Swimming with the Penguins

By Charlie Richards

Yuma Batacan didn’t mean to reveal that he was a penguin shifter to the human, Hunter Driscoll. But between the pain caused by a gunshot wound, the disorientation of waking in a strange place, and the thrilling scent that told him the human was his mate, Yuma couldn’t find it in him to stop the change. Now he has to convince the abused and injured human that he isn’t some kind of monster. And Yuma has to do it quick, before Hunter’s attackers come back to finish him off.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Nov 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781771113458

Book preview

On the road: Sometimes, a leap of faith is the only way.

Yuma Batacan didn’t mean to reveal that he was a penguin shifter to the human, Hunter Driscoll. But between the pain caused by a gunshot wound, the disorientation of waking in a strange place, and the thrilling scent that told him the human was his mate, Yuma couldn’t find it in him to stop the change. Now he has to convince the abused and injured human that he isn’t some kind of monster. And Yuma has to do it quick, before Hunter’s attackers come back to finish him off.

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

Swimming With Penguins

Copyright © 2012 Charlie Richards

ISBN: 978-1-77111-345-8

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Smashwords Edition

Swimming With Penguins

Kontra’s Menagerie: Book Six

By

Charlie Richards

To all those out there who have an open mind.

Chapter One

Yuma had thought a swim in the icy water was a good idea. He loved swimming and wanted a little time away from all the guys. The lodge they’d rented for a month on the lake in chilly Minnesota was massive, but with over a dozen men living in the space, Yuma just needed some time alone to clear his head. He didn’t take into account some asshole with a gun shooting him.

Gasping in pain from a wound in his side and a second one in his right flipper, Yuma’s penguin body shuddered. He’d managed to wiggle his way to shore, but that was where his strength gave out.

Boots appeared in his line of vision, then a gun barrel. Yuma whimpered. He just knew the end was coming. After finding a measure of happiness with his gang, he was going to die alone after all.

Looking away from his impending doom, Yuma spotted red marking his right fin. Oh! That’s my blood! He’d never had any trouble with the sight of blood before and had often helped their group’s doctor, Eli, treat patients. But seeing his own blood was different. Bile rose in his throat and his head swam. Seconds later, Yuma’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

* * * *

Hunter struggled to a sitting position and opened his left eye. His right was still swollen shut, and probably would be for a couple more days. It took a second to realize it was the crack of a rifle that had roused him from a light doze. He looked around and saw he was alone. Where had his father gone? Then he remembered the sound of his father’s gun going off and rolled his eyes, well, his good eye. What the hell was his pops shooting at now?

Hunter!

His dad’s panicked shout surprised him. Hunter twisted his torso, then flinched as his cracked ribs screamed. After taking a breath to control the pain, he turned just his head and called, Yeah?

I need the med kit! Can you get it and take it to the laundry room? his dad yelled back.

Hunter’s brows shot up. Damn, had Walter hit something he shouldn’t have? Walter had grown up in a small town in Montana, and his mother had made squirrel stew. The meal reminded his old father of those times. So, on occasion, his father hunted squirrel and made the dish. Hunter had to admit, it wasn’t half-bad.

He gripped one handle of his wheelchair and heaved himself into it. At least Viktor hadn’t broken one of his arms with the bat his ex and his ex’s friends used on Hunter’s body. Moving around would have been even more difficult. Hunter snorted at his thoughts. He should have left his ex months ago, the first time he’d caught the bastard cheating, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Instead, he’d swallowed the loser’s lies about how it was a onetime mistake and would never happen again, and stayed with the man. Well, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Hunter had left the second time it happened. A week later, Viktor and a couple of his buddies attacked him, leaving Hunter with a broken ulna in his left leg, a ruptured right knee, three cracked ribs, a concussion, and a black eye bad enough to impair his vision when it finally healed. Now he was hiding out with his father at his dad’s lakeside cabin while the cops tried to find the bastard.

Shoving the bitter thoughts away, Hunter wheeled to the kitchen. It took a few deep breaths and some careful maneuvering to reach the first aid kit in the cupboard under the sink. By the time he wheeled into the laundry room, Hunter was sweating with exertion. Damn, he used to run six miles a day, and now getting through the house was hard.

Handing the box to his dad, Hunter saw the