Survivor: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 1)

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Survivor

  A Shifter of Consequence Tale

  Copyright 2020 by Mazzy J. March

  ISBN: 978-1-68361-395-4

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden

  without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing LLC

  Table of Contents

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Legacy

  They say there’s nothing wrong with me, but I can’t walk.

  At least not more than a couple of steps at a time. Like from the bed to my wheelchair.

  I crawled out of the wreckage of our family car seconds before it burst into flame at the base of the cliff, killing my parents. I screamed my lungs raw for help, even though I knew they couldn’t be saved, but nobody came for nearly twenty-four hours. It rained, and I shivered in the chill, the scent of burned upholstery and other things filling my nose.

  My aunt cared for me for a short while, but when she also died in an accident—a house fire that nearly took me out as well—I was placed in the care of a hired nurse who made sure I took my meds and waited on me hand and foot. Over time, I lost what little strength I had, until I never left my room, almost bedridden, my only contact with the outside world online classes.

  But when I turned eighteen, I had to make a change or I’d end up dying here, old and alone and without any hope. So now, I have my small apartment in a new town, living on my own for the first time and attending classes at the local community college. My parents’ insurance is running out, but I have a job in the school library, and as long as I take my pills every day, I seem to do all right.

  It’s not much of a life, but so much more than I ever had.

  When Brandon Graves knocked on my door, the look of shock on his face was priceless. Apparently, he’d never seen a shifter in a wheelchair before.

  He said I was on pack lands and therefore had to meet with the Alpha, his brother.

  So much for staying under the radar.

  Survivor is the first book in a paranormal reverse harem shifter series featuring a badly injured female wolf shifter and the four male wolf shifters who all want to be her fated mate. It is a why choose werewolf romance with a slow burn buildup sure to make your toes curl. Relationships develop over the course of this supernatural series and, of course, Mazzy guarantees an HEA.

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  The Lycan Academy by Mazzy J. March

  First Howling

  Second Growl

  Third Snarl

  Jaded Love

  The Academy of Fire and Ash by Mazzy J. March

  Betrayed by Dragons

  Coveted by Dragons

  Mated to Dragons

  Alien Academy by Jenna M. Jett

  First Contact

  Second Sighting

  Third Encounter – Coming Soon

  Shifters of Consequence

  Survivor

  Legacy - Available for Preorder

  Survivor

  A Shifter of Consequence Tale

  By

  Mazzy J. March

  Chapter One

  “Little lady, your phone has been beeping for quite a while. Might want to tend to that.” The man’s gruff voice broke through my thoughts and slammed me back into reality. Great. Time for my pills. Again. Shit, didn’t I just take them? I pressed the button at the side of the watch and made it stop beeping. The man with the Mario mustache and tan jumpsuit took it as proof I’d heard him and grumbled something about kids these days.

  Didn’t consider eighteen a kid, but I guessed to him it was.

  I pushed the wheels of my chair forward a little until I could lean sideways and reach my purse without splaying myself all over the carpet in front of the movers. That kind of thing was generally avoided in my life, but it tended to happen when I least expected or wanted it.

  As if I ever really wanted it.

  My purse rattled with the sound of capsules in a glass bottle and I fished the green and white speckled one out of the bottle and popped it into my mouth, no water required.

  I had been taking them for so long. They went down with no help whatsoever.

  Another man, one with the name Charlie embroidered into his jumpsuit, crouched down in front of me with a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. His fingernails were dirty underneath, and when he smiled, his chapped lips cracked a little. “That’s it for us. Are you sure you don’t want help getting the few things from the car? It would be no charge and wouldn’t take more than a minute.”

  I sighed and signed the bill for the movers without answering. What he was really saying was he wouldn’t mind getting the stuff out of my car since I was ill-equipped for the job. Probably make him sleep better tonight knowing my belongings weren’t stranded in the car.

  The thing was, even if it took me seven times as long to get everything out, I liked to do as much for myself as I possibly could. “No, thank you. I’ve got the necessities right here. I'll handle it. But thank you. I know it was a lot of books to haul around.”

  He chuckled and took the clipboard back, glancing over it to make sure everything was in order then tapping the pen against it with a brisk nod. “Heaviest boxes are always books. Always. You take care now, Wendi.” He had to reference the clipboard to get my name right, but fine. At least he’d tried.

