Stalking His Mate: League Of Gallize Shifters Read online

  Copyright © 2018, Dianna Love Snell

  ELECTRONIC EDITION

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  League of Gallize Shifters

  The Belador Series

  Author Bio

  A Word From Dianna

  Dedication

  Thank you, Sherry Arnold, for all your support through the years.

  STALKING HIS MATE

  League of Gallize Shifters series

  Having spent her life as a captive, Siofra escapes when her power surfaces to save her from an attack, which exposes her as a nonhuman. All she wants to do is find her brother who is also being hunted, then vanish to live free from shifters. That was the plan and it would have worked if a golden-eyed jaguar shifter hadn’t stepped between her and a dangerous jackal, throwing a major kink in her escape when she falls for the sexy protector.

  Rory didn’t choose to be a jaguar shifter and is determined to not mate even though he faces death from the Gallize mating curse if he doesn’t. The end may come sooner than he expects when his jaguar loses the ability to heal them, but that doesn’t prevent Rory from racing in to save a young woman from a vicious predator. The moment Siofra is in his arms and his power reaches out to hers, he struggles against the primal pull of the one woman he’s drawn to as a mate. Even if he didn’t feel the need to end his bloodline, she hates shifters.

  None of that will matter if Rory fails to stop the deadly Black River Pack from using Siofra in a grisly experiment when she’s caught in a trap.

  “GRAY WOLF MATE is a truly ground-breaking paranormal romance. Ms. Love is a writer who can conceive an innovative idea, and then cleverly bring it to life for readers to enjoy.” Always Reviewing (League of Gallize Shifters book 1)

  Note: All the League of Gallize Shifters books are stand-alone paranormal romances.

  For information on signed print copies and print preorders, visit AuthorDiannaLove.com or DiannaLoveSignedBooks.com

  Please join my PRIVATE PARANORMAL READER COMMUNITY to stay up on all my releases.

  Chapter 1

  “What do you want, Dyson?” Siofra forced the question out as calmly as she could while her gaze darted to the warehouse exit door.

  Too far away.

  She’d never reach it before the jackal shifter caught her.

  “I’m here to see you,” Dyson replied, his sarcastic tone honed to a nasty edge.

  She’d feared he would say that. “Give me a minute to finish.”

  Sweat poured down her face and soaked the T-shirt and bib overalls she wore. Big fans on each end of the metal building spun, but did little against the stifling August heat, even this late in the day. With Dyson standing so close, though, she perspired for a whole new reason. He’d been sniffing around her for the last two weeks, but she wanted nothing to do with him ... or any other shifter.

  Why would any of the guards want her as a bed partner anyhow? She looked as drab and plain as she felt, plus they thought she was ... off. Who wouldn’t be in her shoes? She’d been captured as a child and believed she was human ... only to find out differently.

  That secret would die with her. She would never let the ...

  She stopped short of thinking the name of her captors. They claimed to be able to hear her thoughts.

  As a child, that had terrified her.

  As an adult she had doubts but erred on the side of caution, because those people were definitely not human.

  She’d been working her fingers to the bone in her current misery camp. A sweatshop in the truest sense of the word. They’d stuck her in a crappy metal building with no air conditioning, somewhere in South Texas.

  She’d found out that much about her location, but it didn’t matter. No one was riding in on a white horse to save her.

  She’d lived in camps like this since the night jackal shifters had shown up at her father’s one-room apartment in Gary, Indiana, killing him and taking her.

  At six years old, she’d been starving in Gary and freezing during the winter.

  Compared to that, she’d at first thought getting fed and clothed was living a dream.

  Once she had a full stomach, it became painfully clear she was not in paradise. She spent months expecting someone to rescue her.

  Fifteen years as a captive had destroyed that hope.

  “Your minute is up, bitch,” Dyson bit out.

  “Please. I have to finish this last romper,” she said, turning the toddler outfit over to stitch a seam she’d already sewn once. She hadn’t minded the last camp so much, because she’d been in charge of the small children. Older female captives had taught her reading, writing and more as she grew up. Later on, Siofra jumped at the chance to tutor the younger children. Sure, they were all captives, but the camp leaders didn’t want to deal with idiots.

  She didn’t realize until later that an educated captive was more valuable for trading or selling when not kept for breeding.

