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  Adeline stood before her pack, proud of their numbers no longer dwindling. She never thought her dream would ever become a reality, and as she saw the rest of the packs emerging through the woods, she felt an enormous swell of satisfaction. She had tried to escape from her lonely life, trying to barricade herself in her sad past, and instead she had found herself a new family.

  Luke kissed her on the cheek. “Guess we can start the meeting now,” he said. Adeline raised her arms in welcome at the arrival of the Silver Sons. She admired her fresh tattoo all the Sentinels had. The wolves surrounded the campsite, always keeping watch over their new friends. They were the protectors of the woods, and all of them were facing Adeline, awaiting her commands.

  To Adeline’s surprise, they raised their muzzles to the sky, howling a beautiful melody. It flooded her ears, and Adeline closed her eyes. She was honored to be just like them, gifted with this special talent given to her by her father.

  She smiled at Luke.

  Her love.

  Her wolf.

  Her mate.

  They would fulfill Hanson’s dream the best that they could, and bring their future children into a peaceful world.

  END

  If you are looking for a new book to keep you up all night in a good way, the romance and supernatural suspense of the Rizer Series will do that for you.

  Mating A Stranger

  Shifters In The Shadows series

  By:

  Amelia Wilson

  Table of Contents:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  If there is one thing you should always believe, My Dear Reader, it is that the world holds many secrets beyond the vision of the naked eye. Ancient civilizations were once separated by hundreds or thousands of miles, yet their myths and legends are all eerily similar. Does it not strike you as strange that such a thing occurred, despite the lack of communication between these cultures? To dismiss these stories as mere legends is to ignore the truths that our primeval ancestors have always understood. One of those truths is that our world is not merely as it seems. The stories of the Were clans are nothing new; we've all heard the stories of werewolves and shapeshifters—beings capable of transforming into animals and back again, at will. It is the conviction of my soul that they must truly exist and this has led me to set down these notes, and to tell you that you must beware. Not of the men who can transform into animals physically, but instead the animals that can form in men's souls when they are faced with those that they cannot understand—for that which man does not understand, he fears. -Brian Nightingale

  A weary sigh escaped the lips of the young woman who sat alone in the expansive study that housed her grandfather's collection of books. The book she held in her hand was bound in blue leather, the pages still smelling as crisp and fresh as the day it had first been out together. Her emerald-green eyes were slightly misted over and tears dripped down her cheek. Her hands were turning slightly white from the manner in which she clutched the book to her tightly.

  “You were a good man, Brian. You just had the misfortune of professing your truths in a dangerous time and you paid the price for that—as all good men eventually pay the price for upholding the goodness and virtue of society. However, I fear that your book will ultimately do more harm to your kind than good. You have removed the barrier of uncertainty surrounding your kinds' existence; one that was painstakingly maintained over the centuries to ensure that you could coexist peacefully with humans. Now that everyone knows that you exist, there is no way that people will let you just walk around unchecked.”

  Her glasses slipped down her nose, and her left hand moved to gently push them back up onto the bridge of her nose with her middle finger. Her face was a hardened mask now, her brow furrowed with the weight of her recent choices. It had been a hard five years of pretending, but soon all of her waiting would be rewarded. She had managed to work her way up through the Organization's ranks, becoming privy to more and more of its secrets. She had even managed to gain the trust of Barnaby Bernstein, one of the five original founders of the Organization, which had started seven years ago.

  “You seem to be agitated, Madame. Could it be that your time among the Shifters has finally frayed your patience, until you can no longer hold back your hatred for them?” The voice of the older man, who seemed to have materialized out of thin air, caused her to jump with fright, and she let out an unconscious yelp as she whirled around to face him.

  “Stop doing that,” she hissed through her teeth, fixating her cold green glare upon him. “How many Goddamned times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me? I almost put a bullet through your skull.”

  “I would have moved long before you would have had the chance to pull your pistol,” he said smoothly, his red eyes fixing her with an evil smirk. “That would be a violation of our terms, and you know what happens to people that break my terms.”

  The tone of his voice left the threat unspoken, but it hung in the air between them, causing the woman to swallow gently. A faint bead of sweat dripped down the corner of her brow, and her hand moved to tug at a lock of her hair, nervously. “I am quite aware, thank you. I've watched your disgusting work before, Abados. I will never forget the things I have seen you do. I just don't understand why I have to keep up this charade even longer now.”

  “The Leader's orders are often strange, but he has never led you astray before, has he?” Abados smiled then, his lips pulling back to reveal his overlong incisors. “We promised you a way for you to be rid of those Shifters, for once and for all, and we are not known to lie. We will help you destroy your enemy, just as we said we would. You can finally revenge your sister.”

  “Don't you dare bring her into this,” the tone of the green-eyed woman's voice was icy as she brushed her hair back from her face, and her glasses temporarily became opaque as the light of a nearby lamp sent a glare across them. “I will never sully her name or memory by claiming that what I do is in her name. I do it to satisfy my own sense of justice, and to grant me closure. She has moved on and is no doubt in heaven for her deeds. I won't drag her down, as I know I will go to hell for mine.”

