Destined in Forbidden: Forbidden Shifters, #7

By Keira Blackwood and Liza Street

Living the #badgerlife includes free tacos, new besties, and a walk-on role in a firefighter calendar shoot.

 

Weasels are terrible. Unwanted weasel fiances are worse. Magic ensures shapeshifter Natalie won't be found by her betrothed as long as she remains in her honey badger form. But her cover is blown when she shifts in a hot firefighter's bathroom and he emerges from the shower to find her standing there--very human, very curvy, and very naked.

 

After his years-long stint as a pie-stealing vulture, tiger shifter Grant is free of his curse. No one understands what he's been through, or what it's like to be trapped in a body that doesn't belong to them. Until a roly poly honey badger climbs through his window. She's on the run and she's just as lost as Grant, and he'll do anything to keep her safe.

Destined in Forbidden is the seventh stand-alone book in the Forbidden Shifters series. Do you love hot alphas, feisty heroines, and steamy love scenes? Of course you do. ;) Get Destined in Forbidden for a hilarious, suspenseful shifter story you won't want to put down!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liza Street
• Release date: Sep 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393937500

Book preview

Chapter 1

Natalie

With a yawn, I flopped onto my back and nestled into the sweater I’d recently requisitioned. Honey badgers are supposed to live in tunnels. Been there, done that. We’re also supposed to make beds of grass and leaves.

Ever snuggled up in a pile of poison ivy? One guess how that works out. And no thank you.

Starting a new life in a new town, I was done with everything I was supposed to do. Technically, I was a refugee, a lady badger on the run. But curled up in my secret hiding spot behind the chest freezer in my bestie’s garage, I wasn’t stressing.

The truth was, so long as I never shifted back to my human form, the spell I’d purchased from my tribe’s witch would never wear off. Which meant I’d never be found. And never be forced to take that weasel as a mate.

He was a literal weasel. There was a pact between his tribe and mine.

Again, no thank you.

At first, moving to a new town was a bit lonely, especially since I couldn’t walk around on human feet to interact with people or signal in any way that there were more layers to me than a deep-fried onion. Not even when I met other shifters.

Forbidden seemed to be full of the predatory types, nothing like the fluffy, less scary shifters I knew back home. I figured that meant both my tribe and the weasels would never come here looking for me. Yay for that, but not so much for the no one to talk to thing.

Luckily, I hadn’t been lonely since I met Moira O’Malley.

Her weird brother had snatched me from the forest, at which point I knew I was in a pickle. Getting out of trouble was a bit of a specialty, not just for me, but for all of my kind, shifter and animal alike. Brody O’Malley, though, he was a force to be reckoned with. He should have been born a honey badger.

But Moira was the one who’d taken to me, not as a scare tactic prop, but as a friend. She gave me tacos. That’s the stuff friendships are made of right there.

Frito! my bestie called out from the tiny yard in front of her townhouse. As row homes in small towns went, Moira’s neighborhood was pretty swanky. The houses were big with a nice bit of grass and garden space, their own garages, and the kind of architectural and fixture details that suggested no expense was spared.

Frito! she called again.

It was an adorable moniker that she’d chosen for me, if I did say so myself.

I unfurled myself from my cozy spot and crawled down through the tunnel I’d made from the garage to under the back porch. It wasn’t like I could ask Moira if I could crash at her place, and I’d seen enough of her mate to realize he wouldn’t approve of me being in the house.

The tunnel was a little tighter than I remembered it being. Perhaps a steady diet of tacos was taking its toll in the form of a few extra pounds. Well, the added weight was all the better to keep my badger ass warm.

From under the wooden boards, I made my way to the yard.

Good morning. Moira sat in the grass and set a breakfast burrito on the ground beside her.

I happily dug in, scarfing down every morsel of egg and bacon goodness.

Yep, I was definitely eating better than I ever had. And by better, I mean tastier.

What have you been up to? Moira asked, knowing full well I wouldn’t answer.

If I could, I would have simply told her I was living the badger life. Eating. Sleeping. Confiscating things I wanted from her garage to adorn the little nest I’d been making for myself behind the freezer.

You know how I told you that work has been steady? Moira leaned back on her hands. Word’s gotten out in Redemption about us since the silo renovation. All of a sudden, I have more job offers than brothers to do the work. I might have to take on a couple more guys.

That sounded like a good thing, but Moira didn’t seem so sure.

It’s good, she said, as if reading my mind. But I’m still considering turning down some of the jobs. I like having an O’Malley on site to oversee, keep the work at a caliber I’m comfortable with.

Then that’s what you should do, silly.

Maybe that’s what I should do.

We were so on the same wavelength, it made it feel like we were having real conversations. Given these shared meals were the only positive interaction I’d found so far in Forbidden, they meant even more to me.

Footsteps sounded on the tiny porch, preceding Caleb’s voice. You should really give that thing back to Brody.

She’s not a thing, Moira said. "Frito is a she. Besides, Brody would like it if I gave her back to him, and I thought you were against Brody getting anything he wanted."

