A Growl, a Roar, and a Purr Read online

  “Fuck, it’s cold out there.” He stood in front of it, letting the radiating heat warm his body.

  “Did you like my little toy?” Hashtag called from the door. “I figured cats like to chase things.”

  Rael had to admit it was a brilliant idea. “I think Dellan got more out of it than I did.”

  “They’re having fun out there,” Doc observed, watching through the window. “They seem well suited to these conditions.”

  “You want to know what I’m well suited to?” Rael grinned. “Staying indoors and drinking hot chocolate.”

  Crank moaned. “Oh yeah. Now you’re talking.” He went to the cabinet.

  Mate. It was Dellan’s voice, soft and coaxing. Maaaaate.

  Uh-uh. Lions and snow don’t mix. Rael was staying put. He’d had enough exercise for one day.

  Get your ass out here, Rael. Now. Horvan’s order sent a pleasurable shudder through him. Ever been fucked in the snow?

  Rael laughed. If you’re trying to persuade me, you just lost.

  Danger.

  He stiffened instantly, his heart hammering. What danger, Dellan? Rael raced to the door.

  Man coming.

  “Hashtag, we’ve got company.” Rael scanned the landscape and spotted the figure in the distance. Get inside now, both of you. He grabbed his clothing and dressed quickly.

  Hashtag dropped the drone’s control module onto a nearby chair and dashed over to his laptop. “Okay, he’s crossed the boundaries.”

  “Who is he?” Roadkill demanded, striding across the cabin floor, a rifle in his hand. “Can you see him yet?”

  Crank had grabbed a gun and was peering through the window. “Okay, I see him.” He opened it and took aim through the gap. “Got him in my sights.” He held the gun rock steady.

  Dellan shifted as he crossed the threshold. “It could be Doc’s contact. He’s too far away for me to tell if he’s a shifter.” He stepped into his sweats and pulled his top over his head.

  Horvan stepped into the cabin, shivering, and closed the door behind him. “Tell me what you see, Crank.” Rael threw Horvan his clothing.

  “Male, Caucasian. Dressed in black.” Crank smirked. “Nice of him to make himself such an easy target. He’s armed. And definitely coming this way.”

  “What’s he carrying?” Horvan demanded.

  “Rifle. Looks like he could pass for a hunter, but….” Crank paused.

  “What is it?” Rael’s heartbeat was still climbing.

  “This guy is military, or ex-military at the very least.”

  “I’m with Crank.” Roadkill was aiming his rifle through another window.

  Doc peered through the glass before inhaling deeply. “Relax, boys. He’s okay.”

  “Stand down,” Horvan instructed them.

  Pouting, Crank lowered his gun. “I guess that’s one more for hot chocolate, then.” He went back to his task.

  Doc opened the front door. “Vic? I didn’t think you’d be here so fast.”

  Vic stomped his feet outside, then stomped his boots on the mat inside the cabin. “I got on the first flight I could.” He glanced around the interior, arching his eyebrows at the sight of Roadkill’s rifle. “I guess I should have told you I was coming.”

  “It might have been advisable,” Doc commented dryly. “Come sit at the table and I’ll do the introductions.”

  Vic nodded, then sniffed the air. He stiffened. “Are they staying?” he asked, pointing to Crank, Roadkill, and Hashtag.

  Horvan set his jaw. “You’re free to talk in front of them.”

  Vic scowled. “You trust them?”

  “Hey, buddy.” Crank snarled. “We’ve probably been fighting together since before you were an itch in your daddy’s pants. How old are you anyway? Twelve?”

  Rael had to admit Vic looked very young. He was clean-shaven, with dark brown eyes framed by long black lashes.

  He’s pretty, isn’t he?

  Rael flashed Horvan a glance. Stop that.

  Well, he is.

  Vic frowned. “Am I missing something?” He looked from Rael to Horvan.

  “You’ll have to forgive my three friends here,” Doc said pleasantly. “They have a gift the rest of us can only dream of.”

