Authorized: Mercenary Shifters (Mercenaries For Hire Book 4) Page 2

  The hallways were brightly lit. The beige walls meant to be commercial, perhaps even soothing, felt smothering. So plain, uneventful. Could I really consider this place home? ’Cause that is how it felt. Like I was leaving home. The large, heavy, wooden doors that closed off others like mine lessened.

  An Arctic breeze. A shiver spiraled down my chest and clenched my stomach. That scent. I wanted to follow it. It became all-consuming, to the point I gripped the arms of my wheelchair and tried to lift myself from the seat. I didn’t get far.

  Greasy oil and wet dirt forced the other scent from me. My eyes met a black clad chest. Asher. How could I have forgotten him? Forgotten what was at stake? Something inside of me brushed against me, offering me courage to look up. A stormy expression overtook his features―the pale, gaunt skin pulled tightly against bone, making his cheekbones more pronounced than ever.

  Oh gods … what had I done?

  Asher didn’t speak but his animal flashed in his eyes, making them glow an eerie rusty brown that reminded me of dried blood. He stepped forward, angling his body so he still faced me, but reached out to press the arrow button for the elevator. His steps were measured and precise, every footfall clicked. I flinched; fear bit into me. The instinct I had learned to nurture and grow by living with shifters my entire life flared. Fight or flight. For me it had always been flight. On the tail end of the flight instinct, a sweet whisper told me to fight, to snap my jaws at him, but I tampered down the urge. It was a dangerous thing to challenge a stronger shifter, especially since I didn’t have an animal, let alone the fact that I was still so weak from waking. Not to mention he had my sister. Mazy was all I had left in this world.

  Asher grabbed my bicep, crushing the sparsely muscled part of my arm. The grip was bruising and painful. I bit the whimper I felt creeping up my throat. He leaned down, taking in a deep breath through his mouth.

  “You will not do that again. Am I understood?”

  Heavy dread swallowed down my bile, and with a quick jerk of my head he released his ever tightening grip.

  “Good, mate.”

  The title didn’t belong to him.

  Chapter 3

  Apollo

  Oakmoss. A flash of deep red hair. A whisper of pale, creamy skin. If I had only recognized my reactions earlier, I would have taken her out of that place sooner.

  The image I had of my mate slowly slipped away from me. She was in danger. Another shifter’s scent penetrated the raging fog over my brain. It was a musty, humid scent that made me want to recoil. Unfortunately, wolves had some of the strongest noses in the shifter kingdom and now it was being used against me. I kept imaging a faceless shifter covering my mate’s body with his.

  The beast inside scratched, claws digging into my skin, demanding a release. A howl. A bite.

  “Fuck.” The word ripped from my gut, through my chest, finally barreling its way out like a hurricane. Loud enough to probably wake at least half of the comatose patients here. Footsteps sounded down the hallway, some of them the light steps of a female, but the heavier footfalls meant she brought backup. Time to leave.

  Breathing the twined scents in one more time to remember them, I turned on my heel and dashed from the room. The trail left behind was fading. It’d be impossible to tell if it was because they had left hours before, or from the heavy traffic of nurses, doctors, and other visitors. It was prime visiting time, which wouldn’t help. I didn’t need my nose to tell me that they went down the elevator.

  Taking the similar route down the hallway to the stairways, I passed one of the regular nurses who worked in Mallory’s room. Her eyes locked with mine, recognition flashing across them. Her steps became slower the closer we got to each other. Her lips twisted, and confusion painted plainly over her features. She was a pretty, curvy, and brunette. Exactly my type. And yet my dick didn’t even feel a twitch. The normal lust the wolf rushed at me wasn’t there. Instead, replacing the feeling was cold emptiness.

  I continued to pass the nurse, mind swirling with all the possibilities. What was I going to do? If I called the Cajun and told him not only did I lose his mate’s sister, but she was my mate as well he would go ballistic. That bear inside of him was a brawler, and while my wolf loved a good fight, Lucas would maim me.

