The Shapeshifter's Bride

Chapter Two

The two-hour flight from LAX to Redding was uneventful and would have been a perfect time for Daisy to catch up on her sleep―she had zero on her lumpy mattress in the jail cell―if she weren’t too busy worrying what her reunion with Alec would be like. Awkward, she predicted, but there could also be some shouting and throwing of stuff. It could also be humiliating. After all, Alec was her Panthera Patron, as well as her brother. She not only abandoned her family, but she turned her back on the pack, too. In pack terms, it meant she was a deserter.

Redding was a small town―compared to LA, anyway―north of Sacramento and the home to more than five thousand leopards. It was the highest concentration of shifters in the entire country, and Alec was their leader. Before him, it was their father, so she and Alec had lived in Redding all their lives. Alec left briefly to attend UC Davis, but it was only two and a half hours away, and he came right back. Daisy, on the other hand, insisted on attending NYU and never looked back. 

The last time she had seen her family was when she returned briefly five years ago to attend their father’s funeral. As the new Patron, Alec had demanded she stay in town like a good little leopard, but Daisy had flipped him off and booked. She was not about to marry some leopard and become his broodmare, which all the females in their pack essentially were. It was all her mother ever became.

The black Lincoln Town Car that picked her up from the Redding Muni Airport stopped in front of the three-story Colonial-style home where she grew up. The burgundy and white house, located at the end of a cul-de-sac where most of Alec’s minions lived, was the largest one on the block and boasted eight bedrooms. Daisy stared at it with disdain. Framed by the gun-metal gray of the horizon and the general dourness of a shitty rainy day, the house looked like something out of a bad horror movie.

Daisy huddled deeper into her navy blue sweatshirt and pulled the hood over her head. Drawing her name in the condensation on her window with the tip of her finger, she idly wondered how long she could stay in the car before Alec himself came out and dragged her out. She knew he was waiting for her inside the house because her scalp itched. Whenever she was around other shifters, she always felt like her skin was crawling with a million microscopic ants. It was why she avoided places where shifters hung out. She would start scratching like a maniac and came off looking like a crackhead with a major skin disease problem. It had to be a testament to Alec’s power that he made her the itchiest. Already she wished she were swimming in a vat of calamine lotion.

Alfred, her brother’s seven-foot-tall factotum and the man who picked her up from the airport, discreetly cleared his throat to catch her attention. Daisy raised her eyes to meet his spooky ones in the rearview mirror. They were pleasantly blank―one blue, the other gray―and never failed to freak her out. Not that the man on his own didn’t already give her the willies. For as long as she had known Alfred, she had never heard him say more than a few words at a time. As good as she was at reading people, she’d never been able to get a bead on him. The dude, as far as she was concerned, was just a block of wood. An ancient block of wood, she surmised, since he also served her father, but didn’t look a day over forty.

“Here,” he grunted as though their current location wasn’t apparent to her.

Daisy straightened in her seat and stared glumly at the factotum’s sleek red hair, which was gathered in a ponytail at the base of his neck. She supposed she could open her own door and get out of the car by herself, but she didn’t. Instead, she remained where she was, sketching a little cat and a tree under her name on the window. Alfred turned his giant body in the front seat to look at her. Daisy looked up from her drawing to smile breezily at him.

Without a word, Alfred pivoted towards the front of the car, reached down the front passenger seat for something Daisy couldn’t see and pushed open the driver’s side door. He stepped outside, disappeared from Daisy’s line of vision as he went around the back of the car, and reappeared at her side seconds later, holding a giant black umbrella over his head.

Daisy grinned at him through the glass and pushed a button to lock her door.

The factotum c****d his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. He appeared to be considering breaking the window with his meaty fist and yanking her out through the hole. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his black pants and pulled out the car keys. Without taking his eyes off of her, he held up the remote for the car alarm and pressed a button. The door automatically unlocked for him, and he opened it before Daisy could press the lock again.

“Come,” he barked.

