A Shifter's Curse Read online

  A Shifter's Curse

  A Rouen Urban Fantasy 1

  Raven Steele

  Ava Mason

  A Shifter’s Curse:

  Rouen Chronicles Book 1

  * * *

  A novel by

  Raven Steele

  &

  Ava Mason

  www.RavenSteele.net

  * * *

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

  * * *

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without the permission of the Publisher. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

  * * *

  Cover design by Covers by Juan

  Printed in the United States of America

  * * *

  Copyright © 2018 by Raven Steele and Ava Mason

  All rights reserved

  “I like to go dancing, have a few beers. I like being alone, too. I have days where it's ‘God, get me a shot of tequila.’”

  * * *

  ~ Justine Bateman

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  A Shifter’s Rage

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  Other books by Raven Steele:

  Other books by Ava Mason:

  Chapter 1

  He shouldn't be in this place. It was a dick move for a vampire. Everyone knew only shifters hung out at Sinsual, a human dance club. But here the bastard was slipping in and out of the crowd like a shark in a tank full of bottom-feeders. I wouldn't call them that, but it was evident by the vampire's face he sure did. He wore disgust and disdain like a bad Halloween mask. He hated being among shifters just as bad as I hated looking at him. Not that he was bad looking, mind you. With a sharp jaw, roman nose, and big grey eyes, he had the kind of face artists would piss themselves to paint.

  "Are you drinking tonight?" a man behind the bar asked for the third time. He had an earring in his eyebrow and a tattoo of a target on his throat. A perfectly round circle plastered on his ridiculously long neck.

  "I've been wanting to order all night, but I was waiting for you to stop staring at my tits."

  His face reddened, and I snickered. Yeah, I caught you eyeing me, you little pervert. It's not like I was wearing anything super revealing either. Sure, it was tight, but my black tank top came up high enough to cover my ample cleavage line. Thanks for those genes, Grandma Angelica.

  "If you're finished, I'll order," I said.

  He sighed heavily. "Sorry."

  I tried not to show my surprise. "That's more like it, Peeper."

  "My name's Mike."

  "Not tonight, Peeper. You got to earn my respect now. What's a good Louisiana drink?"

  "A Sazerac."

  "Then make me one of those."

  He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like "rude prude". Normally I'd call him out on something like that, but getting into a fight this soon after breezing into town would prevent me from doing two things. One, securing a job because, obviously, money is good, and two, finding a place to live. I needed these things if I was going to find the last two most important people on my list, the same list I always kept right next to my ass. Because until I could watch the life drain from their cold, heartless eyes, sitting on them would have to do.

  I played with the ring on my middle finger while I waited for Peeper to make my drink, fumbling with the stupid glass like his fingers were all thumbs. Since I was new to Rouen, I wasn't as familiar with this drink, but I could tell that he was adding too much bitters and not enough whiskey. This was going to be too easy.

  "Are you Briar?" a bubbly voice shouted behind me, trying to get my attention over the club noise.

  I whirled around on the stool. A gal with red hair and a splash of freckles on her nose stared at me expectantly. I eyed her up and down. She looked a couple of years younger than me, maybe twenty-two. "You must be Lynx."

  She was skinny. So skinny her clothes hung on her as if she were a coat rack. Yet the way they matched, greens on top, darks on bottom, I wondered if the baggy look was deliberate. Fashion was something I knew nothing about. It was right up there with cooking and sewing.

  Smiling, she extended her hand. "That's me. Thanks for coming."

  I shook her hand, surprised by the strength in her grip. Maybe she wasn't as fragile as she looked.

  She scooted onto a stool next to me. "So you're looking for a place to live?"

  "Yup. A month-to-month situation. I'm not sure how long I'll be staying in Rouen." It could even be a couple of weeks, but I wasn't going to tell her that. If I didn't catch a whiff of the men I was looking for, I'd move on.

  "How come?"

  Peeper slid my Sazerac in a small glass to me, smirking. "On the house."

  "That's sweet of you." I winked at him and wrapped my lips around the straw and sucked, then almost spit it out on the counter. Too sweet. I forced the liquid down my throat. Did he know anything at all about making drinks? Better be sure. "How about you make something for my new friend Lynx?"

  "I'm not drinking," she said a little too quickly.

  I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, taking in her demeanor. People that didn't drink made me nervous, especially if they were in a bar. Usually, it meant they were hiding something. Or they were a recovering alcoholic or a Mormon. Lynx didn't look like either, which meant this chick had secrets. I had my own, but it took a lot of alcohol for me to admit even the name of my home town. No one needed to know my past.

