Shifter's Heart: A Paranormal Shifter Romance (The Hills Book 1) Read online

  Shifter’s Heart

  (The Hills Book 1)

  SARAH J. STONE

  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah J. Stone.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America

  Want a free book? Sarah J. Stone is giving away a free copy of Exiled Dragons, the prequel to her Exiled Dragons Series (no strings attached). This book is exclusive to her newsletter subscribers.

  >>>Click Here<<<

  Table of Contents

  Shifter’s Heart

  Dragons of Umora (Bonus):

  1. Cole

  2. Alexander

  3. Peter

  4. Nicholas

  Previews:

  Saved by Alpha Bear

  Saved by a Dragon

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  MOVING DAY

  “The Hills. A beautiful, shifter-only community for you and your family. A place to feel safe. A place to grow. The Hills is a new development that the city of Fort Bachman, built by the goodwill of our volunteers, our leaders, and shifter friends. Reserve your place today and enjoy life more starting right now.”

  Grey watched the commercial with wide, eight-year-old eyes. He loved the female narrator’s sweet, encouraging voice and the images that moved across the screen as she said the words “safe, grow, goodwill.” His favorite image was that of President Bachmann hard at work at a construction site, surrounded by beautiful green landscape.

  Bachman’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he had on a hard hat. He pointed to the horizon as if commanding the sun to rise, and the sun complied, pouring over the nearby mountain range and onto a completed housing development. The houses were small but colorful and cozy, and surrounded by pink and yellow flowers. Grey couldn’t wait to go there.

  He glanced over at the packed suitcases that he and his parents had stacked near the doorway of their small apartment in the bad part of town. They had a few boxes full of cooking supplies and a few, yellowing books, but nothing else. They had no bedsheets, no extra furniture, and Grey had no toys. He imagined their new house would be magnificent, with soft beds big enough for a whole family to snuggle up in and a glorious TV mounted on the wall so they could see all the president’s shows and announcements. And maybe, just maybe, there would be a kitchen full of food and a closet with toys in it. Anything seemed possible in The Hills.

  A knock at the door took him out of his reverie, and his mom, Avey Wiseman, called out from her bedroom where she was cleaning. “Sweetie, get that, would you?”

  “Sure, mom.” Out of habit, Grey went up on his tiptoes and looked through the peephole. It was two police officers with massive guns, padded vests, and helmets with plastic visors over their faces. Grey jerked back from the peephole and ran back to his mother.

  “Mom! Mom! It’s two policemen! They have guns!”

  “What?” His mother’s mouth fell open in shock. She put down the rag she was using on the floor, and Grey sat next to it in the empty room, hugging his knees to his chest. He knew that policemen were mean and angry, and he was scared that he had somehow inspired them to come to his home. Did they know all the bad things he thought? Had his teacher told them about the other day when he’d accidentally shifted? Tears came to his eyes as he pressed his face down onto his crossed arms and prayed they would just leave.

  As Avey walked up to the door, it rattled with the force of the officer banging on it as hard as he could. “Open up! We are here on behalf of the office of Human-Shifter Relations. I demand you open this door!”

  “I’m coming,” Avey called, but she forced herself to stop, take a breath, and then continue forward with a smile on her face. She opened the door gently but kept the chain on. Looking out through the opening, she smiled at the two armed policemen outside her door.

  “Why hello, officers. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Mrs. Wiseman, I insist you open this door. We are here to escort you and your family to the new compound.”

  “Escort us?” Avey tilted her head in genuine confusion. “But, we’ve got it all arranged. A friend is loaning us a car later this afternoon. We’ll have it once my husband gets home. We don’t need an escort.”

  “We have to ensure that your transition is as peaceful as possible. Please collect your things.”

  Avey set her jaw and then immediately forced herself to smile again. “Well, it’s very nice of you to offer to take us, but as I said, we’re waiting for my husband. He works as a messenger for the government offices, you know.”

  The first officer took a step forward, but the second stopped him with a hand to the chest. “Which offices?”

  “Why, the president’s office. You boys must have seen him. Floyd Wiseman? In his eagle form, he’s just enormous – he won the award for Fastest Messenger just last month. He’s got a lovely golden sheen to his feathers and very keen sight. He’s got a couple of big meetings today and won’t be home for another hour or so. Would you mind coming back?”

  The two officers glanced at one another, then the first clicked the communicator on his vest. “Nancy, come in.”

  A voice crackled out at him while Avey maintained a sweet smile. Behind her, Grey got up his nerve and slowly crept back into the kitchen where he stood behind his mother and tried to see the policemen over her shoulder, but they were blocked from sight.

  “Present. What is your situation?” Nancy’s voice crackled and sounded supremely bored.

  “I need a check on Floyd Wiseman. Can you let me know where he’s employed?”

  “One moment.” Everyone in the kitchen held their breath. Grey made a little step to the right, but his movement made the floor creak and he froze in place. Over his mother’s shoulder, he saw the angry eyes of a policeman look at him through plastic. He gulped and stood up straight.