  “Sir,” the nurse called out from behind me. My wolf demanded I keep on the move, every moment I wasted here I would lose the trail of my mate, but I stopped with a barely restrained growl. The muscles in my neck strained as I held back my annoyance.

  I turned around to face the nurse. She was one who had been assigned to Mallory. I made it my business to know each nurse assigned to Mallory.

  “I thought your friend was going to get you.” Her eyes darted to the open door across from us. Her voice held hints of nervousness, and her scent soured with a twinge of fear. “He must not have found you, but he signed Mallory out.”

  My nostrils flared with my anger.

  “How?” My voice dipped with a growl.

  “He claimed to be her mate. We couldn’t determine, but her sister said one of the signs of Mallory’s recovery might be due to her finding her mate. We never thought it was possible. Mazy never thought … Well, I am happy for her. But I thought you should know.” The nurse walked away, leaving me with the information I already knew but needed confirmed.

  Mallory was taken.

  And she was mine.

  ****

  The Leviathan had been a second home for me for a couple of my younger years. Moss, the owner and mysterious bartender, had allowed me to rent the room in the back. It was nothing more than that, but I had been separated and disowned by my pack at an early age, and I had been caught up in all the wrong crowds. He had been the one who pulled me from the fray. He’d never admit to be my savior of any sorts, but he watched out for me.

  It had been years since I had been on this side of the country let alone seen him. I had left this behind, and fucking Boudreau had dragged me out of retirement. Or pseudo retirement. I did jobs, but I was selective. I preferred to live off the land, away from people―shifters and humans.

  My top lip peeled back as I caught the scent of different shifter men and women inside. It was overwhelmed with pheromones, sweat, and hints of fear. The people who visited this bar were a brave sort. The fear was probably from a newcomer looking for a merc, but wouldn’t have the stomach to go through with their hit.

  I stepped up the old rickety stairs, the wood groaning under my weight. I had been built like all shifters―thick, big, and tall. Whoever the fuck my father was, the one thing he did give me had been good genes. Something that kept me ahead in our world … for the most part.

  I pushed on the door, letting it swing open. Unlike the cliché entrance where everyone stops and stares at the newcomer, people at the Leviathan kept their heads down. Instead there were glances snuck from corner of eyes and subtle turns of the neck. It was a quiet crowd. Two women danced lazily next to the old jukebox that looked about as old as I suspected Moss to be. There were a few men crowded at a tall table with drinks, watching the women with sparks of interest.

  There was one set of eyes that I could feel burning into me. He always managed to have a stare that not only matched one of an older, protective brother, but also a judging father. My wolf recoiled at my flare of anger. He knew better than to get a rise out of Moss, I never learned. I met his glowing green gaze head on.

  Moss didn’t have to pull his lips back in a sneer, nor did he have to straighten his back, nothing made this fucker any more intimidating than when he just remained calm and cool. Moss continued to wipe the glass in his hand, but he held my stare. My wolf, an alpha in his own right, still felt quiet and a tamed sort of submissive. When a predator met a bigger predator, they became the prey. My wolf wasn’t stupid enough to fight for dominance with Moss, and I averted my sight to just over his shoulder.

  A loud clack of a heavy glass sounded against the scarred bar top. Moss had a scowl on his face now. His lips tipped do
wn in a sharp angle. To the others in the bar, he might have seemed slightly annoyed, but I knew better. I had walked into that look when I first arrived, and I kept going back to the fights, to the drug dealers, and the dangerous underbelly of the shifter world. Moss hadn’t spoken a godsdamn word to me in all the time I spent here, but his facial expressions told everything I needed to know.

  I felt like the snot-shit brat that had come to him almost fifteen years ago. And I was in deep fucking shit again.

  Chapter 4

  Mallory

  A cool breeze brushed against my cheek like a lover’s stroke. I imagined the hand attached to those fingers, an arm, then a face. Not Asher’s face. A rugged man, with a day’s worth of stubble and dark, haunting brown eyes. A shiver went down my spine. A sharp, handsome nose, square jaw, dark hair. There was a wildness to him, an untamable air that intrigued me.

