ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Werewolf Rider (MC Shifter Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Paranormal Romance Short Stories) (341 page)

              "Maybe," Missy had said in her infinite, catty wisdom, "you're seeing shadows because you are lonely. How long have you been unemployed now, Stella? I know that losing Will was tough, but eventually you're going to use your savings up and then where will you be? It's time you got a job and got back to work, time that you started meeting some people and having fun again. I think embracing life is going to fix these 'shadows' more than staying with me ever would."

              At least when it was this dark outside, there weren't any shadows to be seen. With no light coming from any buildings to brighten the light, it was almost too dark to see her hand in front of her face. The advanced hour meant that there were few motorists, and Stella hadn't seen a car for a good ten minutes. With the subway down for the night, she was left to walk the distance between her place and Missy's.

              "What are you doing out alone at night?" The voice spoke so close to her ear that Stella was sure the man was leaning over her shoulder as she walked. There had been no footsteps to forewarn her of his presence until he was already far too close for comfort. She'd shrieked, but the sound died quickly on her lips; the man clamped a broad hand over her lips and pulled her close.

              "Do you want to die?" he asked. "If I wanted to, I already could have done plenty to make your life hell. Don't you think that if I was going to hurt you by now, I'd already have done it already?"

              Caught in the darkness, all Stella had to go off of was the hand clamped against her mouth, the feel of his body against her back, and the sound of his voice. His chest was flat, hidden behind a thick layer of leather. The hand was gloved, but his fingers were bare. And he was tall. As Stella let her head fall back against him, she only hit his shoulder. She'd been right to be paranoid — someone had been stalking her, and he'd finally made himself known.

              "If you want to live," he told her, "you're going to keep those pretty plump lips of yours closed, and you're going to come with me without a fight. You break away from me, I promise you you'll be dead — or worse — before you get three blocks. You follow my direction, you be good, and you'll get to keep your life. Nod if you understand."

              Stella squeezed her eyes closed, praying to break from this nightmare, but when she opened them again she saw the darkness of the night and felt his gloved hand upon her. Tears beading in her eyes, she nodded. If only she'd turned back and begged Missy to let her stay just one more night, but it was too late for regrets. She'd been caught, and now she had to figure out how to get out with her life.

              "Good girl," the man praised. The hand across her mouth dropped away, and he grabbed her by the wrist instead. Unable to see, he pulled her through the darkness and across the street. Stella nearly twisted her ankle on the curb, but even as she staggered, her aggressor did not slow. Wherever they were going, they had to get there fast.

              Up another curb, and then along the side of a building. Stella's lungs began to burn as she struggled to keep pace, unspilled tears weighing down her lower eyelid as they crept along the surface of her eye. The man directed her around a sharp corner, then brought them to a stop.

              "Don't move a muscle," he whispered through the darkness. Stella breathed in heavily, choking back a sob. "Stay tense. Do what I say."

              Without further instruction, he released his grip on her wrist. Stella couldn't hear his footsteps, but instinct told her that the man wasn't standing next to her anymore. She was right. Seconds later, he swept her off of her feet and into his strong arms. Stella was only sure that it was him because of the fingerless gloves he wore.

              "I'm going to put you down so you're sitting. You're going to keep your balance for me."

              "Okay," she whispered. Whispering had to be fine, since he couldn't feel her nodding anymore. In hostage situations like this, as long as she didn't scream out for help, he wouldn't turn on her. Right?

              "Putting you down now," he grunted. Thick, hard upholstery ran between her legs, but did not support them. Leather, had she to guess. So much leather. Her legs hung from either side, and before her, pressed against her groin, was a sturdy, metal compartment. When the man hopped on behind her, his heated body pressing against her back, Stella knew exactly where she sat. This was a motorcycle, and the man behind her, in the leather jacket and with the fingerless gloves was—

              The bike roared to life all at once, and Stella jumped.

              "Hold the fuck on," the man behind her barked. The headlights flicked on, and Stella saw them. The shadows. They stretched out from the surrounding darkness, reaching out for her. With a shriek of terror she clamped onto the hand grips as the stranger behind her kicked it into high gear. The hog ripped down the street, engine roaring as if to issue a warning. When Stella turned her head to look into the darkness they'd just left, she saw half a dozen sets of red eyes glinting through the darkness.

              They'd been coming for her.

              And as they shot down the street and skidded around a corner, Stella saw that the eyes were following, moving at an unnatural pace.

              "Holy shit!" she gasped.

              "Keep 'em closed!" the man behind her snarled. The sound of his voice was primal and fierce, and it was enough to shut Stella up. Unable to watch their advance any longer, she turned her attention back to the road. They were heading for the highway, speedometer chasing eighty through the twisting city streets.

              Right as they swerved to take the on ramp, a second hair of headlights joined theirs. Another engine roared its greeting as a second bike fell in line beside them. In tandem the two riders hit the highway. Streetlights lit the roads here, and they wove around other drivers to a symphony of honks and shouts. Stella glanced over her shoulder to notice two things. The first was that the sector of the city they'd just left was plunged in total darkness. The second was man on the hog at their side. He was lean, but sleek. A full helmet covered his head, black visor glinting beneath the streetlights, angular black casing giving him a futuristic appearance. He wore a black leather jacket and riding gloves, dark jeans and black combat boots. It was as though he'd wanted to blend into the shadows.

