Cursed Mate: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Feral Shifters Book 3) Read online

  Cursed Mate

  Feral Shifters: Book Three

  Callie Rose

  Copyright © 2021 by Callie Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  1. Amora

  2. Kian

  3. Amora

  4. Amora

  5. Amora

  6. Frost

  7. Amora

  8. Amora

  9. Amora

  10. Malix

  11. Amora

  12. Amora

  13. Kian

  14. Amora

  15. Amora

  16. Amora

  17. Malix

  18. Amora

  19. Frost

  20. Amora

  21. Amora

  22. Malix

  23. Amora

  24. Amora

  25. Frost

  26. Amora

  27. Amora

  28. Amora

  29. Kian

  Books by Callie Rose

  Amora

  My heart is lodged in my throat, heavy and choking. Hot tears sting my eyes, blurring the scene unfolding before me. I hold my breath, fists clenched against my knees as I kneel only inches away from Frost’s deathly still form.

  Kian grunts with the effort of doing chest compressions. His messy chestnut hair swings wildly around his rugged face as his body heaves above Frost’s with each compression. Arms taut, muscles bulging, he looks so much more massive than Frost’s lithe, slender form. Like one wrong move will break the smaller man beyond recovery.

  Or maybe I feel that way because I know he’s dead.

  No, I snarl at myself, tightening my fingers until my nails dig painfully into my palms. The sharp sting grounds me to the here and now, and I try to drag my thoughts away from the black pit that threatens to consume them, reminding myself that there's still hope.

  He’s not dead. Not yet.

  At least… I hope not.

  Frost’s shadow marks—those dark, swirling, tattoo-like patterns that cover his body—are still moving. Sluggishly, but still, they are moving. I have no idea if that’s a good thing or not, since his shadows are a separate part of his consciousness. Like a parasite that lives inside him. Inside all of them.

  If he had died, would they be dead, too? Or would they continue to feed off him like a virus?

  For all of our sakes, I hope it’s the former, because it’s the one thing I’m clinging to right now. I'm not letting that tiny hope go. If the shadows on his skin are still moving, that means he hasn’t been taken from me yet.

  “Come on,” Kian growls. Even roughened and strained as it is now, his voice is still like whiskey and woodsmoke, the deep sound much more reassuring to me than I want it to be.

  Not too long ago, he was my enemy. The one man in all the world I hated enough that if he’d died, I would’ve danced on his fucking grave. Hell, my only goal in life was to send him to that grave myself. I avoided whiskey for years because I couldn’t stand the way it reminded me of him.

  And now…

  Now, I don’t know. I don’t know what we are to each other, but I know I don’t want him to die, any more than I want Frost to die. I need him to live. I need all three of my onetime mates to live, in spite of everything they did to me and all the bad blood that’s passed between us.

  Maybe we still haven’t healed from their betrayal on that mountaintop, when they severed the bond between us like they were cutting away a burr. But the possibility is there, I think. One day.

  Things do change.

  Just like people do die.

  I clench my teeth and take a deep breath, trying to get ahold of my emotions. The mountain breeze has dissipated, leaving the cold night air sitting heavy on my bare skin. The trees around us seem dangerous and too still, full of darkness and shadows.

  Maybe even shadows that could hurt us.

  I never used to fear the dark as a little girl, but now I know that some monsters which lurk in the shadows are all too real.

  “Frost!” Kian snarls, his breath huffing out on the name. A swirl of white fog emanates from his lips as he speaks. “Come on, goddammit. Stay with me.”

  His own smoky tattoos wave erratically, twisting and twining up his arms as his muscles twitch and jolt from the effort. I've never seen his shadows move like that; it’s a stark, visible show of his emotions.

  Kian isn’t the type to let his emotions rule his actions or body. The very fact that he is now terrifies me, threatening to snuff out the tiny spark of hope that still lives in my chest.

  Malix’s tattoos aren’t as wild as Kian’s, but they’re moving too. He kneels at Frost’s head, his dark hands contrasting starkly with Frost’s abnormally pale face and even paler hair. He watches Kian work with hooded violet eyes, his usually good-natured expression broken. Dazed. Despairing.

  The look on his face stabs me right in the heart. Right in the place where our mate bond used to reside. Now, it’s only a gaping void that feels like it’ll never be whole again.

  The three of them may have cut their metaphysical tie to me in some stupid, cruelly heroic attempt to keep me safe, but the bond between each of these men is as strong as ever. They’re all so close. Inseparable, really, like three parts of a whole that won’t survive without all its pieces. Frost is an essential part of who they are.

  If he doesn’t make it…

  I swallow in a vain attempt to shove down my tears. I shift closer on my knees, wishing I could touch Frost. Wishing he’d open his eyes. Wishing I had told him how I really feel about him before I lost the chance forever.