  Rael moved to stand with Dellan, and Horvan joined them. “Right now, I’m not convinced you’re a friend,” Rael declared. Horvan held himself stiffly. Dellan was trembling, so Rael inched closer to him. “And if I think you’re a threat to me or my mates, you won’t leave here alive.” It was an empty threat on his part, but instinct told him the others would have no qualms about wasting the guy.

  You know it. Horvan’s hand was at Rael’s back, a comforting touch.

  Vic stilled. “Mates?” Instantly his whole demeanor changed. “Oh my God. Seriously?” He dropped into the nearest chair and gaped at Doc. “You didn’t tell me that part.”

  “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” Doc said with a smile. He gestured to Roadkill and Hashtag. “Let’s all sit down, okay? Crank, how’s that hot chocolate coming along?”

  Vic snickered. “I could use something stronger, if you’ve got it.”

  “Only if I see some ID first,” Crank retorted. “Because no fucking way are you twenty-one.”

  Vic smiled. “I’m thirty-five, actually.”

  “Get the fuck out of here.” Crank guffawed. “Thirty-five, my ass.”

  “When your animal has as long a lifespan as mine, you tend to age slower. And before you ask?” His eyes glittered. “I’m a Greenland shark.”

  “Is that supposed to impress us?” Hashtag folded his arms. “Because the only shark I’ve ever heard of is a great white.” He grinned. “Jaws scared the shit out of me when I was a kid.”

  “Then let me educate you. Greenland sharks can live more than five hundred years, so technically speaking, I’m only a baby.”

  Hashtag held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, I’m officially impressed.”

  “Well, I’m not.” Crank looked smug. “What you’re telling me is, I was right. In shark years, you’re not old enough to drink.”

  “For fuck’s sake, grow up,” Roadkill gritted out.

  “Me?” Crank appeared offended. “He’s the one who admitted to being a baby.” Everyone stared at him, and he grinned. “Okay, now I’m done.”

  Rael returned his attention to Vic, who was shaking his head. “I’ve never met a shifter that wasn’t a land animal before.”

  Roadkill got up from the table, then returned with a bottle of whiskey and several glasses. “This is all we’ve got.” He poured Vic a glass.

  Vic downed it in one gulp. “Now,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table. “Suppose you start at the beginning.”

  Rael started the tale, with Horvan and Dellan adding in additional details at various points. Vic listened intently, nodding in places and scowling in others. He smiled when they recounted details of the rescue, especially the part where Dellan’s release was claimed by several groups. Dellan then took over, sharing what had happened to him, as well as their suspicions about Anson and the part he might have played in the development of the drug.

  Vic helped himself to another glass of whiskey. “And you’re positive you never told him you’re a shifter?”

  “Positive.” Dellan met Vic’s direct gaze.

  Vic nodded before taking a drink. “I’m glad you called me,” he said to Doc. “This is something we need to be aware of.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Rael said suddenly. When Vic remained silent, he crossed his arms. “I think we have a right to know. Because this obviously concerns us.”

  Vic became very still. “This is a need-to-know situation, and—”

  “Fuck that,” Crank said, his voice harsh. “We know as much about shifters as they do, and that ain’t a lot, believe me. So how come no one knows anything? How come they have no fucking clue how many shifters are out there?” He banged the table with his fist. “We want answers, goddammit!”
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br />   “This is nothing to do with you,” Vic fired back at him. “You’re human, for Christ’s sake.”

  Crank nodded. “And we just risked our lives to save a shifter. I’m thinking you owe us for that.” His face tightened.

  Vic stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “I guess I can tell you a little of our history.”

  “You know about it?” Rael asked, his heart racing. Finally some answers to the questions that had plagued him since puberty.

  Vic smiled. “I should. I’m an oral historian.”

  Crank snickered. “He said oral.”

  Roadkill rolled his eyes, then addressed Vic. “Ignore the infant in our midst and tell us what you know.”

  Vic leaned back in his chair. “As long as there have been shifters, there have also been oral historians. Our job is to learn by heart, retain, and pass on to future historians.”

  “Like in Roots?” Crank asked. When Roadkill made an impatient noise, Crank scowled at him. “Hey, it’s a valid comment.”

