A. Arthur: Shifter's Claim

Shadow Shifter Tribes

Topètenia—the jaguars

Croesteriia—the cheetahs

Lormenia—the white Bengal tigers

Bosinia—the cougars

Serfins—the white lions

Acordado—the awakening, the Shadow Shifter’s first shift

Alma—the name of the spa at Perryville Resorts Sedona. Means “soul” in Portuguese

Amizade—annex to the Elders’ Grounds used as a fellowship hall

Companheiro—mate

Companheiro calor—the scent shared between mates

Curandero—the medicinal and spiritual healer of the tribes

Elders—senior members of the tribe

Ètica—the Shadow Shifter Code of Ethics

Joining—the union of mated shifters

La Selva—the name of the restaurant at Perryville Resorts. Means “the jungle” in Portuguese

Pessoal—secondary building of the Elders’ Grounds which houses the personal rooms of each Elder

Rogue—a Shadow Shifter who has turned from the tribes, refusing to follow the Ètica , in an effort to become their own distinct species

Santa Casa—main building of the Elders’ Grounds that is the holy house of the Elders

The Assembly—three Elders from each tribe that make up the governing council of shifters in the Gungi

The Gungi Rainforest, South America

Fourteen years ago

He saw red.

Everything was red.

Blood red.

The rain, the leaves, even the muddy dirt puddles at his feet. The acidic stench burned his nostrils and had his stomach churning until he fought to keep from vomiting. Beneath his feet branches cracked and rustled. Rain, cold like slivers of ice, pelted his naked body, as a form of punishment, maybe. Because he’d been too late.

Her body lay on the ground, mutilated, floating in the pool of blood. His fingers shook as an arm reached out. Her eyes had been blue, like a summer’s sky. He remembered them clearly, remembered how they’d stared at him brimming with tears as he’d explained their time together had run its course. Pressing against the lids he closed them, not wanting to see them any longer. Not wanting her to be disappointed by him yet again.

Bas cursed. The words rolling from his lips in a long fluid succession that sounded more like a drunk in a gangster movie than a man heading for his senior year in college. Then again he wasn’t in New York anymore. He was in the forest where he’d been born. After his parents’ divorce it just made more sense to come here than go back to the house in the Hamptons where there were expensive things like rugs and lamps, statues and paintings and memories. But no people, not anymore. In the midst of the two-year-long his versus hers tug-of-war they’d left the house to Bas. Then, after too many failed attempts to get them back together, Bas had simply left the damned house.

He’d also left Mariah. After dating the sophomore whom he’d met at a party for almost a month, Bas had told her it was over. Whatever faith he’d had in lasting relationships had been dashed with his parents’ actions. In his mind it hadn’t mattered anyway because he hadn’t been in love with Mariah—he’d known she wasn’t his mate—and because she was a human. And he was not. Their laws were very clear in that regard—no exposure to humans. Ever.

And now look where he was and what adhering to that law had done.

No, what they’d done. He was very clear on the fact that those bastard rogues had killed Mariah without any remorse and so he’d done the only thing he could do. He’d ripped their fucking throats out, without remorse, of course.

Mariah was dead and there was nothing he could do about that. She’d died right in front of him, screaming and writhing until she could do neither anymore. If he’d just been a second faster, a minute more alert instead of basking in his own problems. He could have what? Saved her from being killed by shifting into a jaguar and ripping the heads off the four other men who changed into jaguars right in front of her.

That would have gone over real well.

Exposure was the biggest warning in the Ètica. In other words it was a huge no-no that all the Shadow Shifters lived with every day of their lives. Don’t tell humans who and what you are. Keep the secret, blend in, but do not become one of them. All his life he’d been taught this, the philosophy had been practically beaten into his head.

And he believed in that philosophy just as he believed in the Ètica and the upward movement of the Shadow Shifters who now took residence in the United States and who were working together toward a democracy for their kind, also known as the Stateside Shadow Shifters.

What he did not believe in was senseless death. And as he lifted what was left of Mariah into his arms, carrying her through the rain deeper into the Gungi, inhaling the stench of her blood that dripped continuously from her body, Bas cursed the rogues. He cursed their very existence even as he took pride in his own.

He also cursed himself for being so foolish as to become involved with a female, especially a human. How she’d come to be in the Gungi at all had been a mystery to him since the last time he’d seen her had been over a week ago. She hadn’t taken the break-up well, which was also something Bas had downplayed. He’d seen the look of hurt in her eyes when he’d so callously spoken those words and hadn’t bothered to look back after he’d left her standing in the hallway of her dorm. Had she come here looking for him? Had she thought following him would get them back together? His temples throbbed with what might be the worst headache ever.

Bas cursed not only the thoughts of how she’d come to be here but the fact that she’d made him feel weak and insignificant, a failure and a disgrace. Sort of like he’d felt when all his talking hadn’t kept the two people he’d loved most in this world together.

Beneath the heavy canopy of the forest and the dense rain that fell on a daily basis, Bas had buried Mariah, closing his eyes to pray over the mound of mud he’d padded tightly over her body. There would be no human funeral for her, the remains of her body could not be found. Too many questions would be asked. In time her parents would have her declared dead, they would grieve and then eventually move on. As for Bas, he would keep this secret with him for the rest of his days. But he vowed to never make this mistake again. “Never.” His voice was low but deep, traveling on the wind throughout the forest where he’d once taken solace.

Comastaz Laboratories

Sedona, Arizona

One year ago

“So we’re kidnappers now?”

“We’re not kidnappers. You are a scientist and I am a decorated officer of the United States Marine Corps. We’re both employed by the United States government and we have a responsibility to develop new and improved ways for our country’s defense.”

Dr. Mario DiLaurent scratched the back of his head, looking skeptically at the body lying still as a corpse on the examining table. It was encased half in and half out of a body bag, adding credence to the “dead” theory. But there was a pulse. He’d touched the wrist of what looked to be a Hispanic male, between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. His physique was huge, built like a battering ram, perfectly sculpted like a model. And he was in Mario’s lab, where the only humans allowed wore white coats and valid ID badges.