Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance
Read Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance Online
Authors: Catherine Vale
Wild Things
A BBW Paranormal Shifter
Romance
Catherine Vale
WILDFIRE PRESS
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Copyright © 2016, Catherine Vale. All
rights reserved.
Published by Wildfire Press
Edited by: Addison Reede.
This is a work of fiction. All names,
characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
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Wild Things
Senna, the curvy Princess, and fierce protector of her kingdom, refuses to
be given away in marriage to the Ottway, an evil bastard of a man, who just so
happens to be aligned with her father. Marriage arranged, Senna is torn
between what she must do for her kingdom, and what her heart truly wants.
Gabriel isn't just Senna's guard, but a powerful wolf-shifter, who just so
happens to want her as his own. It would be treason to go against the
wishes of the King, but what these old men don't seem to know, is that when it
comes to love, rules are meant to be broken.
Will Gabriel be successful in his attempt to rescue Senna from danger? And
if they make a run for it, will they be able to survive in a world of aliens
and shifters, who will stop at nothing to destroy them, should they rebel?
Note to Readers: This is a quirky, fun story set in a modern world with a
steam-punk feel, mixed with everything you want in a paranormal shifter
romance. Gabriel is a wolf-shifter, and Senna is the curvy lady that he's
willing to do anything for, including give up his life, if he must. This
story, along with all of my other stories, will end in a HEA, but the journey
to get there will be nothing short of wild. Hold on tight!
Table of
Contents
The
screech of the train whistle tore Senna from her sleep. She blinked, then
pushed herself up on the bench seat she’d been resting on. Her body was stiff,
her mind fuzzy. The wine she’d had left her groggy. The train jerked, and she
could tell they were speeding up.
“What
is it?”
The
guard at the door in her car swayed with the movement of the train. “I’m not
sure, Princess.”
“Well,
find out, please. I want to know what is happening.” She pulled aside the
curtain on the little window. The glaring sun made her blink, but she pressed
her face against the glass. Something sped by in a plume of dust, but she
couldn’t make out what it was.
“I’m
not to leave you. I have orders.”
She
turned to glare at the man. “You are to do as I say, aren’t you? I order you
to...”
The
door to her car opened, banging into the guard. He drew his dagger, struggling
to get his balance.
“It’s
me, you dolt.” The man pushed into the car. It was the leader of the
Protectorate, set to keep a watchful eye on her, on this long journey home.
They were not her own guards though; they belonged to the Ottway Venn. This was
his train, and these were his men.
“You
will not leave.” The leader glared at the lesser guard. “You will stay.” He
turned his glare on Senna.
“We
are under attack. You are not to leave this car. Do you understand me?” He
leaned closer to her. “I said, do you...”
Her
hand cracked against his cheek. “You do
not
speak to me like that, no
matter who you are. Do you understand?”
The
man drew back, the outline of her hand on his cheek. “You do not move.” He
flicked his eyes over her, then turned and pushed past the guard at the door.
Senna
sat up, straightening her gown, tugging at her corset. The damnable thing, a
gift from the Ottway Venn, was too small for her curves. It was made for a
child, not a woman. And she was a woman, dammit. He knew that, should have
known that. She’d been there long enough for him to see her. But no, she’d been
given this—this thing—that flattened her bosom even more, and took away every
curve that made her a woman. She tugged again at the garment, then looked up.
The
guard was watching, his eyes following the movements of her hands, sliding over
her body. She glared at him, then spat on the floor between his feet.
“You
may not have to obey me, but you could at least have the decency to turn your
eyes away. I am, after all, going to be your...” She fumbled for the word.
The
Ottway...what was her title going to be once they were married? No one had ever
told her.
“I
am going to be married to the Ottway.” That should be enough for this guard.
The
man shrugged, but turned his back. It didn’t matter any longer. The corset was
unbearable, and no amount of plucking at it was going to help.
The
train lurched again, and she fell back on the bench seat, her head hitting the
wall. She looked out the little window. The plumes of dust surrounded the
train, keeping up with it, but the train was slowing, coming to a stop. She
could see the riders clearly now, rather than watching a blur of movement.
