Rejected Mate (Feral Shifters 1)

I don’t make it. Something slams into me, and I pitch sideways with an oof. I land on my hip on the second bed, then bounce off onto the floor. My side hits hard, and my cheek slams into the carpet.

Great, now I’m going to get E.coli, I think, and if the situation weren’t so damn dire, I’d laugh. I’m already poisoned, so why not add a deadly bacterial virus? I could die twice.

Shoving against the floor with both hands, I ignore the gritty, crumbly texture of the carpet and glance around. Kian’s still battling his shadow, while Frost and Malix both have one of their own. Three shadows in the dark, three knives slashing.

So what hit me?

I probe the tender area on my forehead as I climb to my feet. The blow felt like a water balloon that didn’t break—squishy, but firm and capable of knocking down a grown woman.

This time, I manage to get my fingers on the cheap plastic switch before I get hit again.

I’m ready for it though. I throw up an arm, batting the thing away from me before it can fully slam into me. It’s a shadow—a fourth shadow—and it skitters across the bed then disappears on the other side of the mattress. I take advantage of its distraction and slam the light on with a little more force than necessary.

The lamp illuminates the room, such as it is, casting dull amber light into all the corners. It’s the first time I’ve seen the shadows in the light, and the effect is even more eerie because my brain knows they should vanish—but they don’t.

The fourth shadow appears from nowhere and launches at me again. I whip my knife out of the holster at my hip and lash out at the dark shape. Even though I don’t miss, the blade slices right through the shadow without doing a bit of damage.

“Son of a bitch!” I duck another darting attack, then do a tuck and roll away from the beds toward where the feral shifters are fighting their shadows.

I roll to my knees by Frost’s feet and leap up in time to see his knife take off a hunk of the shadow. The piece falls away and immediately turns to smoke that fades into the air. The shadow darts out of reach, but doesn’t seem too bothered that it just lost a chunk of itself.

Malix yells, “Amora!”

His voice is so hard that I almost don’t recognize it. I instinctually duck, and Malix’s knife jabs out over my head, slicing through a shadow that had been only centimeters from taking me down. The shadow hisses and slides away, trailing smoke.

Just like back in Oscura. The three of them can land blows on the shadows, but I can’t.

I straighten, the idea dredging up a deep sense of horror inside me.

What would happen if more of these shadows were unleashed on the world? They could decimate whole cities, and nobody—not soldiers, not police, not even a redneck with a gun—could stop them.

Kian’s attention is on the sh

adow in front of him, so he doesn’t see the shadow looming behind him. I can’t do fuck all about stopping the thing, so I yell, “Kian! Behind you!”

He whirls, surprisingly graceful for such a burly, muscular man, and his knife slices through the approaching shadow, while his other hand punches out at the first. Both shadows dart away, and the knifed one trails fading smoke from its injury.

I feel useless. I move around the room, calling shots like I’m a fucking referee. The fourth shadow does its best to take me down, and it’s certainly quick, but I’m quicker. It balances its attacks between me and the feral shifters. I yell a name, a direction, anything to warn them it’s coming, and they lash out.

It works, for a time, until two of the shadows decide to get smarter than they should be.

One whips toward Frost’s head, and I say his name, but the moment he turns to battle the oncoming threat, the first shadow whips around his face like a cloak. Frost drops his knife, and his hands go to the shadow squeezing his face.

Horrified, I rush up to him and try to get a grip on the monster. Even though the one back in Oscura was able to grab me, and poison me, I can’t get a grip on this one. My hands go right through the shadow and glance off Frost’s face while he gasps for air.

“Kian!” I scream. “Help!”

In the split second after my scream, the light goes out.

Kian’s at my side in an instant, his gaze raking over me like he expects me to be hurt. I rake at Frost’s face again, my heart in my throat because I can feel that he can’t breathe. It’s like I’m with him, feeling his lack of air, and even though he’s not outwardly terrified, I am.

Kian latches on to the shadow and yanks. It pulls a few inches away from Frost’s face, and Frost sucks in a deep breath. Then Kian slices the knife through the tendril, severing it in half. Before the shadow can dart away and lick its wounds, Frost latches on to it, slams it to the television stand, and skewers it.

It vanishes in a puff of smoke.

“Well,” I grunt breathlessly. “One down.”

From near the door, Malix calls, “Uh, guys?”