The Shapeshifter's Bride

Chapter Nine

In a few hours, the moon would call forth her beast. In a few hours, the delicate Vera Wang dress caressing her skin would be shed along with her humanity. In a few hours, rationality would surrender to instinct. And Daisy dreaded every moment leading to that inevitable transformation. Unlike the others, the Change was never a liberation but a prison of agony—bones splintering and reforming, skin stretching until it tore, the violent separation of woman from leopard. A metamorphosis that left her gasping, broken, reborn.

For her packmates, shifting was breath itself—as simple as envisioning the leopard within, then becoming it. Not metaphorical nonsense but literal truth. The strongest members made it seem effortless. But Daisy had battled her inner beast since childhood, engaged in a primal tug-of-war that made every transformation hellish.

Back in Los Angeles, she'd developed elaborate rituals—dawn runs along the beach, hours of yoga to center her fractured spirit, meditation to calm the panicked flutter in her chest. Mental preparation first, then physical—carbohydrates consumed in mindless abundance before the television's comforting glow. When night fell, she'd drive to Topanga Canyon, find secluded sanctuary in the chaparral, and surrender as moonlight triggered inevitability. Morning would find her disheveled and nauseated, naked skin smeared with earth and dried blood, disoriented from night hunts she could never fully remember. Occasional hikers had discovered her thus—but this was Southern California, where eccentricity blended seamlessly into landscape. They assumed she belonged to some bohemian cult and gave her wide berth. Later, she'd submerge herself in lavender-scented waters, trying to wash away memories that clung like stubborn earth.

Today, she'd had no time for ritual armor. The library had consumed precious hours. Exhaustion—emotional and physical—had settled into her marrow. The hyena attack alone would have drained her, but learning that someone systematically hunted the females of her pack had torn a jagged hole in her soul. Each time she closed her eyes, Leila's eviscerated body floated into consciousness—the anguish etched into her features, the evidence of prolonged suffering, the tiny unformed life discarded like refuse.

Daisy's arms wrapped instinctively around her abdomen as she sank to her knees. The vision had been more than observation; she had inhabited Leila's dying flesh, felt each violation as sharp steel parted skin, muscle, sinew. She had experienced death itself. Most haunting was the revelation that Leila had recognized her killer—that flash of betrayal had extinguished her will to survive more effectively than any weapon.

Was the murderer someone among them? Did Alec suspect? The thought that someone within their circle could desecrate Leila's body with such calculated brutality made bile rise in Daisy's throat. Christian had reluctantly admitted there were other victims. Had they also stared into familiar eyes as life drained away? Daisy pressed her palms against her temples, wondering why only Leila's death had invaded her consciousness. Their friendship had withered years ago through distance and circumstance. Why not the others? Perhaps her mind couldn't withstand multiple horrors—Leila's death alone had nearly shattered her.

What of Marylou Chen? Was there any way to prevent her name from joining the growing list of the slaughtered?

A subtle tingling at the base of her skull announced another presence—preternatural awareness detecting the approach of another of her kind. Daisy pushed herself upright, surprised to find a petite blonde hovering uncertainly in the doorway. Since arriving, she'd encountered no other leopards save Alec, Caleb, and Alfred. The servants were human without exception. Yet here stood a young female wereleopard, swimming in a gray cable-knit sweater that hung from delicate shoulders like a child playing dress-up, paired with a loose black skirt falling mid-calf. Daisy's gaze dropped to the girl's hands, fingers nervously picking at frayed sleeve edges. Perspiration beaded her pale forehead while teeth worried her lower lip until tiny crimson droplets appeared.

The girl's power signature barely registered—no skin-crawling itch, merely the faintest prickling sensation. When Daisy concentrated, she sometimes visualized these energy signatures as tiny golden ants, luminous against darkness, marching along her limbs. With this girl, their numbers were insignificant—easily brushed away. Her grandmother's power, by contrast, had manifested as swarming colonies that threatened to consume her. During the Matriarch's rages, those metaphysical insects had somehow penetrated Daisy's flesh, crawling through bone and muscle until pain drove her to unconsciousness. She'd awakened once to find Grandmother standing over her, disgust twisting ancient features.

"Hello," Daisy offered softly, causing the girl to startle. "What's your name?"

"J-Julie." She flinched away from the doorjamb, started to extend her hand, reconsidered, and let it fall limply.

"Nice to meet you, Julie." Relief at encountering another female after days of masculine energy prompted Daisy to grasp the girl's hand herself. The skin felt clammy, ice-cold. Terror radiated from her slight frame. Had Alec been spinning horror stories about his wayward sister? "What are you doing here?"

