitable mate if this is going to work.”

“I am a freak, not suitable for anything, let alone being someone’s mate.” He grabbed hold of her wrists, noting the fine bones, and pried her fingers from his shirt. She might be strong, but he was happy to note that he proved stronger.

What he couldn’t have prepared for was how dirty she’d play. She grabbed him by the junk, firmly too, and leaned up to snap, “You will not speak of yourself with such disparagement anymore. Have some pride in your genes.”

“Even if they’re not mine?”

“You’re not making any sense. Of course, they’re yours. Dragons are born, not made.”

His turn to shake his head and resist an urge to punch her for squishing his balls. Bayou born and bred didn’t mean he was an asshat who hit girls.

“All of what you see is science-made, except for the cock you’re squeezing. That’s all me.” And me was not exactly hating being touched. How long since he’d been this close to a woman?

“You can impress me with your virility later once I’ve claimed you before witnesses.”

“You lost me.”

“Good thing I’m smart enough to think for us both. Just do as you’re told, and it will all be fine. Better than fine. I think we shall do quite well together. Unlike that idiot Harold, you smell nice, and you’re handsome, too.” She patted his cheek.

Yeah, so a part of him wanted to snort and mock her calling him handsome. But…

Another part of him practically rolled on its back and purred. Fucking purred. It was utterly emasculating.

“For the last time. I’m not a dragon.”

“Fine. You’re not. We can discuss what you are later. We should get out of here before I have to deal with my cousins. This building is in their territory, which is why it’s so much fun to pop in for a visit and leave them a present.”

The girl he’d called moonbeam took a step away and dug into a pocket. She pulled out a figurine of a pretty princess in some yellow frock, holding up an index finger. The detail was incredible. The fact that she was leaving it to taunt even more astonishing.

“Do you often screw with your cousins?”

“Every chance I get.”

Sshe is perfect. Devious and sexy. The most deadly of combinations.

Sporting a pleased smirk, she stepped back from the tiny effigy. “Now that I’ve left a calling card, time for you to change so we can go.”

“I don’t have a shirt. These things make it kind of hard to find one that fits.” His wings rustled, and he noted how her gaze followed the play of muscles across his bared chest. The ends of a scarf, wrapped around his neck, dangled down. Winter fast approached, and he needed to move west to stay ahead of it.

As time marched on and he lost touch with his humanity, the more he noticed how temperature affected him. Cool temps put him right to sleep—and chapped his skin. He now traveled with lube, the good kind that doubled for when his hand got used during extra-curricular activities.

Hot temperatures made him relax and smile. He likened it to a big joint, and just like with Mary Jane, he got the munchies, too—for raw meat.

No matter the weather conditions, though, he remained alert. It was the only way to ensure survival. Whether sleepy or high, if he had to spring into action, he went from relaxed to adrenalized in an instant.

“I wasn’t talking about putting a shirt on. With a body like that, I say show it off. But we can’t walk around while you’re in your hybrid form. You shouldn’t even be playing in the city limits wearing it.” Her eyes widened. “Are you a rule breaker? A trailblazer? Justice warrior?”

“No.”

“A shame.” She seemed almost disappointed.

“I am dangerous to be around, though, so you should probably leave and forget you saw me.”

Again, she uttered that enchanting laughter. The chime of bells in the wind, the sound tickled across his exposed skin, warming him despite the cool evening air.

“Forget you? Never. Now that I’ve found you, you’re mine.”

Mine. How nice that sounded. But it also reminded him of his time at Bittech. “I belong to no one.”

“You say that now…but you’ll change your mind.” She smiled and winked. “I guess if I’m going to claim you, I should know your first name because it seems a little odd for me to call you by your last.”

“You can call me Ace.” The name of the monster that did Bittech’s dirty deeds.

She rejected it. “That is infantile and won’t do at all. Do you have another name? A more proper one that Mother might approve of?”

As if he cared what her mother thought of him. He wasn’t even sure he cared what she thought. Except…he kind of did. She was the first person to truly speak to him in a while. He’d stopped calling his family, unable to listen to their pleas to come join them despite the danger he’d bring. Unable to deal with their belief that Sue-Ellen was fine and didn’t need rescue.

Sue-Ellen wouldn’t be fine until he got her away from Parker.

Instead of replying, he turned the query back on her. “What’s your name? Seems only fair you spill first since you’re the one keen on knowing.”

She tossed her head, the movement causing her hair to undulate in a wave of silver. “My name is Aimi Silvergrace, daughter of Zahra and Tobin. My mother is the Contessa for the Silver Sept.”

“Sounds like you come from money.”

“I do. We’re rich. Filthy rich, and I should warn that my mother prides herself on being an upper-class snob.”

“Mine makes the best crab chowder in the bayou.”

“She can cook? A peasant endeavor, but intriguing. When we visit, we shall allow her to cook for me.”

Allow? And what was with the “When we visit?” There was no we. “I thought I’d made myself clear. I want nothing to do with you.”

She shot him a gaze that said without words what a foolish boy he was. “You want me.”

“Do not.”

“You are a horrible liar. My whole family is going to eat you alive.”

“This might sound like an odd question, but to be clear, do you mean that literally?” Because the more he chatted with Aimi of the moonbeam hair, and even more flighty ideas, the more he was convinced she was fucking nuts. He should also note that he had more than one aunt who would eat their guests and bury their bones. His aunt Tanya was famous for her Frenemy Soup.

“The only one who will actually eat you will be me.” She licked her lips, and the wink left nothing to the imagination.

He might have shuddered—because of the cold. Nothing else.

She’s right. I am a shitty liar.

She clapped her hands. “Enough idle chitchat. We can indulge in that later at the house. Change back to your human guise and let us get moving. I’m curious to see how you appear. You’re not ridiculously hideous, are you? Then again, I guess it doesn’t matter that much. We could always screw in the dark. Or you could wear this face.” She patted his cheek. “This face is handsome. But it should only be worn in private.” She gave him a harder tap. “And I mean in private with me. Now, stop playing and change. I am sure you are taxing your strength holding this form for so long.”

“I can’t change.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

Nothing like having to admit his deficiency. He rolled his big shoulders. “Like I keep trying to tell you, I’m broken. Actually, according to Bittech and the doctors there, they ‘improved’ me. They took a simple swamp gator from the wrong side of town and made me into some kind of super breed. There is a catch, though. This is the only thing I can be now. This hideous monster shape.”

Not ugly, beautiffful. His inner self took exception, and his wings fluttered, an outward push by his reptile half. The pushes were getting harder and harder to control, and at times, he wondered why he bothered fighting at all.

“You cannot change?” Her fine brows pulled tight. “At all?”

“Nope. This is me, moonbeam. Not a guy you should be bringing home to meet Mom. I am nothing but a mistake.”