Between a Wolf and a Hard Place- The Complete Collection: NORCAL SHIFTERS, #1

By Annalise Nixon

One woman. Two shifters. Last chance for love.

Iris Zahn's life is thrown into chaos when she and her sister, along with their best friend, are kidnapped from their home in Oregon. When their captors separate the three women, they vow to reunite, no matter the cost.

Of course, things go from bad to bonkers when she wakes up between two of the hottest men she's ever seen, and they both want to make her theirs.
Barron Davies and Evan Hearne have always shared everything, including women. Unfortunately, fate had yet to find them a mate to complete their triad. When they discover a curvy, tattooed and unfortunately battered vixen, they want to keep Iris in their bed and their hearts forever.

The life Barron and Evan dreamed of is within their grasp--if only they can get Iris to trust them with her heart and her secrets.

If you like determined shifters who prefer mates with a little sass and plenty of curves, then you'll love Annalise Nixon's sensual and humorous tale of unexpected and untraditional love.

Download today to enter a world where finders' keepers take on a new meaning for two hunky shape-shifters and their curvy human mate.

The complete collection is a 85,518 word story with no cliff hangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annalise Nixon
• Release date: Jul 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524293888

Book preview

Between a Wolf and a Hard Place-The Complete Collection

Also by Annalise Nixon

F'd Up Fairy Tales

Feeling Froggy

NORCAL SHIFTERS

Between a Wolf and a Hard Place- The Complete Collection

Bargain with the Bear

Saving the Wolf

Norcal Shifters- The Collection (Books 1-3)

Shifter's Choice

Shifter's Challenge

Between a Wolf and a Hard Place-The Complete Collection

BBW Shifter Romance

Annalise Nixon

Contents

Book 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Book 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Book 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Book 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Book 5

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Book 6

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

Copyright

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Afterword

Bargain with the Bear- Chapter 1

Book 1

Chapter 1

Someone should make the victim portion of kidnapper vans more comfortable , Iris Zahn thought as she fought through the drugged fog to figure out where she was—other than in big doo-doo.

Why’d we have to get stuck with the fat one? one of the two men up front said with a southern accent Iris couldn’t place. There ain’t as many women after the virus, but damn.

She recognized the fat-shaming jerk’s voice. He might be handsome on the outside, but inside, he was ugly as sin. Sherry nicknamed them Thing One and Thing Two after waking up the first time after they were shot with some kind of drug. They must not be delivering them to vampires. According to rumor, they preferred their human blood untainted by drugs of any kind. Which would make everyone go toke up or take something… right?

Wrong.

No one trusted the government or big pharmaceutical companies, not after learning that many people would have lived the rest of their lives in ignorant bliss of their dormant other genes until the FDA approved a vaccine to keep the world safe from the common cold and all countries made it mandatory. She never understood why people had to. You got a stuffy head, ate chicken soup, and stayed in bed for a day or two—not life threatening. But the threat of not getting the vaccine was very real—and onerous.

My dad used to say, You always have a choice, no matter how unpleasant. Well, if you didn’t take the vaccine—and they tracked all doses given at the centers—you were taken from your family and placed in some kind of camp. If the government was running it, it sure wasn’t a day spa.

Turns out the brave few were the smart ones. Iris remembered anticipating the president’s State of the Nation speech after he’d been inoculated the week before to prove the safety of the drug to the general public. There he was, speaking to the world—a jackass in a suit—when it happened. One minute he was an everyday lying politician, and the next—a harpy eagle.

Needless to say, the world went a little crazy. No longer could they lie to the public by telling them the rumors of people turning into various animals, having new abilities like reading minds or emotions, or even worse—magic, weren’t true.

When everything went wrong, like it usually did when overpaid windbags were in charge, they played the oops card. No real help, no compensation, just a lame apology about regrettable circumstances. At least the governments—at least they didn’t in the U.S.—round people up and make them disappear. Life just wobbled along,

What’s it matter? He laughed, a horrible sound somewhere between a wheeze and coughing up a loogie. The wolves might have lousy taste in women, if that one back there is any indication, but they’re paying more than enough for me to buy for a woman for a week once we deliver the goods.

Oh.

My.

God.

