Chapter Two
The human woman’s scent intrigued Riker far more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. It was fresh, pungent, her female essence mingled with sweat and soil. From the moment he’d seen her spearfishing in the stream, he knew she’d be a challenge.
He smelled her overhead, swaying precariously from the yew branches, and could hardly contain his excitement. It stirred in his loins, threatening to rouse his cock to the ready. Her fear added a certain spice to her scent.
She was human. A toy at worst, and food at best.
Yet all I want to do is drag my fingers through that infernal violet mane and fuck her senseless.
Why, of all the human women, did she encourage this reaction in him? He came from a proud line of shifters, had become his peoples’ alpha at age twenty-five by slaughtering the tyrannical leader before him. He could have any woman he wished. Like one of the fellow shifters with their flaming locks and sinewy legs that could squeeze hard enough to crush his ribs. He’d seduced his fair share of humans as well, intrigued by their soft, pliable bodies and pneumatic breasts.
And it was this crazy woman, with her short build, calves as thick as his forearm, and ridiculous metal decorating her ears, eyebrow, and plush lower lip that made him hard just smelling her.
Riker had a feeling he knew what this was. Still, he had to test her. If it was to be a human woman, so be it, but she had to best him in his favorite game of the hunt.
Then again, if it was to be a human woman, explaining it to the rest of his shifters would prove a mighty challenge. Humans were playthings. Fucking them was fine. Mating with them was not. And there was an enormous difference between the two.
He treaded some ground, bringing himself closer to the woman’s tree. The salt of her trepidation traveled his senses until he could all but taste her on the tip of his tongue. An aching throb stabbed his groin, almost eliciting a groan from the back of his throat.
If he took her, Riker didn’t think he could be gentle, even if it could have been a part of his nature.
Muir Forest hummed its quiescence around him, promising the solitude he needed. Today he would dine, be it on her heart or her pussy. How tragic that it might be the former. Though he normally didn’t consider it, he actually almost hoped she was smart and strong enough to best him.
He came to a stop beneath the human woman’s tree, glancing left and right. Above, her breath softly beat the muggy air.
Your move, woman.
The thought barely skimmed his mind when the branches rustled. Riker knew better than to look up. He jumped back.
Yet somehow, somehow, the woman had predicted his move perfectly and crashed into his chest.
They toppled to the forest floor. Air exploded from Riker’s lungs. Instinct brought his hands around her neck, but they didn’t warn him of the branch in her grasp.
Had she been a shifter, the strike to his head might have knocked him out. In reality, it inspired fury, outrage, humiliation … and quaking lust that forced his pulsing cock against the infuriating contraption humans called jeans.
Bellowing, Riker wrenched the branch from her hands and flung it away. He shoved at her throat, delighted by the flash of horror in her eyes. He flipped her to the ground and tightened his grip on her until she could barely draw breath.
“Stupid move.” He sat on her, pinning her by the neck so her dyed ponytail buried into the soft soil. This close, he was bemused to find her roots showing a simple mousy brown. She was right to dye it—violet suited her much better.
The woman peered up at him, fear clashing with anger. Her gaze was like steel buried in winter snow. She said nothing. Bit by bit, the terror drained from her expression. Harsh lines calmed. Not resignation, not like most prey.
This was willful pride.
He opened his mouth to say more, but she struck out. Her nails caught the side of his face.
Riker snarled and grabbed that hand as well. He pinned it beside her head. Try as he might, the fresh slice of pain in his cheek only stoked the flames in his lower belly. The blood from his temple trickled into the shallow cut on his face. Pain was all a part of the hunt, the mating, the bond.
There was no doubt: she was a potential blood bonded. The way his body reacted to her with the primal desire to fight and fuck was one thing, but the curiously strong need to pull her close and not allow a single being to lay a hand on her sold the notion. Her smell was almost too much, whispering erotic and romantic needs, weaving through his thoughts, threatening to rebirth him into a new creature.
“As I was trying to say.” He leaned in until their noses almost touched. Her gasps for air sent thrilling pulses through his body. “You got the first hit in.” He uncurled his fingers from her throat, pleased by the light marks left behind on her flesh.
It took her a moment to speak, but her reaction didn’t disappoint. “Well, shit. What do I win?”
Riker flashed his teeth. “You get two options.”
“Again?”
I’m going to fuck the impertinence out of that filthy mouth of yours, woman.
“Yes, again,” he all but purred. Her sharp smell infiltrated his every sense, becoming the heat, a throaty song, the taste of sordid affairs the morning after. “You can leave.” He relished the confused disbelief that saturated her face for a split second, and then added, “Or you can—and should—seal our blood bond.”
She choked. Odd. He’d taken his hand off her throat.
“Our what?” she finally managed to splutter out.
Of the gods, were all humans so ignorant to basic shifter biology? He knew their rumor mills painted shifters as unrepentant predators—not an unfair assessment in some cases—but was that truly the extent of it?
