Westmore Wolves Series: Shapesifter Collection Bks 1-5 Read online

  “Nothing…” The imp dragged her feet and gave her mother a resentful glare.

  “She’s right. I didn’t see the point.” Candice wobbled on her heels, sloshing part of her Manhattan onto the carpet. “Not that she would listen to me anyway.” She moved toward the French doors and for a moment, Thomas was afraid she would do something to harm Gabby.

  “Candice. Not now.” Thomas seethed. “I think you’ve had enough. Put the drink down.”

  Shooting a hardened alcohol lacquered gaze in his direction, she tottered away.

  That afternoon, he handed her the divorce papers, done with the endless games and insidious contempt she continued to hurl his way. What his younger self had seen in her…God. So much wasted time. But he couldn’t afford to be bitter. There was Gabby to consider and the sooner Candice left, the better. If he had his way, she’d be packing right now. If she could put her drink down long enough.

  “Are you going to fight me for Gabby?” He had to ask, even as the question tasted sour in his mouth. Her eyes were weepy then as fast as a winter gale, froze up once more. “Why don’t you and your lover take her? She loves you better anyway. I hate this place and I hate you.”

  “Mommy…” Gabrielle, who must have been eavesdropping, rushed into the room with tears in her eyes. “Don’t…”

  Her mother’s scornful gaze slid over her. “Or what? It’s the truth.”

  Gabrielle took steps back away from Candice.

  Responding to the hurt of his daughter’s young heart, he went to Gabby, ushering her back to the other room as he whispered to her that he would come tuck her in soon.

  Once the little one was out of the room, he turned on Candice. “Watch what you say to Gabby. For your information, no it isn’t. I think you need to go to bed. We’ll talk about the divorce in the morning when you’ve sobered up.”

  “Oh yes,” she hissed, hurling the drink against the fireplace. The glass exploded, little pieces of jagged hate flying outward in a spray. “We’ll talk about it all right. You and your bodyguard just can’t wait to get me out of the picture. Well it’s going to cost you and cost you big. I think the world should know who you really are, Thomas Sauveterre.”

  What a fucking laugh. His family had been in art restoration since the first cathedrals had been built in Europe. A clan of guardians and protectors of beauty, his gargoyle heritage and his love of art went hand in hand. Thomas clenched his jaw and searched for the right words. They were a bad match from the beginning but he’d stuck it out for Gabby. His kink and her vanilla weren’t a match, but he held himself back. What else could he do? Destroy his marriage because his wife didn’t want to get tied up and get spanked? Thinking about it like that had just made him feel foolish.

  He’d known she hadn’t been happy when they moved out to the coast, but there was little else that could be done. He’d been so wrapped up in his work he hadn’t seen the writing on the wall until it was too late.

  She’d managed to sleep her way through most of his colleagues at the university. Once he’d discovered her indiscretions he’d had no choice but to take his talents elsewhere. His reputation was in tatters and he couldn’t bear to look into the eyes of the male members of staff and wonder who had been fucking his wife. No. If he was honest, it would be the other way around. It was more like who hadn’t been fucking her.

  His innate talent at restoration would have to save him. If he focused on Gabby and his work, he could manage the rest. From original works to restored masterpieces, his hands kept busy and he tried not to think too much about the man who entertained more than a passing fancy in his daydreams. In high demand—by everyone except his wife, he didn’t have much time out of his studio to fight with her and he was tired of living a lie. She hated him from taking away her playground. It was pure and simple. Out here on the western coastline, all the company she had were seagulls.

  The door opened and Grayson came in, followed by Mrs. Talbot. Shit. He hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear their latest row.

  “Sir, I’ll tuck Gabrielle into bed.” An older woman in a smart dress and sling back shoes, Mrs. Talbot was hired on when it had become apparent that his wife’s drinking had gotten out of control. Three years later, she’d become a fundamental part of the household. He wouldn’t eat if it weren’t for her. Or have clothes that didn’t stand up and walk on their own. He thanked his lucky stars every day when the Westmore Alpha recommended her. She’d lost someone when Carrick had taken over as Alpha and needed a change of scene. She held the place together and had stepped in when Gabby needed her the most.