  She couldn’t put this shifter off forever. “Your boss will be upset if I don’t get done, Dyson.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you have left. They blew the whistle three minutes ago.
You shoulda been done by now.”

  She’d heard the 7:30 PM signal for the end of her ten-hour sewing shift, but had stayed because she loved making children’s clothing. It was the one bright break in her day. She hoped some child enjoyed the extra little flower and bug designs she added.

  No sewing on Saturday, which sucked. Sewing, especially for children, beat being elbow-deep in washing clothes and cleaning the living quarters for animals like the one looming over her.

  Tomorrow was Saturday, right?

  Didn’t matter.

  What did matter was getting out of here and away from Dyson, who had a dangerous ego. If someone observed him from afar, he’d be considered attractive, with pale brown hair, thick-lashed eyes and straight teeth.

  Up close, it was easier to see how all of that hid a monster and not just a jackal shifter.

  She’d been lonely for years, but as much as she craved being with someone, it would not be any of the jackal shifters guarding this camp.

  And never Dyson. She knew for sure she had not given him any encouragement, just the opposite. So why had he been coming on to her lately?

  Most of the guards gave her a wide berth. They thought she might be possessed.

  They might be right.

  Her skin crawled every time Dyson flirted with her.

  No flirting today.

  Tension poured off him, mixing with the stifling heat to suffocate her more. She folded over a new seam to add one more row of stitches. Sweat trickled into her eyes.

  Why wasn’t Dyson out training with the others?

  She’d once seen him snap and beat another guard to a pulp. Might be a good idea to talk to him and figure out what was going on while she did her best to drag out the time in hopes someone else would show up.

  “What do you need me to do, Dyson?” she asked as if she cared. “As soon as I finish here, they want me at the kitchen.” That would be her next six-hour shift of the day.

  “That’ll all wait,” he said in a gravelly voice that sounded only half human. “I’ve got a half hour free and we’re gonna fuck.”

  “What?” She jerked her head up.

  He started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “No.” She pushed the chair back, scraping its wooden legs on the concrete floor. “I am not interested in having sex with you.” She wasn’t having sex with anyone, but definitely not a shifter.

  She’d only had sex with one teenage boy, and that had been at a really low point when she’d been moved to a new work camp at sixteen. He’d been sweet to her and she’d been so lonely. He’d caught her during a hormone overload. She’d been happy for about two days.

  The camp leader found out and the boy disappeared.

  Dyson yanked his shirt off and tossed it.

  His eyes switched between his natural brown and bright yellow. Not fully glowing, but close. Being a shifter meant nonhuman characteristics to begin with, but over the years she’d come to learn that glowing eyes were a sign of impending danger, particularly with Dyson.

  She might be twenty-one years old, but she had little experience with men.

  Dyson had bent over and started pulling off his boots.

  Enough of this crap. “I don’t understand, Dyson. I thought you had a girlfriend.” Of course, Bernadette slept with half the guards.

  His jaw muscles flexed and the crazy in his eyes kicked up another level. “You’re wasting my half hour. Get. Naked. Now.”

  She glanced around, hoping the other two who normally stayed after would help her out, but ... they were gone.

  Does my life not suck enough that I have to deal with this, too?

  Baatar would fuss at her for staying after the end of a shift. She could hear him grumbling in that deep, soft voice of his. “Never be alone, Sheef-rah.” He was the only one who ever pronounced her name right, and the only man in the world she trusted. She thought of him as a brother, her sole family after years of having no one in her corner.

  He said little about his past, just that he’d been brought here from China, but he didn’t sound Chinese. His accent reminded her of a captive she’d met from Ukraine. Baatar had treated her as a younger sister from the day he arrived six months ago, the same day he stepped in to protect her the first time.

  Also, he didn’t see her as a freak, probably because he didn’t fit in either.

  She stood and started wringing her hands, trying to think of how to escape.

  Baatar was doing some kind of training today, too far away to be of any help, which was probably why jerkface here chose this moment. Baatar despised all the guards but would think she was currently safe in a group of women.

  Barefoot now, Dyson unzipped his pants.

  She’d say he looked determined, but that would be too kind for the predatory gaze staring her down.