It
took her a moment to realize it wasn’t men, but something else, astride strange
machines. They held what looked like weapons, and they wore leather clothes,
wrapped around their arms and legs, shredded and torn pieces of cloth trailing
behind them. Their faces were covered, the lower part with a leather mask, the
upper with glass goggles. The train slowed, and the beings began to circle
outside her window. One rode close, waving a spear, and through the glass she
heard an unearthly shriek.
“What
is it?” She turned to the man guarding her. “Who are they?”
“Aliens.”
He spat the word, as she had spat at him. “They attack trains, especially the
Ottway’s trains. And especially when there is valuable cargo on board.”
She
blinked. He must mean her. What else of value was on this train? “That is...”
The thought that those things out there wanted her was beyond anything she
could even comprehend. Clearing her throat, she tried again.
“It
is savage. Surely I am well protected?”
The
guard laughed. “Very well protected. Look. See for yourself.”
She
turned back to look out the window. There were other machines now, sleek and
shiny, not dirty and rusty. The riders were men, or they appeared to be. But
among them ran wolves, desert wolves, long and low and deadly fast. They were
shifters, the elite fighters of her kingdom. They charged among the alien
riders, lunging at the wretched looking machines, knocking the riders to the
sand.
Then
a wolf sprang out, knocking the alien to the ground. With horror, she watched,
as it grabbed the alien by the neck, shaking its huge head back and forth. The
alien’s head snapped back and forth, then hung, limp.
The
aliens scrambled up, crouching as they watched the wolves circling. One ran
forward, waving a weapon. It landed on the back of a wolf, slicing across its
neck, faster than she’d ever seen anything move. The wolf kicked once, then lay
still, its blood staining the sand.
With
a cry of disgust and fear, Senna turned away, unable to watch any further. If
what the guard said was true, it was her blood they wanted.
Senna’s
carriage jerked to an abrupt stop, steam sputtering into the dry desert air.
Impatient to be out of the stifling carriage, she slid open the etched glass
window that separated her from her driver.
“What
is it? Why have we stopped?”
He
flipped up his dusty goggles, and frowned. “Security check, Princess.” The
man’s voice carried no emotion, but the eyes that met hers in the rearview
mirror held concern. “I’ll find out the reason.”
Without
movement, the air inside the carriage immediately grew stifling. Senna fanned
herself, moving the hot air around, but not cooling herself one bit. Her corset
made it hard to breathe, and the layers of her silk dress clung damply to her
skin. She reached up, undoing the silver fastening that held the veils that
covered her face, leaving only her eyes visible. They fell away. It didn’t help
any. It seemed she couldn’t get a breath. It was that damnable corset.
Since
the train had resumed, after the battle between the aliens and shifters, she’d
been keyed up, unable to sleep, eat, or find any comfort whatsoever. The
guards at the Ottway’s Protectorate had only watched her with unchanging,
distant expressions.
Her
driver rolled down his window, leaned out, and there was a brief conversation
with someone outside, but she couldn’t hear much of what they said. The driver
finished, then turned around, his face etched in something between fear and
anger.
“There
have been sightings, Princess.”
“Sightings?”
She leaned forward. “Of what?”
“Aliens,
Princess. Inside the outer perimeter.”
For
a moment, her blood ran cold and she shivered, remembering the alien being
killed outside her carriage window. But this was her home, and she wanted to be
inside where she felt safe. This wait was unnecessary.
“And
they think I’m a lizard-faced shiny-skinned being from another planet, or
something?” She wrapped her fan against the seat. “Do I look like a freaking
alien?”
The
driver didn’t answer, which she thought was probably his best course of action,
but in the mirror she saw the corners of his mouth turn up into a slight smile.
Her temper was fired up, and she was uncomfortable. Not a good combination. She
rolled down her window, letting in a hot breeze.
And dust.
Always dust.
“They’ll
need to see your papers. And they want to search the carriage.”
From
the plush confines of the back seat, Senna glanced past her driver at the man
who had stopped their steam carriage. He was wearing the standard uniform of her
father’s Protectorate, sand-colored tunic and pants, beret pulled low over his
eyes, blue sash denoting a middling rank. She eyed him for a moment, then
reached into her travel bag. Leaning forward, she passed her leather document
folder to her driver and then sat back, blowing out a sigh. The shifter took it
with deference, as he should. But in the square of his shoulders, the set of
his jaw, she saw defiance.
