Compelled (Shadow Beast Shifters Book 5)

The incessant shrieking of my alarm grated against my sensitive hearing, and in my half-awake state, I swiped at my phone, determined to throw it through the window. All I ended up hitting was my wicker side table, since my more coherent side had known to leave the phone out of reach last night.

I’d learned the hard way not to keep anything breakable close by in the morning—I didn’t have the funds to keep replacing items that annoyed me.

It was my own fault, really, using an alarm that shrieked like a banshee, but I was a fucking terrible morning person. If not for the screech, I’d sleep half the day away.

Groaning, I dragged myself out of my twin bed, blurry vision clearing in seconds with the help of my wolf. She might be weaker these days, but what remained of her strength still fueled my own.

Kicking clothes out of the way as I went to the bathroom, I chuckled at how lazy I was getting. No one ever visited me, so I saw no reason not to use my floor as a horizontal wardrobe. Had to be some benefits to the reclusive life.

In the bathroom, I pushed open the tiny window to allow some airflow and tried not to think about the fact that, once again, I’d spent my Saturday night at home living my best damn life with popcorn and Teen Wolf. Was it a touch ridiculous that a shifter enjoyed watching shifter shows, especially when they got so many of the details wrong? Maybe, but it was my secret indulgence.

Unlike dating, which was now a proven recipe for disaster.

I’d had exactly five dates in the past year, and each of them bored me to the point that, on my last date, I almost smashed my face into the main course when I fell asleep and my head slipped off my hand. In my defense, that Tucson pack shifter had droned on about horticulture for thirty-seven minutes. Thirty-seven of the longest fucking minutes of my life.

Before that was a female shifter from New York. Apparently, during the time Torma had been suppressing us and keeping our pack under lock and key, other packs had been discovering social media. She cared more about her likes on a post than she did about getting to know me, and I’d had to bail early.

Suffice it to say, there would be no second date with either.

I’ve always said I fall in love with hearts not parts, and that stood true, but so far I hadn’t found the one with the heart I was searching for.

Checking the time before I jumped into the shower, I noted that I had to be at the shop in twenty minutes, and since I now lived in my best friend Mera Callahan’s crappy, former apartment across Torma, I needed to haul ass.

I had very few things left in this world that were mine, but my shop was one, and I took my role as a businesswoman seriously. Not that I was cashed up or anything. Torma pack wasn’t into literature; another reason I should have left years ago.

The pack was free now, but it still felt empty. With Mera—and my parents—gone, there was nothing here for me any longer. The shop had been a fantastic distraction and I still loved it, but I could open a business in any shifter pack. Try somewhere else. Something new.

If I lived for a few hundred more years, I really didn’t want to waste them in this shithole. Torma had once been considered the strongest pack in America, and I’d been happy here with Mera. That life was over the moment my bestie was rejected by the alpha, terrorized by this fucking pack, and then kidnapped by a scary-ass shifter god… who, luckily, turned out to be her true mate. My wolfie-sister was now living her best life, which didn’t include Teen Wolf, and I missed her more than I’d ever thought possible.

She’d cleaned up Torma before she left, but it didn’t matter. I had nothing here without her, hence my need to start a new adventure. Hell, maybe there was a growly, sexy, change-his-or-her-size shifter waiting out there for me too. Couldn’t be worse than the horticulturist.

After ten minutes under the hottest stream I could get from my rusted showerhead, I finally felt somewhat awake. Throwing on underwear, black skinny jeans, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of black flats, I was ready to get to work. There was no need for makeup since I had no one to impress, and a quick brush was all it took to have my long, dark hair smooth and shiny—a gift of the few generations removed Japanese heritage on my mom’s side.

My parents were exiled when Mera excised the cancer from Torma, and I barely even noticed they were gone.

As former enforcers, they’d always been more concerned with pack business than with their daughter, so it was no huge loss that they were out of Torma, living a finite human existence.

On the street, I found it was still quiet, allowing me to hurry along without interruption. Soon the pack’s school bell would chime, and with it, all the late students would rush across town. I’d be in my shop before that of course, and it was the best fucking feeling to be done with school.

