Bitten Shifter, page 15
part #1 of The Bitten Chronicles Series
His words weigh on me, and I pick at my food, my appetite fading.
“I don’t belong,” I murmur.
The tension in Riker’s face softens. “That’s where you’re wrong. You have got more fight in you than most shifters I know. You belong here more than those clowns trying to tear it all down.”
He offers a faint smile. “Besides, if anything happened to Merrick, nothing would really change. The system wouldn’t implode. If someone dislikes it, they can leave. They can transfer out of the country. This is home, yes, but we’re not trapped. Our sector works because it’s been designed to.”
I mull over his words for a moment, then ask, “So the people who attacked the Ministry… were they trying to abduct the Alpha Prime’s mate to gain power?”
“Maybe,” he concedes. “Or perhaps they just wanted to destabilise Merrick, to break him. He’s never had a weakness before.”
A weakness. He means me.
I wince. My poor nose aches, and I reach up to touch it gingerly.
Riker studies me. “We need to get you some ice for that nose. And no, you’re not going to heal overnight. Shifters heal faster than humans, but it still takes time. Bruises might take a couple of days, a broken bone maybe a week. Shifting can speed things up, but there are risks. Sometimes bones heal improperly, and they have to be re-broken.”
I grimace. “That sounds fun.”
He shrugs, shovelling more spaghetti into his mouth. “It could be worse. Merrick’s healing is so quick that if anything sets wrong, he endures twice the pain.”
“Ouch. That must be horrible.”
I think about the Alpha Prime, and since Riker is in a talking mood, I ask, “What about this mating thing? Everyone’s acting like it’s already decided.”
Riker smirks. “You don’t like him?”
I stab at my spaghetti. “I can’t stand him. He is bossy and overbearing. He put me through hell this morning. But…” My inner voice finishes the thought. He is also infuriatingly handsome, surprisingly kind, and makes my heart race. No one’s ever fought for me like that before.
“But?” Riker prompts. When I don’t answer, he continues. “He’s also the one who risked his life to save you. When he realised you were in danger the night you were bitten, he came for you without waiting for backup.”
I sigh, dropping my fork. My fingers trace the scars twisting around my arm. “I didn’t know that. He saved my life, and I’m grateful—so grateful—but it doesn’t erase what happened. He lied to me.”
He also shielded me from both Dove and Paul.
Riker leans back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve no idea.” The truth is heavier than any glib reply. “It’s only been three months since my marriage fell apart.” How can I trust anyone again—let alone a man like Merrick? It’s madness. I wouldn't survive the fallout.
Riker says nothing, watching me wrestle with my thoughts.
I twist the spaghetti around my fork, my gaze drifting across the mess hall at my fellow trainees—many look to be in their early twenties—young and brimming with potential yet dealing with the same life-altering event. Some were born shifters, predestined from their first breath—while others were chosen or volunteered to be turned.
I’d expect more nerves, more hesitation. Their faces betray no fear; there’s no sign of the enormity of their situation—just grim determination and, for some, a competitive spark. Whether born or bitten, they all share the same resolve. The same confidence.
They come from different ethnic backgrounds, different upbringings, yet they are bound by that odd strand of junk DNA setting them apart from the rest of humanity. It’s unsettling. Overwhelming. They have accepted their place here long before they arrived. I haven’t. Will I ever?
I can’t quiet the little voice in my head insisting I don’t belong.
A loud crash yanks my attention to another table. Alice’s tray hits the floor, food scattering everywhere. She stares blankly ahead, her big blue eyes wide with shock, her face pale. Then, without a sound, she crumples, collapsing off her chair and hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
Her body convulses violently.
Oh my God, no.
Riker gently grips my arm, holding me back as I instinctively move to help. Shouts ripple through the room as staff rush forward. Trainees scatter—some stepping back, others frozen. A staff member clears the food debris while another carefully lays Alice flat. Someone murmurs, “She is not breathing,” and panic seizes the entire room.
“Medic!”
There is nothing I can do.
Within seconds, a medical team dashes in. One medic begins chest compressions while another readies a defibrillator. Alice’s jumper is torn open, her pale chest exposed as they attach electrodes.
“Clear!” the medic shouts, and Alice’s body jerks under the electric shock.
I clasp my hands, silently pleading for her to come back. “Don’t they have a med mage?” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from the frantic scene. “Please, please, Alice, breathe.”
The medics work tirelessly, shocking her repeatedly, but her small frame remains unresponsive. At last, the lead medic shakes his head and says quietly, “She is gone.”
Alice’s arm flops to the side, revealing a patch of fur on her wrist. Her hand is half-shifted, the beginnings of claws visible.
This is exactly what Merrick was afraid of. He worried this might happen.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After watching Alice die in the mess hall, I abandoned my food. Hunger felt like a distant concept. Back in my room, I freak out and then spent hours poring over the books describing the changes ahead—but so much of it does not apply to me, because I’m different.
Alice’s cupcake sits innocently on the side, mocking me.
Sad, edgy, and restless, I knock on Riker’s door, but there’s no answer. Guilt prickles at me. After what happened today, should I really be wandering about without my bodyguard? Still, this is a secure base, not some unpredictable city street.
