Shifters' Storm Read online

  Dedication

  Shifters’ Storm is all my Samhain editor’s fault. I was minding my business, doing something terribly important, when Linda Ingmanson threw me a challenge. Okay, two challenges. “How about trying a ménage?” she emailed one day. When I responded with, “Huh?” she threw up another gauntlet. “Shape-shifters are sexy and popular. How about trying one of those?”

  A few more less than intelligent “Huhs?” from me and total lack of sympathy on Linda’s part and things started germinating inside my uncontrolled and uncontrollable brain. I’m not sure how ménage and shape shifting started meshing together, but I knew enough to come along for the ride.

  And if readers have as much fun reading Shifters’ Storm as I did creating it, I’ll cancel that hit I’ve ordered on Linda.

  Chapter One

  Dew touched with ice oozed out of the ground to caress Rane Haller’s hiking boots and send cool fingers up her jeans-clad legs. The message was simple and inescapable. Winter had snuck up on fall and was overtaking it. Once winter won the inevitable battle, snow would start to blanket the woods she loved, despite what had happened here.

  Winter was coming too soon, she acknowledged as she continued along the deer trail that slipped deep into the Chinook Mountains where she’d grown up. She needed more alone-time in the wilderness. Needed answers.

  And justice.

  Her kind of justice.

  Sucking in air that smelled of cold, soil and pine needles, she stopped and listened. To the left and above her, a Clark’s nutcracker pulled bark from the top of a Ponderosa. The gray-black bird probably assumed the solitary human was unaware of its existence, but Rane heard things people unaccustomed to a forest didn’t.

  She also caught a hint of the dried fox dung to her right, and because she knew where to look, she spotted the ground squirrel all but buried in decaying pine needles. Unless nature’s order had been turned on end, the squirrel would soon be hibernating. In the meantime, it was trying to pack on weight.

  Dismissing the rodent, bird and what a red fox had left behind, she continued climbing. Her destination this October morning was a high meadow that owed its rich grasses to an underground spring and was a favorite grazing spot for deer and elk.

  Elk.

  Gripping the shoulder straps on her backpack, Rane concentrated on toeing outward. Her butt was sticking out, but it wasn’t as if there was anyone around to see. If she spotted someone, her first move would be to take her rifle from her pack, release the safety and aim. Only then would she concern herself with trying to determine who was sharing this space with her.

  Acknowledging her actions saddened her. As a child, personal safety had never once concerned her. Yes, her mom had cautioned her to keep an eye out for cougars, and she couldn’t remember when she hadn’t known not to get between a female bear and her cubs. Except for those remote possibilities, the only thing she’d had to concern herself with was not breaking a leg.

  How things had changed.

  She’d included a waterproof sleeping bag and enough food for four meals in her pack, but as she continued to put the yards behind her, she again acknowledged her hope that she wouldn’t have to spend the night out here. It wasn’t as if she was afraid of a solitary night in the wilderness, but if she rolled out her sleeping bag, it meant she’d failed in her attempt to find the elk, or more to the point, Songan.

  Songan. Native American for strong.

  Her mother used to caution her not to let her mind wander while hiking and always keep her attention on where her feet were landing, but two hours into her journey, it was hard to stay focused. It was also nearly impossible not to think about what standing close to Songan would do to her system.

  Body-blowing.

  Shaking her head, she concentrated on the feel of cool, clean air caressing her lungs. It would definitely help if she could channel the air between her legs and bring the temperature there down a few degrees. That way, when she finally caught sight of Songan, she’d be able to concentrate on what she had to do and not the wanting.

  Why hadn’t he gotten in touch with her lately, damn it! Granted, this time of year his thoughts were on fucking, nonstop if possible, but he had to know what she was going through.

  Didn’t he?