  She laughed humorlessly, shaking her head as she shoved her hands into her pockets and made her way toward the door. “I need to get back before anyone notices I am gone. Besides, if our new guest, Miss Nightingale, is going to be joining us tomorrow, then I want to be able to have everything ready for her arrival.”

  Chapter One

  “Someone, help, I’m being assaulted!” Cried out the scraggly blonde-haired youth, the street from where a young black-haired young woman named Melanie stood frozen in fear. He was tugging on his arm in vain, as it was caught in the grip of a uniformed man wearing black sunglasses and a scowling sneer. The officer's grip seemed to tighten, causing the youth to cry out once more, and he dropped to his knees, crying out again for help. The pedestrians nearby all went out of their way to avoid looking in his direction—nobody gave even the slightest indication that they cared about his situation or were considering coming to his aid.

  “No one is going to help you, you dirty shifter. Admit your wrong-doing and we will leave you alone,” the officer's taunting voice replied, spite clearly evident in his tone.

  “I haven't done anything! I told you before—I only got to this side of town fifteen minutes ago. I couldn't have robbed this place half-an-hour ago. I was at work. My phone is in my pocket. You can even call my boss! I'm sure he will vouch for me,” the youth yelled, yanking his hand back toward his body when the officer finally released him.

  Melanie Nightingale was brought out of her daze by the sound of a car honking its horn impatiently at her. She waved
apologetically at the driver and hurried across the road, forcing herself to keep her gaze averted from the officers and their current victim. This was nothing new to her. Ever since the president had declared a national emergency against what he called the “beast-man menace,” scenes such as this had become all too common. His special enforcement units, known to the people simply as Enforcers, had infested every major city in the world. The shifter population had been forced to go into hiding and the few, who were accidentally outed or straight-up revealed themselves, were taken away and never heard from again.

  The fear of being revealed for what she truly was had haunted Melanie all her life, but it had also made her wise. She had arranged for a family friend to prepare special contact lenses that hid the specially-colored irises, which gave away those with shifter blood. Thanks to a carefully-crafted story about her religion, she had managed to get time off every month, around the days of the full moon, so she wouldn't have to worry about accidentally transforming at work. She had mastered her gift, for the most part, thanks to years of training, but there was something about the power of the full moon that caused her inner wolf to overpower her and it managed to seize control of her body each lunar month. She transformed, then, without even realizing it—something that had almost resulted in her capture, when she was a young girl. It had only been because of her Uncle Brian that she had managed to get away, and that came at great personal cost to him.

  Just keep your head down and don't get involved. There is nothing you can do for that young man, and trying to intervene will only bring problems for you. She repeated the words to herself like a monk chanting a sutra. She clutched her purse close, as she endeavored to put as much distance between herself and the two Enforcers as possible. They seemed to be the kind of guys who would stop her and start asking questions if it looked as if she was lingering. With her fear of figures of authority it would only be a matter of time before her nervousness around them caused her to let something slip. Besides, she had heard more than her fair share of horror stories about what Enforcers did to vulnerable young women in their custody.

  It wasn't until she found herself seated safely at her desk, in her small office at the Bernstein Law Offices, that she felt the tension in the back of her neck beginning to subside. She had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat as she thought of the desperation in the young man's voice, and her eyes closed as a single tear dripped down her cheek. It simply wasn't fair. Wasn't anyone going to stand up and say that enough was enough? She could only hope that they did call his boss and that the misunderstanding would be cleared up. If not, an innocent man was going to die today.

  “Day dreaming again, eh, Melanie?” A soft, amused voice asked, cutting into her thoughts and spooking her slightly in the process. She spun around so quickly that she banged her knee on the inside corner of her desk, and she cursed softly as she bent down to clutch the sore limb.

  “I wasn't daydreaming, I was simply lost in thought. Something happened on the way to work, today, that has left me preoccupied,” she replied evenly, rubbing her knee before straightening up once more. She allowed her pale-skinned hand to sweep a lock of her brown hair away from her face, and her blue eyes gazed in the direction of her boss, the man to whom the voice belonged.

  He was an older gentlemen, probably in his mid-sixties, although he didn't look a day over fifty-five. A youthful curiosity constantly twinkled in his brown eyes, and a hawk-like nose perched above a handlebar mustache that would twitch occasionally because of a nervous tick. This man was Barnaby Bernstein, the owner of the law office, where she worked, and a good friend of her family. He was human, as far as she knew, but he had always been sympathetic toward shifters. He had secretly used his great wealth and influence to help shifters relocate so that they could keep their whereabouts under wraps—something that Melanie couldn't help but consider highly commendable. It reminded her of Oscar Schindler, the man who had used his entire fortune to purchase the freedom of the Jews employed at his factory during the Holocaust. She had even heard rumors that Barnaby was married to a shifter, though she had never asked him about that. She didn't think it was any of her business, and it would probably be safer if she didn't know.

