Only After Dark The Boxed Set Books 1 - 4: Shifters Forever Worlds (19 page)

N
o fucking way
.

No motherfucking way.

Rory couldn’t tear his gaze from the car’s taillights. He’d heard Alexa call her Valencia.

Fuck, why didn’t I pick up the resemblance?

The two sisters did favor each other. Some.

Valencia was a lush, short little thing. A spitfire in a stick of dynamite, though her figure was far from a stick. An exaggerated hourglass figure, just like he liked them. With wideset green eyes and rich red hair, straight, hanging past her shoulders. High cheekbones and full lips. Plump lips. Perfectly kissable lips.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Just like he remembered.

Except now, she was in the flesh. In person. In real life.

IRL, they called it. It stood for “In Real Life,” when people who’d met online would then meet in person—IRL. Except that had been something he and Valencia never admitted to wanting. As far as he knew, she didn’t want it.

As far as he knew, he couldn’t handle it. His experiences left him unprepared to be involved.

He studied the stunning beauty. No one could hold a candle to the short, curvy redhead that slipped behind the wheel of the cherry red BMW 3-series and burnt rubber to get out of there.

His twin brother Reese eyed him while he stared at the departing BMW.

“Hey.” Reese nudged Rory with his elbow. “You know her?”

Rory composed himself, then slipped his sunglasses on. “Who?”

“You okay?”

Rory let a breath out.
Fuck, no.
“Yeah, fine. Why?”

Reese’s eyes narrowed into slits.

Rory glanced from his brother to the car. “That’s Alexa’s sister?”

“Valencia.”

Rory knew now why she never wanted to tell him her name. He’d have known it even if he didn’t know any of the Arceneaux family personally.

It’s not like I gave her my name either.

He would have. But since she insisted on keeping it a secret, he did the same.

“She just drove in from Georgia. I wonder why she’s leaving,” Reese said, but he was looking at Rory as if he thought Rory held the answer.

Georgia.
Rory figured he knew what stretch of highway she’d be on. He could catch up.

Then what, moron?

Fuck if he knew, but he’d be damned if he’d let her slip out of his life again.

“I’ll be back,” he told Reese.

“Wait. What? Where you going?”

“Quick errand. Back later.”

“Need company? Help?” Reese asked, though he looked at Alexa.

“Nah, stay with Alexa.” Rory could tell they’d couplebonded. They didn’t have to tell him. But he’d wait until they made an official announcement. It was quick and unexpected though. They went from just meeting to—
Bam!
—together.

Rory got the whole fated mates thing his kind did. Though…

His mind went to Valencia.

The woman he’d met, whose name he hadn’t known. The woman he’d fallen for.

The woman he was hell bent on finding.

The least she could do was tell him why she left him hanging.

She owed him that much.

R
ory caught
up to the red BMW a few dozen miles shy of Mobile, before the exit for Interstate 65 toward Georgia. He had no clue where the hell she lived, but he’d stay on her tail and pull over where she did.

Luckily, she drove such a showy car, else he’d have struggled to find and keep up with her without arousing her notice. Behind him the sun had already begun its journey into oblivion and dusk was setting in. He wondered if she was going to drive all night. Not that he had a problem with that, but he sure would’ve appreciated a break. Surely she’d need gas or something, sooner or later.

Rory thought of calling Reese and getting her address. It would have made life easier to know where to go. Then again, what if she didn’t go home? What if she was going somewhere else?

Like a boyfriend’s.

He scowled at the thought, fury making his muscles tighten. He rolled his neck, flexing broad shoulders, trying to ease the tension that thought created.

Her brake lights lit up.

Is she stopping or is there a cop with a radar in front of her?

He hoped she was slowing to exit. He’d noticed a rest area sign not too far back.

Blinker!

Switching lanes or exiting?

Yes!

She was exiting.

Almost dark outside.

They both took the ramp and he kept a healthy distance between them. She parked at a rest area with three cars, a beat up Bronco, and an eighteen-wheeler in the lot.

Valencia exited her car, carrying the largest bag he’d ever seen for a purse, and headed toward the ladies’ facilities, a brick and wood building not much larger than a travel trailer. The building split between the men’s and ladies’ restrooms and had a door to a visitor center on the side. The center was dark, clearly closed.

He waited an extra second or two, then headed toward the men’s, also around the back, next door to the ladies’.

Less than a moment later, Rory hustled outside and returned to his Audi, casting a sideways glance to ascertain her Beemer was still in place.

It was.

R
ory knew
women took longer in the restrooms, but damn, enough already. He glanced at the time on his cell. He wasn’t entirely positive exactly when she’d entered the building, but it had been thirty minutes, he was sure.

The parking lot was empty now. The eighteen-wheeler, two cars, gone.

All but the Bronco and her BMW.

And where the hell was she?

The Bronco was empty, but he hadn’t seen anyone in the restroom when he was in there, and there was no one else around.

