Overview
Six months in his enemies hands has left Marcus Criswell a shell of the man he used to be—or so he thought until his destined mate rescued him from a cruel death.
Six months have passed since Marcus Criswell, Alpha Anax of the North American shifters, disappeared. Held captive, tortured and driven to the brink of madness, he still refuses to give up. Even when his captors abandon him, leaving him chained without food or water, Marcus will not accept his fate.
Until his fate changes with the appearance of his mate, Nathan Grant. Now if only the two of them can survive long enough to enjoy it.
Nathan Grant doesn't know the first thing about shifters other than he is one and should avoid all others. He's followed that advice all of his life. Raised by humans, Nathan is more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of being around any other shifters. One spontaneous day spent running as his wolf in Lincoln National Forest forces Nathan to reconsider what little he thought he knew, and to risk his life for one very unforgettable man.
Surviving isn't easy, and Marcus is all too aware he's only a shell of the man he used to be. He wasn't broken completely, but he's definitely fractured, and even finding his mate might not be enough to help him heal.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857155207 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 04/18/2011 |
| Series: | Southwestern Shifters , #3 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 165 |
| Sales rank: | 613,978 |
| File size: | 599 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Cold. He was so cold his bones ached and each beat of his pulse sent icy shards through his veins. The chains rattled each time he shivered, a near-constant medley reminding him of his bonds. Thick shackles bit into his wrists and ankles, reopening the scar tissue that had built up under the heavy steel.
Time had ceased, stopped completely when he'd been captured. How many days, weeks, months since he'd seen sunlight, felt safe and warm, hadn't felt the burning edge of pain exploding into agony, the almost endless hunger or the bitter, cotton-dry torturous thirst?
It didn't matter. He was here, and those who'd brought him had abandoned him to die, as he knew they would. Even the one man who'd tried to help him, who'd offered comfort and the only gentle touch to counter the beatings and pain, had disappeared.
That man had kept him alive, sneaked him extra food so that he'd had some strength, some hope left. Maybe he'd even known this would happen; the man had been bringing more food recently, at least up until everyone vanished. The strength he'd managed to regain would soon wane. What would happen to him now, when his almost-saviour was gone?
Ghost-like images of mocking faces, sneering, hate-filled smiles and taunting words swam around in his head. They'd left him, after keeping him in this cold, dark cave, left him to wither and die, forgotten and wasted away, a pathetic shell of who and what he used to be. Didn't even think he was worth the effort of killing quickly, mercifully.
The small bowl of water his captors had left him was now empty. His throat burned, the only heat in his body, the craving for water, anything liquid to soothe those desiccated tissues, was almost maddening.
More maddening. Even now with his body shrivelling in on itself and his mind skittering everywhere, wasn't enough to block out the fact he wasn't ready to give up. He knew he didn't want to die, especially not like this, alone, despised and discounted, with nothing left of the man he was before. Shifting was a long-lost dream, something unattainable in his weakened, disoriented state. He mourned the loss of the ability, but couldn't dwell on it, not if he wanted to survive.
Shifting didn't matter at this point. He was alone, utterly alone, without food or water, clothing or warmth. He'd rather have his torturers back, rather be spat on and reviled than be here in this dark hell by himself.
A half-sob, half-laugh ripped from him. His lips cracked and bled as he screamed, the sound ungodly and filled with all the anguish that had built inside him. Head swimming, body shuddering, he pushed up to his knees, uncaring of the sharp rock cutting through his skin. His Sahara-dry mouth opened, working furiously to pull out more sound. Alone and scared, angry and hurting, he shouted the one thing he still knew was true. The reason he'd been brought to this hell.
Marcus. I am Marcus.
* * *
Nose twitching, Nathan crawled on his belly towards the clump of scrub. His ears pricked as a wordless scream was carried on the breeze. Upwind was the source of his current dilemma. Every fibre of his being was rooted to this spot, had been for three days now, when all he'd meant to do was go out for a run and give his wolf a chance to stretch its legs. Nathan hadn't had the slightest clue that he'd end up surrounded by danger, waiting to rescue a man he didn't even know.
No, not just a man — a shifter, and because of that fact, Nathan could only assume he'd lost his damned mind.
* * *
Three days earlier ...
Nathan bounded out of the cabin in human form, barely able to wait until the dense pines closed in around him. He began stripping in the cover of those magnificent trees, and filled his lungs with the scent of the forest, the pungent, earthy essence of this part of New Mexico he loved so much. It was as integral a part of him as the blood that coursed through his veins.
Within seconds, Nathan was nude. He hid his clothes under a thicket, setting his shoes on top of them in hopes the weight would hold them down should the wind kick up. Then he shifted, his body contorting, bones and muscles, tendons and flesh rippling, freeing his other part. His paws clenched, his toes digging into the soft ground. The fur on his paws looked darker than the fur further up his legs, but distinguishing the exact colour was impossible while in wolf form. He could make out a slight variation in shading, but where else exactly that was so on his body, Nathan hadn't any idea.