Ten years ago, werewolves—or shifters as they preferred to be called—trotted out of the supernatural forest. Unfortunately, they brought a lot of beings that were thought to be superstitions, or even nightmares, with them. It was definitely a pull-the-Band-Aid-off quick affair. But people were resilient and resourceful, finding a way to make money from the crazy.

Of course, there was the segment of society that just loved to hate—especially anyone unfortunate enough to different. All the groups who formerly hated each other banded together to pour all the animosity on yet another group of people who couldn’t help what they were. In a sick way, it was funny to see the mouth breathers hook up to torment someone else.

Portland was a liberal city, but strangely enough, the few others, as people liked to call them, stayed to themselves. So if Iris met one, she didn’t know—unless looking in the mirror counted. She already had enough problems without adding one more to the Iris is a weirdo side of the scale.

Life wasn’t perfect, but what Iris, Rose, and Sherry created for themselves was pretty darn good. They had a home and business in the Victorian house she and Sherry inherited from their parents. The first floor was a funky mix of tattoo parlor, handmade jewelry and crafts, and herbal store. And some of the baked goods might have had a little extra bit of happy grass added, but weed was mostly legal.

Being a daddy’s girl paid off for Iris. The former Marine shared his love of body art and guns with a girl who only felt beautiful around those she loved. When she graduated high school and could legally tattoo, she was already well known in certain circles. Everyone said that ink the Zahn girl put on stayed vibrant forever, and not even her father could do bright colors on dark skin that popped.

First mistake.

Second mistake was openly placing protective runes on normal women after the demon attacks began. Women between the ages of sixteen and thirty-six began vanishing, so how could she do nothing? She wasn’t wired to stand by and do nothing while people suffered. The runes seemed to work—a little too well. Word got around and well… it led to winding up in the back of a van headed somewhere to become the bride of a werewolf. Did werewolves marry, or was it like the books and they chose a mate for life? Which sounded romantic, minus the kidnapping section of the courtship.

It wouldn’t be so bad—okay, that was a lie—but her friends shouldn’t have been caught up in her mess. Especially after they’d warned her. The van hit a particularly nasty rut, and Iris’s head slammed against the uncarpeted floor.

Ouch, that must have hurt. How much of that shit did you give her? I don’t want to hear all the crying and begging, but if she ODs, we don’t get paid.

Someone nominate Thing Two for a Nobel Peace Prize—asshole.

She’s fine. I’ve tranked enough heifers in my time; she’ll be sleep until we get to Monterey and get our money. After that, they can bed and breed her all they want to, none of my fucking business.

Um no.

Not just no, but hell no. These jerks may have stalked and studied the three of them, but they only knew a minuscule amount about the women that owned The Rambling Rose.

It was time to fix that.

Iris wiggled her fingers and tugged at the zip ties trapping her arms behind her back. Of course, having her hands miraculously unbound and a nail gun or something else deadly in the back with her would be too convenient. Not a problem. Her affinity was with tattoos, metal, and unfortunately for Thing One and Thing Two—fire.

Body art was her career. Working metal was her escape. She wasn’t good with creating dainty pieces like her sister. She could, but Iris didn’t like it. Now making a huge, honking piece of abstract art? Right up her alley.

No way in hell was some dog from Monterey going to steal Soul Food Sundays or pajama and popcorn nights. Iris was getting away from these dirt bags and finding her girls. All she had to do was live.

That might get a little tricky. Focusing on the driver wasn’t the best idea, but then again, they shouldn’t have trussed her up against the passenger side, eliminating her options. Iris focused on Thing One’s jean-covered thigh. Luckily for him, his crotch wasn’t in her line of sight, which would have made this mo’ better—as Sherry loved to say.

Pushing Sherry’s weird sayings and the nausea over the fact that she planned to intentionally harm another aside, Iris focused on the denim covering his thick thighs, imagining it smoking and then igniting in flames that engulfed his entire leg—and worked their way to his most likely tiny package. The van found yet another pothole, her head slammed into the floor again, and Iris lost her focus.

Crap. This was never going to work. Maybe all of those ugly voices in her head were right. She did have the reverse Midas touch, managing only to turn gold to crap. She was going to die and so were Sherry and Rose—the only people on the planet who loved her no matter what.