  "But I will have a soda, diet. With lemon."

  Peeper mumbled another string of words. He probably thought he was having a bad night, but it was only going to get worse when I took his job in a few minutes.

  I turned back to Lynx to answer her question about not staying in Rouen, twisting the ring on my finger again. "I don't like to stay in any place for too long. I get bored easily."

  She laughed. "I don't think you'll get bored in Rouen. Plus, my house is pretty amazing. I inherited it from my grandma. It was built in the late 1700's and has all these cool secret rooms and passageways. The room I'm renting out is super huge and has its own bathroom. Did you see the pictures online?"

  I took another sip of the disgusting drink. "I did. That's why I called you. I need my own bathroom."

  Pinpricks raced up my spine, tingling my wolfie senses. I glanced to my left, spotting another vampire. A woman this time, dressed all in black. I swear, sometimes vampires take their roles way too seriously.

  That makes two vampires in a known-shifter hangout. Something was up.

  "The room is all yours." Lynx accepted her diet soda from Peeper, thanking him with a smile. Her eyes sparkled. I cursed under my breath. Just my luck, I'd get the bubbly roommate. She pulled out a few dollars and left it on the counter then turned back to me.

  "I mean, you look decent enough. You are wearing True Religion clothing after all, so high marks in my book."

  "Am I?" I reached behind me and tore the tag off the back of my tank top. Lynx gasped in horror. I stared down at the tag. "Sure as shit."

  Her widened eyes were practically tearing. "I can't believe you just did that."

  I casually glanced toward the female vampire again, noting she was wearing glasses, something a vampire would have no need of. She edged toward us, and I had a sneaking suspicion she was listening to us with her super-human hearing.

  I subconsciously tugged on my ridiculously thick brown hair. I didn't like anyone listening in on my conversations.

  "Right, well." Lynx shuffled uncomfortably. "So you're not into fashion. No biggie. I still need a roommate and the house is huge, like seven bedrooms. You'll have your space. In fact, you'll barely know I'm there with my work schedule."

  "You're speaking my language, chica." I liked the idea of having a place mostly to myself. People freaked me out with their constant need to talk and their obsessive need to belong. It wasn't me.

  The bartender attempted his next mixed drink, and I cringed as he did it
all wrong. It took all my willpower not to jump over the counter and yank the glass right out of his clumsy hands. Just as I decided to do that, another prickly sensation alerted my wolf.

  I turned around as the female vampire slid onto the barstool next to me. Power radiated off her in waves and pressured the air around us with static electricity. Without a doubt, she could break my neck in a second if I wasn’t careful.

  My own shifter powers emerged and a soft, but threatening, growl emitted from my throat. A not so subtle warning that I wasn't without my own power and skill. I'd done some neck breaking in my days too.

  But the vampire only flicked her electric-blue eyes at me behind her thin glasses, then leaned forward to get Lynx's attention. It was an obvious dismissal of my warning and pissed me the hell off.

  "I hear you are looking for a roommate?" she asked Lynx.

  The hairs on the back of my neck heckled. What the? Why was this dead chick pissing on my territory?

  Lynx's eyebrows rose, and she smiled nervously. "Um, well—"

  I didn't wait for Lynx to finish. "Listen, goth girl. She's looking for one roommate. Me. So go find someone else to mooch off."

  She stared down her nose at me. "If you're referencing to living off someone else then believe me, I am no mooch. However, I assert myself when necessary." Her eyes narrowed at me. "And I haven't been called a 'girl' in a long time."

  “That’s what you’re calling me out on?”

  Her gaze flickered back to Lynx. "I'm Samira, and I need a place to live for a few months. Your home sounds perfect." Her face was serious, but she forced her lips up in a smile. If she was going for reassuring, she was failing miserably. "I need a place to sleep."

  "How did you hear—"

  "I'll pay you quadruple what you're asking."

  Lynx choked on her drink.

  I huffed air past my lips. Typical cliché vampire move. If they can't get their way, they flash a bunch of money. I would be wealthy too if I lived forever.

  "I can move in tomorrow night." Samira leaned even closer, blocking me out, and a curtain of long black hair fell across her leathered shoulder. I was tempted to reach out and touch the thick strands. Either that or palm the ends in my fist and yank hard.

  I did neither, though the last option could be exciting. Just then, I spotted the bar manager walking this way. It was clear he was the boss by the way he was eyeing everyone nervously. The name tag on his crisp, white, buttoned-up shirt helped too.

  I slapped my hand down on the bar. "I'm pressing pause on the roommate wars conversation. I need to get a job."