It wasn't as if he'd ever had a photo taken of himself like this so he could look at it when he shifted back. Maybe if he'd had a pack to run with, someone would have told him what he looked like. But he didn't want a pack, didn't want to have anything to do with other shifters. They were cruel, dangerous creatures. That was all he knew of them, and it was more than enough.
Besides, it didn't matter what he looked like, it was time to run. Nathan took off, letting his long legs carry him wherever his nose guided. There were so many scents he could detect when he was in his human form, having a shifter's heightened senses. But when he finally got to let his wolf out, every particle of air seemed to carry its own unique smell, and Nathan often found himself exhausted and miles from his clothes by the time the exhilaration of chasing the enticing odours had worn off.
That was the usual pattern, and this time when he finally grew too tired to run farther, Nathan wasn't surprised to find himself deep in Lincoln. The national park was over a million acres in size, and as worn out as he was when he finally stopped, Nathan figured he might have loped through more of those acres than he should have. He didn't even have the energy left to chase after a rabbit, at least not right then.
Chastising himself for being reckless once again, Nathan slunk towards the stream, his nose and ears easily leading him to the welcome water. Dusk was settling over the forest. As the evening darkened, Nathan's vision would sharpen. There was no point in him shifting back to human form, not when he was going to be stuck out here for the night. He'd need his fur to keep him warm, and, anyway, a wolf was more intimidating than a man to the other creatures lurking about.
As Nathan neared the stream, a spike of heat chased by a fur-ruffling chill skittered down his spine. Hackles raised, he laid his ears back and dropped down low, looking for the source of his sudden unease. Once he realised what it was, Nathan mentally cursed himself over and over. How could he have been so careless? All his life, he'd been so careful to avoid other shifters, unwilling to risk losing Rick, and yet here Nathan was, and his senses were telling him he hadn't just discovered one of them, but what might well be an entire pack across the stream. They were upwind of him, but that didn't mean Nathan was safe, not at all.
A wolf's pack land could extend over a hundred miles, and they were definitely territorial. He didn't know much about other shifters, but Nathan had no reason to believe they'd be any less aggressive than regular wolves. It was a no-brainer that Nathan, less than a hundred yards from the source of the scents he was picking up, was assuredly somewhere he shouldn't be. He tried to calculate how far he was from the cabin, but, with all the winding paths he'd taken, and the numerous tantalising scents he'd sniffed out off-path, he figured he could be anywhere from ten to thirty miles from where he'd started.
Easing away from the direction he'd been heading in, Nathan tipped his muzzle up, carefully checking for immediate danger. A gust of wind whipped over him, and he froze in his tracks as a fiery bolt of desire speared through him. Nathan had never found himself aroused while in his wolf form before, and he wasn't happy to experience the sudden and intense burst of hormones, pheromones, whatever it was that he was swamped in now. He didn't care what it was — he just wanted it to stop, because, in the split second when the wind rushed over him, his wolf and his man came to a glaring difference of opinions.
His wolf said, 'We're staying, there's no other choice.' The man in him thought the wolf was fucking nuts. If they — he — didn't get out of here now, chances were better than good that the shifters upwind would find him. And even with the overpowering, alluring aroma that had lit up Nathan's body like a supernova to the nth degree, Nathan hadn't missed the other odours. If evil had a smell, it was right there as well, permeating each breath he took.
Nathan didn't want anything to do with shifters, period, and certainly not with ones he was positive were exactly like his father. The part of him that was wolf may have yearned for a pack, to run with others of his kind, but Nathan would be damned before he let that side of himself make such a foolish decision. He forced himself to back away, suppressing the urge to snarl as his wolf clamoured and railed against leaving.
Then he heard it — or, more precisely, him. The wind seemed to amplify the agony in the man's scream. Nathan's heart gave one hammering beat then another as he smelt, heard, almost felt the tortured man's pain. His sympathetic whimper was torn from him as he dropped to his belly, his front paws curling and digging into the moist earth.
Nathan's chest ached like someone had taken a knife to it and cut a six-inch swathe clear to his bones. Over his soft whimpering, taunts and laughter filled the night air. Nathan buried his head between his paws as best he could, trying to block out the sounds and muffle his own. Images flashed behind his closed lids, angry, mocking faces, a pair of cold blue eyes filled with so much hate ...
Emotions assaulted him; ones he knew couldn't be his own. Nathan wanted to howl. It felt like someone else was in his head, someone who'd suffered, was still suffering. Shift, he thought, meaning it for the poor man whose screams continued to assault Nathan's ears. A wave of hopelessness filled him, and the desolation was so intense he found himself shifting back into his human form, his eyes filling and flowing over with tears as he curled into a tight ball on his side. The presence inside his head vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Nathan dragged himself away, although not very far, tucking himself into the first semi-decent bit of shelter he found. What the fuck just happened? he wondered as he lay shivering in the chilly night air. He didn't know enough about what he was to determine if that whole awful experience was a common thing with shifters. Maybe some of them were telepathic, or maybe one of them was. Either way, it seemed these shifters — other than the one who was obviously suffering — were damn near evil incarnate. He wanted nothing to do with them. Come first light, if he hadn't been found and torn to pieces, he'd be out of this freaking nightmare.
