Series: Shifter Ops Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Behind me, Laurie helps Allison to her feet. They’re both covered in dust but otherwise look fine. Parker looks shaken, but Declan dances like he just scored a touchdown. The scent of 180 proof pure grain alcohol is strong on the air. Someone’s drinking the cocktail part of the Molotov cocktail.
I stride to Declan and grab the brown bottle out of his hands. The smell alone eats through the lining of my esophagus, but once the liquor’s in my belly, it spreads a much-needed warmth through my limbs.
“You’re a lass after me own heart.” Declan leans close to tell me, a hand over his heart. He really is compelling, with his dark hair and dancing dark eyes. I don’t want to respond to his flirting, but my body doesn’t get the memo.
“This stuff is dangerous,” I mutter and take another swig. Declan waggles his brows at me, and a curious twinge twists my nethers.
“Later,” I mouth to him and turn to greet our rescuers.
The werebears have shrunk down into the shape of two identical young men with broad shoulders and tall, lean bodies still filling in with muscle. Their hands and feet are large. They’ve still got some growing to do. They’ll tower over most shifters, even when they’ve reached full size.
“Who are these guys?” I ask Declan.
“Hutch and Canyon,” Declan points them out. “I tink.”
“Canyon’s the one who doesn’t wear a shirt,” Parker says.
“Twins?”
“Triplets. Their brother Bern was flying the bird.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Bad Bear Mountain,” Thunderbear One calls. He winks at me as he strolls past to pick his kilt up off the road.
The second brother jogs up, his kilt and billowy shirt in place “Hutch here. We caught a weird scent and came to check it out.”
“Good thing too,” Thunderbear One, aka Canyon says. “That was a rush.” He picks up a bottle of rotgut and gives it a sniff.
“Are you even old enough to drink?” Parker scowls.
Canyon shrugs. “I’m old enough to save your tail.”
“And we’re very grateful,” Allison says.
Canyon spots Allison and does a double take at her beauty. His voice drops an octave. “Anytime, ma’am.” He and Hutch bow to her. Laurie blinks and molts a few white feathers.
I roll my eyes. Guys are always falling all over Allison, and she never takes notice of them. She does seem to enjoy Laurie’s attention, though.
“So who were those guys? And why did they smell like vampires?”
“I noticed that too,” Hutch wrinkles his nose. “Humans hired by vampires, do you think?”
“If they were, we better get a move on,” Parker says. “Sun’s about to set.” The last rays of light slant over us, bathing the world in a reddish gold glow.
“Where you guys headed?” Hutch asks.
Parker explains our mission.
“The king of vampires?” Canyon wrinkles his nose. “Do you think these guys worked for him?”
“If they did, they’d be helping us, not hunting us,” I say.
“So they’re chasing us down to stop us?”
“Vampire politics,” Declan scoffs.
“They can’t attack Lucius, so they go after us,” I say. “They think we’re the weakest link.”
“Well, we sure learned them, didn’t we?” Canyon says.
Hutch elbows him. “Grammar.”
Canyon gives his brother the finger, and Hutch rolls his eyes, turning back to us to ask, “What’s the package you’re picking up, anyway?”
We all exchange a glance. “We’re not sure,” I say. “But it’s for the king of the vampires. It could be anything.”
“Let’s get a move on.” Parker has an anxious eye on the setting sun. “If vampires are involved, when night falls, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
It’s decided that we’ll walk down the road, while the werebears push the bus and Parker steers. In the end, they only have to go a mile because Bern pulls up in a Jeep.
“Perfect timing,” Canyon says with satisfaction.
“Hauled butt to get here,” Bern says. He looks a lot like his brothers, except all in black, down to the kilt and a cool pair of New Rock boots. I’d be tempted to steal them, but Bern is a friend who just saved our lives, and no matter what people think of my animal, I do have standards.
He hitches the bus to his vehicle, and everyone squeezes in, except for Canyon and Hutch, who opt to run the route and scent the enemy. They pull their pairs of tennis shoes out of the trunk–I didn’t notice they were barefoot until now–and jog into the brush.
It’s still a tight squeeze. I end up practically on Declan’s lap.
“Sorry.” I shift, and then go still. There’s a hard ridge under my butt, and it’s a lot bigger than I’d expect anything belonging to a short king like Declan to be.
“No worries,” he grits out. No innuendo, just a pained tinge to his voice. I’m tempted to rub myself against him, but I do him a favor and perch on his knee.