  And still, his tattoos, the external marker of the magic that makes him a feral shifter, continue to wave in agonizingly slow motion.

  Fury creeps in at the edges of my thoughts. Quinton did this to him. Frost’s old alpha pushed too much shadow magic into him. More than he could handle until it overwhelmed him. The sound of Frost’s agonized scream has continued to replay in my head over and over since we escaped Quinton’s pack, fighting for our lives and leaving several bodies scattered in our wake as we raced off through the forest.

  Even worse than the scream was the look of pure, raw agony on Frost’s face. But maybe the agony was better than the blank, slack, dead look he wears now.

  Quinton stopped his heart.

  Quinton killed him.

  And I'm going to kill Quinton if it’s the last fucking thing I do.

  “Frost!” Kian growls again, his tone a frantic mix of anger and fear. “Wake up. We need you! Come back to us.”

  The way his large hands compress Frost’s bare chest makes bile rise in my throat. Frost’s skin gives under the force of it like soft clay, making him look like a silicone dummy rather than a man. How is this not breaking his rib cage? Bruising his organs?

  How can he come back from this?

  Malix closes his eyes and bows his head as if in prayer, still cradling Frost’s head in his lap. Sweat beads at his dark hairline, reminding me that we just sprinted miles and miles to get away from Quint
on and the rest of his pack.

  My arms are tired and feel like jelly. Not because I had to race wildly across the landscape, but because I had to keep my dying mate from slipping off Kian’s back during the journey.

  I can’t help myself. I reach out and brush my fingers over Frost’s bare thigh. He’s so cold. Too cold. The kind of cold that only comes as the oxygen fades and the blood chills.

  And I can’t do anything to warm him.

  Not too long ago, I wanted Frost dead. I wanted all three of them dead, and I planned to do it myself to save the world from a witch’s apocalyptic premonition.

  You have not one mate, but three.

  And they will destroy the world.

  All those months, two years’ worth of months, where I chased them down, desperate to put a stop to their chaos. It was my all-consuming goal for so long.

  Except now… now I know better. I know they’re good men. Or at least, not evil. I know they’re capable of love because they love each other. I know they’re capable of empathy and goodness because they’ve shown me the truth. I would move heaven and earth to change fate, if it means they survive.

  All of them.

  My stomach twists around itself like a snake, cramping with worry. I leave my fingers resting on Frost’s leg as his body shakes beneath Kian’s palms.

  The idea of him dying tears me apart inside.

  “Frost!” Kian roars, his face twisting with emotion. The jagged scar that bisects his eyebrow is pale white and mottled red, and it knots with his pained grimace. He looks like a warrior whose partner has fallen in battle. He moves faster, presses harder, and his breaths become shallower.

  Like a man possessed.

  Or a brother lost.

  Malix reaches out to put his hand over Kian’s. “That’s enough. It’s done.”

  “No!” I blurt the word on a gasp, my entire body turning cold. The tears that have been threatening to spill over finally do, wetting my lashes and my cheeks. A small sob slips from me, and I squeeze Frost’s leg to ground myself.

  Fuck. Fuck. Oh god. Fuck. This is it. He’s not going to make it.

  I think of Frost standing in Erik’s private library. We killed the solitary witch for trying to sell us out to Felicity, Quinton’s estranged mate, then we searched his house for anything that could help us on our quest to neutralize the shadow poison that was killing us both. Frost looked like he was formed from the dark and shadows in that room, his pale blond hair a spot of brightness as he pulled books from shelves. He opened up to me that night about the pain they feel carrying shadow magic around all the time. He showed me how intelligent he was, how quick he was with strategy.

  He told me how being near me eased his constant ache.

  And then, after I tracked them to their pack lands and was captured by Quinton, he saved my life. Without a second thought. Without hesitation. He threw himself against Quinton’s gun to keep him from putting a bullet in me, effectively severing ties with his alpha.

  For me.

  Another sob wracks my body. I lean over and press my face to his cold, pale skin and give in to my tears.

  But then Kian lets out a harsh, triumphant cry.

  I bolt upright, my eyes flying wide.

  Frost drags in a harsh, almost pained gasp of air. He stirs slightly, his fingers twitching. Then he coughs and sucks in another breath.

  My own heart seems to stop, the air freezing in my lungs as I stare at him in disbelief.

  Kian did it.

  He brought him back.

  Relief floods me so strongly that my limbs feel rubbery. Chest aching from unshed tears and a gratitude that I can’t even articulate, I crawl up next to Kian to lean over Frost. I want to be close to him. To watch him come back to us.

  His icy blue eyes flutter open in increments, as if he’s surfacing from a heavy sleep. He pulls in another deep, ragged breath, grimacing. One hand drifts to his chest like he’s in pain. I can’t say I’m surprised, given how hard Kian was pumping his heart. He has to have a broken rib or two, or at least several bruised ones. For a moment, Frost’s eyes are unfocused, his brows pulled together as he tries to gain his bearings.