Broke down? Abandoned?

Could have been. But that wasn’t his problem.

Valencia was.

Concern and curiosity overrode caution and he made a decision he hoped he wasn’t going to regret.

After finding there were no witnesses by using his shifter hearing and sense of smell, Rory made his way toward the ladies’ part of the building.

One quick final glance around the area to be sure no one would notice what he was going to do, Rory opened the door to the women’s facilities and slipped inside with stealth.

The restroom was dark, but his preternatural shifter vision could see everything as clearly as if daylight.

Eight stalls. Eight open doors. All empty.

What the fuck?

There was no way she could have slipped out while he was in the restroom himself, he was way too quick.

Unless she never went into the restroom. He stepped out and stood on the covered porch at the back of the building, surveying the thick woods facing him.

Pine, oak, and elm trees grew in close proximity to each other, as if designed to be sentries keeping intruders out of the wooded area.

They made it difficult to discern if anyone was in there.

Where else would she have gone?

He raised his head, lifting his nose to the air, scenting for her.

Her scent was not there. Or it was too faint. Had she used hunter’s block?

Either way, tracking her by scent would be no easy feat, especially not since she had at least a thirty-minute start on him.

What if she came out of the woods while he was looking for her? What if she drove away and he had no idea where to find her?

I need to make sure she
can’t
drive away.

He sprinted toward his Audi, popped the trunk and pulled out his emergency kit.

Taking out the buck knife he’d had since a boy scout, he crouched low and ran toward her car, knelt by the rear tire, and slipped the blade into the rubber. A low hiss announced victory as the tire began to lose air and fell flat.

That should keep her from going too far if she does return before I find her.

“Sorry, tigress,” he whispered, gave her Beemer a pat and flipped the knife closed, shoved it in his back pocket.

V
alencia had never considered
herself the luckiest of people, but this was ridiculous.

It was getting dark. Hell, it was almost completely dark, and she could feel the moon’s effect. The pull was strong. The draw tugged on her essence, shutting away her shifter ways, pushing her tigress to the background.

“And I’m so goddamned far from home. I’m so screwed.” She’d walked thirty minutes through the woods. She’d seen from the map that although there wasn’t a state park nearby, there were several areas not inhabited.

That’s exactly what I need. Less possibilities for discovery and less people that could get killed.

She took a few more paces, then a few more, stealthy and careful not to attract attention—though there shouldn’t be anyone out here.

At all.

She found the perfect spot on the perimeter of a clearing.

The thickness of the trees would provide a block, not allowing much moonlight to filter through the leaves and pines.

But she needed 100 percent protection from the moon.

Valencia threw the heavy bag to the ground; it landed with a series of loud clanks, disturbing the quiet that lay heavy in the isolated woodlands.

She unzipped it, the ripping sound of the metal zipper menacing in the night air. She rummaged through it, organizing the contents.

Chains, padlocks, keys, duct tape, and a thick wool blanket. A change of clothing, in case.

She was prepared.

Not that I planned to be out here. I was hoping to be at Arceneaux Point, safely ensconced in one of the cabins for privacy.

Best laid plans and all that.

To think, she’d postponed being at Arceneaux Point the last two nights because she knew the potential power. The fuller the moon, the stronger the effects. She’d been sure tonight would have been the best night to arrive.

Who’d have thought I’d run into—

—him.

What if he did tell her family anything? Would it have been so bad if he’d told them about MysticConn? Would it have been the end of the world?

Well, yeah. It would have been. It would have downright sucked. Then she’d have to explain her—

Everything. Her life. Her decisions. Her job.

Yeah, she couldn’t have the wolf talking to her family. That’d never work.

Ever.

A snap caught her attention.

A twig breaking.

A raccoon? A possum? Could be any assortment of creatures.

Stop panicking,
she counseled herself.

Her tigress snarled.

She inhaled the thick air rich with pollen and forest scents. She needed to make sure there wasn’t a human in the area. No animal concerned her—not really. As a tigress, there wasn’t much she couldn’t handle in Alabama’s natural habitat.

Maybe a bear.

Shit. She had no idea if bears were in Alabama. What about mountain lions?

God, I suck at planning.

Nah, not really. It’s not like she could have predicted seeking a place to hide in the backwoods of Podunk.

Valencia ignored the second crack, figuring yet again, some local creatures that wouldn’t prove harmful. She unlocked the padlock, wrapped the chain around the thickest tree trunk and knelt to collect the–

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” A male voice.

She jumped to her feet and whirled around.

Two men, large and brawny, with arms thicker than large branches. She glared at them. They had no scent and yet… she studied their long unkempt hair.

—Shifters!

Shifters using block. She’d been known to use it herself, but hunter’s block usually meant the one using it had something to hide.

What were these two hiding?

“What clan are you with?”

One of the shifters laughed. The sound, squeaky like a set of broken gears, was also loud and menacing, quieting the din of the forest’s crickets.