"Umm... I... work for your brother. I do all sorts of things around the house, whatever Mr. Grimes wants me to do." She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of pale hair behind one ear. "Alfred asked me to come up and see if you need any help. But I can see that you don't—you look beautiful tonight. Um..." Her gaze darted toward the doorway as though planning escape. "Unless you do need me. I mean, I can hang out or whatever and—"

"Sit over there." Daisy gestured toward the bed. Julie dipped in an awkward curtsy before perching timidly on the edge of the mattress, as though afraid her presence might somehow contaminate the linens.

Daisy swallowed her commentary on the girl's subservience, realizing it would only increase her obvious discomfort. Instead, she turned to assess her reflection in the full-length mirror. The image startled her—purplish shadows had bloomed beneath her eyes, resistant even to her accelerated healing abilities. Her black hair expanded in a rebellious cloud despite the shower cap she'd worn—complementing her slightly deranged expression. She dragged a brush through the tangled mass just enough to tame it, then twisted everything into a makeshift bun secured precariously with pins. The attempt failed miserably; she could feel it already surrendering to gravity, destined to collapse dramatically during dinner.

"I can style it into a French braid, if you want," Julie offered hesitantly.

Daisy forced a smile, struggling against irrational irritation at the girl's timidity. Did Julie expect some violent outburst, perhaps to be hurled through the window like in some demented diva fantasy? She ran frustrated fingers through her hair, dislodging the precarious bun which released its captive strands in a dark cascade. "Great," she muttered. Her gaze shifted to Julie's hopeful expression. "Okay. Give it a shot."

The young wereleopard's eyes brightened as Daisy sat beside her. Julie sprang up, retrieved a brush, and tentatively began drawing it through Daisy's hair—each stroke initially cautious, as though testing boundaries. Gradually her movements gained confidence, becoming sure and methodical.

As Julie sectioned her hair for braiding, Daisy surrendered to the unexpected pleasure of another's touch. The girl's hands moved with surprising skill, and Daisy marveled at how comfortably they shared proximity—the signature "itch" of another shifter's presence remained blessedly minimal. Female energy rarely provoked intense reactions; only her grandmother had ever produced that bone-deep crawling sensation that made Daisy want to tear off her own skin. Grand Dame Sawyer had been a formidable force indeed.

The atmosphere shifted suddenly—air particles rearranging themselves around a new presence. Heat bloomed low in Daisy's abdomen as a warm, buzzing sensation spread through her nerve endings. Her pulse accelerated traitorously, mouth going desert-dry. Her gaze lifted to find Christian framed in the doorway, devastatingly casual in black jeans and navy button-down shirt. Damp hair betrayed a recent shower, and bare feet somehow made him more dangerously masculine rather than vulnerable. Daisy caught herself staring at his toes before forcing her gaze upward to meet eyes that seemed to strip away pretense.

"You look nice," he said simply.

The understatement lodged between them like a challenge. Daisy bit back the truth—that he looked so brutally seductive he stole her breath, that his scent made her inner beast howl with primitive hunger. Her leopard rumbled approval deep within. Instead, she lowered her gaze to the beaded mini-dress suddenly feeling like a mockery against her skin. How could she adorn herself when Leila lay mutilated, violated? The delicate fabric felt abruptly constricting, each tiny bead a reproach against her flesh.

As though reading the darkness of her thoughts, Christian crossed the room in two fluid strides and claimed the space beside her. The back of his hand brushed her cheek with devastating gentleness. "It's all right, Daisy. I will protect you."

She leaned into his touch, allowing herself just one heartbeat of surrender. The temptation to collapse against his chest, to let those powerful arms create sanctuary around her, nearly overwhelmed reason. The energy current between them pulsed—unnerving yet strangely anchoring. It had become the one constant in this hostile environment, the thing she'd begun to rely on when everything else shifted like quicksand. His scent, his unwavering presence, his quiet strength had somehow become necessary. She closed her eyes against the intensity of his gaze, but that only heightened her awareness of his proximity. Each inhalation carried him deeper into her system. She sighed, opening her eyes to find his attention fixed on her lips with predatory focus. His thumb traced hypnotic circles against her palm, sending electrical currents racing up her arm.

A gentle tug at her scalp reminded her of Julie's existence. Daisy glanced over her shoulder to find the girl awkwardly holding the end of her braid, gaze fixed determinedly at the floor while twin flags of embarrassment stained her cheeks. Mortification washed through Daisy. Had she nearly surrendered to desire with an audience mere inches away? She yanked her hair from Julie's grasp and snatched her hand from Christian's, heat climbing her throat.