  “Do you want me to carry her?” Grayson lifted his eyes to Thomas and a little warmth seeped in. Thomas had only been with him as security detail for a few months, but in that time, he’d become an integral part of his life. He helped with Gabby’s education and he’d seen him more than once trying to teach his mischievous daughter to fly.

  “I can walk by myself, Mr. Grayson.” Gabby entered from the side room, lifted her cherub face to his with a wobbly smile. “Don’t worry.”

  Damn it. This had to stop.

  “Go with Mrs. Talbot and Grayson, honey. I need to talk to your mom.”

  “No.” Candice sauntered toward the balcony, her face a mask of bitterness. Her eyes grazed over Grayson and Mrs. Talbot. “I want you to stay. What I have to say is for you all.”

  “Mrs. Sauveterre, can you please step away from the doors?” Grayson edged forward, his brows drawn up in concern. He reached out to touch her and she slapped his hands away.

  “Not you.” Candice drew her lips drew back in a hiss and she shook her head vehemently. “No. You don’t get to move into my house and tell me where I should stand. I don’t think so.” She marched through the open French doors and out onto the balcony.

  “Stop this,” Thomas demanded, trying to latch on to her arm. She breezed past him and whirled around to face him. “Go inside and pack your things. This ends tonight—with you leaving.” A flicker of anxiety slid through him. What was she going to do?

  “As if you think this will be tidied up so easily.” Candice gave an ugly laugh and clambered up onto the balcony railing. She pulled off her shoes and maneuvered her body to face him. “Don’t bother trying to save me either, flyboy. I’m not interested.” She pitched her shoes at him, and they fell at his feet, discarded like the remnants of their life together.

  “Mrs. Sauveterre…” Grayson stepped forward. “Please. Your daughter.”

  “Take her inside, Gray.” Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Get down now, Candice. I command you to listen.”

  “You command me? I’m not into that, remember? I’m not your submissive and I sure as fuck am not going to play at whatever kinky shit you’re into these days. Go tell it to someone who cares, Thomas. I’m done.”

  “Climb down from there before you hurt yourself. You have a future. Far away from here. Get your things and get out.”

  “A future? Is that what you call it?” Her voice was a whisper, a tiny smile tilting up the corners of her mouth. “Mmmm. Okay.” Without another word, she leaned backwards and hurled herself off the balcony.

  Thomas stood dumbstruck, his heart in his throat. He moved in slow motion as Grayson burst past him, shifting into his gargoyle form, hurtling down to the rocks below. His wings were ink black and in moments he lost sight of him in the gathering dark.

  “Mommy!” Gabby darted toward the balcony and tried to scramble over the edge. “No! Mommy!”

  “Gabrielle!” Agony tore through Thomas as he grabbed onto Gabrielle for dear life. “No baby. No.”

  “You have to save her!” Hot tears dampened the front of his shirt as she sobbed against him. “Please.”

  “Mrs. Talbot?” His gaze located the housekeeper. “Please take her to bed.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The older woman gathered his daughter into her arms as she continued to sob. “Come, child. This isn’t something you need to see.”

  “But…Mommy…”

 
; “No, my girl. There’s nothing to be done for it. Let’s get you to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning, shall we?” Mrs. Talbot wrapped her arms around her shoulders and guided her from the room, shutting the door behind them. As the door clicked, Thomas burst into action, shifting into his gargoyle form. He dove over the edge, silently cursing whatever demons possessed the woman to do such a thing in a way that would hurt the most. Gabby. She had taken the one pure thing in their lives and tainted it by her selfish act. He couldn’t help but hate her for it.

  Thomas raced against the wind but the powerful storm knocked him back against the cliff side smashing, his face into the rocks. He snarled, diving back against the force of the gale and down into the darkness below. He landed next to Grayson cradling a raging Candice in his arms.

  “Let go of me!” She kicked, railing at him like a harridan.

  “Why did you do this?” Thomas pursed his lips, thankful she was still alive, his heart beating wild in his chest.