Watching
him piqued the same interest it always did, these mysterious creatures that
guarded the palace, and protected her and her family. They were so different,
yet they were human, just like her. Yet somehow, they were more than human,
almost superhuman. Not like the lizard-faced, shiny-skinned aliens that overran
the desert, and were now making her life difficult. Not like the ones
that had attacked the train.
She
watched through the open window as the man unfolded the parchment, checking the
official seals from her trip, confirming she’d passed through checkpoints.
There were noises behind her, as another shifter looked through her trunks and
boxes, satchels and containers in the cargo hold.
She
tried to guess what kind of shifter was at the gate. Did the subtle tilt at the
corner of his eyes mean he became a cat when he transitioned? Hmm, but there
was also a bit of scruff on his chin; perhaps he was a wolf, like she had seen
in the desert? She had heard there were bears in other parts of the world so
she wasn’t ruling that out. She’d never seen a bear, but she imagined the men
who shifted into that form were big, burly; larger than life.
Sometimes,
sitting here like today, made her think how small she was in this world, how
much of it she hadn’t seen, or experienced. How sheltered her life had been.
Even if she was a princess. Maybe
because
she was a princess. But today
those thoughts made her head hurt, and she wished she could just clear her mind
and enjoy the day.
She
let her gaze move past the man, through the closed iron gates between her, and
where she wanted to go. The Rhibarian Oasis was a short distance ahead, and
from here she could just see the tops of the waving palms that marked the
official entrance. The walls here were tall, heavy, a blight on the landscape.
This was the ugliest part of the journey home, and she hated this view. She
hated that aliens—beings who had decided this planet was better than theirs,
had landed, and then begun preying on everyone and everything in sight—had
created the need for these big lumbering walls.
But,
she was tired, bone tired. The better part of the last two days had been spent
crossing the Nitillian Desert, returning from the Dominion of Malisharia. Even
traveling on a lavish steam train, the journey had been tiring. The attack by
the aliens had been unbearable. She longed for her own rooms, the cool tiles of
the floors beneath her feet, the clean linen of her own bed against her skin.
It was her intention to have an intimate twenty-four-hour relationship with her
bed, starting as soon as possible. And if anyone stood in her way, well, she
would just have them punished.
She
leaned forward, impatiently tapping the driver on his shoulder with her fan,
knowing she was being a real pain in the ass, but too hot and tired to care.
“What is taking so long?”
“I’ll
check…”
Suddenly
the air was filled with men shouting, and the roar of engines. She gasped,
staring out the window as two leather-clad riders on a pair of sleek
two-wheeled machines that roared loudly, tearing through the gates, sending up
spumes of dust and sand. Four, or five men ran out of a low building. None of
them were wearing the pants and tunic she’d come to recognize as the standard
shifter uniform. Instead, they were covered in plates of what looked like
leather with brass fittings. She knew they were shifters. It couldn’t have
taken more than a few seconds, but time seemed to slow down.
The
shifter closest to her was suddenly charged with some kind of strange energy.
Without breaking stride, he threw back his head, roaring into the sky. There
was pain in that sound, horrible pain, but so full of animalistic power that
the hairs on her arms stood up on end. She watched with horror, as he stopped
by her window, as something terribly fascinating began to happen to his
body. The leather armor on his body, moved and stretched, but stayed on
his body, even as the cloth between, shredded and fell to the sand.
The
man’s body, his arms and legs, twisted and contorted, shoulders and hips
rotating, the bones – even from this distance she could hear the sounds –
popping, and snapping, as they grew and lengthened, as with another cry of
pain, he dropped forward, landing not on hands and feet, or paws, but on
something in-between. His hands curled under, claws thrusting from the
fur-covered feet. Those claws curled, digging into the sand as the man-thing,
wolf-thing, continuing to change.
Senna
looked to the man’s face, but it was too caught up in something resembling a
mix of human and shifter. His jaw had lengthened, shoving brutally forward,
fangs with razor-sharp edges cutting through the extended jaws, thick trails of
blood were trickling through the grizzled fur that grew from the oversized
jaws.
She
cried out in shared pain, as the man’s forehead changed shape, sloping back,
eyes moving closer over the long snout, which now had the black nose of a wolf.
Fur grew quickly, covering its face, rising up to the cover the pointed ears
that grew out of the top of its head.