  “I assume the Enforcers were out and about again, harassing people?” He asked sympathetically, the tone in his voice telling Melanie that he didn't really need her to answer that question. They both knew that was exactly what she had seen. “I have to say that I am really starting to get concerned about the blatant disregard those Enforcers seem to have for due process. I think I am going to request an audience with the mayor, to see if he can do anything about this,” he said, stepping up behind Melanie and gently setting his hands on her shoulders.

  “Could or would?” Melanie couldn't stop the words before they slipped past her lips, and she bit her bottom lip and blushed self-consciously, as Barnaby fixed her with his intense gaze for a moment, before a wan smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

  “That remains to be seen, doesn't it,” he replied, continuing as if nothing were amiss. “Would you care to assist me in penning the letter? I find that my eyesight has been weakening of late, so having someone to help me with it, would be much appreciated,” he said. He gave her shoulder a small squeeze.

  She didn't try to pull away from his touch and a small smile played at the corner of her lips as she reached over and booted up her desktop computer. It seemed as if it took forever for the outdated machine to finish starting. Melanie had the time to go prepare a pot of coffee for Barnaby and herself. She had come back with two steaming-hot mugs clutched in her hands, before the computer even got to the password screen. Her fingers danced across the keys as she quickly typed the title of her favorite song, “Martini Blue”, and hit Enter.

  Her computer opened her home screen, and her face grew serious as she pulled up the word processing application that she was going to be using for her work. Pulling up a separate Word document, she sat with Barnaby as he dictated his letter to the mayor.

  Once again, Melanie found herself in awe of the man before her—he seemed so masterfully in control of everything, not to mention how sure of himself he always seemed to be. Even his word choices, while cordial and polite, held in them the aura of a man who would not be denied. It made her almost jealous, although she betrayed none of her thoughts as she typed the closing words of the letter and saved it.

  “I'll go ahead and send it to your email. You can look it over one final time before you send it and make any personal alterations that you might not want me to see,” she said, her tone teasing.

  “Perfect, although I hardly think that I will need to make any edits to your wonderful handiwork,” Barnaby said. He patted her shoulder gently before rising from his chair and he took a moment to glance out the window. As he stood in front of the window, with sunlight streaming over his body, he briefly looked like those paintings of angels that Melanie had seen so much of, growing up. The warm light wrapped itself around him, making the man himself seem to be the source of the light. She was reminded of how safe she felt when Barnaby was around, a feeling that was slightly foreign to her after all these years hiding and of being on the run. In all of that time, he had been the one consistent source of help and support for her.

  She smiled at her own reflection on the screen. Her hand slowly stroked her white cardigan absently-mindedly. She took a moment to take a look at her own appearance. Her bright-blue eyes gazed back at her smooth, youthful face. Her fair skin and high cheekbones gave her a regal appearance. Her black hair hung in long, well-combed strands to the small of her back, ending in faint golden highlights. She wore a simple golden chain around her neck. From it hung a pendant that was one of the few items that she still had from her parents. Her ruby-painted lips were pursed slightly as she set about her work, and her mind flashed back to the shifter from earlier, occasionally. She hoped that someone had come to his aid before they had had a chance to take him somewhere terrible to simply kill him. If there t
ruly is a God in this world, then he will come to that boy's rescue.

  Her mind went back to her Uncle Brian for a moment, and another tear managed to escape down her cheek before her arm moved up to wipe it away. His death had always resonated powerfully with her. She couldn't be sure whether it was just survivor's guilt, but the feeling had yet to fade, even after sixteen long years had elapsed. She didn't think she would ever truly be able to get over it, hard as she might try. There were still nights where the memory of that night invaded her dreams and caused her to jerk awake covered in sweat, and shaking violently as powerful wracking sobs took her over. It was definitely not doing much for her mental health.

  I feel as if the net is closing around me more and more, every day. It’s only a matter of time before I come to work one day and those goons will be right here, waiting for me. She had no idea what she would do if she ever found herself in that situation and, honestly, she didn't want to spend any time thinking about the possibility. To do so would be to invite her already heavy anxiety to worsen. That was the last thing she needed. She had so much left that she wanted to accomplish, and so much more than she had left to prove about herself. Caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't even notice when Barnaby excused himself and slipped silently into his office, closing the door behind him with a barely noticeable click.

  Chapter Two

  It was about halfway through her shift that Melanie began to feel as if she was being watched. She craned her neck upwards from where she had been hunched over at her desk and glanced out of the second story window in front of her. It didn’t offer much of a view of anything, other than the roof of the store building that neighbored hers, but a quick glance did alert her to something slightly unusual. She rose from her desk and made her way over to the window, squinting slightly as she realized what she was looking at.