A Shifter's Claim (Pale Moonlight Book 4) Read online

  The Jeep’s power drained the closer they got. He idled into the lot. A grizzled shifter swaggered out of the open garage door on the side of the gas station. The male’s shrewd gaze burrowed through the windshield. The guy’s brow creased three times over when his gaze landed on Shilo.

  Her chin was already kicked up, her shoulders square as she got out. “Paulie. The weirdest thing—we’re having engine trouble.” Sarcasm laced her tone.

  Paulie wasn’t familiar to him. And the waves of increasing hostility coming off the shifter didn’t reassure him that they’d get out of here without some drama.

  “Shilo, we’re always glad to help you.” But the man’s dark gaze said he wasn’t up to helping Waylon.

  Waylon wasn’t into playing games and didn’t care to be at the mercy of any Covet, and this male had the look of a Covet. Dark hair, amber eyes, the swagger of someone who ruled the town, or whose family did.

  Waylon tapped his hood, catching Paulie’s gaze. “Why don’t you tell your pack to quit fucking with my vehicle and we’ll get outta here.”

  Shilo gave him a what are you doing? look.

  Paulie’s eyes darkened a few shades. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “We both know, so let’s not pretend.” Waylon believed what he was saying so much, there was no worry of Paulie smelling a lie and calling his bluff. “I can shift and go for a nice run while waiting for you to work out that nothing’s really wrong. If I run across any shifters, we can discuss abilities. What are the odds I’ll find one with some mechanical talent?” Waylon tipped his head forward. “Other than you, of course.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Paulie’s elbows flared out as he strutted closer. In his grimy overalls, he looked like an anaconda imitating a cobra. Waylon crossed his arms and leaned against the hood.

  “Someone who isn’t going to play Covet games. Now, Shilo and I are getting back inside. If my Jeep doesn’t work, I might just have to mention to my buddies that there’re these weird occurrences centered around Passage Lake.” Waylon shrugged. “My buddies, they’re Guardians. And they owe me.”

  The police force of their kind had come to Waylon for several favors. But they’d never tried to recruit him. Another group of people who didn’t think he belonged with them. Whatever. He wasn’t cop material anyway.

  “Shilo.” Waylon pushed off and went back to the driver’s door. He’d been careful how he said her name. If he was too forceful, it’d undermine her authority. But if he deferred to her too much, Paulie wouldn’t take him seriously.

  Shilo didn’t hesitate. It would’ve taken the threat out of everything he’d said. If the Ironhorse Falls ambassador trusted him, he was someone to be listened to.

  Paulie glared at them. “We don’t take to strangers making accusations.”

  Waylon opened his door and leaned on it. “Well, then. Why don’t we go have a beer, chitchat, and then I’ll repeat what I just said. Would that unhurt your feelings?”

  Nostrils flared. The shifter morphed from anaconda to bull ready to charge. “You can chitchat with our leader.”

  A door slammed. Shilo was in the Jeep. Waylon cocked a brow at Paulie and got in. The engine turned over and settled into a steady purr. Wouldn’t ya know it.

  Waylon pulled away and it took more restraint than it should have not to roll the window down and drive through Passage Lake with his middle finger in the air.

  He was already risking enough calling them on their game.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Shilo muttered.

  “It wasn’t doing any good keeping your suspicions to yourselves.”

  “It’s not your place to decide—”

  “Oh, princess, it is. They were gonna take us in that little gas station, have a little talk, get as much dirt on our business as possible, and then let us go. That’s after they ran my plates and bugged my vehicle or whatever they have up their sleeve.”

  Shilo’s eyes flared when he mentioned bug. “Oh my God. I never thought of that.”

  “They might not have the capability, but you said Langdon’s a tech guy. I’m sure he has lots of toys Ironhorse Falls doesn’t know about.”

  “I’m certain he’s a hacker.”

  “Or someone from their pack is.” What would Langdon Covet’s talent be? And why was he targeting Ironhorse Falls so hard?

  “He works with a lot of humans. Perhaps he hires out and covers it up with the other contractors.”