Caleb smiled in that charming, self-confident way of his. Moira smiled back at him, encouraging him. Gross.

I guess you got me there. He yanked her up and into his arms to shove his tongue down her throat, his favorite hobby.

I was all for kissing. And Caleb was hot enough, so go Moira for that. But I preferred my kissing to happen with a guy who was more than a pretty face. Not that I was getting any action since the whole perma-badger thing. Or ever.

Still, Moira seemed to genuinely love the guy, and he was pretty hot, after all. And I could tell he genuinely loved her back. Hashtag mate goals, y’all.

While the two of them had their kinky yard sex, I made my way back inside, not wanting to be rude and stare. Tummy full and eyelids heavy, I refluffed the nest I had made with what was once Caleb’s cashmere.

Just when I was about to lie down for a long day’s nap, I heard something scratchy. It was like metal scraping metal. Curious, I peeked out from behind the freezer to where Caleb’s truck was parked.

There was a flash of movement behind one of the tires, and the sound of tiny footsteps scurrying. Suddenly I wasn’t sleepy at all, but wide awake. My overfull stomach tightened into a hard ball that threatened to worm its way up my badger throat.

Eyes unblinking, heart racing, I watched.

Who was it? Who had found me?

The weasel who wanted to mate me? My alpha? Whoever it was, I wasn’t going back.

Claws ready for eye gouging, I waited.

The critter emerged from under the truck. It wasn’t a weasel. It wasn’t a badger. It was small and fluffy, though. It had canary yellow fur and big ears like a rabbit that went out to the sides instead of up over its head. It even had a fluffy little bunny tail, but it walked on two stubby legs. Given I couldn’t ask his name, and if I could, he probably couldn’t answer, I decided he looked like a Lemons.

I watched as it circled around one of the tires, and turned.

Its face was dominated by a set of gigantic eyes that added to its adorable factor. Until it smiled. The big eyes were dwarfed by a sprawling grin of needle-like teeth.

Okay, maybe not so cute.

The little yellow guy pulled its little yellow hand from behind its back, revealing a knife as long as its body. Lemons stabbed the blade into the tire with a twisted laugh that sounded a bit like a nightmare, and a bit like a child.

With a hiss, the air blew out of the tire.

Lemons ran the blade up over its head, slicing and dicing the bottom of the truck. Vehicle juices sprayed everywhere, pooling on the cement floor. What exactly was that blade made of? And where could I get one?

The giggling stopped just as the garage door opened.

I hurried back behind the freezer and completely out of sight, before pushing my way back through my escape tunnel.

Behind me, I didn’t miss a single one of Caleb’s curses.

But the weirdest thing he said was, Brody O’Malley, I will kill you!

I guessed he didn’t see Lemons. But more importantly, my tribe hadn’t found me, and I was safe. At least for now.

Chapter 2

Grant

After taking forever to fall asleep last night, I woke up early and couldn’t settle back down. Other than the brief while when I’d slept as a vulture in the old asylum, I’d spent every night of the last ten or so years outside. In a tree.

Because I’d been a vulture.

I was a tiger shifter, but I’d been trapped as a carrion bird. It was all shades of fucked up, and the worst part was that the whole time, I hadn’t had a clue why I’d been cursed. Pearl, my ex-girlfriend and a truly exceptional witch, had explained it all. Some grudge another witch had held against my dad.

My dad, who was currently gone without a trace. A part of me knew he would never come back. If he’d been spelled into a vulture, he would’ve found me and we’d have flown around eating disgusting dead things together, maybe stealing apple pies and sharing them with each other. The fact he hadn’t been around told me one thing: he was dead.

My mom knew, too. We’d talked it over soon after my return and she cried a little as she told me she knew in her heart that he was gone.

There was no mystery left, only a slow mourning process.

Hey, Grant? my mom called from the other room. Are you awake?

She was a tiger shifter like me. Of course I was awake—she could probably hear me moving around.

Yeah, Mom, I’m up.

Oh good. I need a second opinion on this composition.

I cringed. She was getting battier every day. During my vulture years, I’d watched over her as much as possible, flying by the house. Since my dad’s and my disappearances, she’d started a business painting portraits of women in town.

But these weren’t portraits of the women’s faces.

I called back out to her, You know I’m not so great at the whole art thing.

You haven’t steered me wrong yet. Get dressed and get out here, or I’m withholding French toast.

Her French toast was epic. But what I really wanted was apple pie. I’d stolen some of James O’Malley’s a couple of times, and I don’t know what Anna’s grandma put in that stuff, but it was addictive as hell.

I threw on a pair of jeans and a new fire station sweatshirt, since my old one had been destroyed at some point after I’d been cursed. When I looked in the mirror, I still didn’t recognize myself. I was older. I was filling out again, at least, thanks to my mom spoiling me in the week since I’d returned to my human form.

You don’t have any clients over today, do you? I asked, pausing before I opened my bedroom door.

She made a noncommittal sound, probably already distracted with french toast batter.

I listened carefully, just to be sure, but I didn’t detect any extra