  Another shake of her head didn’t come close to unjumbling her thoughts. Pausing, she looked ahead. She was still on the decades-old deer trail that showed no sign of petering out. Even if it did, she could still reach the meadow. Granted, she’d been to it only a couple of times, and not since she was a teenager, but that was another benefit of having had the Chinook Forest as her playground. She didn’t get lost.

  Another half hour of planting one foot ahead of the other brought her to the top of the long slope. The lush grassy area dotted with silver-barked aspens was just beyond this last bunch of trees, but like the deer who’d provided her with a clear path to her destination, she knew better than to expose herself. The fresh scent of elk and deer dung blended with fern, moss and foxtail barley. The uninitiated might believe they’d reached a peaceful place, a safe haven, but she didn’t dare think that. Yes, predators such as cougars, foxes, coyotes and bears were around, but the true threat came from humans.

  Shivering, she reached for her mother’s rifle. No! She didn’t dare let the word threat swamp her, not now.

  Head cocked, she listened. Within seconds she’d identified and dismissed the normal meadow sounds. At the same time, she’d honed in on a distant and nearly imperceptible snuffling. Turning her head one way and then the other, she determined it was coming from the meadow’s east side. Nostrils flaring, she sought to capture the scent she knew went with the faint sounds, but the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. Determined to assess the situation, she held her weapon steady as she slipped around the tree she’d been using as a shelter.

  Fall had erased the rich green that painted the grasses during spring and summer. Shades of gray touched everything in the approximately five acre space, making it difficult for her to discern details. Now that trees no longer stood between her and the sound, she concluded she’d heard a bear. The creature was walking slowly and cautiously, which concerned her. Most times, especially if they were unaware of human presence, they blundered around ruled by their bellies and propelled by their noses. Adult bears took it for granted that they had no natural enemies in the forest. If they wanted to lay claim to a grub-filled log or dine on an animal carcass, they did, and woe to anything that got in their way.

  Carcass?

  Bile rose in Rane’s throat, and tears burned her eyes. Much as she hated the wave of emotion, she knew better than to try to deny it. Grief demanded its own time and weight. When, after too long, sorrow backed off enough to allow her to think, she set about trying to separate the bear from its surroundings. The creature was still sniffing the earth, but now it paused between steps, making her wonder if it was stalking something.

  The breeze shifted, then shifted again, and she smelled the bear. There was something off about the odor. A lack of unity. If it wasn’t for the other smell she’d just detected, she would have set about trying to determine what didn’t fit about the bruin. However, the second scent was suddenly so strong it overpowered everything else and tightened her fingers around her weapon. Again she had to fight the urge to cry out, only this time her reaction had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with alarm. Bits and pieces of instinct and intelligence wove together in her mind and provided her with the unwanted explanation.

  Blood and gore. Violently expelled body fluids.

  She didn’t fault the bear for being drawn to death any more than she’d ever been upset by the sight of buzzards. Carnivores did what nature had designed them to do. But before she let the bear do hi
s job, she needed to see what had been killed and how.

  Firing into the air might chase off the bear, but she didn’t want to telegraph her presence. She had no choice. She’d observed enough of the area’s blacks to be relatively certain this one would choose retreat over confrontation. That was one of the plusses to being deep in the wilderness. The wildlife here hadn’t become conditioned to human presence.

  The off bear smell as well as the death stench guided her search. Studying the meadow’s east edge, she spotted a dark shape. At this distance, she knew better than to go by first impressions, but the bear seemed unusually large. It was just her luck that she’d have to run off a male in his prime. At least bear breeding season was behind him. Hopefully his testosterone level had dropped so his balls no longer ruled him. After determining the direction the bear was walking, she studied the ground until she made out a motionless mound some hundred feet ahead of the bear.

  Sticking to the trees ringing the meadow would increase the amount of time she needed to reach what she now knew was a carcass, but she knew better than to conclude she and the black had the area to themselves. Other critters were fine. In fact, she’d love to see some deer right now, but something on two legs was a different story.