Besides, the idea of running into that kid and his cronies does not bother me anymore. I’m too numb to care. Knowing these trainees could die is entirely different from seeing it happen right in front of me.
Oh God, I’m so sorry, Alice.
In the small kitchen, I find an instant coffee stash. I make myself a cup and take it outside, the mug warm in my hands. Night has fallen.
It feels strange to be out here after dark when I’ve spent most of my life locking myself in at night. The base’s high perimeter fence, floodlights, and vigilant guards give me a sense of security, but a hum of awareness thrums beneath my skin. I’m not human anymore, and the night does not feel the same.
It’s sharper, more alive with sounds and scents I never noticed before, even with the band—leaves rustling, the faint tang of metal on the air, the whisper of distant footsteps.
I sip my coffee and set the mug on a post near the barracks, planning to grab it when I’m done. A nearby running track catches my eye, and the urge to move surges. This is exactly why I live in jogging bottoms—for spontaneous decisions like this.
I run.
The steady rhythm of my feet on the track and the cool night air calm the restlessness inside me. I hit a loping pace, fast but sustainable.
My thoughts wander, tracing everything that’s happened over the past few days. It’s almost incomprehensible. The psychologist was wrong. I haven’t truly acclimatised—I’ve just buried my feelings beneath sheer willpower. If I stop, it might all collapse. So I keep running.
I run farther than I have in years—perhaps even farther than I did in my twenties. Next time, I will bring a weighted backpack to challenge myself more.
The track loops near the fence, its imposing presence strangely comforting. Checking it satisfies an odd, itching need I didn’t realise I had.
Maybe I’m part guard dog?
The books say shifters thrive in packs, stronger together than alone. But I’ve never been a team player. I step up when necessary, yet I’ve always been content working independently. That has not changed; if anything, I feel more withdrawn—more wary.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. At first, I assume it’s a guard. Then I hear my name, sung in a mocking tone.
“Laaaarrrrk.”
I falter, slowing to a stop. The fence’s floodlights wash everything in stark brightness, ruining my night vision. Stepping off the track, I scan the darkness, trainers crunching on the grass. My instincts scream caution.
“Hello, Lark,” a voice purrs.
A figure materialises from the shadows.
The vampire. The one from the wizard’s house.
How does he know my name?
His red eyes glow like embers, locked onto me. My breath catches, and I almost stumble, but my sharpened reflexes keep me steady. I avoid meeting his gaze, fearful he will try to trap me with it. My heart pounds, more from shock than fear.
How did he know I was here?
He inclines his head. “I would have loved to turn you, Lark. Shame the shifters got to you first. Once human, no longer human—look at you.” His slow, glacial gaze sweeps over me, lingering with deranged intensity. “What a makeover, if we ignore the black eyes and puffy nose. Still making friends, I see.”
Every hair on my body stands on end. The night is too quiet. It’s just him, me, and a thin fence humming with magic between us.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he continues, his grin stretching unnervingly wide, fangs catching the light. “Hunting you. Craving a proper taste.”
I resist the urge to step back. “Sorry,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “I’m off the menu.”
He chuckles, a low, sinister sound that makes my skin crawl. “Ah, an exclusive delicacy, then.” His tongue darts over his teeth as he steps closer to the fence.
Slowly, he raises one hand, black claws glinting in the harsh lights. As they scrape the metal, sparks erupt where the protective ward flares. Energy crackles over his pale skin, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “The shifters do love their little protective borders, don’t they? Does it not feel like a cage, Lark? My pretty little birdie, trapped with nothing but mangy animals for company.”
The grating sound of his claws against the ward sets my teeth on edge. A distant shout slices through the silence—a triggered alarm, no doubt.
He bares his fangs in a gleaming smile. “I will be seeing you soon, little birdie.”
In an instant, he vanishes into the darkness, leaving me cold and shaken.
I barely have time to process what has happened before a pounding of feet announces the arrival of two guards and Riker. He takes one look at me, frustration and concern in his eyes.
“What are you doing out here? Did you touch the fence?” he barks.
“No.” I peer into the shadows, my heart still racing. “It was the vampire.”
He growls low in his throat. “Vampire?”
“Yeah—the one that tracked me to the wizard’s house.”
“What was he doing here?”
“Hunting,” I reply grimly. “Hunting me.”
Riker issues a sharp command. “Turn off the fence!”
Without waiting, he yanks off his clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the ground. I blink in surprise, but then something even more startling happens—he starts to shift.
I’d imagined the transformation to be subtle or quick. It’s neither. It’s loud and visceral. Bones crack, reshaping with gut-wrenching precision. Riker groans as his body swells, white fur erupting across his skin.
I stagger back, my stomach lurching at the sight. When it finishes, he is no longer Riker but a colossal polar bear. Round ears twitch, black eyes glittering in the half-light, and thick white fur covers his hulking frame. He radiates raw, primal power.
One guard nods. “Fence is down!”
Riker does not hesitate. The ground trembles under his massive paws as they dig into the dirt, and with a mighty leap, he clears the ten-foot fence. Barbs snare wisps of his fur, but he keeps moving. Nose low to the ground, he sniffs once, twice, then bolts into the night—a white blur swallowed by darkness.