  The edgy feeling Passage Lake gave Waylon made him think anything was possible. They were almost through the small colony, nearing the gas station bordering the other side. He was still moving slow, obeying the speed limit, when a shadowy figure sauntered into the middle of the road.

  There was something familiar about the guy. He was about Waylon’s height, dark brown hair cropped close to his scalp. Longer hair fell over eyes that glittered in the Jeep’s headlights like the predator he was. Unlike Paulie’s overalls, this guy wore black slacks, black shoes that gleamed in the fading light, and a yellow polo with a logo Waylon couldn’t make out yet.

  “Langdon.” Shilo didn’t sound overly fond of the man. She wasn’t swayed by good looks and smooth words—Waylon was her mate after all—but he still worried. One look at Langdon and damn. Waylon worried he’d be swayed by the guy’s charm.

  He left off the gas. There was no reason for him to stop, but in this case, flying past the leader of the colony was blatantly rude, and he’d done enough damage already.

  Stopping next to Langdon, Waylon took his time rolling down the window. As the glass lowered, the scent of freshly felled pine, arrogance, and power permeated the Jeep. And an underlying sense of familiarity. Had they met before? In the days when Waylon had been just a colony degenerate and Langdon a budding dictator?

  Langdon looked past Waylon like he wasn’t there. “Shilo. Is everything okay? Paulie said you might be in trouble.”

  Shilo wasn’t fazed. “What would make Paulie think I can’t take of myself?”

  Langdon bowed his head, his expression appropriately chagrined. “My apologies. He’s almost as protective of you as his own pack.”

  Just what Waylon had thought. Smooth.

  Waylon gave him the best bored look he could muster. “That’s cleared up then. We’ll be going.”

  He eased off the brake, but Langdon’s strong hand clamped down on the doorframe. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You’re not from one of the Ironhorse Falls packs.”

  Definitely not the Ironhorse pack itself. Shilo’s parents had made it clear that would never happen.

  “I’m not,” Waylon agreed. “Have a good night.”

  He let off the brake and was careful with the gas pedal. Giving Langdon a brush off showed he both wasn’t intimidated by Langdon and had nothing to hide; squealing tires as he sped away would make it seem like they were scared.

  Shilo waited until he raised the window before she hissed, “My God, Waylon. You probably set back pack relations five years.”

  How fitting. That was how long he’d been gone. “Like I said, whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t been working.”

  “That’s not your call. You’re my bodyguard, not an ambassador, not a pack leader, not our spokesman. Shut up and look tough.”

  He ground his teeth together. She spoke the truth, and he wasn’t too proud to admit he might have stepped outside his bounds in his efforts to help. But hadn’t that been the issue? No matter how he tried to help, no one wanted him around—Shilo most of all.

  Shilo prepared what she was going to say to her parents when they arrived. They’d want to be updated on the meeting, C&C’s deaths, and her bodyguard situation. Only they didn’t yet know who her bodyguard was.

  They wouldn’t be happy it was Waylon, and that was a major understatement.

  Waylon hadn’t spoken since she’d lashed out at him. She’d just intended to make a point, not insult him, but like in the weeks before he’d left, she couldn’t say anything right arou
nd him.

  As they approached Ironhorse Falls, she pondered where he’d sleep. She still lived with her parents. The house was big enough, but Waylon managed to make a room feel small and the tension between him, her, and them would add extra complications.

  He could never play nice. If he scented a hint of animosity, he made it his mission to earn it since he could never change it. Zero attempt at congeniality. Then Waylon acted like others disliking him was inevitable. No wonder Cass and Charlie had been their only friends as a couple. Charlie had had the gift of gab and could sell fleas to a wolf.

  He makes you happy, Cass had said once when Shilo asked her why she was one of the few who tolerated him. And he’s a good guy with a lot of walls in place.

  But Shilo’s days of weathering Waylon’s behavior because of his upbringing as the unwanted foster pup were over. He was an adult now and as an adult, he’d proved how unreliable and hard-hearted he was.