  The movers filed out, waving at me as they got in their trucks. I listened to the sounds of rustling gravel as they pulled out of the driveway and then onto the almost deserted road. After closing the door, I wheeled myself into the center of the room and braced myself for what came next. The moving part.

  Somehow, I had to managed to pack all of this stuff on my own. Suddenly, I was wishing I had been more of a minimalist. The movers had put the furniture where it belonged and gone so far as to put my bed together, but that was as much as I would allow them to help. I had to do this on my own.

  Part of being a big girl and all.

 
It wasn’t as if I couldn’t move. No, I’d been blessed in that way. It was more that it took me a thousand years to do things it took average people only seconds to do. Like moving from this chair, my ever-present friend and foe, to the couch placed right where I wanted it, the larger-than-life window in the living room facing the forest beyond. I’d picked this place for the view. Tree branches bowed to each other in the distance, and I could see the sloping and elevation of the land.

  After eyeing the transition and mapping it out in my head, I put one hand on the arm of the couch and the other on one arm of the chair. With a great groan, I hoisted myself to standing and took a few steps forward, so when I collapsed into the couch, and I would, my ass would land first. My legs shook from the weight. I couldn't stand more than five minutes at a time. Any more and my muscles would just give out.

  It didn’t help that I’d been up at the butt crack of dawn, all kinds of nervous about moving.

  Still, it was better than falling over.

  I’d been in situations where my ass hit anything but the place I’d wanted it to. Like the floor, the side of the toilet, and my personal, painful favorite, the edge of the bathtub. That bruise lasted for a month.

  This time, however, my ass hit the softness of my couch, and I gave myself a second to catch my breath. Yeah, just that little movement made me feel like I’d run a marathon.

  I scoffed, hearing the sound echo off the walls. “Marathon my ass. You can’t even walk all the way to the kitchen.”

  Okay, so I was a smidge bitter. Sue me.

  I reached out for the lightest box I could see, put it in my lap, and lifted things out. These were my office supplies. I didn’t work from home, per se, but I had a book blog and often planned out what books I would read for the month and logged them. Pens and pencils and highlighters could stay where they were for the time being.

  Scanning the room for something more pressing than my office stuff, I spotted a box with kitchen scribbled in black permanent marker in someone else’s handwriting.

  I leaned with a groan before scrubbing my hands over my face.

  I couldn’t reach it. All the boxes marked kitchen were right in front of the small island, another thing that had caught my eye when the realtor showed me the place. The house had an open floor plan, with an island lower than most, giving me a place to do my chopping and prep work. Already, I’d lined up several recipes I wanted to try out.

  “Back to the chair,” I grumbled but got in it before I ran out of energy. Which tended to happen fast.

  I wheeled over to the boxes, opened the flaps of the first one, and smiled at the stack of cookbooks inside. From five-minute bread to Southern cooking and everything in between. I’d found them all at thrift stores or used book stores and cherished them all.

  They were books.

  About food.

  How could you go wrong?

  I pulled out the books one by one and stacked them on the built-in bookshelves separating the kitchen area from the dining room. I was almost done with three boxes when a loud knock at the front door made me squeal and almost leap from the chair.

  After putting the rest of the books on the island, I rolled over and flung open the door, needing to know who had scared the shit out of me.

  A man stood there, hands on his hips. His eyes were targeted above me because probably he'd expected someone standing—as everyone did. Very little surprised me anymore.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, and he stepped back, his gaze dropping to my level.

  “Oh…um, yes.” He squared off his shoulders and pretended not to be shocked. I rolled my eyes while he did. He wasn’t very smooth about it. “I’m Brandon Graves, brother of the Alpha of the Midnight Alder pack. It is requested all new shifters in the area report to the alpha for registry and to review the pack rules. You actually should’ve reported before you moved here…ma’am.”

  Being called ma’am was a first.

  I crossed my arms over my chest as his golden eyes did their best not to focus on my legs or the chair. It wasn’t like I was going to claw his eyes out if he looked. Sometimes, people went out of their way not to stare at me and ended up seeming to ignore my very existence.

  I wished he would look at me like he probably did a normal girl. I mean, let’s face it. He was six foot six of raw muscle, though his full cheeks and belly made it apparent he never turned down a meal, it didn’t detract from his overall boy-next-door charm.

  I swallowed as I begged the heat to retreat from my cheeks in his presence.

  Sexy didn’t begin to cover him, but he was one of those shifters, all pack and alphas and betas. That life wasn’t for me.