  “Because I loathe you.”

  The feeling was mutual but she was the mother of his child. He met Grayson’s eyes over her head and nodded. “I’ll take her.”

  “Don’t touch me.” Candice pulled away from Thomas, leveling a look of pure venom in his direction. She turned to Grayson. “Get me out of here.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” He held out his arms and she shuddered, stepping inside of them.

  Love and hate battled inside of him, forging a grief so raw it cut him open like a gaping wound. Such a waste. They could have been happy, but she destroyed it all. He thought she could learn to love him, but all she wanted was the prestige of his family name, not the man, nor the stone beast within. Waves crashed over them, and soon he couldn’t tell whether the salty wetness on his face were tears or the pounding waves.

  He was such a fool to ever think otherwise.

  Thomas nodded. “This is over. Tonight. Take your things and leave. I never want to see you again.”

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to stay.”

  Her eyes flashed in the darkness and he couldn’t stand to look at her another moment. “Just go. You will be provided for, never fear.” Thomas turned from her, his wings buffeting him from the stinging waves.

  He heard Grayson rise into the air, his great wings taking Candice out of harm’s way and let out the breath he had been holding. It was over. So why then did he feel like his heart was breaking?

  Chapter One

  “Oh my God. Will you just shut up?” Medina Argos growled under her breath as the snakes beneath her skin hissed and whispered. It was the same word, over and over again and she was about to lose her damned mind.

  Pretties…

  Yes. Pretties. She needed to find a new pretty or her sisters were going to have her head on a spit—and that was before breakfast. She massaged her temples and willed the pounding in her head to freaking stop. The print of the newspaper spread across the table swam like ants in front of her eyes. She lowered her lids, blocking out the bright daylight streaming in through the blinds. Her snakes loved the light but she on the other hand wished it would cloud up and rain like hell. Then at least the migraine would stop. Just another thing for them to disagree about.

  The gallery exhibits laid out in the entertainment section tugged at her consciousness but nothing really rang true. Maybe it was the headache.

  Pretties…

  “Ugh.” She reached for her coffee and took a large gulp.

  The full moon was right around the corner and her snakes were at it hard today. Their voices were a snarl of murmurs that were ever so slowly driving her insane. And they really needed another thing to focus on. Like maybe where she could go to find a good brownie. Or some chocolate chip pancakes. But all they wanted to whisper about was the one thing she couldn’t get them to agree on—their next mark.

  “Would you hurry up, already?” She mumbled, poking her stylus into her hair. They hadn’t popped out for a visit yet today, but if this headache kept up, goddess only knew. Temperamental at best, her girls were moody man-hating bitches most days and that was saying something.

  So she talked to her hair. Most shifters she knew had the same dual natured problems she did, only they weren’t stuck having snakes for hair and an ass that turned into a giant snake rear end. Well, to be fair, her legs sort of turned into the back end of a giant snake, but it was all semantics. On most people’s scale of sexy, snakes weren’t high up on the list. Hell, they probably weren’t even on the list, but when you’re smote by a goddess, it isn’t like you have much say in the matter.

  Other people she’d come across in her travels had at least been wolf shifters or even cats. She, on the other hand, was afflicted with a mythological curse that left her hissing at the moon instead of howling at it. One of the snakes wiggled in her hair and she absentmindedly poked at it with her stylus.

  “Not yet. Go back to sleep.”

  There went the coolness thing again.

  The snakes hissed at her in censure and she sighed. She reached for her cup of coffee and took another sip. The hot black liquid slid over her tongue, cinnamon and earthy. The morning had come too soon. Nightmares woke her in the middle of the night, shaking and sweating, just like clockwork. Her throat closed up like it did when the bastard in her nightmare closed his hand around her neck, cutting off her air, his eyes narrowed into slits filled with rage filled spite.

  Favored by the goddess…You’ll be crawling by the time I’m done with you.

  And she had been.

