Revenge: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Read online

  The motel room was a crap hole, and more so than they came standard. The floral comforter was shredded. Cheese snacks lay scattered and crushed across the stained, brown carpet, along with spattered blood and chunks of drywall where the radiator dangled. Why had I expected anything else?

  “What the… holy…” Axel slid his hands back over his face to his short, dirty-blond hair. Even as stress lined his face, he was handsome. I knew I had to stop thinking like that. I had to focus.

  He had no idea what he was messing with bringing one of those things to the place he slept. Lucky for him, the zombie was gone.

  “He was right there. I had him chained right there to the radiator,” Axel said.

  “I got that.”

  “How could he have gotten free?” he asked, more to himself than to me.

  “My guess is he chewed himself free,” I said. “They do that. They have no regard for their bodies. Because they’re zombies.”

  “Where would he go?” Axel asked. Frustration danced in his dark eyes.

  I understood. I’d been there. I was there.

  “That’s a tough one,” I replied.

  “Have you tried following them?” Axel asked. “Do they return to their loved ones?”

  “I have,” I said. “And sometimes they do. But, it’s better if they don’t.” I’d seen it happen once. It was a massacre.

  Axel was quiet as he looked over the mess. “We have to follow Garfield.”

  We. He said we. At the sound of that one word, my chest tightened. This was not the hunt I had intended, but he was right to try and stop any zombie that wandered free. I told myself that it was important for me to help Axel chase down his zombie. I told myself it was more urgent than hunting for Danny’s killer. It was an excuse to spend more time with Axel. I knew it was, at least in part. “His name was Seth Ricci.”

  Axel’s brows shot up. His eyes grew wide.

  “It’s hard to live in a town this size and miss anyone’s name. Well, at least the ones that come into the shop,” I explained. “Lucky for you, your zombie used to be a regular.”

  Axel nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “And you propose following Zombie Seth how?” I asked. “Follow your hunting dog nose?”

  “Wolf,” he said.

  “Wolf,” I said. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” Axel replied. “But my sense of smell isn’t like that of a hound dog. I was thinking more along the lines of following you.”

  It was my turn to stare at him.

  “To his house,” Axel said. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “I do,” I replied, “but it’s a long walk.” We could shift, me with my amulet, him completely naturally. I imagined watching him—the slow strip of his t-shirt over ripped abs, the unbuttoning of his jeans. And then I realized my cheeks were hot.

  “Let’s take my bike. It’s still over at the bar.”

  “Yeah,” I said, glad for a different suggestion—any suggestion. “Let’s go.”

  Axel grabbed his leather jacket from the floor and looked it over before slipping it on. It was just like the one my brother had worn, the one that lay on my dresser at home. It was a reminder of the stakes, as if I needed another one. Axel was unconvinced of the danger he faced. It was up to me to make it clear. It was up to me to make sure he understood, so he didn’t end up like Danny.

  The walk from the motel to the bar was quiet. On a mission, no words were required, and it was surprisingly comfortable. A gentle breeze blew, lightening the heavy, humid air. Above the scent of flower blossoms, above oak and everything familiar, was Axel. He was like distant mountains, like flying free, familiar though I’d only once traveled anywhere like it as a child. Somehow his scent was both exciting and comforting. Somehow, so was he.

  We returned to the place we’d started the night, to where we’d first met. But instead of going behind the general store, Axel turned at the Blackened Gator Bar, named for their unique brand of jerky.

  “It’s back here,” he said.

  I followed him to the back lot, which was packed twice as full as the general store ever got. No surprise that beer from the tap trumped microwave pizza. Giant trucks and compact cars packed in next to lines of big, American-made motorcycles. Without issue, Axel navigated to one of the metal bikes that looked just like the rest. I watched as he straddled the thing. His wrist turned on the handle, and the motor roared. With his shoulders squared and his arms out, his white shirt was tight against his chest, and it was hot. Toned abs shone through thin fabric, begging to be touched. Axel inched forward from the parking place, eyes on me. “Climb on.”