  Then his gaze shifts to me.

  We lock eyes, and my heart jumps in my chest. Recognition crosses his face, mixed with the lingering confusion that still hovers there. His expression softens, chasing away the dazed look with something almost like love.

  Oh, thank God.

  He’s still himself. He still knows me. The relief is almost painful, and happy tears burn hot in my eyes. I can’t find my voice, but I manage to mouth his name. Frost.

  I want to blurt out words that I would never consider saying under normal circumstances. The truth of how I feel about him, how deeply he’s embedded himself in my heart, mate bond or no. I want to tell him I owe him everything, that I owe him the rest of my life for saving me.

  But then everything changes in a split second.

  The tenderness melts away from his features, the softness draining from his blue eyes. His expression contorts, turning vicious. One moment, his angular, aristocratic features are soft and loving, then the next, he’s a monster.

  Snarling with fury, he surges up from the ground—lunging right for me.

  Kian

  What the fuck?

  Frost lunges at Amora, and shock explodes inside me, cutting through my relief. I react instantly, moving faster than I can think as I reach out and shove her sideways with all my strength. She sprawls awkwardly into the dirt, arms and legs akimbo, but out of Frost’s attack path.

  Frost slams into me instead.

  I absorb the blow on my left shoulder, latching on to his arms as we go down, even as we hit the ground so hard it rattles my teeth. Twisting around, I throw Frost to the ground instead, using his own momentum to get him down. I follow him, landing on top of him to try to pin him. He thrashes violently, inhuman noises coming from deep inside his chest. Snatching at his wrists, I get a grip on him and slam him to the grass and dirt, one knee slanted over his thighs to hold him down.

  Malix jumps in to help, but Frost begins to buck as madly as a wild mustang. His shadows flicker and convulse all over him, the shadow magic fueling him from the inside. Despite the fact that I started out with the upper hand, I quickly lose control of his limbs.

  He backhands me across the face with the full force of his body behind the blow. I hurtle sideways and hit the grass, barely able to catch myself on both hands. I land awkwardly, my arm twisting under me so that I go down hard on the same shoulder Frost barreled into seconds ago. My vision goes black for a split second from his punch, and when I finally shake it off, Frost is shifting to his shadow wolf form.

  Malix’s hands wrap around my biceps, and he hauls me to my feet. He keeps one hand on me, steadying me, as we both watch Frost’s transition with growing horror.

  Shadows spill around his body like liquid smoke. He morphs larger. And then larger. Even larger than he was before Quinton overloaded him with shadow magic. He looks more like a horse than a wolf. Like a goddamn Clydesdale. Long limbs of rippling muscles, a barrel chest big enough to take down trees, and a vicious snout large enough to bite through my own shadow wolf head.

  Our shadow wolf forms are already massive, deadly weapons, but he’s on a whole new level now.

  Worse than the physical damage that’s been done to him, something feels different about him. The three of us have always been close—closer than normal pack mates, so deeply connected that it’s as if we each hold a piece of the other’s soul. And I can feel a change in him through the bond we share, as if the essence of what made him Frost has been irrevocably broken.

  He’s drowning in darkness. Too deep for me to reach.

  His shadows have taken over, filling him with nothing but rage, pain, and fury.

  Malix curses under his breath as the shift completes, releasing his grip on my arm as we stare up at our brother.

  “Well,” he mutters. “That’s new.”

>   Ignoring his ridiculous attempt at levity, I flick my gaze toward Amora. “Run. Now.”

  She’s still on the ground where I knocked her away, looking shocked and fearful, which isn’t an expression I’m used to on such a badass woman. For once, she doesn’t question me. She darts to her feet, as graceful as a deer, her skin pale against the backdrop of the dark forest. With a single leap, she shifts to her wolf form before she hits the ground. Her dark brown fur helps conceal her as she flees over the flat terrain, skirting around trees.

  Frost’s attention snaps to her, drawn by the movement, but we don’t give him a chance to react. My shadows shift restlessly, itching for a fight, and I let them loose. Magic pours over my body, stretching ligaments and tendons, lengthening my limbs, and filling me with the buzz of shadow energy. Before the shift has fully completed, I’m on top of Frost, with Malix right behind me.

  I’ve already figured out that Frost has grown physically from the influx of shadow magic Quinton forced into him, but the level of his new strength is much more apparent once I latch on to his scruff. He tosses me off like I weigh nothing at all, then swings his massive head around into Malix’s body like a wrecking ball. We both slam to the ground inches apart and scramble back to our feet.

  Frost! I call out in mind speak, darting ahead of him to try to catch his gaze. I need to restore the connection between us. I need to bring him back from the darkness. Listen to me. Do you rememb—

  He swipes at me with a massive paw. I manage to duck the blow and dance several feet away to consider my next move.