* * *
Right, that worked so well. Nathan crept closer, still more than a little angry at his wolf having won out over a man's ability to reason. Apparently there was no place for that or logic in the beast he shared his body with. Nathan sniffed the air nervously. This was the closest he'd dared to come in the past three days. There was an urgency pounding at him, telling him that waiting was no longer an option — time was up for the man inside the cave. The other shifters had left the morning after Nathan had stumbled upon them — all except for two big, mean-looking guys who'd vacated the cave with the others but returned before Nathan could attempt a rescue.
Whether the lurkers — the other lurkers, anyway — suspected Nathan's presence or simply wanted to hang around and make sure no one accidentally stumbled across the poor guy in the cave was a mystery, but the why of it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Nathan couldn't do anything — the bigger men didn't stay at the cave, keeping themselves mostly hidden from sight. They were always nearby, though.
But Nathan hadn't missed the guns the men carried, and the cautious way the two shifters moved from place to place. If it weren't for the nine-millimetre and that big-ass rifle, and if the guys would have stopped being paranoid long enough for Nathan to get behind them, he could and would have taken the big fuckers out. Although maybe not while they were in wolf form, unless he was human and had one of the guns — preferably the handgun.
That morning there'd been no sounds from the cave, the pathetic whimpering Nathan had heard through the night having ceased as the sun rose. He'd feared the worst — then there'd been that sudden garbled scream. There'd been nothing but silence since.
Nathan's stomach was coiled with tension. If he was too late, he had only himself to blame. Well, and the sons of bitches who left the guy in there. One thing was for certain — the man inside the cave couldn't possibly survive much longer. The nights were cold up here in the mountains, and, on top of that, there were the injuries Nathan felt sure the man must have — that phantom pain in his chest hadn't been his own, and he highly doubted that anyone had left food or water behind, either.
He caught a hint of movement to his left. One of the other shifters, the big dark-haired one, was creeping towards the cave. The way he held the nine-millimetre steadily in front of him spoke of his intentions towards the man in the cave. Nathan couldn't wait any longer. At least he'd crossed downstream yesterday and didn't have to worry about being a target doing so now. Not that that was really any help. He was a target unless he stayed hidden.
The second shifter, this one bald, appeared behind the first. "Hey, I wanna watch, since you won't let me have some fun with the fucker."
The dark-headed shifter didn't even look at him. "Shut up, Bryce. The way you go on about him, I'm beginning to think your idea of fun involves something faggy."
Nathan saw in Bryce's expression what the other man missed. Guilt, desire and fear all passed over Bryce's face. He sputtered then took an indignant tone and began babbling. "I ain't queer like him! Shit, James, you've known me most of my life! Have I ever smelt like I went out and fucked a man? No. It's always been straight-up pussy for me. Just ask your sisters." Bryce snapped his mouth shut, but even Nathan could tell he'd done it too late. James spun around and delivered a bone-cracking left hook to Bryce's jaw.
"You fucking asshole," the enraged man yelled as Bryce stumbled and crumbled to the ground, his head smacking the outside of the bumpy cave wall as he went down. "I'll kill you if I find out you ever touched any of my sisters!" He loomed over the unconscious — or, Nathan fervently hoped, dead man — as if waiting for some sort of response. Nathan didn't feel bad for wishing the bald man dead. He hadn't been the one who'd struck him, and truthfully, Nathan's chances of coming out of this alive were better if he only had one crazy gun-toting psycho to deal with.
Besides, both Bryce and the idiot who'd decked him had revelled in torturing the man in the cave. Nathan had heard them bragging about it enough for the past two days and the details would forever be etched in his brain. If he hadn't already thought these shifters were on a level with hellspawn, what he'd seen and heard here would have convinced him of it. Yet he couldn't walk away and live with himself — though he did rather think dying was a high price to pay to assuage his conscience.
His feet seemed to move of their own accord, carrying his small body within feet of the cave's entrance. He was still downwind, but, given his proximity to the big ugly shifter now turning away from Bryce, Nathan knew he'd soon be found out. 'Soon' was sooner than he thought.
"Come out of there, you fucking traitor," James said as he pointed the gun at the thicket Nathan was hiding in — no, reconnoitring, Nathan corrected, 'll be damned if I'm going to be hiding like some scared — A bullet spewed from the gun, ripping through the dense foliage and sending Nathan skittering backwards in a moment of panic. "That's right, run! Make this fun — for me anyway."
Another bullet zinged by Nathan, nearly singeing his fur. He got his feet under him and bolted, running full out, his wolf moving with a speed that wouldn't have been possible in the animal alone.
"You look like a fox," the other man sneered, then fired again. "You musta been the runt 'cause you're about the size of a fox, too."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Reckless"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Bailey Bradford.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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