She didn’t like that at all.

Her tigress growled deeply in her chest. The noise grew to a roar, filling Valencia’s mind so the only thing she heard was her tigress’s roar.

Enough. Stop.

Her tigress pushed for a shift.

Valencia pushed back. It wasn’t time to shift yet. Perhaps they didn’t mean her harm. Just because they didn’t want to claim a clan.

Her tigress snarled in disagreement. She had a point. The last time Valencia was caught alone…

Her tigress grumbled in agreement and pushed harder for a shift.

“She’s perfect. Scanlon will be happy to have her,” Squeaky laughed, his voice matching his laugh.

Perfect for what? Who the hell is Scanlon?

“What are you talking about?” She wished she hadn’t wrapped the chain around the tree. It would’ve made a good weapon.

“Don’t worry about it.” Squeaky pulled his hand from behind his back and aimed a pistol in her direction.

Before she could yield to her tigress’s wishes and shift to attack, before she could protest, or run, a dart flew from the end of the pistol and embedded in her thigh. The burning sensation dispersed throughout her body.

Fuzziness spread alongside it. The two shifters became four, then six, then there were two again but they were surrounded by a fog. Her limbs turned to jelly. She dropped to her knees, then laid her palms against the pine needles and dirt.

Valencia shook her head. She tried to get her tigress to come to the forefront but it was silent.

Pushing as hard as she could, she still couldn’t get the animal to step forward.

I need to shift. I need to get out of this jam, right now.

Her tigress was silent.

Valencia didn’t realize she’d moaned in frustration until the men started to talk.

“Why is she still awake, Ellis?” Squeaky asked.

“She shouldn’t be. Did you put the correct dosage in?”

Squeaky huffed in irritation. “They are premeasured. I don’t mess with that.”

“Shoot her with another.”

“Hell no,” Squeaky said. “Scanlon will kill me if she dies. It’s too damned hard to find good ones these days.”

“So we carry her?” Ellis’s voice raised an octave. “Fuck. What if she shifts into a tiger? If the Tranq works, she’ll stay human. Let’s wait it out.”

“Let’s move her.”

“Not while there’s a chance she’ll turn into a man eater.”

“So give her another bump of the tranquilizer.”

“I said no.” Squeaky stomped his foot near Valencia’s fingers.

She felt the vibrations from his boot. She turned her head, tried to focus on him. She placed her hand on his boot.

“Don’t…” She struggled to get the words out. “Don’t move…” More struggling. She swallowed the thickness the drug placed in her throat. “Me.”

Squeaky moved his foot, then stood on her fingers. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re as good as dead.” He ground her fingers into the dirt. “Let’s move her, now.”

The tranquilizer’s potency kept Valencia from feeling what he was doing physically, but the humiliation stung.

Hands slipped under her armpits, another set grabbed her legs. She was hefted into the air like a sack of vegetables as the two men began to walk through the woods, carrying her face down.

“It’d be easier if just one of us threw her over his back,” the thug called Ellis said.

“You’re volunteering me, I suppose?” This came from Squeaky.

“We could take turns,” Ellis offered, releasing his grasp on her legs.

Valencia thought she was going to fall. She squirmed. She yelled for her tigress in her mind.

Silence.

What the hell?

She knew her tigress wasn’t unconscious. She wouldn’t be out while Valencia was awake.

Would she?

“Help me get her up then,” Squeaky’s voice sounded strained.

“Wuss.” Ellis grabbed her roughly and threw her over Squeaky’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go already.”

Valencia landed on Squeaky’s shoulder and grunted as the breath was knocked out of her.

“No.” Valencia protested. “No moonlight.”

“Shut up, wench.” Ellis smacked her on the ass with an open palm, the blow stinging.

Bastard.

“Yeah, shut up,” Squeaky parroted, following suit and striking her already tender flesh.

Each step he took on the uneven terrain was like being tossed around in a bumper car, without padding.

“Be still,” Squeaky commanded after a few steps.

She couldn’t help it. Panic set in. They were taking her out of the protection of the trees.

Valencia knew they’d gone too far when she felt the burn. It started on her forearm. She glanced down. A beam of moonlight crossed her arm.

In her mind, her tigress’s roar reverberated, causing Valencia to cover her ears, though she knew it would do no good. The sound was not outside her head.

The burning intensified. Spread through her body with the fierceness of a forest fire. A creaking, almost subtle and soundless, began deep within her body. Molecules loosened, reformed, tendons stretched, muscles rearranged. Valencia tried to push her tigress back, tried to keep the change from happening, but the power was too strong. This was no regular shift. This was the curse she’d brought upon herself.

She raised her head.

“What the fuck?” Ellis was staring at her.

“What?” Squeaky pushed her off.

She landed on the ground with a thud and looked at the two shifters.

“Her fucking eyes,” Ellis exclaimed. “What the hell is that about?”