Shift Happens (A Carus Novel Book 1) Read Free

chest constricted like a synched-up corset and made breathing difficult. I couldn’t do it fast enough to fill the empty feeling inside. Slowly, I drew in more air, one breath at a time, and one stabbing pain to the heart at a time. Then, the clamp around my lungs released and the tang of pine and fresh blood flooded my senses.
    I pried my eyelids open and winced. Dirt caught and scratched against my eyeballs. My tear ducts kicked into overdrive and I fluttered my lashes against the damp ground, trying to get the muck out. Sharp pebbles dug into my face. I brushed them away when I lifted my head. And stopped. Blood covered my hands. I sat up and held them out, spreading my fingers. The blood stuck to my skin, partially dried and muddled with grime. Mine? Clint’s?
    My upper arm throbbed. An angry swell of damaged tissue surrounded a gaping bullet hole. Though shifting would’ve healed the wound a bit, it still burned. I twisted my arm back and forth to look at the injury more closely. At least it had gone straight through. I prodded around the tender damage from the bullet’s exit and winced.
    A deep boom thundered overhead. I glanced up and the night sky glared back, dark and ominous. Storm coming. Time to go. Locals nicknamed this city Raincouver for a reason.
    Pulling my feet under my body, I straightened slowly to a standing position. My shoulders and thighs ached like I’d been in a football training camp. A dank earthy taste filled my mouth. I turned to the side and spat out dark brown soil and pebbles, leaving my mouth dry and gritty. I ran my tongue over my front teeth and spat again.
    The forest remained silent—too silent. Only wind whistled through the leaves.
    At least I didn’t have to worry about witnesses. A naked woman covered with blood, face planted into the dirt tended to make the news. My body sometimes shifted back on its own during sleep or when I lost consciousness. I didn’t know why.
    The wind changed direction and a new smell hit me. Wolves. They must’ve seen where I landed. I needed to get out of here, and fast. A ripple of pain traveled down my body and my sleek feline fur replaced naked flesh.
    Another crash of thunder rocked the air, followed by a streak of lightning. The storm moved closer. My claws dug into the sodden bark as I scampered up the nearest tree, moving with as much grace as my injury allowed, through the canopy, tree to tree. I could trust my strongest and most agile form, the mountain lion.
    A wolf howled in the distance, punching through the silent night—to the south. Another answered to the east. They were closing in. No doubt they also came from the other two directions, but remained silent. That’s where they wanted me to go—herding me, hunting me as a pack.
    That was fast . A Werewolf pack on call? From the beginning, nothing about this assignment seemed right. Maybe Clint hadn’t been so normal after all.
    Then what was he?
    During The Purge, a series of natural disasters and deadly viruses had swept the world. As the fragile human population declined, the death defying presence of the supernatural led to one preternatural group after another being exposed—Werewolves, Vampires, Fae, Demons, Skinwalkers, Witches, Angels, everything from our dreams to our nightmares. Pandora’s Box had opened.
    Now one of the most vicious and tenacious of those groups tracked me.
    Let them .
    I leapt to another tree. The bullet wound lanced pain up and down my front leg. I ignored it and moved on. The Werewolves owned my scent now and they’d hunt me to oblivion. How did they tie in with Clint?
    Never mind, no time to think about it now. I needed to outmaneuver them.
    I turned east to where I’d left my car by one of the many park exits for a quick escape. If I could drive away, it would give me enough time to heal so I could shift into a falcon and fly. The Werewolves couldn’t track me then. Managing to weave through the leaves along the branches with a few wobbles, I