  Lynx wrinkled her small, up-turned nose. "I don't think they're hiring."

  "They aren't, yet." I jumped up, sat on the bar, and swung my legs to the other side. I hopped behind the counter, rubbing my hands together. Where to begin?

  "Hey!" Peeper hurried over to me, a blue liquid sloshing outside of the cup he was holding. "You're not supposed to be back here!"

  I ignored him and picked up a bottle of bourbon whiskey and amaretto to make some quick shots. I spun them around in my hands as a teaser for the growing crowd.

  "Who's up for some capital punishment? 'Cause I'm dishing it out, if you all can take it!" I yelled into the crowd, using a little power from my wolf to gain everyone's attention. It was the only way to be heard over the loud music.

  When I knew they would be looking, I tossed both bottles into the air so they spun a three-sixty, and caught them again. Everyone cheered and pushed their way to the bar.

  "I'll take more than your punishment," a dude in a tight t-shirt said, eyeing me greedily. The crowd howled with laughter.

  "I'm not sure you can handle me." I smiled and gave him a saucy wink.

  Making a show of lining up as many shot glasses as I could find, I spun the bottles around again and poured some into each glass to create a round of Capital Punishments. Once all those were gobbled up, I started taking requests.

  I had learned the art of mixing drinks when I was a fourteen-year-old kid and landed at a halfway house back East. I wasn't a juvenile delinquent like the other kids, just an orphan lost to the overburdened foster care system.

  But those kids had taught me more than just mixing drinks. They had some serious survival skills, especially for normal humans. Eventually, my drink-making skills had surpassed all of theirs, and I'd become the queen of that place. Soon, I'd be royalty here too. It was just a matter of time.

  "Let me pass," I heard the manager say to the crowd. He pushed his way through the customers to reach me. He was pissed, but that was all about to change.

  Grabbing a bottle of Larceny I saw earlier, I tipped the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon straight into my mouth. I closed my eyes and rolled that first taste around, bathing my taste buds in the buttery caramel flavor. The honeyed-notes played over my tongue, like a symphony for my palate. I savored the smooth texture before letting it slide down my throat—warm and comforting.

  Wanting another taste, I made a show of holding the bottle up, as if to pound the bourbon in a frat boy guzzle-fest. Not going to happen. I had something way better in mind and jumped up to kneel on the bar.

  I poured a mouthful and held it there while I held up a lighter for everyone to see. The crowd exploded into cheers, knowing what was coming and chanted, "Do it! Do it! Do it!"

  From the corner of my eye, I saw that the manager had stopped to watch. I swallowed a portion of the bourbon and spit out the rest while simultaneously setting it on fire. Creating a flame thrower with my mouth, I aimed away from any onlookers. I couldn't very well set them on fire.

  I glanced at the vamp on the stool below who was glaring up at me. Now her, that was a different story.

  The crowd went crazy, and I made another round of drinks. I finished pouring the last one requested and slid it down the long bar. The fact that not one drop was lost on the slide home was a testament to the pride Peeper took in his bar. I glanced over at where he sat on the back counter. His shoulders were tightened, and he was scowling.

  I smiled. "You can take over now. I'm done."

  "Really?" His voice was sarcastic. "Thanks for giving me back my bar."

  "No problem." I winked. "Just finish up with the rest of the customers."

  "How in the hell am I supposed to compete with what you just pulled?"

  "It's not a competition. We're all winners in my book." There was room in this place for two bartenders, especially with the crowds I would draw in.

  When he didn't answer, I walked past him toward the manager who'd finally made it behind the bar. He wasn't tall like Peeper, but he was lean with honed muscles like a man on a rowing team.

  He leaned his head toward me and yelled over the excited crowd. "What's your name? I'm Eddie."

  "Briar. Sorry about taking over your bar. I see rows of alcohol, and I guess I get a little crazy."

  "You looking for a job?"

  "Not really." Best to play hard to get.

  I scanned the audience, making a mental note to keep an eye out for the two vampires and their location. Samira was still chatting up Lynx, no doubt worming her goth self into my room.

  Eddie was talking again, but I didn't hear a word because a tingling sensation started at the back of my head. My palms grew sweaty, and my breathing picked up. Something wasn't right.

  I did another sweep of the club's patrons, specifically focusing near the VIP lounge where I spotted the male vampire. Even from here I could see his eyes were glazed over. He had that euphoric look vamps got from drinking blood. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and a low growl began in my throat. Vamps shouldn't be eating out in the open like that. Licking his lips, the vamp leaned over, whispering in the ear of a man sitting on the couch.