  “And a correct one,” Vic told him. “In case you haven’t worked it out, as far as mankind is concerned, shifters are a myth. There are writings about us, stories that date back almost a thousand years.”

  “Does your oral history go back that far?” Hashtag leaned forward, his eyes shining.

  Vic smiled. “It does. The general consensus among humans is that if there was a grain of truth to the stories, shifters have long since died out.”

  “Except we know they haven’t,” Roadkill announced with a gleam in his eye.

  “Exactly. We have survived, but not in great numbers. Only two shifters can produce shifter offspring. If a shifter mates with a human, the children will be human too.”

  “Survived what, exactly?” Doc asked.

  Vic fell silent.

  “Vic?” Dellan’s voice was quiet. “What can you tell us?”

  Vic stared into his glass. “One thing remains unclear—when shifters first emerged. That is too far into the past. It’s thought that shifters existed in great numbers until the arrival of man.”

  “Let me guess.” Horvan’s brow furrowed. “They tried to wipe us out.”

  “Yes, and they almost succeeded. Those who survived spread out to all parts of the world. Where the oral history proves less shaky is the story of the two brothers.”

  Hashtag sighed. “This is fascinating.”

  Vic took another drink before continuing. “They had very different ideals, and even their names pointed to this. Ansfrid, which means divinity and peace, lived up to his name. He wanted to live in harmony with mankind. His brother, Ansger, did not.”

  “What does Ansger mean?” Rael inquired.

  Vic paused. “Divinity and spear.”

  “Oh fuck.” Crank reached for an empty glass and filled it. “We’re not gonna like this part, are we?”

  “Ansger wanted to rule over mankind, thinking men weaker than shifters. It is said the brothers couldn’t bear to live together, and they split. One bloodline mated with whoever they loved, human or shifter. The other chose to mate only with shifters.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Dellan murmured.

  “Me neither,” Doc added. “Because all this brings one word to mind, and it’s not a word I like.”

  “Doc?” Rael shivered. “What’s wrong?”

  “This business of shifters only mating with shifters. In other words, they were trying not to water down the gene pool. And the next step would be weeding out the inferior genes, the weaker genes.”

  “Are we talking… eugenics?” Hashtag gazed at Doc with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know.” Doc turned to Vic. “Are we?”

  “We don’t know.” Vic finished his drink. “Since the split, there’s been little information on what the Gerans are doing, beyond snippets and rumors. Nothing that’s verifiable, at any rate.”

  “Gerans?” Horvan frowned.

  Vic nodded. “That’s what the followers of Ansger became. I’m a Fridan. We follow Ansfrid’s example.”

  “Oh, I really don’t like this,” Crank announced. “Different bloodlines, gene purity, followers, cloak-and-dagger bullshit….”

  “Ansger and Anfrid were apparently very charismatic men. They drew followers from all kinds of shifters.”

  “Yeah, but from the sound of it, there are ‘followers’ out there who think all shifters are equal, but some are a little more equal than others.” Crank shuddered. “And before you know it, you’ve got a civil war on your hands.” He peered at Vic. “What else can you tell us?”

  “Believe me, I’ve said more than I’m allowed to already.” Vic shook his head. “Anything else I say would be hearsay, rumor, and innuendo. As an oral historian, I won’t sink to that. I’ll follow up, sure, to ferret out the truth, but I won’t be the one to spread misinformation.”

  “Is that it? Are you done now?”

  It was obvious to Rael that Crank and Vic were never going to be bosom buddies.

  “Actually? Could I stay a while? I have so many questions for you.” Vic’s eyes shone. “We know so little about mates, and for there to be three of you….”

  Rael looked to Horvan and Dellan. What do you think?

  Horvan nodded. I think he needs all the help we can give him.

  Roadkill sighed. “Well, what’s one more mouth to feed?” He winked at Rael. “We can always give Crank a smaller portion.”

  “You could sure as hell try,” Crank said with a growl.

  “Then I can stay? It wouldn’t be for long because I have places to be, but for a day at least.”

  Rael liked this new Vic. He’d gone from being a menacing, brooding figure to an eager man, excited to learn more. Despite his actual age, Vic gave the impression of being younger.