Humans and shifters existed in fringe societies from each other, rarely mingling. The territories were clearly marked, but the lines often blurred. While the wolves occasionally took issue with the intermingling, few other shifters were so possessive. Why should they be? Though fewer in number, shifters were inherently superior to humans. It would be like a human getting angry with spiders in the home: fear was understandable on a primal level, but sharing the space was expected with stupider beings.
Yet here she was, drawing all of that into question. This woman was not stupid—and for a human, she certainly was not weak.
Riker growled low in his throat. “You’re a potential blood bonded. My potential blood bonded.” He paused to inhale, basking in her rich scent. “Our blood sings to each other. Can’t you hear it?”
The woman shook her head, bewildered.
“Your smell.” He allowed his nose to dip down, aching with the desire to burrow into the strong muscle between her neck and shoulder. Heat, strength, sensual aromas, she exuded it all. For a human, this woman was delectable. “I’ve never been affected by a woman’s smell so much. Especially a human one.”
He drew back in time to see her eyes widen. Not quite in fear, like it might have been for any other woman. There was something different about this one, something that promised she knew of hardship. He already knew she could survive in the wilderness, at least for a time.
I could teach her more. More of what it meant to be one of his shifters, more of the hunt. She was already strong, intelligent, and skilled. No human had ever won the game on his terms. She was the first. If nothing else, the way her blood called to him like a soulful siren’s song was proof enough.
His people would not be happy, but fuck them. He was their alpha. Riker would claim his blood bonded no matter her heritage. In spite of her heritage, even.
He could be the first shapeshifter to blood bond with a human. He could already see the argument for change. Were more humans like this one, they held far more promise than the world of shifters had ever assumed.
And if humans were encouraged to be more like this one, stronger and less self-conscious of pithy appearances, the two societies could merge and become the largest force ever to be reckoned with. That, almost as much as how irresistible this woman was, damn near made up his mind for him.
She drew a breath, so deep that as close as they were, her nipples grazed his chest for a fraction of a moment. “I’m not a casual fucktoy.”
Riker was so lost in her heady scent that he’d drawn close enough to bite that shoulder muscle. He barely stopped himself. “Blood bonded is forever.”
Truthfully, he’d never heard of a shifter blood bonding with a human, so he couldn’t attest to that with full confidence. But to Riker, it made no difference. Her blood called to him, enticing, promising. It made the thought of eating her flesh seem more ludicrous—even horrifying.
If the woman thought so, her expression didn’t show it. “Why should I believe you?”
That was a good question from her perspective. Why should she believe him? While their species weren’t at war, the dislike and lack of trust coursed so deep that it was as interwoven in blood as the bond he sensed sizzling between them.
It probably didn’t help that shifters were liable to eat her kind. No, he’d have to convince her another way, even as he was convincing himself that change was to be had.
In that moment, he realized how monumental the overhaul in how his people thought would be made. Val was human, could never be a shifter—it didn’t work that way. Shifters were born, not made. Just as humans were born, not made.
He and his people would have to entirely rethink how they saw humans. Perhaps even refrain from hunting them. Even now he almost winced at the thought. The tradition was so ingrained that this would be nothing less than an uphill battle.
It would be easier to turn her away. Make her leave forever. Go back to your normal ways.
She took a deep breath again, more steadying than afraid, and Riker knew that wasn’t a possibility. Not with the potential blood bond, not knowing he’d never felt such a strong pull toward another person, shifter or otherwise, in his life.
It was selfish on his part, but perhaps change between the species was long overdue. Who else to take the first step, if not him? Riker was one of the most powerful and well-respected alphas of all the shifter communities. If any one man could do it, he could.
Turning Val away would have been easy. It also would have made him a coward.
I am no coward.
He smirked. “Why don’t you meet my family and determine that for yourself?”
She blinked. Her thoughts were practically visible as they churned in her head, projecting out of those steely eyes.
After a long moment, she said, “Val.”
He tilted his head.
“My name is Val.”
Excitement coiled up his spine. Val. A strong name, one full of conviction and determination. One suited for the woman who had leaped from a tree and bashed him in the head with a branch.
“You’ll call me Riker.” He eased away from her, though his body protested the movement. His cock was particularly indignant, so swollen and raging to bury into her that it took almost every ounce of self-control Riker possessed to reign in the urge.
He wasn’t alpha for nothing. A lesser shifter would have acted without thought to the consequences.
He nodded west, deeper into Muir Forest. Beyond this area, even further than where any human camped, lay his summer den. His people would be waiting there, and he had only a half hour’s walk to formulate an explanation for them. They would accept it or be kicked out, but Riker had no desire to lose anyone if possible.
Least of all his potential blood bonded.
Val picked herself up, shaking the soil and grass from her violet hair. As she dusted herself off, she said, “One thing before I go with you.”
Riker raised an eyebrow.
“Call me ‘woman’ again, and I’ll rip out your spine in your sleep.”
A feral grin overtook his lips. I’d love to see you try.
Aloud, he only said, “Very well.”