They were sitting in the electric chair, and Iris plugged it in.

You know, I’ve been thinking, Thing Two said from the passenger seat. Wolf boy said we couldn’t touch her, but he ain’t said nothing about her touching us.

The fuck I will. Talk about motivation to check out of the Mopey Mabel Hotel. Even if the fire didn’t work out, she’d stop fighting when she stopped breathing. That was what her sister and Sherry would do. Before they ripped the three women apart, they each vowed if one of them escaped, they would find the others.

Iris had never broken a promise, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Every bit of her anger went to her gaze, and she concentrated so hard a couple of blood vessels probably popped.

What the fuck? Thing One slapped at his thigh, releasing the steering wheel, and the van swerved to the left.

Have you lost your mind?

It’s not your… A thin wisp of smoke danced toward the ceiling, and the van veered again, tipping to the right.

This time when her head bounced against the floor, Iris felt none of it. Every bit of her fury went into her task. Every taunt about her weight, every put down and snub, and their complete disregard for the life of innocent women went into her gaze.

It must have been a tanker full of hurt, because his leg ignited like a faulty gas grill.

Iris grinned when Thing One released the wheel, slapping at his thighs to put the fire out.

Thing Two leaned over the back of the passenger seat to grab the dented extinguisher. It wasn’t fair for his friend to suffer alone, and Iris was nothing but considerate. So she shifted her body with a quickness that surprised them both. Rolling onto her back, she kicked him in the face with both of her blue and white polka-dotted Keds.

The van tilted and lifted onto two wheels, and Iris rolled across the uneven floor with her chin tucked and praying for all she was worth. Even though she was sure she’d kicked open death’s door, she realized being bad had never felt so fucking good.

Chapter 2

P ossession is nine-tenths of the law. Evan Hearne gazed at the woman with the dangerous curves lying in the bed before glancing back up at his friend. We should keep her.

Barron Davies looked at the wolf who’d been his friend since they were rambunctious five-year-old cubs. She isn’t an abandoned bicycle. You can’t just keep her.

Maybe not, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind taking her for a ride.

Not going to happen. The grin on Evan’s face meant trouble would follow, and the last thing they needed was a war with another pack or pride over a female.

Why not? Evan prowled to the wall of windows overlooking the thick redwoods in the California valley and shoved his hands in the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. She needs our protection even if it’s from herself. He waved his hand in her direction. What woman takes a stroll through the freaking woods?

Barron looked at his friend and shook his head. Evan might be hot tempered, a wee bit selfish, and a whole lot of smart-ass, but one thing he’d never do was harm a woman.

Break her heart?

Absolutely. Barron knew better than most since they came to him to find out what went wrong. Let’s find out what the hell is going on before you pick out matching dog collars.

Evan returned to the bed and their patient. Come on, you can’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind?

Dog collars? Nope, can’t say it has.

Liar.

I can say with all honesty I have not imagined her walking around in a dog collar. Barron closed his eyes and inhaled the spicy, feminine scent that lured him to her in the woods. No collars for him, but covering her in a vat of honey and licking it off?

Hell yeah. Evan’s low growl interrupted Barron’s honey-filled fantasy, and his eyes snapped open. What?

You’re as turned on as I am. Evan gave Barron a grin that the bear would love to introduce to his fist.

He sure as hell couldn’t deny that fact, but she didn’t belong to them—yet.

I won’t like it, but if she’s running to someone, we’ll help her get there. All traces of humor left Evan’s voice. And if we find the assholes that hurt her?

They’re dead. Barron made a promise to himself when they found her battered body that he would get revenge on her behalf.

How long would she remain unconscious? They found her last night on their run, and who knows how long she’d been there. Did you try your cell again?

Evan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and frowned at the screen. No signal. Man, you really need to leave these hills so you can communicate with the outside world.

Why? This was one of the few times Barron mourned the loss of dependable technology. In his opinion, society improved once they were all unchained from digital tethers. You should drive down the hill and bring the doc back.

You’d love that, wouldn’t you? If you think I will leave you here with the future mother of my pups, you’ve lost you hairy bear mind.

Pups? Since when have you contemplated starting a family?