              The shadows and their ghastly eyes had given up the chase. Had the wind not been whipping at her so viciously, Stella might have sighed in relief, but the wild ride left no time for that. Instead, she contented herself with the sight of the city disappearing behind them. They'd hopped onto the interstate, and although she had no idea where it was going, Stella had a feeling that she would much rather be in the company of these two men than the legion of shadows behind her.

              "Just keep holding on, girlie," the man behind her cried above the deafening wind. "We got you now."

              Who 'we' was was yet to be determined, but despite the frightening introduction, Stella had peace of mind for the first time in weeks.

              The city disappeared behind them, and with it, her troubles. What new dangers lurked on the horizon were beyond her for the moment, and she was grateful for it.

              Peace at last. Stella could get used to that.

Chapter Two

              Both bikes pulled for the exit at the same time, and slowed for the first time all night. Plains stretched for as far as she could see, speckled intermittently with farmland, yet still their journey continued. Past the service center, past the only restaurant in town, and then out onto the narrow country roads. The second biker fell behind them, but it seemed to matter little. He revved the engine and cut across the grass on the side of the road, heading towards a large farmhouse in the distance. The bike Stella was on waited to turn off until it had hit the driveway, likely to keep an inexperienced passenger like her from toppling off. Even at low speeds, Stella was sure that falling would be catastrophic.

              Both bikes crawled to a stop before the house. The porch light was on, as were the inside lights.

              The second driver was the first to come to a stop, and by the time Stella and her biker had caught up, he had hopped off of his hog and pulled the helmet from his head. A mop of unruly blonde hair shone beneath the moonlight, which he shook free with delight. He had to be about her age, Stella thought. Somewhere in his mid twenties. Youth still clung to his features, but his jaw was sharp and beautiful, and the shape of his eyes was innocent and arresting. The blonde tucked his helmet beneath his arm and looked at the two of them.

              "That was close, Derek," he accused.

              "As if," the man behind her barked. He hopped off of the bike then set his hands upon Stella's waist, lifting her off the bike whether she wanted down or not. "I was in control the whole time."

              "Yeah. Right. Well, I happen to think your theatrics almost got all of us killed."

              "Thinking is pretty fucking pointless, Tristen. Are we dead? No. We're alive. So thinking about what could have happened is stupid. I was in control, I got us out alive, and we got back the girl."

              "Her name's Stella," Tristen rebutted. Stella's gaze shot to him, and he returned her stare without flinching. "That's right, isn't it?"

              Of course it was right, but how did he know? What was happening? Stella looked over her shoulder at the man who'd taken her hostage and whisked her away from the city. He was taller than Tristen by a few inches, and looked older by a few years. His hair was kept short enough that it wasn't windswept, but had it been longer she felt it would have matched Tristen's. Blondes, the both of them. Slightly darker stubble lined his jaw, and since he'd fished her from the bike, he'd planted a cigarette between his lips and was digging for a lighter in the pocket of his leather jacket.

              "Can one of you tell me what's happening?" Stella asked, looking back and forth between them.

              "You mean you don't know?" Tristen asked.

              "Course she doesn't," Derek replied curtly. He flicked the ignition wheel of the lighter down and flame burst forth to envelope the end of his cigarette. A short draw saw the cherry light. "She was walking through the goddamn city in the dark. You think she would have done that if she knew?"

              Tristen's lips tightened. Their bickering was getting her nowhere, and there were a lot of questions Stella needed answered before she could find any kind of peace. Before they continued, she interrupted.

              "You guys can fight later. Right now I need to know what those shadows are, who you are, and why you came to my rescue… If this is my rescue."

              It had crossed her mind that two grown men bringing a woman to a house in the middle of nowhere could very well mean they meant her harm, but both of them had seemed like good enough people she didn't feel in danger. Tristen was gorgeous and ethereal, and Derek was the bad egg. If anything, it looked like they'd harass each other more than they'd bother her.

              "You're Will's girl, aren't you?" Derek asked. As he spoke, he leaned over her shoulder and sniffed at her, as though he was smelling her shampoo. Stella tensed, squaring her shoulders and side stepping to put some distance between them. At that proximity, she'd heard each greedy little breath he'd taken. "You smell like Will's girl. You should know about all this shit." 

              Both of them knew too much. Stella crossed her arms as she distanced herself, standing near the porch. Tristen had known her name. Derek had known about Will. What game were they playing? She'd remember meeting guys as handsome as they were.

              "How do you know about Will?"

              Both blondes looked at her, mirror expressions of surprise. Tristen was the one who broke the tension, raising a hand to his forehead as if to lament the question.

              "He never told her about any of it."

              "What a fucking shitty thing to do." Derek took a deep drag on his cigarette and let the smoke curl upwards into the night sky. "You go inside. I'm going to talk to her. It's my place."