His effect on her defied logic—the ability to make the world beyond him dissolve into irrelevance. The danger of it unsettled her deeply. Yet some treacherous part of her longed for solitude with him, to wrap herself around him like ivy claiming ancient stone. The unfamiliar dependence chafed against her nature. Never before had she relied on anyone—especially a man—to soothe soul-deep wounds.

"Well, I better finish getting ready," she announced with forced lightness, deliberately turning away. "You should probably get out of here and see if Alec needs you or something. I'm sure the two of you have more secret man-things to talk about, like marrying me off to a complete stranger or something."

The temperature seemed to plummet as his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, though not from cold. Beyond the window, lightning slashed jagged silver across the gathering gloom, followed by thunder that vibrated through the floorboards like a lion's roar. Christian's anger manifested in tightened jaw and whitened knuckles as his hand clenched into a fist against his thigh. Inside her, the leopard went preternaturally still, muscles coiling in preparation for fight or flight.

Fear slithered along Daisy's spine like cold fingers. His anger enveloped her like freezing fog, somehow penetrating bone and marrow. Another lightning flash illuminated the room in stark relief, thunder following with foundation-shaking force. The current between them intensified, crackling like static electricity that raised every fine hair on her body. Logic demanded retreat—lock herself away, pray for his departure—but something stronger than rational thought held her immobile.

An invisible force drew her hand toward his face until her fingertips hovered a breath away from his skin. The connection between them materialized in her mind's eye—delicate silver filaments extending from him to her, from her to him, weaving them together in an intricate pattern destiny had begun long before their meeting. Her palms cradled his face, and fury receded from his gaze like tide withdrawing from shore. She drew him closer until only a whisper of space separated their lips, the heat of his breath mingling with hers.

"Julie," she managed, voice unrecognizable. "Get out of here."

The young wereleopard fled, footsteps fading into silence.

Solitude descended around them like a velvet curtain. Outside, heavens surrendered to deluge, raindrops striking the windowsill in perfect synchronicity with the pulse hammering at her throat. Daisy slid her arm across the nape of his neck, pressing herself against the solid wall of his chest. Their lips remained tantalizingly separate though the tips of their noses brushed in delicate torture.

"Daisy," he warned, voice rough as gravel. "Do not do this."

"There is nothing else," she whispered against his mouth. "Nothing else but this moment..."

Christian made a sound—half curse, half surrender—before eliminating the final barrier between them. His mouth claimed hers with devastating precision, drawing a soft gasp from her lungs. Whether born of despair or salvation, she couldn't determine, but as her arms twined around his neck and she melted into him, the universe beyond ceased to exist. He tasted of mint and masculinity and wild grass after rain. A buzzing intensified within her skull as vertigo claimed her—free-falling through space, a comet blazing toward earth.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips before she granted entrance, allowing him to explore the velvet recesses of her mouth. Each stroke sent liquid heat pooling low in her abdomen, igniting nerve endings she'd never known existed. Above them, the silver filaments multiplied and danced, weaving intricate patterns as they bound the two figures together in ethereal embrace. Daisy's hands slipped beneath cotton to find warm skin stretched taut over ridged muscle. She traced each defined plane with reverent fingertips, memorizing texture and contour while her inner beast purred with satisfaction.

The kiss deepened as Christian's strong hands spanned her waist, fingers pressing against silk-covered vertebrae. Sensation overwhelmed her—his taste addictive as fine wine, his scent filling her lungs with each desperate breath, his touch branding her through delicate fabric. The room disappeared around them, rain and thunder creating primitive soundtrack to their surrender. She felt his heartbeat thundering against her own, the perfect symmetry of two rhythms finding harmony.

His hand traveled upward, fingertips tracing her collarbone before tangling in her hair, loosening Julie's careful handiwork until it tumbled around her shoulders. He angled her head, changing the kiss from desperate exploration to something deliberate, devastating, his tongue stroking against hers in suggestive rhythm that made her whimper. The sound seemed to inflame him; his grip tightened as he lifted her effortlessly, placing her across his lap without breaking contact.

The new position allowed her to feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against her thigh, sending another wave of heat through her core. His mouth abandoned hers to explore the sensitive skin beneath her ear, teeth grazing her pulse-point in gentle provocation. She arched against him instinctively, fingernails scraping against his scalp as pleasure spiraled through her with dangerous intensity.

"Christian," she gasped as his mouth found the hollow of her throat. The word contained volumes—plea and praise intertwined.

