Awakening the Shifter Read online

  A tiger shifter falls for a werewolf

  But their passion is forbidden...

  Rock star Khan hides his shifter status behind his bad-boy reputation. But the weretiger is floored by the combined beauty and talent of singer Sarange Tsedev...who doesn’t know she’s a wolf! Their chemistry is potent, but tigers and wolves don’t mix. Still, Khan’s and Sarange’s past and present are linked; it will take their combined magical abilities to create a future together.

  Arms folded across her chest, Sarange stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance to the room. “You can start talking now.”

  “I was hoping to shower first. Maybe find some clothes.”

  “You turned into a tiger.” Khan wasn’t sure whether the wobble in her voice was caused by anger or shock. It didn’t matter. She kept going, coming toward him until he was pressed up against the balcony rail and she had to tilt her chin to look up at him. “I need to know what’s going on.”

  He caught hold of her upper arms, and as soon as he touched her, she collapsed into his arms. The feel of her body against his drove every other thought out of Khan’s mind, and a harsh groan of surrender was dragged from him. His whole body was entranced by her. His eyelids half closed as if weighted and he lowered his head, compelled by a force beyond his control to graze Sarange’s lips with his.

  I don’t want to control this.

  Jane Godman writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mom to two grown-up children.

  Books by Jane Godman

  Harlequin Nocturne

  Otherworld Protector

  Otherworld Renegade

  Otherworld Challenger

  Immortal Billionaire

  The Unforgettable Wolf

  One Night with the Valkyrie

  Awakening the Shifter

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Sons of Stillwater

  Covert Kisses

  The Soldier’s Seduction

  Secret Baby, Second Chance

  Harlequin E Shivers

  Legacy of Darkness

  Echoes in the Darkness

  Valley of Nightmares

  Darkness Unchained

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  AWAKENING THE SHIFTER

  Jane Godman

  Dear Reader,

  I’m so excited to share the first of my rock-star shifter books with you!

  Beast, the rock band with a difference, first made an appearance in another of my Harlequin Nocturnes, The Unforgettable Wolf. Don’t worry if you haven’t read that book; it won’t affect your enjoyment of this one (although it is a great love story!).

  Awakening the Shifter is the story of Beast’s lead singer. Arrogant, unpredictable and temperamental, Khan is the charismatic bad boy of rock. When he meets well-behaved singer-songwriter Sarange, the attraction between them is off the scale, but there’s a problem...

  Khan is a tiger shifter and Sarange is a werewolf. Cats versus dogs? Claws versus fangs? How can they be mates? The fates have got it all wrong this time. Particularly as Sarange doesn’t even know she is a werewolf.

  When his mate is threatened, Khan is forced to put his antagonism aside and go to her rescue. It’s an act that leads him halfway across the world on a journey of discovery, during which he finds out about his own tortured past as well as the bonds that tie him to Sarange.

  If they are to have a future together, the tiger and the wolf must work together, as they did in the past, and rediscover the love that once founded a great shifter dynasty.

  Look out for more rock-star shifter stories after this one!

  I’d love to hear from you. You can contact me at www.janegodmanauthor.com, on Twitter, @JaneGodman, and on Facebook: Jane Godman Author.

  Happy reading,

  Jane

  This book is dedicated to my friends Gill, Karen and Andrea. I won’t embarrass them by saying how long we’ve known each other...but it’s been a long time!

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Excerpt from An American Witch in Paris by Michele Hauf

  Chapter 1

  This was where Khan felt alive. The only place he knew for sure he existed. The heavy, thumping beat of the drums pounded in time with his heartbeat. The screams of the crowd pulsed along his nerve endings. Exhilaration fizzed through his bloodstream, sending his energy levels into overdrive.

  In front of an audience of thousands, or in this case, tens of thousands, with millions more watching on TV or live streaming...this was the only place his life had any purpose.

  He didn’t move. Head bowed, arms outstretched. Fire and fury exploded around him, but Khan waited. Pumped up the expectation beyond fever pitch and kept it hanging. Teased and tormented until the yelling and pleading from his fans became a fervor in his blood.

  When he finally raised his head, he felt his own vigor pulse through the audience. The devil horn sign was repeated over and over as far as the eye could see. Two fingers at the side of the head. The sign of the beast. Our sign. Nothing matched this...except maybe sex. The two experiences were similar, with the need for release becoming overwhelming. The climax came when he delivered his performance, poured himself into his spectators, gave them everything he had.

  Dense smoke rolled like fog from the stage and, within it, colored strobe lights danced in time with the drumbeat. Giant LED screens at the rear of the stage projected alternating images of fire, close-ups of snarling animals and the band’s logo, a stylized symbol resembling three entwined number sixes. At the side of the stage, explosions went off at random intervals, shooting orange flames high into the night sky.