  “Officer, you there?”

  “I’m here. You find anything?”

  “Floyd Wiseman works directly with President Bachmann as a personal messenger. Will there be anything else?”

  Avey tried not to be smug as the police officer’s face went from angry red to deathly pale. “No, thanks. Take care, Nancy.”

  “Over and out.”

  Once the advantage had shifted, the police officers found themselves unable to find any more words. They glanced at one another as Avey did her best not to give them a smug grin, as badly as she wanted to.

  “You say you have yourselves all arranged?” The first cop suddenly looked sweaty and immature as he shifted his weight from side to side.

  “Yes, of course. We’re happy to check in with you once we arrive.” Avey took a moment to reach behind her back and give the ‘OK’ sign to Grey. He let himself breathe and went back to the TV. The President’s History was about to be on, and he didn’t want to miss it.

  “Very well, Mrs. Wiseman. We’ll see each other at The Hills.” The two off
icers nodded respectfully at Avey and moved to the stairwell to leave. She waited until she was sure they were gone, then closed and slammed all eight of her locks. Grey listened to each one of them thunk closed and then watched his mother rest her forehead on the door. She looked like a statue they had in the nearby park for the mortals – a solitary woman with her eyes closed. Perhaps that statue was meant to remind children that mothers get tired, too.

  “Mama?”

  She turned back and looked at him with a pale, shocked face. The moment she looked at Grey, she quickly relaxed her face and smiled at him.

  “Are you hungry, Little Bird?”

  Grey was starving, but he shook his head ‘no.’ He already knew there was no food in the house. His mother seemed a bit uncertain what to do next. She smoothed down the front of her dress and adjusted the curls that brushed her face. She started to walk away from the door, then stopped and walked over to a kitchen chair and sat down.

  Without being asked, Grey brought her the nuts and bolts that were on top of one of the boxes they had packed that morning. “Here, Mama Bird.” He held out the old box, and she turned to him and smiled.

  “Oh, my Little Bird!” She reached down to hug him and kiss his cheeks. “You are the best.” She dumped out the bolts and then the nuts on the table and patted the chair next to her. “Want to do it with me?”

  He nodded and climbed into the chair next to her. Together, they inspected each nut; they checked the thickness of the spiral, the size and the age, then looked for the matching nut. Once they’d found a match, they placed the nut on top and turned it slowly and carefully. His mother could always spin a nut just right; her little octagon never went on at a wonky angle or get stuck the way Grey’s would. His little fingers struggled with the rusty parts, and his mother would put her hands on top of his and help him screw the parts down.

  “Don’t rush, Little Bird. Gentle turns.” She undid yet another wrong angle and handed the two separated pieces back to her son. He stuck his tongue out and tried again, copying his mother’s light touch at the top that seemed to get the nuts to turn just right.

  Soon the two of them had several fat, rusty bolts with a nut all the way at the top. Grey was truly fascinated with this odd habit of his mother’s; she could spend hours putting these parts together and taking them apart. As they completed the little metal puzzles, the finished pieces spread across the table like odd, spiral bugs with fat, round heads. Grey loved this process, loved the shift in his mother’s demeanor whenever she held and inspected the old, rust-covered parts. Her face relaxed and her eyebrows unknotted. Her smile returned, and Grey could see a rush of youth and beauty return to his mother’s face.

  The two of them were making the parts walk and talk around the table like tiny people when Grey’s father walked in. When he opened the door, he filled the frame; he was over six feet tall with massive shoulders, long, thin legs and a hardened, grizzled face that made most other men think twice before saying a harsh word against him.

  Grey quickly dropped his pieces and slid off his chair so that he could run to his father. Floyd Wiseman worked long hours as a messenger and rarely got home while the sun was still up, so it was a treat to see him in the daytime. Floyd lifted his son up to his face and then in for a big hug, complete with Grey’s legs wrapped around his father’s waist.

  “Hello, Floyd,” Avey greeted him, accepting a little kiss on her cheek.

  The man froze and looked down at his wife. “Uh-oh. Floyd? Did something happen?”

  “The police came to the door and talked to Mama.” Grey’s father snapped his head around to look at his little boy, then back to Avey.

  “The police?”

  “Little Bird,” Avey said to her son, “I want you to go and check your room. Make sure you didn’t forget anything, okay?”

  “Okay.” Grey hopped down from his father and ran off to his bedroom to look around the already bare space. He was certain there was nothing there, but he got on all fours and crawled around, sniffing the corners of the tiny room and narrowing his eyes like an earthbound shifter. Caught up in his game, he got on his back and rolled side to side with his arms up and hands flopped down like paws.

  “Meow, meow, meow.” He laughed at his own little joke and then went out to share it with his parents, but he stopped when he saw them. His mother was sobbing into his father’s chest as his big, strong dad stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

  Grey swallowed hard and walked up to them, gently touching his mother’s hand. She pulled him in closer to her and cried even harder, and listening to her made her son’s eyes well up. Why was his mother crying?