  She stared out the window. Familiar terrain passed but the soaring evergreens and rolling hills didn’t fill her with the peace they normally did. She had to face her parents about why she’d been stuck in Freemont and how it had brought Waylon back into her life. And that would be after Waylon appeared on their doorstep. It would be an uphill battle.

  Moments like these, she felt like a teenager again.

  Maybe she should move out. It was just easier not to. Usually.

  For the foreseeable future, it was going to be more difficult.

  “Still live at home?” Waylon must be having the same thoughts.

  “Yep.”

  She lived on the far edge of town. Unlike Langdon, her family didn’t stalk the perimeter to interrogate visitors. The road to her home wound through tall pines and past the other small houses and cabins that Ironhorse Falls’ residents favored. Her colony wasn’t situated around a lake like Passage Lake. Homes here dotted the hills and were built out of logs, stone, and some timber. Her parents had forbidden the packs to congregate and build around each other. Instead, their pack members’ homes were interspersed among each other, and neighborhoods weren’t pack oriented.

  The colony bore the name of Shilo’s pack, the pack the leaders of the colony had originated from, but her parents made an extra effort to treat all packs as equals. The Ironhorse pack was the largest, but there were four other packs in her colony.

  Waylon made the last turn to her place.

  That was why she hadn’t moved. Her home was constructed of logs, but the exterior walls up to the alpine roof were made of local stone. The mason had been gifted with a sense of how the rock fit together to maximize stability and aesthetics.

  Since she was an only child and her parents wanted her around forever, they’d designed the place to have the ability to be broken up like a townhome. She had one wing, while they resided in the other.

  Waylon would have to stay in her wing, and thank the sweet Mother she had more than one bedroom.

  “Park in the back,” she said. Daylight had faded and if luck was on her side, they had gotten through Ironhorse Falls without Waylon’s Jeep being recognized. But that didn’t mean she wanted to display his vehicle for all her neighbors to see.

  The closest neighbor was a half mile away, and while they were considerate of personal property, they had good eyesight and ran their wolves every day. The beat-up Jeep would stand out and shifters had great memories.

  He took the drive around the back and parked by the door to her wing. The fragrant junipers under her window would conceal his Jeep until they could get it inside the garage.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Waylon got out and grabbed his duffel from the back.

  Shilo gathered the few items she’d brought and trudged to the back door. She opened it to find her mother staring back at her.

  Mother was an older version of her. Shilo had gotten her dad’s pert nose instead of her mom’s patrician one, but they shared the same dark eyes, high cheekbones, and sloping forehead. Mother kept her hair in a long braid and each decade brought more gray. She never shared her true age, but Shilo guessed she was younger than the gray indicated. Like maybe a few centuries old. Father liked to joke that she was the cougar going after a younger man. He was only sixty-two.

  “Did a Covet give you any troub—” Waylon’s scent must’ve hit Mother before he appeared behind Shilo in the doorway. Mother’s fangs bared. “What is he doing here?”

  “Funny coincidence. The guy they hired to guard me happened to be Waylon.” Shilo pushed past Mother. It’d been a long day. She and Waylon had an agreement and her parents would have to deal.

  “Who hired him?” Mother blocked the doorway. Waylon was stuck outside, the strap of his bag digging into a broad shoulder. His face was as neutral as he could probably get it, but emotion roiled in his eyes.

  He was as upset as Mother.

  “I can’t talk to you about the day if you don’t let him in.” When Mother didn’t move, Shilo elaborated. “He’s been hired to protect me. We’re not back together. End of story.”

  Mother arched a dark brow. Shilo understood the unspoken question. How could two destined mates claim not to be together when they showed up together?

  The familiar drag on her heart happened when “destined mates” fluttered through her mind. Being back home, with the male she’d once planned her entire life around, was messing with her tired mind, and her lonely soul.

  Shilo started for the conference room situated in the middle of the house. The family room was under the peaked roof, the conference room on the other side of it, toward the back of the house.

  Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor, announcing her presence long before she reached the conference room. Father was already there.

  He didn’t smile or nod when she entered. No, he knew Waylon was right behind her.

  Father stood at the table, his arms braced on the top. His jet-black hair was pulled back in a queue and he wore one of the old Western-style shirts he favored with metal snaps and a collar too large to be cool in any time period other than the 1970s. Shilo liked to tease him that he was decades behind the times. He shot back that his style had stalled when he’d met her mother.

  Waylon crossed to a brown padded seat. He dropped his bag, sat, and folded his hands across his belly.

  Mother entered, exchanged a loaded look with Father, and sat down as far away from Waylon as possible. Shilo took the chair situated between them both, across from Father. The door stayed open; no one else was in the house. The varnished wood walls of the room closed in on Shilo and her lack of sleep reared its head.

  “If you’d come home last night, this wouldn’t have happened,” Father began.

  She cut in. “I shouldn’t have to censor my life because Langdon is trying to take over our colony.” It would’ve been a whole lot easier to cater to her increased urges if she could come and go freely, without another colony altogether interfering.

  Father’s lips pursed. Mother dropped her head. Because she was right. The way Waylon had handled business at Passage Lake hadn’t only upset Shilo because she feared he’d made relations worse. No, worse was that doing so had shown her how much her family had been placating Langdon Covet to keep things from reaching a boiling point.

  Shilo continued. “It wasn’t just last night. Someone’s been watching me, watching Ironhorse Falls residents when they go to the city. They targeted Charlie and Cass—they planned it in order to strand me in Freemont.” She hunched against the seat. “Strand all of us at random times to make us feel powerless.”

  Mother jutted her chin toward Waylon, who quietly watched the conversation. “And how’d he get involved?”

  Shilo shrugged. “The security agency I hired is new, with only a few employees. Waylon was who they had free. We discussed the issues between us, but he agreed to take my case.”

  “He’s taking our money to protect you,” Mother sneered.

  Waylon leaned forward, his hands resting on the cool, smooth surface of the table. �
�She’s not paying me. She’s paying M&S Security, who I work for.”

  Best not to mention she was his first assignment.

  “You can’t think it’s a good idea,” Father said.

  “We don’t.” Shilo slipped back to the subtlety she’d used when she and Waylon were dating. Dropping tiny details to show her parents they were united. “But like I said, we discussed it.”

  “There was no one else to take her case,” Waylon interjected.

  Shilo glared at him. Why’d he have to push it past the line?

  Father’s look was openly hostile. “We can find someone from one of our packs to provide security for Shilo.”

  “Go ahead.” Waylon stood and the meeting room shrank to half its size. “I’m sure Langdon Covet would love to hear that Shilo can’t make her own decisions—and that she’s afraid to travel by herself. He’ll be thrilled when he learns that we’re supposed to be mates and you fired me. There’s literally no one else who can protect her life like I can. But hey, I’m sure he won’t take strategic advantage by blocking something as simple as wifi, right? You can figure the rest out.”

  Father’s expression wavered. Waylon was blunt, but he was right. Langdon would find a way to capitalize on this situation.

  “You aren’t part of Ironhorse Falls anymore,” Mother said.

  “I never was.” Waylon crossed to the door and gave each of her parents a pointed look. “You made sure I knew it was on paper only, and the rest of town followed your example.”

  He was about to leave when Shilo barked, “Stop. For fuck’s sake, the decision is made. Grab your bag and find the spare room. We can reconnoiter in the morning.” The urge to snarl at her parents was getting harder to fight. A sick part of her brain urged her to lash out, to make the fight physical. The call to press Waylon to the wall and show him why he couldn’t leave was just as disturbing.

  Six hours in the Jeep with the mate who’d dumped her and she’d been mellow. Five minutes at home and her rogue was showing.

  But she could hide it a little longer.

  Her temples pounded and her fangs throbbed. She needed a good night’s sleep. It’d be better in the morning. “It’s been a long day, but before I retire for the night, Waylon had an interesting observation in Passage Lake.”