  The other members of Beast were unleashing a storm around him. Behind his vast, gleaming circle of drums, Diablo exuded raw, brooding vitality. His chest was bare and his tattooed biceps bulged as he hammered out a manic beat, his blue-black hair flopping forward to hide his face.

  At the front of the stage, red-haired Torque, on lead guitar, was all burning drama and flickering movement. The air around him glowed with life, and he matched the sweeping arc of his hand on his guitar to the explosions at the side of the stage. In contrast, Dev, on rhythm guitar, held his body statue still, the movement of his flying fingers the only sign of life. His white-blond hair and pale skin added to the illusion that he was carved from ice. Slightly to the left of center, just behind Dev, Finglas was lost in his bass guitar, a faraway expression on his face.

  “Unforgettable.” Khan felt the stadium still as he elongated the word, starting on a whisper and ending on a screech. He knew the power of his own voice, knew what people said. Is Khan the best rock singer ever? Does he have the greatest vocal range of all time? Or is he just a showman?

  Khan didn’t give a damn about speculation and comparisons. Tonight, in Los Angeles—and at the simultaneous concerts in Manchester, England, and in Sydney, Australia—as long as they were talking about him, that was all that mattered.

  “Unforgettable” was their bestselling track from the album of the same name. As he launched into the number and the crowd sang along, Khan gave them what they expected. Throwing back his red-gold mane of hair, he swaggered, swayed and jumped around the stage in skintight leopard print pants and a flowing white shirt slashed to the waist. His voice ranged from husky purring to wild yelping, with acrobatics to match.

  He ended the song in one of his favorite ways. Approaching Diablo, Khan howled out the final chorus while dry humping the drum kit. It was always a crowd pleaser. It was less popular with Diablo, whose expression became even more tempestuous. Ged Taverner, Beast’s manager, frequently warned Khan that he would one day push Diablo too far.

  “When I’m asked to identify your body, Tiger Boy, there’ll be a drumstick through the center of your eye.”

  Acknowledging the adulation of the crowd, Khan returned to the front of the stage. Before he could speak, he was conscious of a change in the atmosphere. A curious hush fell over the packed stadium, something Khan had never known. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Silence? Where was the validation in that?

  A slender figure swept onto the stage. Sarangerel Tsedev, known as Sarange, was unmistakable. One of the few people in the world who, like Khan, needed only one name. Even if that hadn’t been so, her place on the stage was assured, her ability to silence thousands well established.

  Although she wa
s one of the most famous singer-songwriters in the world, Sarange was also the organizer of this concert. The Animals Alive Foundation was her nonprofit organization. Tonight was about raising awareness of endangered species. She had driven forward this vision, persuading the biggest names in the entertainment industry to come along with her. All across the globe people were watching this spectacle unfold and donating millions. The final tally was likely to be billions. Against all the odds, she had succeeded in uniting the world in a common cause.

  It had always been the plan that Sarange would join Khan for the official Animals Alive anthem. This was the finale, the culmination of all her hard work. What was striking about this encounter was that it was the first time two of the biggest names in the music scene had met in person.

  Khan had seen Sarange on screen many times, of course. He had heard her described as one of the most beautiful women in the world, and that accolade had piqued his interest. Yes, she was stunning. He had acknowledged it and promptly forgotten about her. Now, as Beast played the first few bars and she walked toward him, he realized she was a whole lot more than stunning.

  She wore a simple full-length white shift dress. High-necked at the front, swooping almost to the cleft of her buttocks at the back, slit to the thigh on both sides. The evening breeze molded the lightweight material to her body as she walked, highlighting the perfection of her figure. Her waist-length hair was iron straight, its blue-black sheen emphasized by the strobe lighting. As Sarange drew closer and raised her microphone, singing the first few lines of the song she had written—a love song to the creatures of the planet—he caught his first glimpse of eyes that were like chips of blue ice.

  Forcing himself to focus, he circled her, growling out his response. The audience went ballistic. Could they feel it? Sense what he had experienced the moment she walked into view?

  Khan knew what was happening, knew what the legends said. It was like a mantra imprinted into every shifter’s psyche.

  When you find your one true love, you will mate for life.

  He had heard the stories about how a shifter instantly knew its mate. How the sudden hit of attraction and lust was like nothing he, or she, had ever encountered before. It was said to be irresistible, an injection of pure, molten heat straight into the bloodstream.

  Yes, he’d heard other shifters talk about that feeling. He’d just never believed it. Until now. Until he’d seen Sarange. Breathed her in. Felt her touch his soul.

  And now he was in deep trouble. For so many reasons. The thoughts tumbled over themselves as he continued to perform on autopilot. As far as the world was concerned, he was Khan, charismatic lead singer of the hugely successful rock band Beast. And that’s exactly who he was. Who his human was.

