Slow Shift by Nazarea Andrews (best summer reads of all time txt) 📕

“Lucas?”

“Yes, darling girl?”

“Thank you.”

He hums against her hair, tucking her close to him, and whispers, “My pleasure, darling.”

It’s not healthy, this thing with him, she thinks as she falls asleep, but she thinks it’s the best thing she’s ever had.

~*~

He comes alone, clad in jeans that sit low on his hips and expose his tattoos. He has always done this on the Solstice, carving his wards and sigils into the Standing Stones and bleeding his spark into them, just enough that it bound him to the ancient Stones, lending his strength to the dying magic and carrying its power in his veins.

But it‘s never enough, never the sigils that would complete the binding, and his wolves circled him as he bled, holding him back, claiming him as their own.

Now, he stands alone under a black moonless sky and he can feel the eager clamor of the Standing Stones, building to a crescendo as he clambers onto the ancient rocks and carves the sigil that will bind his life force to the Stones, that’ll make their magic his.

He breathes through the excited push of raw power and closes his eyes.

The first cut is too shallow and it stings, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough, so he drags the sharp knife over his skin again, deeper, dragging it up the length of his forearm. Blood wells up, fast. He’s dizzy with the sight of it and the magic pouring through him as he slices his other wrist open, and then it’s done.

It’s done, and he has the fleeting thought that he hopes he survives, before the magic takes, grips the binding and his blood, and shakes.

Ancient power, raw and unfiltered and so potent it makes his teeth ache, rips through him as he bleeds out. He hears a roaring that feels too close and too far away, but he can’t focus, can only feel the drip of his blood on the Standing Stones, and he thinks as the blackness crowds in, Tyler.

~*~

John sits next to Chase’s bed and breathes. It’s been four days since Tyler called him, panicked, and said, “Chase is hurt.”

He still doesn’t know what happened.

He doesn’t know how Chase came to be in the forest, unconscious with slit wrists. He doesn’t know why his tattoos are gleaming, the black lines now laced with silver veins. He doesn’t know why the forest is springing to life beyond Chase’s window, or why the ancient Stones now circle a fifty-foot tree.

He doesn’t know why Chase hasn’t woken up.

Tyler slips back into the room and pauses. John can feel the man’s gaze, heavy and assessing. “He’s going to be ok.”

“You can’t say that. You don’t know.”

“His wards are holding. The protection charms are holding. And I—I can feel him, in the Pack bond.” Tyler stares at Chase, and his hand clenches worriedly, but his voice is firm. “He’s going to wake up. And he’s going to be ok.”

For the first time in four days, John thinks that maybe there’s hope, if only because Tyler Reid would kill and die and beat down the gates of Hell itself, for Chase.

He breathes and watches his son.

~*~

Lucas is sitting against the headboard when he wakes, reading quietly, and Chase is absurdly grateful, because it feels like he got hit by a fucking truck and he can’t hold back his whine of pain as he moves.

Lucas reaches down absently, draining his pain as he says, “That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Probably,” Chase rasps, “But I’m strong enough to protect the Pack and defend our territory. I can take care of the Pack now.”

Lucas looks at him finally. “Chase, you have always taken care of everyone in this Pack.”

“I—”

“When I was in that chair, trapped in my head and body—I remember you taking care of me and making Tyler eat. I watch you do it with your father and the pups, and even with Aurora. I was the focus of it for years. It’s part of who you are, and that’s fine, but you need to remember something.”

Chase bites his lip and watches the older man.

“We’re Pack, which means you let us take care of you, too.”

Chase frowns, hunching in on himself.

Lucas tips his chin up. “No more of this, pup. No more abusing yourself to take care of us. That doesn’t take care of us. Do you understand?”

He nods reluctantly, and Lucas smiles.

“Now. You’re on bedrest for the next week. But I wanted to let you know—I found the spy.”

~*~

Chase is still recovering, but he refuses to let Lucas handle this alone. Tyler, who has barely left his side since Chase woke up, refuses to let Chase go without him. So they all go, together, and Chase smiles happily.

They’re going to kill a man, and he can barely sit up straight, but he’s with his ‘wolves, and that’s rare, these days. There’s always something drawing one of them away, a pup who needs attention—he can’t remember the last time he spent any time with just Tyler and Lucas.

He sighs a little and Tyler glances back at him.

“There,” Lucas says, slowing the car as they approach a strip of shops in downtown Harrisburg. Tyler huffs and shoves out of the car, and Chase hears a startled, “What the hell?”

Then Ryan Stroff lands next to him, pale, furious, and frightened.

Chase smiles, and it’s human, but he has never felt quite as predatory. “Hey, Ryan. I hear you made some new friends.”

~*~

The box Lucas selects, when they’re finished, is exceptionally pretty, approved by Aurora and lined with plastic before he nestles the bloody entrails in a bed of white silk with a picture of Ryan’s corpse.

He calls a bounty hunter he knows and the girl gives him a savage smile before she tucks the box in the front seat of her car and heads East.

He hums happily as he glances at the time and ponders what to make Chase for dinner.

~*~

“Have you had anything strange happen recently?” Liss asks.

Chase pauses. “No.”

Aside from the werewolf