  A sharp yank at my arm brought me back to the present. The sun was hidden behind the clouds but my delight at being outside again didn’t falter. Asher had only allowed me to be outside the day before when we left the hospital, where he lifted me into his tall SUV drove by another shifter. Humans, before shifters came out, would have easily detected them if they had paid enough attention. Even now, they would walk past one and not know what they were. I had grown up with them. I knew what to look for and the air they held.

  Disappointment prickled at my skin as we had left the outdoors for the inside of the car, to immediately where we were now. A hotel. It was a tall building, with glamorous detailing that only served to annoy me. An uncomfortable sense of wrongness was my constant companion. Though it had to do with Asher―that was a different feeling all together―this was for the hotel we stayed at. It made me feel like an imposter. This wasn’t anything I would hope for myself.

  Asher allowed me a couple of moments on the balcony, but it was obvious from his tugging he wanted me back in the room. I bit back my disappointment. The wind picked up, swirling my hair from my neck and the cool breeze caressed my neck, reminding me how long it had been since I could really feel the outdoors.

  He yanked again. Smothering the rise of embarrassment and anger that bubbled in my gut, I went inside. Asher had decided he didn’t trust me, and as a precaution, he had tethered me to the bed. A long, thin chain that allowed me full access of the room had been cuffed around my wrist and attached to the headboard of the bed. The chain was made from sterling silver. I didn’t think it was meant to impress, but rather used as a dimming effect to our animals. Joke was on him; I had been born latent and it didn’t have the same effect on me.

  Asher sat on the edge of the bed waiting for me. His black slacks with an iron crease right down the center caught my attention first. I hated that crease. My chain was spun around his fingers, and his wrist flicked as he tugged on it, pulling my right wrist forward. Humiliation rose to my cheeks and flushed with my combined anger. I wasn’t some sort of toy, and I hated him even more for this.

  “Where is my sister?” It was the first time I had seen Asher today. He had left the night before saying he had business to attend to and he wanted to let me rest. After all, I had just left the hospital after waking from months of coma.

  He wasn’t wrong. Even before I was hospitalized for my coma, I had been bound to a wheelchair. I had been going to physical therapy for my legs, but they hadn’t been getting better before I took my next fall. I touched my left leg, barely a whisper of my fingers brushing against the physical and mental scars. My fingers touched the soft fabric of the lounge pants he had given me. Nothing was mine. And I hated that.

  Hated him.

  “No, ‘hello my sweet mate’? No, ‘thank you’ for the gifts I have given you?” His reptilian eyes lifted to mine. I flinched. Instincts and training had me immediately look down. My father’s words rung in my head even after all these years. If you face a bigger predator than you, you must always look away. Down’s the best.

  Mazy didn’t get the same lessons. I did because of my latency. I was doomed to human status unless I met my mate. It had been a dream of mine when I was much younger, but then when my parents and I got into the car accident that killed them and disabled me, I stopped relying on that dream.

  Asher yanked on the metal, causing me to stumble forward. A sick, bitter hatred ate at my stomach. A real mate would never be able to hurt his mate. Then again I knew he wasn’t my mate. My animal perked up at that and rubbed her fur under my skin. It was a feeling that was so new and foreign, but it felt natural at the same time. I gasped quietly, getting used to the feeling of her reassurance and comfort.

  “What? What did you feel?” Asher’s fingers dug into my biceps. I blinked. He towered over me; his greasy black hair dipped forward, brushing against my forehead. His beak nose, and thin lips were too close for comfort. I tried to step backwards but he kept me in place.

  “Nothing,” I answered defiantly.

  His fingers tightened, and his sharp nails bit into my skin. An angry sneer twisted his lips and his nostrils flared. His animal slithered into his eyes again; his pupils went vertical and into tight slits.

  Stupid, Mallory. Stupid. Don’t piss off the man who has your sister captive.