His response was nonverbal—a low growl that vibrated against her skin as his hands skimmed her sides, thumbs brushing the outer curves of her breasts through silk. Even that fleeting contact sent shock waves through her system, n*****s tightening in anticipation of his touch. The silver threads connecting them pulsed with light, tightening their mystical bonds with each passing second.

His lips reclaimed hers with renewed urgency, one hand cradling her face while the other pressed against her lower back, eliminating any remaining space between their bodies. Daisy felt herself drowning in sensation, willingly surrendering to the undertow. This, she realized with sudden clarity, was what it meant to die and be reborn simultaneously. This eternal moment contained within it all possible universes.

The realization shocked her back to consciousness. She shoved against Christian's chest, tearing herself away. Her lungs burned as though starved for oxygen, each breath a reminder of what they'd shared. Already her body betrayed her, skin chilled where his warmth had been seconds before. But the wall had descended between them once more—his expression closed, unreachable beyond that glacial barrier.

Her trembling fingers touched swollen lips as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Her heart hammered against ribs as though seeking escape. Her knees threatened collapse as she crossed to the mirror on unsteady legs, gripping its frame for support as she confronted her reflection.

She searched for evidence of transformation—some visible mark of how profoundly that kiss had altered her reality. But the woman staring back appeared superficially unchanged. The same bottle-green eyes, though now fever-bright with desire. Her cheeks bore heightened color and her lips glowed crimson without artificial enhancement, but nothing revealed the seismic shift that had occurred within. The kiss that had rewritten her understanding of existence had left no tangible proof.

In the mirror's reflection, she watched Christian rise, hands thrust deep into pockets—a defensive posture that made her ache to reach for him. His expression had transformed into clinical detachment, viewing her as something unpleasant discovered in his drink. The dismissal was clear—the incident already relegated to oblivion. Pride demanded equal indifference; she wasn't the type to dissect each look and touch for hidden meaning. She could match his deliberate amnesia with her own.

Beyond the window, the storm continued its relentless assault.

"Are you ready?" Christian asked, voice unnaturally composed.

Daisy met his gaze in the mirror, attempting to summon her customary defenses—a cutting remark, a dismissive shrug—but discovered her emotional reserves depleted. She wanted only to escape this endless night, though it had barely begun. The formal dinner awaited, followed by the moonlit run, then tomorrow's inevitable awakening in unfamiliar surroundings, struggling to piece together what her primal self had done during darkness. Her fingers skimmed over Julie's handiwork—the intricate braid that, paired with her white Vera Wang cocktail dress, created an illusion of innocence that would satisfy Alec's expectations.

"I'm ready." She offered no resistance when Christian claimed her elbow, guiding her from sanctuary toward obligation. Still, she couldn't suppress the shiver that raced along her spine at his touch. Would this visceral reaction ever diminish, or was she forever condemned to this exquisite torture?

Their journey toward the dining room passed in silence broken only by their measured footsteps against polished wood. Daisy drew deep, centering breaths, attempting to slow her racing heart as thoughts turned to the Ativan hidden in her closet. While Percocet subdued the maddening itch of others' energy signatures, Ativan prevented the sensation of crawling out of her own skin. She inhaled more deeply, holding the breath until lungs protested before exhaling in shaky surrender. Christian's hand slid from her elbow down her forearm, fingers interlacing with hers in silent reassurance. She risked a glance to find him watching her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips curved upward.

The unexpected smile transformed his features, unleashing devastating warmth. It created dangerous ripples through her already unsettled equilibrium. She tore her gaze away, redirecting attention toward the dining table where two imposing men waited. Alec occupied his customary position, shrouded in black, hair pulled severely back from aristocratic features. His right eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly—his only acknowledgment of her arrival.

The stranger seated at Alec's right remained a mystery, his back to their approach. Short blond hair stood in military bristles, and his charcoal suit draped over impressive shoulders with bespoke precision. On one splayed hand, an ornate signet ring adorned his middle finger, bearing an unfamiliar emblem. Both men rose as she approached, turning to face her.

Daisy's step faltered as she confronted possibly the most beautiful male specimen she'd ever encountered. More significant than his physical perfection was the realization that he was not leopard. Definitely feline, but a different subspecies entirely. His devastating blue eyes assessed her appreciatively, scanning from head to toe with unconcealed interest. Angelic features—high cheekbones, strong jawline, cleft chin, and aquiline nose—seemed carved by master sculptor. His smile unfolded like a dangerous weapon, perfectly calibrated for maximum effect.

"My sister," Alec commanded her attention. "I would like to present to you Marcus Hargrove, the Chieftain of the Oregon were-lions."