I stand there for a moment, clutching his discarded clothes. “Is he going to be all right?” I whisper to the nearest guard.
The guard does not respond, his expression hard.
Another guard sneers. “Go back to your room, trainee. You will be called soon enough.”
I square my shoulders, annoyance flaring at his tone. Who the heck does he think he is talking to? But I know better than to pick a fight right now. Instead, so Riker can find them when he returns, I fold his clothes neatly on top of his boots, turn on my heel, and jog back toward the barracks.
The steady thud of my feet soothes my jangled nerves somewhat, but my mind is still in turmoil. Can one shifter—even a massive polar bear—take on a vampire? I don’t know.
Once inside, I retrieve my now-cold coffee from where I left it and rinse the cup in the kitchen sink. The mundane act grounds me, yet the worry gnaws at the edges of my thoughts.
I hope Riker will be all right.
I can’t lose another friend today.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The mess hall buzzes with morning chatter and the clatter of trays as I work through my breakfast sandwich with exaggerated gusto. Across from me, Riker scowls, displeasure radiating off him. He is clearly still annoyed about my late-night run.
I swallow and sigh. “Why are you still glowering at me? You do realise I’m an adult, right? The base—the one you have kept insisting is secure—seemed safe enough. I needed to move, Riker. You understand that, right? Alice’s death was a shock.”
“Oh, I understand,” he growls, his tone heavy with disapproval. “Doesn’t mean I agree with you. What the hell were you thinking, Lark?”
“I thought I was safe, and it wouldn’t be a problem,” I say with a shrug.
“It’s not just about external threats. It’s about these little shits inside too. Any one of them could have hurt you.”
“I wasn’t—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“No, you were not thinking, and that’s the issue. Naturally, you then bump into a psychotic vampire who stopped by for a Lark snack.” He throws up his hands, muttering something about suicidal women.
I shrug again and focus on my breakfast. I’m starving. After last night’s events, I was too edgy to eat, and now my body feels jittery. As I chew, I run a hand over my hip bones, frowning. I’ve been losing weight too quickly, as though my body is burning through itself to deal with all these changes.
“How many calories do I need to eat a day, roughly?”
Riker doesn’t miss a beat. “About six thousand, given your weight and height.”
“Six thousand?” I stare. “That’s three times my normal intake.”
“Welcome to being a shifter. You can talk to the doctor later about blood tests and all that. They will explain.”
“Ah, tests,” I say, pushing the sandwich aside and reaching for my coffee. It’s dark and bitter—not great, but better than last night’s instant swill. At least it gives me the caffeine jolt I need.
A sudden hush falls over the hall like a wave receding, and the surrounding chatter dies. I glance up, puzzled. Riker snorts, stifling a laugh.
“What?” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply; instead, his gaze shifts to something—or someone—behind me.
I turn and see Merrick.
The Alpha Prime prowls through the mess, his icy blue eyes fixed on me. Under his coat, he’s wearing a dark blue T-shirt and designer jeans. The shirt clings to his defined muscles, rippling as he walks.
My heart hitches. Where’s his suit? I glance at his feet—high-end trainers. Now I’ve seen it all.
The Prime looks good.
“Lark.” Merrick leans against the table, his eyes roving over me like I’m the only person here.
I lift my coffee, meeting his intense gaze with forced calm. “Dickhead,” I reply, deadpan.
Riker nearly topples from his chair, howling with laughter. Merrick’s lips twitch, his icy façade cracking just enough to reveal a hint of warmth. The rest of the mess hall is deathly silent, disbelief hanging in the air.
A chair scrapes, followed by a muffled whisper, “Did the human just call the Alpha Prime a dickhead?”
“Shush, she’s his fated mate.”
Merrick shakes his head and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Ever since announcing his intentions, the man has become insufferably touchy-feely.
“Hello, little mate,” he says, his tone laced with affection. “I’ve missed you.”
“It’s only been a day,” I point out.
“A day is plenty of time to see you are not safe here. After your medical exam today, we’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” I echo, thrown off-guard. A vampire on the prowl has not exactly helped my nerves—or Riker’s—but a surge of relief washes over me. I’ve never felt comfortable here.
He nods, his expression gentle. “You will be safer with me.”
Safer with him. I sip my coffee, rolling the idea around in my head. At least it won’t be dull.
“He’s been here all night, ever since you ran into that vampire,” Riker says, sounding smug.
My chest tightens at the thought. “That’s… nice. Sorry if I caused you any trouble. I didn’t mean for anyone to be dragged out in the middle of the night.”
“You will never be a problem, Lark,” Merrick says, his voice unwavering. “Now, come on—you have got a medical appointment. I will walk you.”
I down the last sip of coffee, grab what is left of my sandwich, wave goodbye to Riker and follow him.
He slows his pace, closing the distance between us as if he can’t resist being near me, nudging my shoulder lightly with his. I huff and sidestep; he smiles that infuriatingly soft smile.
Outside, the morning air is crisp. Merrick gestures towards the main building. “The clinic’s around the back.”