  I dropped my gaze down once more. His animal was different than most apex predators but the man inside would appreciate the gesture, so I exposed only a small piece of my neck. He craned his neck, the soft rustle of his fabric alerted me he was getting closer. I tensed, reminding myself that I had to play along. Or at least be somewhat accommodating.

  His hair itched at the rise of my cheek and I held myself still even though all I wanted to do was rip his hair from his scalp. One of his hands slithered up my arm to the base of my neck. His fingers twitched against my pounding heartbeat. Though I felt defiant, I was scared to death. He held my sister’s life in his hands, mine as well. The pads of his fingertips dug into my neck.

  “You’re mine, Mallory. Best not to forget that.”

  “Please just let me see my sister.”

  “No.” His lips brushed against my neck and I couldn’t help but to pull away from his touch. That was not his place to mark. The animal inside of me rose again. Her fur bristled under my skin. Asher pulled back.

  “There she is.” He leaned back, capturing my gaze with his. “My little beast.”

  Chapter 5

  Apollo

  Moss made his way around the bar with quick, easy steps, never taking his gaze off me. His enormous shoulders were tense, the veins in his neck strained with his rising anger. The others in the bar quickly got out of his way, or simply turned their attention to someone else, anything else. It was rare for Moss to come around the bar and when he did, it often meant someone was about to get a beat down.

  Me.

  Fuck.

  I had left with the intention of coming back, but my vagabond wolf and lack of ties had kept me away. Wolves were social creatures, one of the shifters that liked living around others, but because of my history and because of the life I lived, I didn’t long for that life. The people surrounding me had more than soured me for it. I detested the idea of a pack.

  Moss, I had thought, felt similarly to me. It wasn’t often he was with anyone but people inside this bar. There were frequent visitors, sure, but they weren’t what I would call family. As big as Moss was, and he was huge even for a shifter, he moved silently across the old wooden planks of the bar. He stood in front of me, his bark-colored hair stark under the bare bulbs that hung from the ceiling.

  Those bizarre green eyes of his that got him the nickname in the first place glowed with his inner animal. One that no one could identify, but even human instincts flared up, saying not to fuck with him. Power rolled over him in waves.

  Moss didn’t speak, didn’t even blink, but he pulled my shoulders forward, in a tight hug with one firm slap on my back before he released me. He stepped back, assessing, the frown still marring his features. He kept his hands clasped on my shoulders, making me feel like the child I once was. B
ut I was not longer that kid, even if I had fucked up.

  “Moss, we need to talk.”

  He nodded once, releasing his hold. His gaze swept over the room; a few of the others had turned their heads to try to take a sneak peek at the show going on behind them. Most wisely kept to their own business. But it wasn’t often one could ignore Moss’s gaze, and those not even looking at us tensed.

  Moss walked forward, and I followed behind, keeping my back straight. I was a grown ass adult, I could take care of my own business. I pushed my chin up, thinking of my mate. Her deep red hair, and pale skin free of any visible freckles. She hadn’t spent much time in the sun as a kid. My wolf whined out for her, desperate for her closeness, her scent that still lingered in the back of my head. She was so far from my reach.

  Moss craned his neck so one eye stared back at me. I pressed my lips together, not speaking until we were in a less crowded area. I had been out of the official merc game for only a few years, but I never lost the enemies that came with the job. None of them could know about my new weakness, especially since she was already out of my grasp.

  Moss continued to lead me to the back rooms. It was a small apartment area, mostly a living room with a bed tucked away in the far corner, but the familiar warmth of home wrapped around me. The small pedestal table with a metal base and a plastic top with two rickety chairs that sat around it. When I had left here, I had left the merc business. Being back in this room reminded me of all the reasons I had stayed away as long as I did.

  As odd and quiet as Moss was, he’d been my only family. Moss stepped over to the small kitchenette, which it didn’t have much more than a fridge and a microwave. The bar was equipped with a stove and oven; if I was making any meals it was done in the bar’s kitchen. Moss pulled out two frosty beers by their necks and set one down on the table. He kept the other, twisting off the top with a pop. He tossed the top on the table with a click and a clank.