It
couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, and then…
And
then he wasn’t a man any longer. He was a sleek desert wolf, with thick brown
fur between the plates of leather armor. He turned his head, and looked at her
with gleaming yellow eyes. He showed white fangs, snarled, and then took off.
She watched him, and the others, run through the gate and into the desert, their
armor fitting their bodies like a second skin, moving with them. Then, they
were gone.
“What
is it? What’s happening?”
The
man outside her window looked up at her, then dropped his eyes, but spoke to
the driver. “There was a sighting, close by. Apparently they followed the
carriage from the train station.”
It
took her a moment to register what he’d said. The aliens who’d attacked her,
had followed the train, followed her back to the gate. Then her heart started
beating in a sick way, making her dizzy. She closed her eyes, too shocked to
even be frustrated with the delay. Nothing like this had ever happened to her.
To be this close to danger, to have danger follow her home. She should never
have left the palace, never have agreed to go on this horrible trip.
“Open
the gate!”
She
turned, with relief, toward this new voice, toward the man outside who was
clearly in charge. He glanced briefly at her, and in that instant her body went
hot and cold, a shiver running through her.
Gabriel.
The man she loved.
The
man who loved her.
“Driver.
Take us through the gates.” His voice cut through the din of machines, and the
snarls of the few remaining shifters running past.
Gabriel
tossed her papers through the window. They landed with a thump on the seat
beside her. She glanced at him, as she gathered her papers, stuffing them into
her bag. Beneath his beret, she caught the glint of dark eyes as his gaze met
hers. Raven black hair, tied back in a rough tail, set off his deeply tanned
skin. On his hip, hung a complicated looking weapon, a saber or scimitar,
multi-bladed, silver and deadly sharp, glinting in the bright sun.
The
crimson sash with gold trim, and embroidered with the court seal, told the
world that this man was the Highest Command, a fierce warrior, not to be
crossed. He was the shifter who ruled all the shifters in her father’s kingdom.
And now, he was directing men to open the gates, sending others into the desert
on those strange machines. Everyone looked at him, obeyed him. He was the center
of their world.
He
was the center of
her
world as well. But to her he was Gabriel DeLeon, a
name he was never called by anyone other than her. The man she would gladly
give her heart to, if only she had the chance.
“Drive!”
He
jumped to the running board of the carriage, slapping the roof with his hand as
the gates clanked open. The driver put the carriage into gear, and with a hiss of
steam they bumped over the grate, and through. The gates started to close
before they’d barely gotten past them.
The
carriage flew over the paved streets, through the market area, with people
jumping out of the way, or standing on the sides of the street, gaping as they
flew past.
But
none of that mattered.
Everything else in the world disappeared, aliens and shifters, and the danger
of racing through the narrow streets, slipping into the background. Her entire
focus was on the man who rode the outside of the carriage, just inches from
where she sat. She could, if she wanted to—
and she very much wanted to
—reach
out and touch him. Scooting over on the seat as casually as she could, she set
her hand on the edge of the window, let it rest there. The carriage bumped over
the grate at the gates to the palace, Gabriel moving easily with the carriage’s
movement. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he placed
his hand on hers.
For
that moment, it was enough, his strong fingers wrapped around hers. For those
who they flew past, she knew no one could see what passed between them. Because
she knew, as he did, that what they were doing, what they had done, was against
all laws and edicts, royal and civil, everything that divided his world from
hers. That little clandestine touch was too intimate, too personal.
The
carriage finally shuddered to a stop in the forecourt of the entrance to the
palace. She slumped against the seat, as breathless as if she’d run the
distance.
“Princess…”
Gabriel leaned in the window, his face inches from her. “You are home. And you
are safe.”
She
jerked her hand away as the driver turned around. She cut him off as he started
to speak again.
“Yes.
Thank you.”
Gabriel
smiled at her, a smile that set her heart fluttering like a bird’s wings
against her ribs. With easy grace, he jumped down from the running board of the
carriage, then opened the door for her. She hesitated a moment, fastening the
veils back over her face, covering everything except her deep, violet eyes,
heavily lined with kohl, lids colored with crushed mineral powder – blue today
– to compliment her eyes. She’d thought of Gabriel as she’d gotten ready to
depart on the train.