  Later, the three of them were in the car and on their way, but Grey was suddenly very uncertain about where the road was taking them. He wanted to sit backwards and watch the buildings shrink away, but his mother had insisted he buckle up and keep his eyes forward.

  “You want to see where we’re going, don’t you?” she’d asked as she locked him in place with the old, stiff belt.

  “Yes, Mama Bird.” The strap going across his body was wide, heavy, and unforgiving as he wiggled underneath it. Why did grown-ups like these things?

  As they drove away from the city, the people in the car fell quiet and focused on the wide, unmarked landscape in front of them. Every once in a while, they would pass an old sign that Grey’s father would read to them. Some of them had the names of old places: Spearfish, Deadwood, Sturgis. Grey explained to all of them that the land used to be made up of many cities, back when this was called ‘America.’ They tried to pay attention, but any history beyond the president’s stories bored everyone except Floyd, who finally let it go. After the dull history lesson, there was a tense and terrible silence.

  All around them was dry, exposed land. The grass got shorter and drier until there was only dirt all around them. Avey began biting her nails, and Floyd reached across to the passenger seat to silently remind her not to with a gentle touch of her hand. From the backseat, Grey saw his mother quickly grab his father’s hand for a squeeze and then let it go.

  Every few miles, a white, unmarked van would pass them going far too fast. Every time it happened, the family in the car would hold their breath until the van veered around the next corner and disappeared. They all seemed to be going in the same direction as the Wisemans, but they couldn’t be sure.

  The day got darker and darker, and soon the sky was painted in several pink and orange hues as the sun went down. Grey’s head nodded, and his eyelids got heavier and heavier. He didn’t want to miss his chance to see The Hills, but he was so sleepy. Maybe he could close his eyes for just a moment…

  When he opened them, the sky was dark and he was still in the car. He looked to the front seat, but his parents weren’t there. He could see some grown-ups standing in a big group and was fairly certain he saw his father’s head above the crowd. He unbuckled and climbed into the front seat away from all the boxes and bundles and then out the passenger door.

  As he walked up, he could hear gasps and groans. The grown-ups weren’t happy. He looked around for some more kids and found a group of airborne and earthbound shifter children crouching down and playing with some sticks, drawing designs in the hard, dry dirt. He wandered over a little confused; why were the airbornes sitting with this other group of kids?

  Grey rubbed his eyes and approached them hesitantly, certain the earthbound shifters would shift and attack him before he got a word out. His parents used a word to describe them that gave him chills down his spine. The word was “unpredictable.”

  He got a little closer and saw the young, uncomfortable group a bit better. One was an earthbound girl with her dark hair in pigtails and dressed in a pink, faded T-shirt, shorts, and pink tennis shoes. Next to her was a scowling little boy – an airborne shifter in a ripped shirt and old parachute pants held on to his skinny waist with the help of safety pins on each of his hips. Then, Grey noticed an odd girl just off by herself…no, it was a boy. No, he w
as right the first time – a girl. He shook his head and looked again and realized he couldn’t quite tell what gender this shifter had. She was earthbound, but her animal side had an unfamiliar scent and her dark, liquid eyes watched Grey so closely that he was unable to return her gaze. He shuddered with a new understanding of why earthbounds and airbornes were normally kept apart.

  Another big groan from the adults made him turn around. They were all gathered around a policeman standing on something tall who was saying something that made everyone angry. He turned back to the kids.

  “Hi,” he attempted, “I’m Grey. What game are you playing?”

  “It’s not a game,” the girl with the dark eyes responded, never blinking. “We’re just drawing with some sticks we found.”

  “There aren’t any more sticks, so you can’t draw with us.” That was the skinny boy. Grey swallowed and told himself to be brave.

  “That’s okay,” he said, trying to be casual. “I can watch you guys draw.” He stepped forward but the skinny boy scoffed at him as soon as he moved.

  “Way to go, nerd! You stepped all over my drawing. Here!” He threw his stick at Grey’s shins and stood to leave. “Just take it.”

  Grey waited to see if anyone else was upset, but the other kids didn’t look that interested. He gingerly picked the stick up and joined the two girls still scratching away. He drew a circle and then three lines inside of it.

  “Hey,” he attempted again, “do you know where the houses are? I can’t see any.”

  “There aren’t any.”

  Grey waited for the girl in pink to laugh or say something like, “Got ya!” but she seemed serious. He tried again.

  “But, the commercial–”

  “It was a trick,” the dark-eyed girl volunteered. “They made us think this would be a nice place so we would all come out here. But there’s nothing. Just a bunch of dirt.” Resigned to their fate, the two kept poking at the ground, burrowing little holes in the dry ground and arranging small rocks. Grey sat down on the ground, not caring if he got dirty. Surely, there was some mistake; the government wouldn’t ask them to live outside.