Evan’s gaze darted to the woman. It’s a recent development.

When the last woman we shared asked about mating, you said the last thing on your mind was shackling yourself to a human. Barron loped to the other side of the pine four-poster bed and sat in the oversized armchair. But it’s what I’ve always wanted even if she turned out to be human.

Screw that. You want to drag the poor woman out here by her hair like a caveman and force her to have honey-loving bear cubs.

Yeah? Barron scratched his three-day-old beard and frowned. So what’s the problem?

You’re kidding. Trust me. She wouldn’t walk the Appalachian Trail.

If Barron could stop looking at her, maybe he could think straight. She was perfect, and her scent alone chipped at the shell of his hard-earned self-control. Everything about her pushed his buttons. From the matching black-and-white polka dot panties and bra, to the tasteful tattoos adorning her body, she was perfect.

If it’s a head injury, there’s not much a doctor would do that we haven’t already done. We could take her to the hospital, but that may not be a great idea if someone is looking for her. Evan sat on the side of the bed and inhaled, exhaling slowly like a connoisseur relishing the bouquet of his favorite cabernet.

Is that your excuse? Barron teased. When he saw Evan’s frown, he sobered. I’m serious; we can’t just sit here. Neither of them wanted to leave the other alone with the woman. The thought chilled Barron while his bear grew restless.

Holy shit, sharing had never been a problem for them before, but this time felt different. It would be easier if she were one of us. At least then, we might force her to shift or something.

Evan’s head snapped in Barron’s direction. Perhaps we can help her.

I’m listening. Barron leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. He needed her to wake up, and soon. His bear wouldn’t think twice about marking her while she slept. Too bad the man agreed.

Tell me you don’t feel it? Evan looked at him with a fierceness usually reserved for battle. This might be our mate.

The little human might be sexy as hell, but she’d always be just that—a human. That will not happen.

How do you know? How do any of us? Evan brushed the hair off her forehead with a tenderness that rocked Barron. She might be the one the seer told us about, the woman made just for us.

The hope on his friend’s face was something Barron had never seen on the man he’d known his entire life. Barron understood, but he had given up on that dream years ago. There hasn’t been a shifter child of any flavor born in the years since the vaccine, and there hasn’t been a cross species mating ever, as far as he knew.

But each time he looked at this woman, none of that mattered.

Evan unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the leather armchair next to Barron. "But we have to try.

Barron sat frozen as he watched his friend removed his pants. What if she wakes? She will think we’re freaks.

We are. Evan bit his bottom lip.

Are you suggesting we have sex with an unconscious woman? He knew that wasn’t what his friend meant, but Evan’s horrified expression lightened the moment.

Mind out of the gutter, Griz. Evan slid beneath the covers and ran his fingers through his short, blond hair. I only want to share our energy with her, and it still might not work.

Not thinking climbing in the bed with an unconscious woman is one of your better ideas. Barron pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

Then drive to my pack and get the doc.

Like that would happen. If this goes wrong, this shit is on you. Barron’s jeans hit the floor, and he looked down, remembering nothing came between him and his Levis.

And if it goes right? Evan watched Barron take his place on the woman’s other side.

He didn’t want to answer that question, didn’t want hope to bloom in his empty heart. As far as he was concerned, she could stay in his arms and home forever.

Come on, bro, what’s the worst that can happen?

Chapter 3

There were certain things in life a girl couldn’t resist. For Iris, setting her free in a shoe store with unlimited cash would cause bodily harm to the poor soul in her way.

Of course, there was chocolate and anything sweet. Hell, a good look at the junk in her trunk screamed that not so small fact.

Yummier than shoes or even chocolate would be a hot man or two to perform a grand romantic gesture. Something other than, Hey babe, wanna hook up? Were there no men left who still believed in chivalry?

They did, just not for girls like her.

Iris knew she wasn’t butt ugly, and on a good day in the right lighting, she might be considered hot by some men. It sucked to admit, but even now in a world suffering a woman shortage, getting a date still sucked.

Most women got dinner and, if they were fortunate, a movie. All Iris got was old-fashioned abduction and death.

She must be dead.

Iris knew this because instead of being afraid, alone, and on her way to becoming an offering in twisted sexual sacrifice, Iris felt cocooned in a muscular wall of safety and concern.

