The Secrets of Shifters (To Tame a Shifter)

Chapter 1 That Crazy Bitch

ONE

THAT CRAZY BITCH

“The crazy wild bitch is finally becoming a crazy married bitch,” my cousin Lisah murmurs to her mother, as if I can’t hear her sneers from behind me.

I broke her nose when we were seven. It still leans on her pudgy face just a fraction of an inch to the left. The kids used to call her Lazy-Nosed Lisah because of it. To be honest, I still do when I need cheering up from time to time.

That incident made my mother think I had anger issues that stemmed from my father’s death … She might have been right.

When I glare at Lisah in the full-length mirror, I know she and I are both sharing that fond memory of our childhood.

“I wish I was as beautiful as you on my mating day,” Nyra whispers with a soft smile on her plump lips. She’s good at ignoring Lisah. At ignoring any nasty words really. So damn good it makes me wonder if all of my anger is to make up for her abundance of disgustingly pure happy thoughts.

She’s the perfect mate. Even her son, Berline is perfect just like she is.

She’s pretty. Wholesome. Soft hair like the sun, and eyes as dark as the night. She’s a muted appearance of myself really. Our lips, they’re the same though. I see myself in her when she smiles, even if I’m not na?ve enough to feel the happiness she feels every single day of her sweet life.

Because the Goddess Moon blessed Nyra with kindness.

A woman’s life as a wolf shifter has many rites of passage. At thirteen, we become a woman, a real member of our pack’s society. And during the blessings of that celebration, a mage of nature comes and connects us to our Goddess. One gift is all we’re given to guide us in this life.

I remember wishing like hell for the gift of intelligence. Or strength like my mother. Or even some fucking poise to help me with the battle training I once did with my father.

The possibilities are endless. The blessings of our Goddess Moon know no bounds.

And that’s why I was blessed with beauty.

A fucking face.

That’s what the Goddess gave me. A flawless complexion where others got bravery. A nice ass while my neighbors flaunted their wit, innovation, and perseverance.

I mean, sure, my pants fit great, but would it have killed the Goddess to wonder if I might need something more than filling out a good pair of trousers?

The sigh that blows from my lungs fans the pale locks hanging in perfect curls around my features. The hair my mother is braiding here and there hangs down to the waist of my sheer mating gown.

Today’s the day…

Cue the fireworks.

And explosions of depression.

The females around me idly gossip. The chatter is endless and grates against my mind. Of course, they talk about Mika. He’ll be a good mate. A strong man who should fulfill his duty to me and load my uterus up with litters and litters of pups to make our pack proud.

Yes, my uterus is one lucky bitch indeed. Listen to her rave about the thought of waddling around and crying constantly about the way her left hip hurts when it waddles a bit too hard:

Silence. My uterus is fucking silent.

Because it’s in mourning, let’s face it.

“Cersia, you’re going to be glowing once you’re pregnant. You’ll finally experience true happiness,” my cousin, Lisah, says to smooth things over.

“You’ll do our pack proud,” my mother agrees.

She’s aging. Sometimes when life is a little too quiet, I wonder if she’s strong enough to make it through the winter when it comes. So, I must marry now. To make her proud.

“Indeed, I will truly spread my legs with honor,” I say before I can stop myself.

I feel my lips tense up in that way they always do when I try to force a smile. The women stare at my blank look of lunacy with the unhinged tilt at the corner of my plump red lips.

“Oh,” Aunt Helana whispers slowly like realization just bitch-slapped every one of them at the same damn time.

Shit. I didn’t smile right… Why does my face do that? Why?

“Glowing. Definitely.” I nod to try to ease the tragic look of worry every single one of them is tossing my way.

“I will glow so fucking hard,” I add before trailing that thought off into tense silence.

“I’m going to lie down.” I finally let it go while staring at them in the mirror, but I can see the damage is done.

I say nothing for a beat longer, and during that time, Lisah whispers something about crazy once more to Aunt Helana. She always has to drop the C word around me.

The cunt.