Daisy sighed. There was really no way she could put off her meeting with Alec any longer. She slipped the strap of her messenger bag over her head and scooted toward the door, which Alfred was patiently holding open for her. Once she was outside, she found herself staring at the Saint Francis medallion that hung from Alfred’s neck. At five-six, she was a foot and a half shorter than he was and barely came up to his chest. She was tempted to tell him he had something on his shirt, so she could bop him on the nose once he looked down, but she didn’t think she could even reach his face.

Alfred was, in a word, ugly. There was really no other way to describe him. To call him “homely” would be mincing words. He had a vaguely Neanderthal, sloping forehead, and thick red eyebrows floated above his deep-seated eyes like dueling caterpillars. His broad nose was squashed flat as though it were pounded into submission by a butcher’s mallet and took up a good portion of his face. Where his lips were supposed to be were two harsh lines, the same shade as his bloodless complexion, so it looked like he merely had a slit for a mouth.

Alfred’s one saving grace was the shock of silky red hair that sprung from his giant head in waves. It went down to his waist, but he always kept it in a ponytail or in a thick braid. Daisy wondered how much time he spent taking care of it, but was afraid to ask. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who would enjoy answering such a question, especially since he had those weird eyes that reflected nothing when he could be secretly fantasizing about cutting a girl into tiny little pieces.

“Home sweet home,” Daisy muttered, sticking her hands into the front pockets of her hooded sweatshirt. Fog billowed out of her mouth as she exhaled harshly.

“Hmm,” Alfred said, handing her the umbrella, so he could retrieve her suitcase from the trunk of the car.

Daisy stepped onto the curb and touched the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the property. She escaped incarceration just so she could be imprisoned in a house once featured on the cover of Architectural Digest. She sighed.

“Wait,” said the factotum. He stepped around her, holding her suitcase in one hand. He pulled open the gate for her and stood aside to let her through. Daisy gave him her first genuine smile of the day, and absently scratched her neck. 

She walked up the steps to the front door of the house as the butterflies in her stomach mutated into blood-thirsty pterodactyls with razor-sharp talons. Alec was waiting for her as soon as she walked in. He stood in front of the picture window, which overlooked the side yard. He had his back to her, his hands clasped together along his back. He didn’t turn around, and Daisy took the opportunity to study the brother she had not seen in five years.

Like their father, Alec was a huge man. Tall, at least six-five, and possessed broad shoulders that often challenged doorways. His inky-black mane, now laced with silver strands, swept past his shoulders. It was the kind of hair women envied; thick, wavy, and shiny. But there was nothing about Alec that was less than masculine. His posture, the clean lines of his body, even the very power he radiated was unmistakably male. Today he was dressed in a pair of neatly-pressed black pants and a black sweater, which only added to the air of danger that hung over him like a dark cloud. He was standing absolutely still, like a statue. 

And yet there was something about his stance that told Daisy he could leap across the room without warning and rip out her throat.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and wrapped her hand around the elbow of her other arm. She considered clearing her throat to announce her arrival, but she’d be damned if she had to beg him to acknowledge her presence like some attention-starved cub. She was as good at the waiting game as he was. If she had to stand there for hours until he turned around, she would. 

While she stared daggers into Alec’s back, she gasped when something small and furry brushed against her leg. She looked down and found a fat orange tabby batting at the ratty hem of her jeans. With a frown, she bent over and picked up the cat, cradling it against her chest and scratching its chin. The tabby purred appreciatively and curled up against her. Daisy smirked. At least someone was glad to see her.

“The prodigal has returned,” Daisy murmured to the cat.

“That she has.” Alec’s voice was sharp, deep, and felt like a cold draft down Daisy’s back. And still, he didn’t turn around to face her. “How was your flight?”

Within Daisy’s body, the leopard sat up in attention. It batted at her insides, letting her know it was awake. In her arms, the tabby became utterly still, hissing at the unseen predator. She felt a slight tingle at the base of her skull, spreading over her scalp like long-fingered hands. Alec had never failed to make her feel that way: defensive. “It was good. The sergeant at the precinct packed me a Ziplock bag of grapes and Cheez-its to munch on, and the nice flight attendant gave me a can of Canadian Dry.” She said all this with a saccharine smile, her fingers rubbing the tabby’s little head until it settled down in her arms again.

