Shifter Alpha Claim 1-6 Omnibus (15 page)

Narah

Murph pulls away, his eyes searching mine.

“Narah, don't tell me the fellas don't know.”

I inhale deeply—let it out slow. “They don't know.”

He hisses, his breath whistling between clamped teeth, a sliver of fangs showing. “Awful news, Narah.”

I press my lips tightly.

His inky brows come together, once a golden-brown—his appearance having changed so much since I turned him.

More guilt strikes me like a well-honed weapon.

I did this.

Murphy gives my shoulders a soft shake. “No. Don't—I can feel your guilt. This isn't about me.”

“You were mad at me.”

Murphy silvered eyes swing heavenward. “Not mad. Rage-inspired.”

My lips quirk. “Same thing.”

He shakes his head, a strand of hair breaking loose from his hairband at his nape. “No. Being a vampire, as lovely as I am—” his lips curl, and  my eyes narrow, “takes some getting acquainted with.”

His gaze meets mine with impunity. A human wouldn't want that silver stare trained on them. It could mean thrall.

Which could mean everything a human being doesn't want.

“I wasn't saying you having a babe was the bad news, love. I said that
I'm
fond of keeping
my limbs when Aeslin and Matthews find out you told
me
before
them.
They're your mates,” he thumbs his broad chest, made even more so with him being a vamp, “not me.”

“Can't we just grow arms and legs back if they're plucked off?” I keep a straight face.

Murph glares. “I'm not keen on finding out. I'm a vampire, not a starfish.”

I burst out laughing. “You don't care if I catch the bad guys?” I ask, changing the subject.

Murphy's hands leave my arms. “I love you catching the wankers.
I
love catching them. However, I don't fancy you getting your pregnant bum beaten.”

I fold my arms across my narrow chest. “Thanks. You sound like a typical dude. Chicks can't give back what they get. Is that it?”

He gives me a narrow look. “You know that I understand—intimately—how lethal you are. You're a proficient level 10 for fuck's sake, Narah. They don't hand those assessments out like candy.”

“So what's the issue?”

“Selfishly? You die—I die.
True death
. Secondly, I enjoy our clever repartee far too much to have all that excitement end prematurely because your stubbornness wins out over logic.” He cocks an eyebrow. “A trend amongst your gender,” he holds up a palm before I can protest, “overall.”

My mouth clamps shut.

I blow out an exhale. “Fine. I will tell the studs, but I want to nail this case first.”

Murphy eyes swing to the ceiling again. “Lord have mercy! You heard me, but you don't listen.”

“I know,” I reply softly. “But I have to help Talyn.”

“Why?” Murphy seethes. “She's a Lycan's change. She's that Merck fellow's responsibility.”

I nod hastily. “True. But she didn't believe me.”

“Believe you?” His eyes slit, shoulders lifting in a small shrug.

“Believe that I could protect her—save her.”

Murphy sighs, his gaze pointedly moving around the destruction of Talyn Phisher's home. “And we can't. She's in too deep—Lanarre royalty? Even Merck admitted she was the strangest change he'd ever had. And the complication of the Masker...”

“Mutable.”

His eyes darkened. “That too.”

I grab a handful of my pale braids and toss them behind my back.

“If Casper finds out you've gone off the rails you won't have to worry about not having told the gents your news.”

My gaze latches onto his.

“He'll terminate your employment without a thought. You can't go solo on this, Narah. This case no longer falls under
client needs
anymore. Once you and I—as your partner—though I feel like a tolerated sidekick—discovered that Talyn was a Lycan hybrid, our duty was done. Lycan politics don't impact Final Enforcement's ever-changing model. We distribute justice to the criminals our lovely police force doesn't want to dirty their hands with. We help humans who have problems of the supernatural variety.”

I blink. That's the longest speech I've ever heard Murph make. “Until the circle closes,” I reply.

Murph nods. “Yes. Until our obligation comes to its natural end. Which it
has
. We've already used Enforcement resources for clean-up. Now you're saying we need to find Talyn. It's clear that others were here.” He gives an abbreviated laugh, stabbing his eyes at the mess all around us. “They fought. And now Talyn is gone. And it is abundantly clear that Merck—and Arden—for that matter, will
not
stop chasing Talyn until she's transitioned. Let. It. Go.”

My hands go to my hips, and I dip my chin.

I struggle internally with not following through. My nature intrinsically sees a task or promise through to the end. Possibly because no one saw anything through for me. All promises broken.

Until I was turned and mated by vampires.

I wish I
could
let it go. Let Talyn's life come to whatever conclusion fate has in store for her.

“You can't let go,” Murphy says softly.

I lift my head, giving Murph level eyes. “No.”

“Fuck it,” he says, taking my hand, he hauls me out of Talyn's busted up digs.

“Where are you taking me?” I yank my hand out of his.

We turn to face each other.

“If you're committing possible suicide, I might as well have some skin in it.”

I jerk my chin back. “Huh? You've lost me.”