My eyes narrow on the round woman, and her mouth snaps shut in an instant, because my mother will never tell them my one hidden secret. Instead, she’ll warn them every day of their lives about my temper.

It’s a fiery thing, she tells them.

And she’s not wrong.

There are no more words to say. Nothing I can say could explain why I’m not overjoyed Mika picked me. Even when I’m not speaking, I’m still screwing life up.

It’s not my fault.

I told Father I wanted to join our leaders. Or at the very least, I wanted to become a Fighter Wolf and keep our pack safe. I told them all what I’d hoped for in life.

But father died.

And I’m too pretty to waste the Goddess’s gifts.

A beautiful face isn’t meant for politics or war.

Sometimes I wonder if it would hurt less to hear that praise of my features if I’d known beauty as a friend my entire life.

But I didn’t. I didn’t grow up pretty. I grew up sturdy and brutish like my father. I was always his little shadow trying to be just like papa.

Then one day, I was beautiful. My mother emphasized it and told everyone daily. And I’d never realized how much it hurt to know I wasn’t before.

I was oblivious to my chubby cheeks and soft adolescent belly. I was blind to that unwanted appearance. Until everyone reminded me day in and day out: Cersia, you’re so beautiful. Your mother must be so proud. You’re going to make a man very lucky one day.

Yes, yes. But imagine if I could keep my graying mother safe. Or if I could outwit any man. Oh, the things I’d give to outwit Mika to his stupid, brick-like face.

Not that I can’t. I certainly can. But damn, Goddess Moon, back me up sometimes.

None of the quiet women stop me as I wander back to my mother’s bedroom and shut the door. I sit at the edge of the quilted mattress for a long time and consider my options.

The thing is, I don’t have any. I can only do my duty as a woman and mate with Mika to keep a family secret kept very far in the dark.

It was my father’s burden, and now it is my own.

And I’ll carry it just as he did: crying and bitching every step of the way.

So, I stare out the little square window on the far wall of the cottage and wait for the dread to ease into acceptance. I wait. And I wait. And I wait.

An hour passes as the sun settles low in the pale blue sky, and my stomach still turns sickly. My teeth are still clenched tightly.

And most curiously of all, the inky black shadow pacing at the tree line is still watching me.

He’s my one distraction from all of this.

He’s a stranger. The black-haired wolf hidden in the brush isn’t one of ours. Darker wolves are an ominous sighting in our pack. They’re as rare as dragons nowadays. Wolves like this don’t come here. They’re not our kind.

The darkness of the creature alone feels like an omen.

How very ironic that I’d see the hellish creature on my perfect little mating day. The Goddess hates me indeed.

The brutish beast has held eyes with me for several minutes now. The mass of him alone is frightening. I should be scared. He looks like a pet of the devil himself. And yet, all I do is hold his glaring gaze.

Neither of us move.

Then, as if tiring of our game, his front paw motions forward, and a puff of dirt billows around his fur where he dares take a step into the line of fading sunlight.

The fucking audacity of this bitch. Is the thing a lunatic to step a single paw onto my pack’s turf?

I storm across the room, and I’m flinging open the window at once.

“Are you challenging me?” I scream into the wind.

I do love a good challenge, if I’m being totally honest.

Barrley, the old neighbor lady, stops dead in her tracks.

She and my mother often play cards together on Sundays when they’re both feeling up to it.

A wicker basket of daisies hangs limply in her frail hand.

Her big brown eyes widen while her jaw rears back so far she gives herself several chins, and none of them are pretty.

The young girl at her side whispers beneath her breath, but I hear her quietness.

Crazy, she tells her mother.

“Are you…alright, Cersia?” Barrley asks with a voice that sounds like it’s walking on eggshells to even address the crazy woman barking out the window like a feral dog giving a taunting squirrel a good ass-chewing.

Dry words die on my lips. My attention shifts from the hesitant woman to the tree line.

But the wolf is gone. Nothing but swaying tree limbs and rustling leaves peer back at me.

And maybe…just maybe I really am the village crazy bitch.