My shop appeared on the horizon, nestled in the main street of businesses here in Torma. It had a stunning red brick front with a forest-green awning. I’d picked that out as my first step in revamping the space, and I still loved the way the green contrasted to the brick.

After unlocking the door, I stepped into a dark and cool space, but as the spring days heated up, I’d have to get all the fans running to keep the small area from turning into an oven. Hitting the lights near the front, I took a second to appreciate each flickering beam highlighting a shelf below, filled to the brim with all genres of stories.

Like Mera, I preferred my books heavy on romance and fantasy and absolutely filled with angst and drama. But in my store I included a few other genres in the hope that no matter who walked through the door, there would be something in here to tickle their fancy. I mean, who was I to tell a shifter that they were probably a serial killer because they enjoyed biographies. Or classics.

Just as I was storing my keys and phone in the drawer, the door dinged, and I looked up to see my neighbor, Ethel. She was an ancient shifter who looked a million years old but was probably only two hundred and fifty. She ran the craft supply store a few doors down.

“Sim,” she called, hobbling over, stretching out her back as she walked. “Slept funny again last night. Can you help an old wolf out?”

Anndddd there you had it, the full extent of my current social interactions. “Sure,” I said with a sigh. “Happy to help.”

We’d done this many times now, and as I twisted her arm to the side and pulled gently, I heard a few pops as everything went somewhat back into place. Ancient shifters stopped healing as efficiently as when they were younger, but she still made it to work every single day. Lady had some strong vagina energy, which was much more impressive than big dick energy. Or so I’d heard.

Not a lot of dicks around, big or not, to test that theory.

Ethel left soon after, and it was just me, my store… and a new box of books waiting to be sorted and priced. As I tore open the tape, no lie, I breathed in the scent the same way others might breathe in food. I was straight up crack-addicted to this shit, and no matter where my path took me, I would never not have a large collection of books around me.

Lifting the first paperback free, the cover caught my eye with its broad-shouldered and tattooed male, fire swirling around him as he raged. This series was one of my favorites, and not just because the male main character reminded me of Mera’s beast. There was a forbidden-love element that kept me hooked for the entire four books in the series.

One of those stories you fell into, forgetting you were even reading.

Possibly an even rarer find than a magical soulmate who created solar systems.

When I placed the book on the desk to grab the next, I felt a flicker of energy from within the drawer below. A familiar flicker linked to a piece of parchment I hadn’t looked at in days.

Mera!

Ripping the drawer open, I shifted the top layers of my crap to find the paper I needed. The parchment had an ancient feel to it, made from a material not found on Earth, and as more energy shot up from it, writing appeared in quick, jagged script.

Simone. Mera is in labor.

The moment I read that sentence, it disappeared, part of the safety in these hidden messages. Another jolt of energy followed. Inky is on its way. Do not delay.

The parchment fell from my hands as I bounced on the spot, having had no idea that today would be The. Fucking. Day. The day that my best friend had her baby and I got a little adventure out of this town. Grabbing up my phone, I shot a text to Sam, my friend in another shifter town, letting her know Mera was in labor and I’d be MIA for some time.

All I got in return was a smiling emoji and a thumbs up.

Fuck me. Thumbs up should be banned as a response tool.

At least it seemed Sam was alive, even if she would only talk to me on the phone for five minutes a week. Clearly, she was in the middle of some shit over in her pack, and as much as I wanted to swoop in and save her ass, she was an adult shifter who needed to handle her business alone. I respected that.

Lucky for her, Mera had been busy growing a baby and saving the worlds, otherwise she’d have dragged Sam out by her hair. Probably after this baby arrived, she’d still do that.

With no one else to tell in my sad life, I quickly hurried to turn the lights off again and flick the sign on my door to closed. Nerves rolled in my stomach at the thought of being back in the Library of Knowledge. Back in the Solaris System gateways. Back near… him.

Funnily enough, my boring life hadn’t always been this way, but in a concerted effort to keep the past in the past, I now spent my time dating horticulturists and social media experts. And I absolutely did not date master vampires.

Safer for everyone.