Page 67 of Bitten Shifter

“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.

---