  But, like all shifters, Khan had two equal sides to his psyche. They existed in harmony, the traits of one complementing the other. He was a weretiger. Half human, half tiger, he had the ability to shift seamlessly from one form to the other. Because of the life he had chosen when he met Ged—if “met” was the best word to use to describe the encounter—he spent most of his time in human form, but that didn’t mean his inner tiger had been subdued. Those instincts were as powerful as ever. For Khan, as for all shifters who chose to live among mortals, day-to-day living was a constant balancing act, a striving to maintain anonymity.

  Rock star by day, tiger by night. He was the mightiest of the big cats, with teeth, claws and a personality to match, but that was his deepest, darkest secret. He wasn’t about to reveal it to anyone, particularly not Sarange, darling of the paparazzi. It didn’t matter how much she made the blood in his veins sizzle, or how much she triggered a zipper-straining reaction farther south. It didn’t even matter that she had her own, equally compelling secret.

  Because, as soon as he saw her, he knew. Sarange’s secret was the same as Khan’s. She was a shifter, too. Khan had scented her before he saw her. That gorgeous face and stunning body hid the soul of a werewolf. That knowledge made everything Khan was feeling right now so far beyond screwed up he thought he might just be going crazy.

  He was a tiger. She was a wolf. Cats and dogs? They were natural enemies. Put them together and the claws came out and the fur flew. Even if Khan had been able to do what the legends said—settle down, take a mate—it would never be her.

  The tales about the unbreakable bond between true mates hadn’t foreseen this particular problem. They dealt only in success stories. Happily-ever-afters. It was always possible Khan’s dilemma had never arisen until now. He needed answers. Having found a mate he didn’t want, a shifter couldn’t walk away—could he? Once the bonds were forged, could they be broken?

  He was about to find out.

  * * *

  There had never been any question about who the headline act would be. Never any doubt about who would sing the Animals Alive anthem as the concert closed. Beast was the hottest rock band in the world. Although Sarange hadn’t been to any of their concerts, or met them in person, she intended to tap into that raw power.

  Even if the lead singer was a total jerk.

  She had watched enough footage of the band over recent weeks to reach a simple conclusion. Khan was a strutting, narcissistic show-off. She knew better than anyone that that was the perfect qualification for a rock star. Unfortunately, there was enough evidence to prove he was exactly the same offstage. She’d been hoping to enlist Beast’s continued help after the concert. It made sense. Beast. It had the potential to be the perfect partnership. Their name combined with hers, their pulling power, the two contrasting audiences...between them, they could have taken awareness of the plight of endangered species to a whole new level. Having watched interviews with Khan and done her research into his lifestyle, she’d changed her mind. Promiscuous, arrogant, conceited, he just about summed up everything she disliked in a man...in a person. Khan described himself as “the guy who dived head-on into hedonism.” Yeah. He was a jerk.

  As she walked out onstage, she gave herself a firm reminder. This was for the Animals Alive Foundation, the non-profit organization she had founded. Its mission was to maintain the environments of endangered species through fundraising and education. All she had to do was get through one song. Five minutes out of her life to get the attention of Beast’s followers. She didn’t have to like this guy to sing with him. Performing was what she did best. She achieved a melting expression as she sang the first lines of the anthem that meant so much to her.

  Sarange was used to crowds, but this was an emotional high like nothing she had ever experienced. This was the culmination of over two years of hard work. Of being told it would never happen. Big fund-raising gigs were last century. Austerity measures meant there was no spare cash. People, not animals—that was the way nonprofit worked these days.

  Kicking open slammed doors. Pulling down barriers with her bare hands. It was one of her strengths, but it had been hard. Fighting the establishment one interview and rally at a time. If we don’t care for animals, how can we care for each other? When they are extinct, your regrets will be worthless. Sound bites. Slogans. Pins. Banners. Every album she made, every photo shoot, every gig...like a general rallying her troops, she used each as another opportunity to get more people on her side.

  But the feeling that tore through her as she reached Khan had nothing to do with the triumph or relief of this night. It had nothing to do with viewing figures or pledges. It was about him. Something crackled in the air between them and around them. It was electrifying, thrilling and scaring her at the same time.

  The film footage she had watched hadn’t done Khan justice. He was startlingly handsome. Tall, with a lithe, muscular grace, his features almost perfect. He had high, carved cheekbones, a straight nose and breathtaking amber eyes. Almost perfect because his mouth was too full and sensual for perfection. But those eyes...they were mesmerizing. Set under slanting brows, they reminded her of a cat’s in the way they drew her in and refused to let her go. As he closed the gap between them, he was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t fathom. He could have been playing a part for the audience, but, if he was, he was good. Frighteningly good. Because she was instantly swept away by the hunger in his gaze.