“I might be a lot of things, but saving my own skin is top on the list. I might actually live to see the next night if I help you get this out of your system.”

“And if I say no?”

Murphy steps into my space, looming over my small frame. “You tell me to piss off, and I'll run straight to the boys and let them in on your secret.”

“Bastard.”

“Yes.” He jerks his head in an enthusiastic nod. “But someone has to look out for you since you won't.”

“And look out for
you
,” I say, sarcasm like thick honey on my tongue.

The corners of his lips turn up.

I shove him good-naturedly in the chest and he stumbles back. “Hey!”

“Let's go, ya brute.”

I wink.

He glowers.

Talyn

“So—
what
? Duncan was always a derelict criminal, bent on kidnapping me?”

Drake's head kicks back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Pretty much.”

I sigh, tipping my head back against the wall. “The whole ʻasking me out on a dateʼ after workout at the gym?”

“Ruse,” he replies in a bored tone.

“God.”

“Not a believer, I'm afraid.”

I narrow my gaze at him. Like Merck, this guy is super-tall, built like a pro-wrestler and maybe he'd even be attractive.

Except for the scales.

And probably a forked tongue. Wait a minute—
does he breathe fire
?

I shiver.

Drake sees my reaction and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I'm so thrilled by his amusement. I shake off my curiosity for the moment. “You know, I think you shifters have to change into an animal that actually exists. It has to be a rule somewhere.”

A smile hovers at his lips. “And you're the authority on shapeshifters.”

“No,” I say defensively, “but in our world's ecosystem, I've never heard a breath of
dragons
as a real species. It's just bad science fiction.”

Drake's eyebrow cocks. “Really?”

He paces away, and I admire his wonderful body. In the middle of being a hostage, a crushing warmth steals my breath, piping through my system like lava.

I groan.

Drake whirls, staring intently at me, his concern is evident. “You're close.” His nostrils flare and a disconcerting twitch of his strange yet delicately constructed ears flicks. A rainbow waterfall like a shadow of colors ripples over his flesh head to toe.

I wheeze.

“Get these restraints off me!” I say loudly, denying my sexual needs.

Drake's hands fist, his eyes furtively moving about the room.

“Please,” I beg. My crotch is on fire, I'm exhausted and dirty and so low from lack of hope I can taste it.

He seems to come to a decision and extracts a knife from his back pocket. The blade flicks out with a smooth movement of his hand.

My eyes widen at the reflection of the metal.

With large eyes and a speeding heart, I watch him come.

I went too far, I demanded, and now the Dragon shifter guy—Mutable, whatever—has decided I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

“Don't hurt me.”

He comes to stand in front of me then sinks to his haunches.

A single tear swells, tipping over the rim of my eye.

“Don't.” My voice is hoarse, my terror rides my skin, raising goose flesh everywhere clothes don't touch.

Instead of answering, Drake leans forward, his arms going behind my body. I instinctively tense just as he gives off an odor unlike anything I've ever smelled.

I relax instantly. It's air and sea and earth, wind along my nose. His scent is all these things and more.

The pressure of the ties snaps off my wrists and my aching arms fall forward. His hands move down first one shin.

“Ah,” I gurgle embarrassingly in response to his touch.

Cut.

Then the next.

When my legs are free he grasps my hands and lifts me to my feet. I come to his shoulder.

Fear sweeps in again.

More of Drake's sweet scent pumps into the air around us, assailing my nostrils, and I find myself falling forward. Into his arms.

At his mercy.

My intellect batters at the new scent drunk closing in. I'm drowning—and I like it.

I don't notice the commotion at first. When my feet leave the ground, my arms automatically tuck against a broad, muscular chest.

My face rolls to the flat muscles of his chest and I inhale deeply.

His scent is a drug, and I'm an addict.

A sudden crack breaks through my lethargy. My head jerks up and I peer out of the arms that hold me.

Merck and Arden burst into the room.

Oh,
I think through the fog.

And they're not alone.

Enforcer Adrienne and her companion—a vampire by the looks of him—have arrived.

The cavalry is here to rescue me.

I look up at Drake and that small smile rides his full lips.

His eyes are no longer human.

“Leave and live another day.” Drake says.

The answer to the forked tongue question has been answered.

I randomly wonder how enunciating S's must be. I giggle and Merck and Arden look at me.

“This is bad,” I hear Arden say like he's a million miles away.

“Which part?” Adrienne asks as a chair sails over her head, crashing into the cheap wall and buckling it.

“The part where a dragon has claimed Talyn.”

Someone groans. I realize it's me.

Claimed?

“Oh shit.” I recognize the enforcer's voice but my eyelids are already closing. Drake's scent is so intoxicating, I feel the buzz of his nearness take over.

“Bloody hell!” another voice yells.

But I'm already fading. As another fight ensues, I vaguely wonder what escape really means for me.

The noise dims, and even that question becomes unimportant as I doze off.

THE END