Dane.
“Look, Abel. Look what we have.” That was not Dane’s voice. It sounded slick, like dirty motor oil would sound if it made noise.
A man stepped out from behind a thick tree trunk. His voice matched his face. Long hair, pulled back into a greasy ponytail, an eagle’s beak for a nose, and a craggy, pitted face was perched on a thick neck.
Shifter!
And not a friendly one.
Another shifter stepped out from behind another tree, clearly Abel was related to the first shifter. “I see her. And she’s sweeter looking than her sister was. I wonder if she’ll be as difficult to break.”
The sound of a wind tunnel flushed through her head. Honor. These bastards…
She didn’t need anyone to confirm it for her. These were the animals that killed her family. Rage followed the wind tunnel. A rage so all-consuming that Glory yielded to her ivy as the ivy pressed for a shift.
This shift would not be difficult. She’d remained in practice after that first painful shift that brought her out of her healing hibernation. She’d become adept at the art of shifting quickly and almost completely painlessly.
With a final push, her ivy took over, pushing Glory to the rear of her mind while the ivy’s branches and leaves replaced Glory’s skin and bones.
Her ivy had become larger and much more fearsome than it had been when she’d been younger. Her tendrils wrapped Abel’s cohort in a grip, branches like bands of steel wrapping around his body, constricting his very breath from him.
We’ll see how you like this, shifter.
Shifters were long-lived and could heal quickly, but they couldn’t heal when suffocated to the point they lost all their life-giving oxygen.
Your life is mine.
“Kill her, Basil.” Abel gasped the words out, his face already light blue.
Abel shifted into a huge badger, lethal, but nonetheless futile in her grasp. His teeth were no match for her branches.
“I’m trying.” Abel’s brother Basil shifted into a badger as well. A smelly, dark, greasy looking oversized badger. He sunk his teeth into her ivy’s branches, snarling louder.
Abel stopped moving. Basil was still attached to her. She turned to grab him and he leapt back then shifted into his man form.
“Morton, Bill, this way, hurry!” His voice was tinged with fear.
Rightly so.
She advanced on him while he ran toward a clearing.
Behind her, Glory’s ivy heard the sound of a branch breaking.
She turned toward the noise and found three more shifters facing her.
“Tranq her, now!” Basil screamed.
One of the three newcomer shifters raised a pistol.
Ivy had never seen tranquilizers but she’d overheard a shifter discussing it one day when she’d been in the forest in her ivy form and two wolf shifters had walked by. They hadn’t known they were in the presence of an ivy shifter, and they’d continued walking and talking, completely unaware.
She remembered they’d mentioned that a tranq would render a shifter unconscious.
The sound of air being released with a pop from the pistol heralded a sharp pinch as a steel dart penetrated her bark, sinking into a soft spot, embedding itself in the center of her wood.
In seconds, her vision became fuzzy and she lost her balance, crashing to the forest floor, rendered unconscious.
11
D ane stretched , his eyes flying open. His leopard told him right away something was off.
Maybe even wrong.
Sitting up on the couch, several things struck his shifter senses. The first was the scent of Glory.
Everything Glory.
He let her scent sit on him for a moment, analyzing.
Their lust, her climax, those were easy to identify and understand.
The fear and the tears?
Not so easy to understand.
He remembered her falling asleep with him. During that time they’d migrated; she wound up laying on his chest.
Evidently she’d cried. He touched a spot on his torso that had emitted the strongest scent of her tears. A tiny pool of the moisture had dried, leaving the almost indiscernible ring of
“Look, Abel. Look what we have.” That was not Dane’s voice. It sounded slick, like dirty motor oil would sound if it made noise.
A man stepped out from behind a thick tree trunk. His voice matched his face. Long hair, pulled back into a greasy ponytail, an eagle’s beak for a nose, and a craggy, pitted face was perched on a thick neck.
Shifter!
And not a friendly one.
Another shifter stepped out from behind another tree, clearly Abel was related to the first shifter. “I see her. And she’s sweeter looking than her sister was. I wonder if she’ll be as difficult to break.”
The sound of a wind tunnel flushed through her head. Honor. These bastards…
She didn’t need anyone to confirm it for her. These were the animals that killed her family. Rage followed the wind tunnel. A rage so all-consuming that Glory yielded to her ivy as the ivy pressed for a shift.
This shift would not be difficult. She’d remained in practice after that first painful shift that brought her out of her healing hibernation. She’d become adept at the art of shifting quickly and almost completely painlessly.
With a final push, her ivy took over, pushing Glory to the rear of her mind while the ivy’s branches and leaves replaced Glory’s skin and bones.
Her ivy had become larger and much more fearsome than it had been when she’d been younger. Her tendrils wrapped Abel’s cohort in a grip, branches like bands of steel wrapping around his body, constricting his very breath from him.
We’ll see how you like this, shifter.
Shifters were long-lived and could heal quickly, but they couldn’t heal when suffocated to the point they lost all their life-giving oxygen.
Your life is mine.
“Kill her, Basil.” Abel gasped the words out, his face already light blue.
Abel shifted into a huge badger, lethal, but nonetheless futile in her grasp. His teeth were no match for her branches.
“I’m trying.” Abel’s brother Basil shifted into a badger as well. A smelly, dark, greasy looking oversized badger. He sunk his teeth into her ivy’s branches, snarling louder.
Abel stopped moving. Basil was still attached to her. She turned to grab him and he leapt back then shifted into his man form.
“Morton, Bill, this way, hurry!” His voice was tinged with fear.
Rightly so.
She advanced on him while he ran toward a clearing.
Behind her, Glory’s ivy heard the sound of a branch breaking.
She turned toward the noise and found three more shifters facing her.
“Tranq her, now!” Basil screamed.
One of the three newcomer shifters raised a pistol.
Ivy had never seen tranquilizers but she’d overheard a shifter discussing it one day when she’d been in the forest in her ivy form and two wolf shifters had walked by. They hadn’t known they were in the presence of an ivy shifter, and they’d continued walking and talking, completely unaware.
She remembered they’d mentioned that a tranq would render a shifter unconscious.
The sound of air being released with a pop from the pistol heralded a sharp pinch as a steel dart penetrated her bark, sinking into a soft spot, embedding itself in the center of her wood.
In seconds, her vision became fuzzy and she lost her balance, crashing to the forest floor, rendered unconscious.
11
D ane stretched , his eyes flying open. His leopard told him right away something was off.
Maybe even wrong.
Sitting up on the couch, several things struck his shifter senses. The first was the scent of Glory.
Everything Glory.
He let her scent sit on him for a moment, analyzing.
Their lust, her climax, those were easy to identify and understand.
The fear and the tears?
Not so easy to understand.
He remembered her falling asleep with him. During that time they’d migrated; she wound up laying on his chest.
Evidently she’d cried. He touched a spot on his torso that had emitted the strongest scent of her tears. A tiny pool of the moisture had dried, leaving the almost indiscernible ring of
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