At least, that was what she chose to believe, since it was a lot better than the alternative.

There was always that moment in every horror movie when the hapless heroine turned around to see what was chasing her. Right now, Iris was that girl.

Bad luck had chased her like a relentless hound dog the last few months. So the outcome of this predicament would end in one of two ways.

She’d either wake between two men more horrendous than the beasts that kidnapped her, or even worse, men who might have found her hot forty pounds ago.

Fate was the cruelest of bitches, so she expected the latter.

The brush of hair against her chest made Iris bite the inside of her cheek to refrain from moaning. With her eyes still squeezed shut, she threw her arm around him and prayed her fingers didn’t meet a back with hair so long that it could be braided. Instead, smooth, taut skin and rippling muscles met her touch.

Thank God.

Iris might be drugged up, delusional, or even dead, but this was her fantasy, damn it. She planned to enjoy every sizzling second.

She nuzzled her nose against that soft hair and inhaled deep enough to imprint that woodsy, sweet scent in her olfactory memory bank. If he looked half as good as he smelled, this would be a dream for the record books.

Suddenly, a hard, smooth body moved against her back. She awake?

Wow, this had to be the realest dream ever. The warm, whispering breath against the back of her neck made goose bumps ride up her arms, and her nipples hardened against the chest in front of her.

She hasn’t opened her eyes. The deep voice in front her was a rich, sexy baritone. One of those voices you wanted to whisper naughty words in your ear as he fucked you into sexual oblivion.

Moving forward with her freaky fantasy, Iris’ hand dipped between them and circled the hardness pressing against her stomach.

Holy crap.

Her fingers barely met around his girth. The man could damage a girl with that thing.

The long, thick cock pulsed against her palm, and he let out a low hiss. Shit. His hand touched her fingers to pry them loose.

No way was she releasing her trophy. Iris tightened her grip, trailing her thumb over the bulbous head, and he responded with a full-body shiver.

We need to wake her. The man behind her brushed a piece of hair off her forehead. She seems too enamored of that monster cock of yours.

I should have drowned you that summer after kindergarten, the owner of the monster cock grumbled.

Iris moved her neck, and the uncomfortable cramp confirmed she probably wasn’t dead. God wouldn’t let you die and still make you hurt, would she?

Tired of playing possum, Iris opened her eyes. The next twinge was much lower and had nothing to do with pain when she stared into the kindest amber eyes she’d ever seen.

Hey, glad to see you awake.

Oh. My. God. This fantasy looked hotter than she could have ever imagined, and not only because he was naked, well-endowed, and lying next to her. Okay, it might have had something to do with it, but Iris would never admit it.

Am I dead? He grinned at her, exposing a flash of straight white teeth. I must be dead.

Not quite, but I’ll be more than happy to get rid of the ugly one for you. The strong hand resting on her stomach moved to her waist, guiding her body until she rested on her back.

Iris couldn’t help herself, and a gasp escaped her lips as an equally handsome face smiled down at her. Her two dream guys were opposites. Where the other was dark and gentle, this new face was blond, devilish perfection.

She looked back and forth between the two men. One seemed wary but jubilant for her to keep her fingers around a cock that felt even harder, and the other seemed teasing but ready to offer darker, earthier things.

However hard she tried, Iris couldn’t produce a rational reason not to take these men up on their offer. Since the possibility of this little fantasy being real was nil, Iris released the dark one’s cock, turned her back, and gave it a new home.

Cradled right against her ass.

If meat was for the man, Iris planned to learn how manly these two were.

Chapter 4

Evan couldn’t speak . The glib words he usually had in abundance took a vacation.

She was hot, pressed between them like a tattooed Sleeping Beauty. Once those vivid blue green eyes with flecks of brown captured his, Evan realized was a goner.

The only thing that mattered was how soon she’d be theirs. Any male who allowed this woman to slip from his grasp didn’t deserve her.

Sometimes you knew before you ever interacted with someone that they would be impressive, and this little one might as well have fun-filled challenge etched atop that sweet ass.

If it’s heaven you want to go to, baby, I’ll be more than happy to take you.

The beauty grinned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his head toward her when a sharp slap