Shifter's Escape: Purple Oasis, #7

By Laura Greenwood and Arizona Tape

A princess in a tower, a daring escape, and a really annoying goose. What could possibly go wrong?

 

If there's one thing raven shifter Morgan wants more than anything, it's to leave the Nest and the tyrannical rule of her father, even if it means cutting ties with the only family she has left.

 

When Gus left Purple Oasis in search of the bird shifter paradise he'd been promised, he quickly discovered that the Nest wasn't as idyllic as it first seemed.

 

After Morgan overhears Gus talking about wanting to leave, she finally thinks she might have the chance she needs to escape, but should she trust the goose shifter she's never met before, or is it a trap set by her father?

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Shifter's Escape is part of the Purple Oasis paranormal romance series. It includes a sweet m/f romance involving a trapped raven shifter and a resourceful goose shifter.

If you enjoy light paranormal romances, coming-of-age storylines, post-apocalyptic settings, sweet moments, guaranteed happy endings, and casual magic systems, then start the Purple Oasis series today with Witch's Trust.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twin Souls Publishing
• Release date: May 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215099599

Laura Greenwood

Laura is a USA Today Bestselling Author of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and fantasy romance. When she's not writing, she drinks a lot of tea, tries to resist French macarons, and works towards a diploma in Egyptology. She lives in the UK, where most of her books are set. Laura specialises in quick reads, with healthy relationships and consent positive moments regardless of if she's writing light-hearted romance, mythology-heavy urban fantasy, or anything in between. You can find a full book list and more information on her website, or in The Paranormal Council Facebook Group. Happy Reading!

Book preview

One

Morgan

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I straightened my back and tried to school my expression into something that would be deemed acceptable, though I wasn't sure I managed, especially as the smell of dinner was making my stomach turn.

Not because there was anything wrong with any of the food the cooks had prepared. If anything, it was the opposite. And that was the problem. Everything had been prepared to perfection, creating a lavish spread that was far too abundant for just my father and me. The knowledge that other people in the Nest were probably starving only made matters worse, and made it less likely that I'd be able to enjoy the meal laid out in front of me.

Try some of the bread, Morgana. The kitchen prepared it fresh today, Father said, gesturing to the loaf in the middle of the long table.

It smelled delicious, and the golden crust was almost enough to make my mouth water even from this distance, but I knew I'd barely be able to taste it through my dislike of the entire situation I was somehow in.

I'm full, I replied, feeling incredibly self-conscious as I picked at the little bits on my plate. Whether I liked it or not, I did have to eat. Especially considering how Father had acted the one time I did go on a hunger strike. A shiver stole down my spine at the memory, but as always, he was clueless about my inner turmoil.

Father shrugged and reached across for the bread, tearing into the golden crust without even pausing to admire the beautiful decorations on top. I wondered if the kitchens realised how careless he was with their creations. Even if they did, I knew they'd never say anything. How could they?

The loud chewing and chomping sound coming from Father was unbearable and I wanted nothing more than to press my hands against my ears. I settled for bunching one of my hands into a ball, digging my nails into the palm of my hand in a vain attempt to process the sensory overload. I hated that this happened to me.

To dampen some of the noise, I ate some of the stewed meat soup. It wasn't particularly fancy compared to some of the other fare on the table, but it was soft and savoury and hot. I ate a few bites of my bread roll and while he wasn't paying attention, made two disappear into the deep pockets of my skirt. If he caught me taking food from our table, he'd start asking questions about where it was going, and I knew he wouldn't like the answer.

Are those sausage rolls? Father asked, pointing at another platter. He reached for one and accidentally knocked a bowl of blueberries to the ground. He cursed loudly, making me grimace.

I'll pick them up, I said quickly, getting up and crouching down to grab at the tiny berries.

Don't bother, it's not like I'm going to eat them after they've been on the floor, he said with a dismissive shrug.

I ignored him and stubbornly picked up the blueberries. He clearly had no idea how hungry the people in our hub were or he wouldn't be wasting perfectly good food. Then again, he'd lost touch with reality a while back and stopped being the sensible, reliable man that raised me. One more thing the apocalypse stole from me.

Tears stung at my eyes but I blinked them away. I wasn't going to let him see me cry no matter what happened. He'd lost that right.

The berries wouldn't travel well in my pocket so I put them back in the bowl and set it on the table. Father wasn't going to eat them, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't. The advantage of them being classed as waste now was that the contents of the bowl could find their way to the people who needed it.

Perhaps next time I was having dinner with Father, I could knock something off on purpose.

I dismissed the notion almost immediately. He'd be able to see through me and the punishment I'd get would mean that I wouldn't be able to help anyone for weeks.

My stomach twisted into knots and the sound of Father's eating was making me want to cry. I needed to get out of here, preferably before I had to sit down again. I've got a bit of a headache, is it okay if I go to my room to rest?

No. He cut a big chunk of meat on his plate and gestured to my seat with his knife. Dinner time is family time. Those are your mother's rules.

I stared at him for a moment, wanting to point out that Mum wasn't with us anymore, and if she was, she'd hate who he had become almost as much as I did. But despite it all, I couldn't bring myself to be that cruel to the man who raised me. The one who had managed to keep me safe through the early tumultuous years of the apocalypse where I could easily have died several times over.

With a practised smile, I sat down and took a sip from my cup to hide my real feelings about this whole charade.

I picked at my food, even less of my appetite remaining after the exchange. I knew I should eat, especially considering how lucky I was to even be picking what I could eat, but somehow, that didn't actually make it any easier to put the food in my mouth.

Maybe because I knew who it was being taken from. I hadn't earned this. I hadn't toiled in the sun or the rain to make sure the crops were brought in.

Father paid me no heed and continued to eat, the noises driving me to distraction. I wished I could hide my head under a blanket and shut out the world, though I knew that wasn't actually possible. Instead, I chewed on the inside of my lip and hoped that no one would notice me doing it and start questioning why. Not that there was anyone but Father in the room.

After an excruciatingly long time, he set down his fork and leaned back in his seat. Adequate.

I resisted the urge to scowl. The cooks had done an excellent job, as they usually did. It wasn't their fault he was comparing the food they made to fancier stuff he was used to from before the world ended.

Now you can go upstairs. He barely even looked at me. Byron!

No, it's okay, I don't need Byron to go with me, I said quickly, hating the fact I had to be escorted everywhere. I was perfectly capable of making my way up some stairs without causing any trouble.

Morgana, don't argue with me.

I winced at the sound of my full name. I hated it. Something he was well aware of considering he was the one who suggested I used Morgan instead when I was teased at school about it. I'm not arguing, I said through gritted teeth. I'm not even leaving the building. I'm literally just going—

He slammed his fist on the table, his face darkening. Byron is taking you and that's the last I'll hear of it. You know there are plenty of people in the Nest that would love to get to me by hurting you. I won't let that happen. You're the most important thing to me.

I could tell from his tone that it was futile to reason with him.

A middle-aged man entered the room, offering me an apologetic smile. He knew I wasn't too keen on his presence and luckily didn't take it personally. A small mercy, I hadn't always been so lucky when it came to bodyguards.

I considered saying something else to Father but thought better of it. When he was in one of these moods, it was easier to just slip by unnoticed.

I made my way out of the dining room and almost ran up the stairs with Byron trailing behind me. My palms ached from how hard I'd dug my nails into them, but those were my only injuries and I knew I'd gotten off lightly.

I forced