The Jaguar Shifter's Honor

1—Cause Business

Nantahala Forest, North Carolina, U.S.A.

Dallas Manteo took a knee in the grass, fighting a sudden wave of doubt.

He wanted to believe what ‘The Cause’ was claiming about his sister, Dakota, but it wasn’t easy.

They said she was a witch, not a half-shifter.

They said she could make magic, and she was part of ‘Belief Coven’, meaning the magic was based on the strength of her belief.

They said it was her destiny to destroy vampires, and they insisted that Nantahala Forest was teeming with vampires.

Dallas hadn’t seen a vampire yet.

Thirty feet away, Dakota shoved her tactical spear through the fluffy guts of a training dummy.

They were on the training grounds for savage witches behind the Black Bear Outfitting Company (BBOC), surrounded by a thick forest of hardwoods and pines, with late afternoon sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Nearby, the Nantahala River rushed around curves and over rapids, providing an ever-present background noise of burbling water.

Dallas rubbed the thigh of his bad leg, trying to ease the pain there but when nothing helped, he gave up and tried to ignore the pain instead.

Ten days ago, he’d learned his little sister had quit her job with Arizona Highway Patrol and moved to North Carolina with some guy she’d just met.

Dallas had called his old Navy buddy, Aven, who lived in the area, and asked him to find Dakota.

When Aven hadn’t called him back after a few days, Dallas had dropped his entire life and followed his sister himself.

A combat injury had knocked him on his ass for the last 18 months, and he’d been happy to limp away from it all for a little while. He’d arrived in Nantahala six days ago and found Aven shacking up with his sister, but all was forgiven when Aven turned out to be her fated mate.

Dakota and Dallas’ father was a jaguar shifter and their mother, a human.

Dallas had shifted late, at age 21, and up until a couple of days ago, they’d still had hope that Dakota would shift.

Aven being Dakota’s fated mate blew that hope to hell because Aven was an eagle shifter.

Fate would never pair a jaguar shifter and an eagle shifter, but Fate apparently paired witches and shifters often, especially in the Nantahala Forest.

Out on the training field near Dakota were three women, all said to be ‘savage witches’, called switches by the shifters who served and protected them.

Not one of them looked savage to Dallas in any way.

They looked feminine and dainty as they tried to teach Dakota to do magic.

They each glowed a dim green, looking almost like walking, talking Christmas lights.

His sister also glowed, but blue, and she always had, to Dallas.

One of the women flourished her hand through the air and a ball of green light grew in it. Dallas shaded his eyes, trying to see. Was this magic? The woman held the ball of light up, showing it to Dakota, explaining something Dallas couldn’t hear.

Across the field, on the other side of the training grounds stood three males, all shifters.

The only one whose name Dallas could remember was Jameson, and he’d rubbed Dallas the wrong way from the moment they’d met, which was unfortunate, because Jameson was the leader of ‘The Cause’ and Dallas wanted to stick around for a bit—especially since he’d been given a free room in the magical coven house.

He didn’t know how he fit in yet, or why the house thought he deserved a room, but he was glad to be someplace new.

One of the males near Jameson broke off from the others and headed Dallas’ way.

He was a big guy with close-cropped, dark hair and scruff, wearing jeans, black boots, and a t-shirt showing Martha Stewart hugging Snoop Dogg.

He glowered as he walked, his hands curled into loose fists.

Dallas had met him before, but last time the guy had seemed friendly—not pissed like he looked at that moment.

Dallas stood up and found a tree to lean against, alert and ready for anything, watching the male as he drew close.

“Hey, Dallas,” the guy said. He pointed at himself. “I’m Flint, remember?”

Dallas nodded. They clasped hands, then Dallas returned to watching the women on the field, and Flint also turned that way, crossing his meaty arms over his chest and squinting against afternoon sun that filtered through the treetops.

Neither of them spoke for several moments. On the field, two of the women threw balls of light back and forth, their soft laughter echoing to Dallas and Flint. The third woman joined in, and other than Dakota who was sweating and obviously frustrated, they seemed mellow and calm.

“Why are they called savage witches?” Dallas asked. “They don’t look savage.”

Flint smirked. “You’ll see when the bloodsuckers show up.”

Dallas looked around at the surrounding forest. “They just show up?”

Flint nodded. “Sometimes. They attacked me in my house once.” He pointed at a blonde female on the field. “Goldie saved me.”

Dallas laughed softly. “Like Goldilocks? I get it, because you’re a bear.”

Flint eyed him darkly. “There’s nothing funny about fighting bloodsuckers, Dallas.”

Dallas shut his mouth, eyeing the ugly scar on Flint’s neck.

Flint looked away as he spoke, his voice all business. “Goldie thinks if she everwefts your prosthesis, it’ll transfer to your jaguar.”

Dallas didn’t respond. He replayed the sentence in his head, thinking it made no sense.

On the field, the women had knelt and were examining rocks on the ground. Dakota appeared to pick several up.

“Everweft?” Dallas asked, repeating the strange word.

Flint nodded. He held Dallas’ eyes and shifted into a massive grizzly bear.

Bulk appeared along his body as he pitched forward and thick fur sprouted, replacing his clothing completely.

The monster bear huffed and snarled, stretching out its neck and lips.

Dallas watched, transfixed, wondering where the clothes went, then the bear slimmed down and the fur disappeared and Flint stood there again, fully clothed.

“It’s magic that gives you your clothes back when you shift?” Dallas asked.

“Yeah,” Flint snarled, looking every bit a bear, even as a man.

Dallas rubbed his hands together, thinking how nice it would be to shift and not have his bare ass hanging out.

Now this was magic he could get excited about—then he remembered the rest of what Flint had said.

“—Wait.” He pointed at his injured leg. “Are you saying if Goldilocks—if Goldie does the magic spell on me, my jaguar will have a prosthesis?”

Flint snarled then nodded. “Possibly.”

Thick excitement filled Dallas. He swallowed the emotion as best he could, unable to handle any disappointment when it came to his leg. He’d get excited when—if—it happened.

“I’m in,” Dallas said. “What do I gotta do?”

“I’ll tell her,” Flint said. He strolled away.

On the field, Dakota attacked a new combat dummy with choppy slashes.

Dallas could tell she was upset even from how far away he was.

He debated heading over to talk to her, but Aven reached her quickly and spoke softly to her.

She relaxed into him, nodding along, so Dallas turned his attention to Flint, who stepped in close to Goldilocks.

She went straight into his arms, smiling.

He kissed her softly, then spoke into her ear, while Dallas had one idea playing through his mind on repeat.

He was going to be able to walk in his jaguar form again.