  The white hot panic set in, as memories and remembered pain flooded her mind. Her breath hitched and she gripped the edges of the chair, her muscles straining with the effort to keep herself in the now. She was safe. It was over and had been for centuries, but what would her day be if it didn’t start off with her talking to herself and having a nice juicy panic attack?

  Where were her sisters? She wanted to find something to eat and maybe that would jar the girls into some productivity. They were here for a purpose and if she didn’t find a new mark Stef would be less than pleased.

  The hotel room in Brussels, Texas was nice enough, but she was getting weary of their ceaseless travel. One more day here and they would head someplace new. All that remained was for her to find where that would be. If her migraine would ever stop. Another stab lanced through her brain and her stomach twisted, the coffee she drank sloshing unpleasantly. It was almost a hung over feeling and the fog that slid through her made it difficult to maneuver through. But she had to. Her sisters were depending on her. She reached for her tablet computer and pressed the on button. If nothing in the papers called to her than it was time to push her energy out further.

  Her snakes shifted beneath her skin but said nothing.

  Damned finicky bitches. When she wanted them to talk, they didn’t have a thing to say. Figured.

  “Well, did you find anything yet?” Stef waltzed in, her long golden hair flowing in relaxed curls down her back, the casual jeans and sandals balanced by a sparkling top that did nothing for the shooting pains in Medina’s head.

  “No,” she replied miserably, letting her head fall in her hands. Goddess, why did she feel so damned terrible?

  “Well you better hurry.”

  Her sister Eleanor’s voice pinged at Medina and she inwardly groaned. “I know.” She raised her head and winced as the light stabbed at her eyes. “What happened last night? I remember dinner but right after that, it’s a blank.”

  And it was. They’d gone out to one of the nicer restaurants near the hotel and she’d planned to head back and let her sisters do their thing. Medina was the spotter. They did the heist. No matter if it was a job they were hired for, or a piece that called to Medina through her crystal ball of a tablet computer with the snake sisters under her skin leading the way. It was all the same. Their services were always in demand and chances were, a black market buyer would snap up whatever they managed to snag with their hypnotic good looks and superhuman charm.r />
  Her sisters had the knack. Goddesses in their own right, the original two Gorgon sisters, Stheno and Euryale, got the immortal genes. Medina didn’t. She got endless reincarnation and a shit ton of nightmares involving snakes and a really angry goddess. And that was the happy side. If she let herself think too much about the reason she was here, she’d dream even more and find herself holed up with another of her panic attacks. Rape was rape. Getting blamed by a goddess for some asshole forcing himself on her…well that was downright fucked up and lucky her, she got to relive it, life after life. It was no wonder she suffered from anxiety and migraines.

  Medina twirled a finger in her long black hair and sighed. Her sisters hated being called by their Greek names, only answering to Stef or Eleanor. Medina couldn’t blame them really, but at least they didn’t have the endless cycle of rebirth and a name that made people cringe just mentioning it.

  Medusa. You said the name and everyone thought they were an expert. Except they didn’t know the half of it. Perseus didn’t really kill her. He just propelled her into the next life. Multiply that by how ever many hundreds of years ago that was and you have a lot of memories and dreams all swirling around in her head competing with the snakes for air time.

  She hadn’t wanted to do it at first, but it seemed like there might be something to that name changing business. Medina would be a nice change this time around. If not, she might as well have a shirt printed up.

  Got snakes?

  Or

  Wicked PMS. Will permanently fuck you up and turn your ass to stone.

  Her snakes hissed their displeasure at her thoughts and she smiled. If she wasn’t laughing about it, well. Meh.

  Medina snorted and took another drink of coffee. Caffeine and a steady stream of Excedrin and she should at least be functional by noon. She hoped, at any rate. If she was lucky, she could get some word count in and maybe get a leg up on the saucy romance novel she was trying to get written before the summer was over. With one published under her sexy pen name, Roxanne St. George, she’d been able to make a tidy enough stream of royalties that she didn’t need her sisters’ ill-gotten gains. Well, they were hers too, she supposed, but she’d never robbed a person in her life and wasn’t going to start. An introvert of the highest order, she was happiest when she was on her laptop, typing away.