  She could not overpower a shifter and definitely not this one, whose breath often smelled of a lime tea he drank. Jugo Loco juice, a stimulant they got from wolf shifters. The Black River wolf pack was a crazy bunch. They had chemists developing drugs to hype up a shifter, as if anyone needed that?

  Backing up slowly, she searched for a weapon.

  The only thing on the next table was a tape dispenser for sealing packages.

  Death by tape gun, sure, that would do it.

  Completely confident that she would do as he said, Dyson bent over again to shove his jeans down past his knees.

  Her heart raced and the roar of blood rushed through her ears. She had one chance to escape and it was right this second.

  She took off for the side door, exiting into the wooded area surrounding the building. Sweatshop camps were always deep in the woods to make it easy for shifters to run down captives.

  Dyson’s roar shook the building she’d just vacated.

  She couldn’t outrun him, but she was not going to stand there and allow him to rape her.

  She’d hurt him somehow.

  Crashing sounded behind her, which meant he was still in human form. He’d be so much quieter as a jackal running through these woods. Not shifting only meant he had no doubt he could take her down on two legs.

  Panting hard, she made a mental note to take up running if she survived this. She’d rather find a place to read quietly than get sweaty exercising, but in hindsight, that had not been good planning on her part. She needed to be stronger for any hope of living to her next birthday.

  She could hear him cursing.

  No time left to second guess.

  Stumbling to a stop, Siofra turned around and held her arms straight up in the air, as if calling to someone.

  She had one play.

  Making her voice as deep as she could, she shouted, “Spirits of the light, come to me now.” That so wasn’t happening, but the jackals all thought she was crazy, which she intended to play to the hilt right now.

  Dyson burst into the small space where she’d chosen to stand her ground. “I will kill you, bitch, if you screw with me.”

  Odd threat considering he specifically said he wanted her to screw him.

  What would help her sell crazy?

  She moaned and swayed from side to side, waving her arms and lowering her lashes until she could just see Dyson. “Yes, I do need your help, spirits. No, please don’t kill him,” she said in a trance-like voice. “That would be wrong.” She peeked at the shifter through half-closed eyes.

  He frowned at her, but he wasn’t charging forward.

  “No, really,” she begged, and moaned some more. “That would be such a ... brutal loss to his manhood. Just protect me with your loving arms.”

  Dyson leaned forward as her voice dropped to a whisper. Maybe he was buying it.

  She started nodding. “I understand. I understand. If you feel you need to use force then do ... as you deem necessary. I will pray for his ... ”

  Unexpected cold air rushed over her heated skin.

  Crap.

  She peeked out to find someone else had joined them.

  A young woman with curly
brown hair, wearing a plain white blouse and long brown skirt right out of the Victorian era stood between Siofra and Dyson, wringing her hands.

  The woman happened to also be translucent and floating above the ground.

  No, no, no. This was the wrong time to be distracted by someone ethereal.

  Dyson showed no sign of seeing the ghost.

  Siofra wanted to only pretend she was dangerous to be around, not bring in spirits who generally got in the way and caused more trouble than help. She knew the pattern. They’d started showing up when she suffered through her first period.

  Not the best memory of passing into womanhood.

  That little distraction was all it took to snap Dyson out of his momentary hesitation.

  He lunged at Siofra.

  Chapter 2

  Siofra dodged sideways before Dyson’s body hit her. He caught an arm around her, though, taking them both to the ground.

  She pushed at him. Shoving a truck would be easier.

  He yanked at the straps on her denim bibs, breaking the button clasps. She kicked her feet so hard her shoes flew off.

  He ignored her, ripping the material and yanking on each side.

  Her ghost woman moved around frantically, looking lost in the middle of all this.

  Siofra couldn’t spare attention for someone who was as much help as a snowball in a firefight. She shoved her knees up hard, trying to knock Dyson off balance.

  Not happening.

  She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Helllppp!” Maybe Baatar would—

  Dyson slapped her across the face.

  The world spun.

  When her eyes focused, the ghost woman looked furious and slapped both hands at Dyson.

  His head passed through her air slaps.

  Dyson sat up, looked around and muttered, “What the fuck?”

  Tears burned Siofra’s eyes and her jaw felt knocked out of shape, but she deepened her voice and tried again. “It’s a demon ghost and it’s pissed at you.”

  He looked down at her. “You don’t scare me, witch.”