Page 26 of Bitten Shifter (The Bitten Chronicles #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

The mess hall buzzes with morning chatter and the clatter of trays as I work through my breakfast sandwich with exaggerated gusto. Across from me, Riker scowls, displeasure radiating off him. He is clearly still annoyed about my late-night run.

I swallow and sigh. “Why are you still glowering at me? You do realise I’m an adult, right? The base—the one you have kept insisting is secure—seemed safe enough. I needed to move, Riker. You understand that, right? Alice’s death was a shock.”

“Oh, I understand,” he growls, his tone heavy with disapproval. “Doesn’t mean I agree with you. What the hell were you thinking, Lark?”

“I thought I was safe, and it wouldn’t be a problem,” I say with a shrug.

“It’s not just about external threats. It’s about these little shits inside too. Any one of them could have hurt you.”

“I wasn’t—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“No, you were not thinking, and that’s the issue. Naturally, you then bump into a psychotic vampire who stopped by for a Lark snack.” He throws up his hands, muttering something about suicidal women.

I shrug again and focus on my breakfast. I’m starving. After last night’s events, I was too edgy to eat, and now my body feels jittery. As I chew, I run a hand over my hip bones, frowning. I’ve been losing weight too quickly, as though my body is burning through itself to deal with all these changes.

“How many calories do I need to eat a day, roughly?”

Riker doesn’t miss a beat. “About six thousand, given your weight and height.”

“Six thousand?” I stare. “That’s three times my normal intake.”

“Welcome to being a shifter. You can talk to the doctor later about blood tests and all that. They will explain.”

“Ah, tests,” I say, pushing the sandwich aside and reaching for my coffee. It’s dark and bitter—not great, but better than last night’s instant swill. At least it gives me the caffeine jolt I need.

A sudden hush falls over the hall like a wave receding, and the surrounding chatter dies. I glance up, puzzled. Riker snorts, stifling a laugh.

“What?” I whisper.

He doesn’t reply; instead, his gaze shifts to something—or someone—behind me.

I turn and see Merrick.

The Alpha Prime prowls through the mess, his icy blue eyes fixed on me. Under his coat, he’s wearing a dark blue T-shirt and designer jeans. The shirt clings to his defined muscles, rippling as he walks.

My heart hitches. Where’s his suit? I glance at his feet—high-end trainers. Now I’ve seen it all.

The Prime looks good .

“Lark.” Merrick leans against the table, his eyes roving over me like I’m the only person here.

I lift my coffee, meeting his intense gaze with forced calm. “Dickhead,” I reply, deadpan.

Riker nearly topples from his chair, howling with laughter. Merrick’s lips twitch, his icy facade cracking just enough to reveal a hint of warmth. The rest of the mess hall is deathly silent, disbelief hanging in the air.

A chair scrapes, followed by a muffled whisper, “Did the human just call the Alpha Prime a dickhead?”

“Shush, she’s his fated mate.”

Merrick shakes his head and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Ever since announcing his intentions, the man has become insufferably touchy-feely.

“Hello, little mate,” he says, his tone laced with affection. “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s only been a day,” I point out.

“A day is plenty of time to see you are not safe here. After your medical exam today, we’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” I echo, thrown off-guard. A vampire on the prowl has not exactly helped my nerves—or Riker’s—but a surge of relief washes over me. I’ve never felt comfortable here.

He nods, his expression gentle. “You will be safer with me.”

Safer with him. I sip my coffee, rolling the idea around in my head. At least it won’t be dull.

“He’s been here all night, ever since you ran into that vampire,” Riker says, sounding smug.

My chest tightens at the thought. “That’s… nice. Sorry if I caused you any trouble. I didn’t mean for anyone to be dragged out in the middle of the night.”

“You will never be a problem, Lark,” Merrick says, his voice unwavering. “Now, come on—you have got a medical appointment. I will walk you.”

I down the last sip of coffee, grab what is left of my sandwich, wave goodbye to Riker and follow him.

He slows his pace, closing the distance between us as if he can’t resist being near me, nudging my shoulder lightly with his. I huff and sidestep; he smiles that infuriatingly soft smile.

Outside, the morning air is crisp. Merrick gestures towards the main building. “The clinic’s around the back.”

“Thank you.”

I finish the sandwich just as he opens the door. We enter, met by a receptionist whose fluttering lashes and saccharine smile are aimed right at Merrick.