  She’d recently been given stark proof of the evil man was capable of.

  Stopping, the bear turned and rose onto its hind legs, obviously studying her. Huge! Even with so much distance between them, she had no doubt the beast would make the local record books. Hands shaking a little, she sighted through the rifle’s scope.

  “Oh shit. Shit.”

  Still cursing under her breath, she acknowledged the chill down her spine. What had she been thinking? This was no shy and unassuming black. The rich auburn fur alone told her that. More to the point, this creature had to go twice what a black weighed and sported a massive shoulder hump.

  A grizzly.

  Couldn’t be! The breed hadn’t been seen in Oregon for decades.

  But it was.

  Even as she noted the thick legs, small ears, long, tapering muzzle and take-no-prisoners body, something else occurred to her. The beast’s full attention was on her, which meant he wasn’t aware of any other humans in the area. Much as she relied on her own senses, she had even more faith in his, and he was telling her she had nothing to fear from one of her kind.

  Her safety where he was concerned was a different matter. She could die today, a victim of claws and fangs. The rifle she’d hauled up here was probably worthless. If she hit it, all she’d do was make it mad.

  Could she turn tail and get the hell out of here?

  The strongest gust of wind so far brought her a metallic stench that sent shock through her already overloaded system. Blood. A lot of it. Undeniable proof of a savage death. More information sorted itself out in her mind. Whatever had died was pretty big. There was something stale about the smell, which told her the death hadn’t happened within the past few hours.

  Her nerves tightened, and her awareness tunneled until only she and the bear existed. Lowering itself back onto four legs, it woofed.

  Didn’t expect to see you here, it seemed to be saying.

  “I didn’t expect to see you either,” she whispered.

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  Her heart lost rhythm, then reset itself. If she’d been anyone else and didn’t know about the rare creatures that called the Chinook Forest home, she would have been convinced she was hallucinating.

  “I don’t want to be,” she admitted.

  “Come closer.” The grizzly briefly turned his attention to the carcass. “You need to see.”

  Driven by a force she didn’t comprehend, Rane started toward what in essence was a killing machine. Even if it charged, she doubted she’d shoot, because the grizzly was at home in a forest where it no longer belonged.

  Her legs felt strong, and despite the uneven ground, her hips moved effortlessly. The combination of smells became more complex and deeply layered. Everything in her said she was supposed to be doing this insane thing. Erasing the distance between her and the great, rich-coated creature was all-important. As a Forest Service employee specializing in wildlife biology, she’d seen a grizzly up close, but that one had been drugged. Helpless.

  When maybe fifty feet separated her from the massive beast, she dug her boots into the soft ground. She felt disconnected from herself and reality as she untied the backpack fastenings around her waist. If she was wrong about the connection between her and the bruin, she’d never be any older than today. Holding the rifle with first one numb hand and then the other, she slipped free of the pack’s weight. Momentarily unbalanced, she concentrated on standing upright. Once her equilibrium was restored, she again assessed the scent coming from the creature. She knew what a bear smelled like. This one was that, all right, and more.

  The grizzly’s beautiful coat was thick and long, preventing her from getting a clear picture of the amount of fat, bone and muscle underneath. This time of year, healthy bears were putting on weight to insure they’d survive all but the harshest winter. Contrary to what many people believed, they didn’t spend the winter in deep hibernation, especially at this elevation, but their activity level decreased dramatically.

  Looking into the small but shining eyes, she realized they were black instead of brown as they should have been. The bear was fully alert, but it was more than that—an intelligence.

  “What are you?” she managed.

  “I don’t know if you can understand.”

  Shocked, she glanced over at the inert form. The instant she did, she could no longer breathe. Sick and scared, she stared. She barely recognized her strained, “No, no, no.”

  “What is it?”

  “An elk. Dead.” The inadequate words were all she was capable of.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you—”

  “No.”