  With a hand on his shoulder, I climbed up onto the seat, unsure if this was really such a good idea. The bike was taller, and wider than it looked. The leather rumbled beneath me, as I sat only inches from his back. His scent filled my lungs, mountains and pine, and the leather of his jacket. I could hear his heartbeat, see the subtle movement of every breath.

  “Put your arms around me,” he said.

  I wanted to do it, as much as I was afraid to. I slid my hands to his waist, and laced my fingers together. My body pressed up against his back, the leather cool on my cheek, his abs hard beneath my forearms. He felt better than I’d imagined. He was firmer, warmer.

  “Here we go,” Axel said, and I squeezed my hands together.

  As we picked up speed, the vibrations of the seat resonated through me, the wind whipped my hair, and I held tighter and tighter to Axel. The feeling was amazing—the wind, the speed. It was as close to flying as I’d ever been on the ground. All the while, I held him. Excitement filled me, and I was left wondering which was better—watching him strip, or the feeling of his body in my arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Axel

  Calling this place a house was an understatement. Even in the dark, it was clear that Garfield’s—Seth’s—home was an estate, a mansion, a plantation, or whatever rich people in the south called hotel-sized living quarters. Elaborate white pillars reached three stories high across the front of the porch that was bigger than my childhood home. No other buildings were within sight, only manicured grass and tall trees in every direction.

  We left my bike on the dirt road, out of sight from the mansion, and approached on foot.

  “I expected a house more like the ones in town,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “Corbeau has more manors than town,” Penny replied.

  When a place has money, it tends to grow. Or at least that had been my experience. Even back in Sawtooth Peaks, where progress seemed impossible, they’d built a ski lodge. Corbeau appeared to have stayed exactly the same however long it had been around. Nothing looked less than a hundred years old. That included the place I’d been staying. Instead of a modern building, the motel lodging was in a converted historic building.

  But mixed with the scents of oak and summer, was the rot of death. Seth was here somewhere.

  “There.” Penny pointed off to the side of the building.

  I looked in that direction, then back at Penny.

  “Wolves have scent and hearing,” she said. “But I’ve got you beat for sight.”

  “You’re full of surprises,” I said.

  The corner of her lips lifted, causing an adorable dimple to form on her cheek. She really was beautiful.

  “Should we shift?” I asked.

  Her smile faded, leaving only the serious fire of determination that had drawn me to her in the first place. “You can if you want, but I’m a stronger fighter as-is.”

  And with that, she took off, racing toward the zombie.

  “Penny!” All I could do was run after her. Hell if I’d let her deal with this alone. If Seth had come home to harm his family, that was on me.

  Penny stopped short of the snarling human-shaped creature that knelt over the ground. Its head bobbed into something that smelled distinctly like blood. I stopped by Penny’s side. Seth’s hair was missing in chunks. Was he decaying? His
odor said he was. And it seemed to be happening quickly. He looked much worse than he had at the motel.

  We were too late to stop him from causing harm, but with any luck, not too late to protect his family. “Is that… a dog?” I asked, regretting the food that churned in my stomach.

  At the sound, Seth’s head snapped toward us. I stepped forward and raised my arm, instinctively placing myself between the monster and Penny.

  “Possum,” Penny replied, lowering my arm.

  I reached toward my belt, for the sheathed knife that Penny had dropped for me the night before. The one I was supposed to use for just this. A glimmer of moonlight on silver and I saw it—in Penny’s hand.

  Gllllrrrfff. Feet fumbled across the grass, Seth ran with his arms reaching. Yellow eyes glowed. His jaw hung, unhinged on one side, no longer the man he had appeared to be just hours before.