“There’s cold venison in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Alec said.

Daisy smiled wryly. Her brother could be a cold prick but had never been able to shed his mother hen ways. After all, he did have to take over Daisy’s feeding and care when their own mother transformed into a useless shell of a woman after their older brother Luke’s death. Myrna Sawyer did not hide her preference for her eldest son; Lucas was the center of her universe. When he died, she saw no point in attempting to get on with her life, thus exiling herself to her room till the end of her days, leaving her two children to fend for themselves. It was the reason Daisy could never forgive her mother. Myrna didn’t love them and left them at the mercy of their father.   

“I’m not hungry,” she announced. She didn’t have to wonder if the deer were hunted by conventional means or if her brother had taken it down himself under a pale moon. The pack owned five hundred acres of untamed land, which included a big game reserve. It was created so the leopards could have a place of their own to run around and hunt. She couldn’t quite tell her brother she had been a vegetarian for five years. She figured it was a way to make up for all the meat the leopard consumed.

Alec turned to face her and narrowed his emerald eyes. “Where are the rest of your things?” He nodded at the lone suitcase that Alfred was carrying. “Take it to her old bedroom, Al.”

The factotum had been so quiet that Daisy forgot he was standing right behind her. Without a word, Alfred headed for the staircase and went up the steps, holding Daisy’s gigantic Louis Vuitton suitcase under his arm as though it didn’t weigh more than an ounce. The guy was seriously spooky. She returned her attention to her brother, who watched her as though she were a bug in a jar. In an effort to look casual, she continued to stroke the tabby who was purring contentedly against her breast. She opted for a bored expression, but couldn’t quite pull it off. She wondered if Alec thought she looked constipated.

“I had them placed in storage. One of your henchmen said he’d take care of it.” It was no surprise that Alec’s people would be so efficient. Alec was careful about the people he chose to trust. While his lawyers worked on getting her released from lockup, the others packed up her apartment and made sure her bills were taken care of. By mid-morning, she was on her way to the airport, and everything she owned, except for one big suitcase, was safely stowed away in storage.

“I hope you don’t think I’ll be allowing you to return to Los Angeles after all this.”

Daisy never harbored any illusions of going back to LA immediately. She didn’t think it was going to be as easy as making pleasantries with her brother. She couldn’t just shake hands with the other leopards of the community and kiss their babies, lay low for a month, then take off. It would take a little more finesse, a shitload of patience, and a warehouse full of calamine lotion. She figured she could hang out for three to four months to appease Alec, then escape through the back door when he got bored with playing big brother. The tabby hissed and swiped her chin with its claws before wriggling to get out of her arms. Daisy flinched and dropped the cat immediately.

Alec crossed the room in four strides, grasped her jaw in his large hand, and tilted up her head so he could inspect the damage inflicted by the cat. “You’ve never been good with animals,” he murmured. He removed his hand from her face and pulled out a square handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it to the wound. “It should have healed by now.”

The throbbing ceased soon enough, and Daisy used the handkerchief to wipe off the blood. She looked down at the white square linen; there was a tiny maroon smudge on it. She felt light-headed and swayed a bit, causing Alec to curse under his breath and take her arm. The leopard wanted to curl up against him and seek affection, but Daisy wrested her elbow out of his grip and took a few steps back away from him. The feeling of crawling ants on her skin intensified until she felt like shredding it off with her talons. The leopard inside her roared its displeasure; it longed for the touch of its Alpha. But Daisy had never been able to bear it. 

“Sorry,” Alec said. “I had forgotten.”

Daisy glared at him. He hadn’t forgotten. Alec never forgot. He knew damn well she couldn’t bear to be touched by another shapeshifter. It was the other big reason why she preferred living among humans. She couldn’t imagine how she would be able to survive a month being surrounded by so many weres, let alone three or four. Even now, she couldn’t wait to lock herself in her room and scratch to her heart’s content.