  Whether she believed the grizzly or not didn’t matter. He might stop her from getting closer to the body, might swipe her out of existence. Despite the danger, she studied the carcass.

  The elk lay on its side with its head at an awkward angle. Its eyes were closed, its slender legs useless. Its belly was well rounded. From where she stood, she couldn’t see its sex organs, but its unimpressive antlers told her it was—had been—a young male.

  “Not you, Songan,” she managed. “Thank God, not you.”

  Despite her relief, cold sweat coated her spine, and for several seconds she couldn’t hear anything for the roaring in her ears. Then, because she needed to know what had killed the youngster, she took three forward steps. The grizzly again rose onto his hind legs, revealing large, dark, nearly hairless sex organs.

  Standing the way he was, the beast was close to twice her height, with claws capable of digging trenches in the earth—or her flesh—and startlingly white, potent teeth. His nose twitched, and his ears swiveled toward her, then back. She remained most aware of his eyes. Not only weren’t they the right color, they were larger than they should be and full of depth.

  “Get down. I can’t handle this,” she said, her voice dropping at the end. Surprised by her admission, she was slow to comprehend that he was indeed again lowering himself. He wasn’t obeying her, never that. In fact, if she could believe the way his ears were working and his head’s sudden sharp jerk to the left, she’d suddenly become unimportant to him.

  Repositioning the rifle so it was at the ready, she strained to locate what had captured the bear’s attention. A sharp crash nearly tore a scream from her. The bear whirled in that direction.

  Even before the bull elk with the split-the-forest-size rack burst from the evergreens at the edge of the meadow, Rane knew what she’d see. Just the same, time snagged and nearly stopped. She smelled the rut on the elk, the prime in his thick neck. Clear of the underbrush now, he hammered himself to a stop, every inch shimmering and muscles threatening to burst through flesh and hair. No matter how many times she’d seen an elk up close, their potency awed h
er. In contrast to his dark brown legs, face and neck, the rest of his body was blond, the hair shaggy. The monster-size bull stood a three-second charge away.

  A rutting bull elk’s bugle was a beautiful thing, eerie and erotic all in one, but the sound grinding out of the massive lungs and throat had nothing to do with seduction. Instead, it was all challenge. Letting the grizzly know he was ready for battle.

  This didn’t happen in the natural world. An elk, which at his core was a prey animal even though a bull could be five feet high at the shoulder, attacked only to save his life or that of another of his kind. He’d charge another male elk to claim a cow in estrus but not a grizzly.

  Again she nearly screamed. Then, chiding herself for almost playing the feminine card, she scurried backward. This was between two wilderness lords. Her only role was as audience.

  Instead of charging the again upright bear, however, the elk plodded toward the carcass. His laborious movements were familiar.

  “Songan,” she whispered.

  Chapter Two

  Rage and confusion ran through the nine-hundred-pound elk. He might not know the name of the large, rich brown animal he’d nearly attacked, but something imbedded deep inside him told him the creature was unlike any he’d ever seen. Too big. Too intelligent. Dangerous and a threat.

  A threat to what, the bull pondered. He lost the question when the slight, two-legged creature made a noise. He didn’t understand the sound coming from the pale throat. At the same time, it was familiar. Keeping his head high and antlers angled toward the great beast, he tried to make sense of the two-legged one’s smell, but other scents overran it. The fanged and clawed bear stank of challenge and might. In contrast, the wind-borne aroma that had brought him here spoke of surrender. Death. Gore.

  Trying to comprehend took so much effort. The death stench warned that the same thing might happen to him, but how could he decide whether to flee or fight when he didn’t know what had stopped the fallen elk’s heart?

  His blood ran hot with the sexual need that had driven him for days and distracted him from the question he dimly perceived to be vital. As the sun was rising this morning, he’d stepped into the middle of his harem, not to lead them to the nearby creek but because two cows were licking their sides and sex. They’d briefly tried to evade him, then stopped and set their wide-spread rear legs.