  His nails caught on Penny’s shirt, and the calm I’d worked so hard to find was gone in an instant. Adrenaline and anger, I tore my clothes off, and dove without thought. Bones cracked as I moved, shifting for survival—Penny’s survival. My senses sharpened, the stink of the zombie twice as rancid as before, the sound of his faint, erratic heartbeat more pronounced.

  Penny bounced between feet, dodging the zombie’s advances, cutting and countering with her knife for every movement he made. My fangs sunk through soft, mushy flesh. The taste was rancid. I had to fight my gag reflex. Seth’s femur snapped from the pressure—too little pressure to cause such a thing, which was another sign his body was failing him fast. I released, expecting him to stop. But he didn’t. Dragging his leg behind him, he continued after her.

  Like I’d eaten a garbage-coated skunk, the taste of his rotting flesh clung to my tongue. Excitement danced in Penny’s eyes as she kept just outside the creature’s reach. This was her every night. What had they done to her?

  I snapped my jaw tight on Seth’s other leg, and didn’t let go. This time the zombie hissed, not from the pain. He seemed to feel no pain. He hissed because I kept him from his meal.

  So he made me his dinner instead. Jagged fangs pierced my back, acid saliva burning as his teeth sunk in. I cried out at the stinging agony. And then it was over.

  Like a rag doll, his body collapsed in a heap. It was all true. Zombies actually existed. And one just bit my fucking back.

  “I know you didn’t actually agree that I was right,” Penny said, “but I figured the bite was convincing enough.”

  She didn’t seem concerned about it, so I held back the question that nagged as much as the wound stung—what happened to the victim of a zombie bite?

  “Yeah,” I said in shifter tongue, looking up at her. Her face was once again emotionless, gorgeous yet distant. The dagger hung in her hand, and she stood still over the body, over me.

  “I’ve never been so close to a wolf,” she said. “A little intimidating.”

  I laughed, or as close as I could get as a wolf. What came out was more a snarl. Good thing Penny understood. “The zombie hunter think’s I’m intimidating?”

  “So you admit that I was right?” She raised her brows.

  “How could I not?” I replied. “Please tell me that this isn’t like the movies. I really don’t want to turn into one of those things.”

  “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t know if it passes like that or not. But from personal experience I can say a bite doesn’t turn a shifter.”

  She lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing the beautifully pale skin of her stomach. Scars covered her side. It wasn’t common for a wound to scar that dark, not with shifter healing.

  “But it scars unlike anything else,” Penny said.

  “Penny,” I said, wishing I could make it better. Scars showed her bravery, and they were as beautiful as she was, a badge of her strength. But if I could have taken away her pain, I would have.

  “It’s fine,” she said, taking a step back and lowering her shirt. “Long done and over. What we need to do now is get this thing away from the house so Mrs. Ricci doesn’t wake to find… well, this.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”

  I shifted back and dressed myself, nagged by the sting in my back. I hoped what Penny had said was true, that shifters didn’t get infected. It was possible that it was only ravens. It was something to monitor. It also made me wonder, if a bite doesn’t turn us, does it turn humans? What if becoming a zombie happened some other way? What if it wasn’t a virus at all?

  When I turned back to Penny, I found her back turned to me. She hadn’t watched, but instead stared at the body on the ground. Maybe it wasn’t just me that struggled with all of this. Maybe it was harder for her than she let on. I couldn’t imagine watching people I knew turn into those things.

  She was as brave as she was beautiful.

  I returned to Penny’s side to help pull the remains out into the woods. After we’d covered Seth in rocks, and hidden him as much as we could from view, I turned to Penny. There was still so much I didn’t know.

  “What he did to the possum,” I said. “He would have done that to his wife.”

  “And kids,” she said. “It’s happened before.”

  “With this zombie infestation in town, why aren’t people freaking the fuck out? Why does the coroner say nothing strange is going on? Why hasn’t the whole town turned into a horror movie massacre?”

  “Someone’s cleaning up,” she said.

  “A conspiracy?” I asked. “But why?”