  Rael smiled. Well, Crank did say Vic is a baby for his species.

  It was as if Crank read his mind. “Hey, wait a minute, Mr. Oral Historian. All that guff about how it’s your shark that keeps you looking so young? That shit don’t add up.”

  Vic arched his eyebrows and folded his arms. “Oh?”

  Crank pointed at Horvan. “After he told us about shifters, I got curious. I went online and looked up bears and lions. Bears only live about twenty-five years. Lions don’t even live that long. So by your reckoning, they should already be dead.”

  Vic chuckled. “You’re applying human logic and human rules here? Well, I got news for you. Human rules don’t apply when you’re talking about the paranormal. And no, I can’t explain why shark shifters live as long as we do, because every other shifter I know lives a normal human life span. Is it because oral historians have always been sharks? Who knows? We don’t know everything about shifters.” His face darkened. “I can only say living a long time isn’t as hot as you might think. I don’t make friends, for one thing.”

  “Why not?” Rael asked, struck by the sadness he saw in Vic’s eyes.

  “Because I don’t want to be the one watching my friends die hundreds of years before I do. Not that you’d care,” he added, glaring at Crank. “You don’t give a shit about me.”

  Crank opened and shut his mouth, his eyes wide. Then he sighed. “You’re wrong. About me caring.” He glanced around the table. “My buddies are The. Fucking. Best. Thing in my life. I wouldn’t be without them. And what you just described sounds like an incredibly lonely existence.” He locked gazes with Vic. “I apologize.”

  Vic blinked. His expression softened. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “And I had a thought….”

  Hashtag bit his lip. “Did it hurt?”

  Crank fired him a warning look before giving Vic his full attention. “I don’t think sharks live long because they’re historians. I think they’re historians because they—you—live long. You’ll know things long after generations have turned to dust.”

  Everyone around the table stared at him.

  “What?”

  Roadkill shook his head. “That was pretty damn eloquent. After
all these years, you still manage to surprise me.”

  Vic smiled. “I was thinking the same thing.” He shook his head. “The thing you have to remember about shifters is, there are no rules. For every fact we think we know, we discover contradictions to that fact. Like my species, for example. But there are other things. Like why a two-hundred-pound human can become a four-hundred-pound bear, and others turn into six-ounce mice.” He laughed softly. “It makes my head spin.”

  “I hear ya on that one,” Crank remarked. “My head’s been spinning ever since Horvan shifted into a teddy bear.” He grinned.

  “Or should that be a Mama Bear?” Roadkill added, his eyes glinting with mischief.

  Rael loved the low growl that rumbled in Horvan’s throat.

  Vic’s gaze alighted on the whiskey bottle. “Is that really all you’ve got?”

  Roadkill chuckled. “I said all we’ve got is whiskey. What I didn’t say is how much of it we have.” He refilled Vic’s glass, then poured one for himself. He raised his glass. “Glad to have you here, Vic.”

  Vic stilled for a moment, then raised his own, clinking it against Roadkill’s. “Glad to be here.”

  “You might not say that after you’ve put up with a night of Crank snoring,” Hashtag muttered, helping himself to whiskey.

  Vic smiled. “I think I can cope.”

  Rael couldn’t dismiss the thought that their little band had just gotten bigger.

  RAEL WAS about to call it a night when Vic yawned. “Is it that time?”

  Hashtag laughed. “I’m not surprised you’re tired. You haven’t stopped talking all day.”

  Vic flushed. “Sorry.” He peered at Rael, who was sitting on the couch with Dellan. “Did I ask too many questions?”

  “Not at all,” Rael assured him. “I hope our answers helped.” Not that they’d been able to share all that much. Vic had wanted to hear about the first time Dellan had spoken to Rael, his dreams, and how the three of them communicated in both forms.

  “There were a couple of questions I didn’t get around to,” Vic confessed. “Not because we ran out of time, but because they were, shall we say, a bit… personal.” He coughed.

  Crank snorted. “Aw. That could’ve been entertaining.” Roadkill gave him a hard stare.