Page 32 of Bitten Shifter (The Bitten Chronicles #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

“It’s all right,” Merrick says, his tone gentle. “You are safe, and we have checked the document. There’s no nefarious magic. They just want to talk—to you, to us.”

I wiggle in my chair, trying to put some distance between myself and the glowing envelope. The fear rising inside me must be obvious, because Merrick moves faster than I can react, sweeping me up as though I weigh nothing. He sits, pulling me into his lap.

“What the heck?” My surprise momentarily pushes the fear away.

Riker bursts out laughing at my expression. “Priceless.”

“Merrick,” I protest.

“I know.” His arms tighten around me. “But please humour me. I need to hold you. I don’t like seeing you frightened.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I groan in embarrassment. “I’m not frightened.” Despite myself, I relax against him, my head resting on his solid chest. “Fine. What is going to happen?”

“It’s not us who are in a conundrum,” Merrick says, his voice low and steady. “The human government, however, is going to have a problem.” He cuddles me closer, but there’s a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

My stomach twists. “What is wrong?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “I read your medical file. At fifteen, the human government sterilised you,” he says, his tone sharp with disbelief and grief.

I shrug, brushing it off. “Yeah, it happens. They do it to everyone with faulty DNA. They sterilised a lot of us. They didn’t know I was a magic user.”

“You kept your magic hidden.”

“Yeah.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “It didn’t show up until later, until after I was sterilised. I always thought it was stress-induced. I never told anyone. I kept it a secret for over thirty years, so this”—I gesture towards the summons—“didn’t happen. That Magic Hunter at the warehouse, the one who tried to help me, knew what I could do. He said he could taste my magic.”

I glare at Riker. “And now you guys know. Oh, and the entire Ministry of Magic, apparently. What do they want?” I ask, eyeing the envelope as though it might explode. “I’m not touching that.”

“It’s safe. My magic staff checked it thoroughly,” Merrick assures me.

Reluctantly, I pull the spiky-feeling envelope towards me. The magic pricks at my skin, but I break the seal and extract the heavy parchment.

“Dear Mrs Winters,” I read aloud, then glance at Merrick. “Look at that. I’ve been upgraded.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Yeah, you have been upgraded, little mate.”

“Without my consent.”

“Hospital thing,” he says with a shrug.

“Uh-huh. Hospital thing.” I shake my head and skim the letter. “This feels like I’m getting an invitation to Hogwarts.”

“Not quite as exciting,” Merrick replies dryly.

“They want to speak to me. In person.” I look up at him. “Are we going?” I’m certainly not going by myself.

“As soon as we deal with Human First, we will.”

I fiddle with the edge of the parchment. “And… the Ministry of Magic—will they make me stay with them?” The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

“They can’t. You are no longer human. You’re a shifter—part of our society. Your magic changes nothing. You are my mate, and they wouldn’t dare harm a single hair on your head.” Merrick plucks the letter from my hands and sets it aside.

Riker gestures to the wall of screens. “All right, technomancer. Do your thing.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not some performing puppy, Riker. And I’ve already stated my terms—I will help, but only if I come too.”

I lock eyes with Merrick, neither of us backing down.

“Fine.” Merrick’s voice cuts through the tension, gruff. “You can come, but only under my direct supervision.” His eyes narrow, the weight of his alpha authority pressing down. “You stay by my side. No arguments.”

Riker leans back in his chair, smirking. “Under the thumb already, Alpha Prime? Impressive.” His gaze flicks to me. “You are such a troublemaker. We will need to double the strike teams to keep you out of trouble.”

I shrug, unrepentant. “Maybe. But I’m still going, aren’t I? Can I please have a laptop?”

“Yes, of course. Riker, grab the laptop, please,” Merrick asks.

Riker rolls his eyes but obliges, muttering something about ‘high-maintenance technomancers’ under his breath.

I sigh. I don’t want to leave Merrick’s warmth and the shelter of his arms. He lets out a low, gruff sound—half growl, half protest—as I reluctantly slide off his lap and settle back into my chair. The loss of his touch is immediate and unsettling.

Riker places the computer in front of me. “Thanks,” I mutter.

Merrick’s gaze never leaves me, a subtle intensity in his eyes, as if willing me to stay close. I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing myself to focus. There’s work to be done. I blink. “It’s my laptop.”

Of course it is.

“Yep, all your stuff’s here,” Riker says with a grin.

All my stuff? I glance at Merrick, suspicion narrowing my eyes. “So, we’re living together now?”

He smiles that soft, disarming smile and bumps his shoulder against mine—bloody touchy-feely shifter. Little touches on my neck. Sneaky kisses on my temple. Always there. Making my heart skip. Making my skin hum with electricity and my resolve dangerously pliable.

“I want my own space. My own bed,” I add quickly, even as goosebumps race up my arms. “This does not mean you get to skip out on dating me first. Fate might have spoken, but we still need to get to know each other. All the hanky-panky stuff can wait.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I will court you properly.”

Court me? I bite my lip to stop the smile. Damn it, I like him. Not just because of fate, his stupid beauty, or the way he makes me feel alive. I like him .

I focus on the laptop, logging in and pulling up a mapping programme. My magic hums at the ready. “Here.” I tap a key and send the data to the wall of monitors. The screens flicker and then display a detailed map, street views, and nearby security surveillance.

“They are in this building here,” I say, pointing. I use my magic to zoom in. “All of them, except the Magic Hunter—I can’t track him properly; it might be because he’s too far away. But the rest? They are clustered together in the Human Sector. Waiting for something.”

Merrick leans forward, his jaw tight. “Planning another attack?”

“More than likely,” Riker says.

“And before you ask, no, it’s not a decoy. They are using their devices—actively. It’s real.”

Merrick growls low under his breath, the sound reverberating through the room. “This building is in the Human Sector. I will need to deal with the human police before we plan anything.” His tone turns deadly. “It will take a little… persuasion.”

Watching Merrick work is fascinating. Once I pull up all the data, he calls in the troops. The war room transforms into a hive of activity—men and women, all impeccably trained, moving with purpose and deferring to Merrick’s authority. He spends most of his time on the phone, negotiating with his contacts in the Human Sector.

The sticking point? The humans want their people present during the operation. Merrick isn’t having it. Eventually, they settle on one human observer—a compromise, but a win for him.

By the time late afternoon rolls around, the plan is set, the team ready. We grab a quick meal—which feels more like a feast, given how shifters eat—and everyone leaves to prepare. We will head out just before dark. The drive to the target—an old office building closed for renovations—will take a couple of hours.

I keep a light, magical connection on the ‘bad guys’ while Merrick’s human police contacts monitor the area.

The building has an old, active security system, but it’s a closed circuit—no internet connection. I will need to access it manually when we arrive. Merrick does not want to risk tipping them off. After how quickly they left the Shifter Sector following my abduction and attack, it’s clear they are jumpy and far smarter than we’d assumed.

Meanwhile, Paul is missing. They have been hunting him since I named him as the one who tipped off Human First, but he has vanished. The annulment wrecked his finances, and with the forced sale of the house, he’s been reduced to crashing at a friend’s place.

Dove, unsurprisingly, left him. She told the police it was all my fault. According to her, if I’d ‘kept hold of my husband,’ none of this would have happened.