“I’m not staying longer than I have to, Alec.”

“You seem to think you have a choice, little sister.” His voice was soft and deceptively gentle. He wrapped his fingers around the base of her neck and squeezed, using his grip to pull her closer to him. “One hundred hours of community service and probation for a year… pretty light punishment for grand theft auto and possession, don’t you think? My lawyers had to do some pretty smooth talking to get you out of there.”

Daisy froze. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. A sensation of what felt like a thousand burning needles danced on her skin. The part of her body that met Alec’s hand throbbed like a sore wound. “Are you threatening me, brother?”

Alec released her and gave her a slight shove. “Take it however you like, Daisy, if it will scare you into staying put and avoiding trouble.” He dragged his hand down his face and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do about you anymore. You’re twenty-five years old, yet you act like a thirteen-year-old rebelling against her parents. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever asked for, no questions asked. Money, clothing, cars―and what have you done for the pack in return? You’ve given us nothing but grief and humiliation.”

Daisy gritted her teeth, unable to find a response that didn’t sound whiny or defensive. Alec was not lying. She had never been able to hold a job longer than a month, and outside of her college degree, had never truly accomplished anything else. Every month, thousands of dollars were deposited into her bank account, and she never stopped to think where it came from. She never wanted to. Money was just something she never had to worry about. God, she could really use a drink. 

Avoiding Alec’s penetrating stare, she brushed him off and headed for the bar. She reached for a bottle of Patrón Silver, dropped two ice cubes in a glass, and drowned them with tequila. After licking off the rock salt she had sprinkled on the back of her hand, she downed half the contents of her glass, which slid down her throat like smooth molten lava. The sound of disapproval that Alec made, a cross between a growl and a muffled curse, echoed through the living room. Daisy continued to ignore him, reaching for the Patrón as she finished the rest of her drink.

“That’s enough.”

The voice was soft, yet sharp like a whip whistling through the air and hitting its target. It was accompanied by a large hand clamping around her wrist, squeezing hard enough, so she gasped and dropped the bottle of tequila. When she turned around to face her assailant, she found herself trapped between the bar and a massive wall covered in a black t-shirt with the words Black Sabbath emblazoned on it in Old English lettering. She looked up. And up. Two silver eyes stared at her, hard and steady.

She gulped and took a step back until the counter bit into the middle of her spine. The tequila rolled in her stomach as the leopard within her snapped to attention and sniffed the newcomer. Sandalwood, mint, and something else that she couldn’t quite identify. Whoever he was, he didn’t smell human. He didn’t feel human, either. But not quite anything she had ever encountered. She tore her gaze from his face and stared at the hand clamped around her wrist like a steel manacle. The unbearable crawling-ants feeling… not present. What she felt instead was a little like static electricity, dancing like a live thing up and down her arms. And it was not unpleasant. 

“Don’t touch me!” She yanked her arm from his grip, but he let her go quickly enough that she almost lost her balance. She steadied herself against a barstool and rubbed her wrist as she surreptitiously studied him.

He was taller than Alec and more imposing if that were even possible. His hair, which was the color of rich coffee, was jaw-length and shaggy as though he cut it himself with a rusty pair of scissors. His beard appeared to be several days old, but she was willing to bet he was one of those guys who had a five o’clock shadow by noon. He was handsome, she supposed, but she wasn’t really into the whole fallen-angel thing. He had a face as pretty as a male model’s, but there was something… unsettling about the man. His nose must have been broken at least once in a brawl. His shoulders threatened to tear his shirt off at the seams. What bothered her the most about him was that she couldn’t tell what he was. Or who he was, for that matter.

“Who are you?” she demanded, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

The corners of his full, almost-too-pretty lips quirked up in a half-smile, but he didn’t say a word.

“His name is Christian Eastwick,” Alec answered for the stranger. “He is your new bodyguard.”