  I’d buried the mate and other wolf shifter bullshit a long time ago. I might’ve been born with the beast in my blood, but, fate had other plans for me.

  He sounded so businesslike, but I could tell it wasn’t his true nature. He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with being the messenger.

  “Is there a website I can register on? Or a 1-800shifter hotline to call? I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me.” Oops, I showed my sarcasm.

  After running his fingers through his sandy-brown hair, he looked at me and smiled a little but schooled it immediately. What a damned shame. That grin was meant to get girls to kiss him.

  “You need to come with me now.”

  Chapter Two

  “You need to come with me now.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t be serious. Brandon Graves, brother of the local pack, the Midnight Alder Pack, was demanding I go with him. Right now. To report in to his brother and what? Kiss his ring?

  “If you need a minute to get your purse or whatever, I’ll wait.” He leaned against the doorjamb, clearly ready to do as he said. “But my brother isn’t the most patient soul, and he’s already unhappy you didn’t check in with him before moving into the territory. It’s not how he likes things done.”

  Irritation flared into anger despite the cuteness of the messenger. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t ask his Supreme Alphaness’s permission before I applied to school here. I had no idea it was required.”

  His gaze snapped to mine again. “Now you know. I’ll wait in the car.”

  I leaned past him to see the two-seater sportscar parked behind mine in the driveway. “And you expect me to ride in that? And, what, carry my wheelchair in my lap?” I wanted to slam the door on him, but he’d effectively blocked it from happening. I released a sigh. “Look, I appreciate some packs are more formal than others, but I’ve never been part of any pack. Where I come from, shifters are few and far between—in fact, I never knew any outside of my immediate family.” My cheeks heated, but I continued. “And as you can see, I’m not much of a shifter. I haven’t changed in many years since I was injured as a small child. So, it’s not like I’ll be trespassing on the pack lands. Go tell your brother you found me to be a helpless cripple and best ignored. I’m here to go to school and mind my own business.”

  I reached for the door, a broad hint he should leave, but he placed a hand on it and kept it from moving at all. “I’m afraid it won’t work. My brother is very insistent, and you don’t want him coming here to find out why you defied his orders.”

  “Ummm, because I don’t belong to his pack?” My appreciation of Brandon’s handsomeness was waning by the minute. “Nor do I plan to. Please get out of my doorway.”

  His grin held no humor. “For your own good, I am taking you to the alpha’s house. You can either come on your own, with dignity, or I will scoop you up and toss you in the car. Your choice.”

  Damn him.

  “And by the way? You may be in a wheelchair, unable to walk —”

  “I can walk!” I protested, too irate to think about keeping up my facade of being entirely helpless. “Just not far.”

  “Okay, you may not be able to walk far, and may not be able to shift for whatever reason, but I’m not buying the helpless cripple line. I have no doubts you have other s
trengths, and it will be worth taking you to the alpha’s house to watch my brother meet his match.”

  “How can I match anyone? Look at me?” I let out a whoosh of air, trying to maintain some level of calm, of which I had none.

  “Wendi…” He knew my name, but of course, he did. He seemed to know other things about me, too, but not everything. He hadn’t known I could walk. And I’d been dumb enough to tell him. “In our brief acquaintance, I’ve recognized you are at least as stubborn as the alpha.”

  “You don’t know me at all.” I didn’t need a mirror to know my lower lip thrust out like a child’s, but I was beyond stopping it.

  He straightened, no longer leaning on the doorframe but standing, arms crossed over his chest in the doorway itself, his muscular physique cutting out most of the light, which cast his face in shadow. His eyes glowed, golden and wolfen. “I know you better than you think. But not as well as I’d like to. And you don’t know me at all if you think I will be leaving here without you. So, decide. Are we leaving here side by side, or will I be carrying you kicking and screaming and putting on a show for the neighbors—most of whom are pack members who do know me? Which will it be?”

  I was stubborn—even if he’d only been guessing it—but not stupid. He outweighed me by a lot, had muscle tone I could only dream of, and if he was telling the truth, none of my neighbors were going to do a thing to stop him.

  Maybe staying in my old town and eventually withering away was better than this. My parents had never been pack, and my aunt had nothing but derision for the one she’d belonged to for a while. I had no intention of letting Brandon’s brother make a single decision for me, including whether I joined their pack.

  But I had no way to move at this point, having spent all my ready cash on the deposit on the house and other moving expenses. The only reason I’d be able to manage for the next few years was my work-study job at the college library and the full scholarship I’d been granted.