“Alpha Prime,” she coos. “We have been expecting you.”

Merrick’s voice hardens. “You are expecting Lark Winters, not me.” He does not acknowledge her attempts at charm, nor does he even look at her.

I grin childishly.

She blinks, nodding. “Of course. Lark Winters. Right this way.” She barely glances at me. I might as well be invisible so much for equal footing.

She leads us to an examination room, where a doctor waits behind a desk, a bright, eager smile plastered on her face. She nods politely at Merrick but focuses on me with a vaguely predatory gleam in her eyes—the same one the receptionist gave Merrick. It’s like the look you would give a decadent dessert.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Sheridan. Please, Miss Winters, take a seat.”

“Thank you,” I say, sitting down where she indicates.

“We have several tests planned,” she says, scrolling through data on her tablet. “I’m particularly interested in your case. We’d like cerebrospinal fluid, bone marrow?—”

Merrick’s low growl silences her. “That’s not why Miss Winters is here. She is here for basic tests to confirm she is fit to leave—nothing else. She is not your lab rat.”

Doctor Sheridan’s expression falls. “Of course not, Alpha Prime. I would never?—”

His eyes narrow. “We discussed this. Just the basics, Doctor.”

She lowers her gaze. “Yes, Alpha.”

I exhale, relieved she won’t be poking and prodding beyond reason. Once Merrick leaves, she continues with the standard tests, clearly disappointed.

Twenty minutes later, I’m finished. Everything looks normal. I’m unlikely to shift for a few more days, and I’m otherwise healthy.

Doctor Sheridan can’t resist telling me I’m developing faster than expected, implying more tests would be ideal. I ignore her.

When I step outside, Merrick is waiting—silent, seething with anger that radiates off him.

“Are you all right?” I ask quietly.

“I’m fine,” he says, though he does not look fine at all. “That was absurd. I’m sorry. No one should subject you to extra procedures without explanation. I’m glad I was there.” He pauses, gaze distant. “Doctor Sheridan is good at her job, which is the only reason she is here. She got… carried away. I will have someone keep an eye on her.”

He types furiously on his phone. I begin heading for the barracks, but without looking up, Merrick gently takes my elbow and steers me towards the car park instead. A sleek black car waits.

“Fancy. The Alpha Prime must come with some great perks.”

“It was a gift from the Vampire Court.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do they often give you presents, or is this a special gift?” My inner voice adds sarcastically, Like, for when one of theirs is stalking your mate?

“They send things occasionally, but I don’t always accept them.”

“And this one?” I ask, gesturing at the gleaming bonnet.

He shrugs. “I needed a new car. So this one’s mine.”

Of course it is.

“Riker will bring your belongings.”

I’m grateful I left my room tidy.

Merrick turns to me. “Before we go, I have something for you.”

He produces a delicate necklace, the chain gleaming—white gold or platinum—with a tiny vial of swirling blue liquid suspended at its centre.

“It’s a spell,” he explains. “Protection. If you are in danger, crack the vial and let the liquid absorb into your skin—or fur. It creates a powerful ward around you, shielding one person only. Two, and it fails. Once activated, no one—shifter, vampire, whatever—can detect you, not even if you are injured. It will keep you safe until I find you.”

The vial looks priceless. Accepting something so valuable feels strange, but with a vampire sniffing around, I’d be foolish to refuse.

“Thank you,” I say, taking it.

Merrick steps closer, lifting my hair as he helps slip the chain over my head. His fingers brush my neck, and I shiver.

“Always,” he murmurs, voice warm.

Awkwardly, I slide into the car. “So, um,” I say, desperate to fill the silence, “what is your favourite colour?”

He chuckles—a sound that sends a tiny thrill through me. “Silver. Though it used to be warm brown.”

I tilt my head. “Oh, that’s interesting.” Then, feigning a huff, I add, “Silver like my eyes, eh? You old flirt.”

His mouth curves. “You caught me.”

I roll my eyes, my cheeks warming. “My favourite colour is pink.”

“Pink? But you don’t wear anything pink.”

“I know, but it’s still my favourite. It’s so bright and cheerful.”

Merrick hums under his breath.

I smirk. “What do you do for fun, Alpha Prime? Besides bossing people about?”