  Sunlight broke behind the trees, and Penny’s head snapped toward the skyline. “I have to go,” she said.

  And before I could say another word, black wings fluttered, and Penny was gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Penny

  There was no precedent. No one broke curfew. And before this, I’d only bent it.

  I scanned my bedroom, waiting for the consequences of my actions. Waiting for what, I wasn’t sure—my sister’s tears, my father’s wrath. Something. But no one was in my bed. No one waited in the shadows to berate me.

  The manor was still quiet; breakfast hadn’t been served. I pulled off my boots and grabbed a set of fresh clothes. With a sigh of relief, I accepted that everything was fine. I’d worried for nothing. A quick shower and I could curl up in bed for a short nap before Kaylee dragged me downstairs.

  Clothes in hand, I crossed the lush carpet, to the cool hardwood. I stepped into the silent hall.

  “Penelope.” His deep voice reverberated with a harsh edge. I knew it was bad when I went from Penny to Penelope. Really bad.

  I froze. Fight or flight kicked in. Fly away, that’s what I wanted to do. But I couldn’t.

  He said, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  I turned slowly, and met my father’s cold, ice-blue gaze. A foot taller than me, and built like a brick wall. I’d never met anyone more intimidating than my father.

  “Good morning, Dad,” I squeaked. Smooth. Real smooth.

  “You know curfew is for your own protection,” he said, crossing his arms. “You know what happens after dark, yet you still go.”

  He didn’t understand. No one did. “I have to,” I said.

  “You don’t,” he said. “What you have to do is stay safe. Think about the rest of us. Imagine what it would do to the constable if you didn’t come home. Think of your sister, who dreams of finding you just as you found Danny.” It was about everyone but him and me. He didn’t say how he would feel. And I knew he wouldn’t. He never did.

  “It’s not about them,” I said.

  “That’s right,” he said. “It’s not. You’re acting like a foolish, selfish child. So you’ll be treated like one.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not to leave the manor until you respect the rules we’ve set forth to protect every member of this constable.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You can’t—”

  “Don’t push your luck, Penelope,” my father said. “Your shifts
at the shop will be taken by your sister. And you’ll take that time to reflect.” He turned his back and walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

  Just like a fucking child. He treated me like I was ten years old again, caught trying on my mother’s amulet. It had been innocent curiosity at the time, a harmless offense. And now—it was my decision to make. No one had the right to tell me not to hunt my brother’s murderer. He should have understood. Danny was his son. Still, all he wanted was to hide, just like we always did. Hide from the monster like we hid from the world on our plantation in the middle of nowhere.

  Not me. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t.

  My steps were heavier as my frustration welled. I would find the zombie that killed my brother, no matter what anyone said. And I would put that monster down. I’d reached my limit. The angry tirade in my head was a good sign that I needed to calm down, or explode. A hot shower would help. It always did, but I knew it wasn’t the cure. Vengeance was.

  The bathroom door thudded as it shut, maybe a little harder than it needed to. The cool tile floor was pleasant beneath my feet, the gentle blue of the walls tranquil. I took in a deep breath of lavender, from the essential oil diffuser, and let the familiar aroma calm my nerves.

  A small knock, then the door behind me creaked. Her scent was distinct. It was always her.

  “What do you need, Kaylee?” I asked, without turning.

  “Just checking on you,” she said.

  “I’m fine.” I walked over to the tub and turned on the water. It felt like ice on my fingertips.

  “Did you talk to Dad?” she asked.

  I said nothing, and turned up the heat. Ice turned to boiling water, then back to a pleasant middle. Dad wasn’t a subject I was willing to discuss.

  “You did,” she said. Then I heard her sigh. “We’re trying to keep you safe, Penny.”

  Something about the way she said that made me pause. She said ‘we,’ not ‘he.’

  The realization hit me, colder than the shower had been when I first turned it on. She told him I was out all night. “You told him,” I said.