“Martial arts and fitness training,” he replies with a lazy grin. Then his gaze hardens. “Speaking of martial arts, I heard about your fight—and your broken nose.” He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. “You have healed impressively fast.”

“I have, haven’t I?” I play it off, though I’m as surprised as he is. Overnight, the swelling vanished, the bruises faded. “I’m officially done looking like a panda. But whatever you do, don’t tell Doctor Sheridan.”

He growls softly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We drive out through the gates, the guards dipping their heads in respectful bows. I glance at Merrick. “Doesn’t that get old? Everyone kissing your arse?”

“All the time,” he admits, amused. “But not everyone does. You and Riker are especially bad at it. Perhaps I should give you lessons.”

I snort. “No thanks. You’re not my alpha.”

“No, I’m your mate. And I’m glad no one else will ever be your alpha.”

We lapse into a companionable silence, the road winding through dense woodland as the militarised landscape of Zone One falls behind. That’s when it happens.

A lorry comes out of nowhere.

It smashes into the driver’s side with a thunderous crash, and the car flips, spinning like a leaf in a storm. The world is a blur—up, down, sideways—until it finally slams to a stop, upside down.

Hair falls over my face, and my seat belt digs painfully into my neck and chest. Blood trickles from a cut on my forehead, and my ankle aches, but I’m alive.

“Merrick?” My voice trembles. “Merrick, are you okay?”

His side of the car is crushed, blood smearing his face. He’s unconscious, but his chest still rises and falls. Relief floods me—he is alive.

I fumble with my seat belt, stopping myself before I land headfirst on the roof. Through the shattered windscreen, I see movement. The lorry must have hit us full pelt—it’s halfway down the road—and two… no, four men leap out with alarming purpose.

Shit. They are not lorry drivers. This is an ambush.

The door groans and pops as I force it open, kicking it wide. At least we have an exit.

“Merrick, wake up!” I shake him. “There are guys with guns. Merrick!”

His belt is jammed. I pull and twist until it finally gives. He falls, and I lower his head gently, easing him from the wreck. My new shifter strength helps me drag him—just about. Shifters weigh a tonne, all dense bone and muscle.

We roll down a shallow, dry ditch at the roadside. I lay him on his side, slip off my hoodie, and cushion his head. Clear his airway, Lark. My hands shake as I wipe blood from his nose and mouth.

I’ve never felt so helpless—or so terrified.

I pat his pockets and find his phone, unlocking it with his thumb. My fingers quiver as I dial Riker.

“Ello—”

“Riker, we have been run off the road—a lorry—” I blurt the plate number. “Four men. Merrick’s unconscious.”

“Run,” Riker demands. “Leave him and run.”

“No, I’m not leaving him.” I position Merrick carefully, heart hammering. “Can you track his phone?”

“Lark, he’d want you to be safe.”

“Well, I’m not doing it. Can you track his phone?”

“Yes. Now get out of there!”

I have no time to argue. Another car and a van screech to a halt, disgorging more men who fan out, advancing on us.

I place the phone by Merrick’s head, tug the necklace from my throat, and crack the vial. As the magic liquid seeps into his limp hand, I step back, and the ward springs to life, shimmering faintly before becoming invisible.

He should be hidden now, safe from detection.

Shit. They are closing in, their figures silhouetted against the wreckage. I inch toward the trees, but one of them spots me.

I expected that.

“Mrs Emerson,” he calls, mocking. “Where’s your guard dog?”

“He ran,” I lie, willing my voice to stay calm.

He laughs, motioning for the others. They are human—and armed. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

He points his gun at me, and I hold my trembling hands up.

He seizes my wrists and yanks them behind my back, cinching them with a zip tie. His fingers brush my scars, and his face tightens.

“Damn. That’s ugly. Can’t believe you survived.”

“I can’t believe you are kidnapping me,” I shoot back.

He tuts. “Ah, that’s Human First for you. You call it kidnapping; we call it justice. Your husband put out the word. The shifters had no right to turn you. By our laws, you’re still human—and breaking them. So we’re taking you in.”

“You are taking me back to the Human Sector for a trial?”

“Humans who break our laws,” he says, smiling coldly, “don’t get trials.”

I glare, refusing to show fear. “So what are you going to do, kill me?”

“Oh, we will make it quick,” he answers, voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“Dignified, even. Think of it as a service—we’re happy to put you out of your misery.”