Scent of Salvation (Chronicles of Eorthe #1) by Annie Nicholas Page A

shifter strength—but by concentrating on just one body part, Sorin could partially shift. Most couldn’t do this, and it hurt like the Goddess had him by the balls. He focused on the fingertips of one hand. The muscles in his forearms trembled, and sweat beaded on his skin. With aching slowness his claws grew from under his nail beds. Blood dripped onto the floor as they extended to their full length. Shifting never hurt and didn’t normally cause bleeding but Sorin had forgotten the pain that came with partial shifting. What he did was unnatural, and his body didn’t know how to react.
    Using the long claws, he fished around the lock until he heard a familiar click. The collar loosened and he set himself free. Setting it on the ground, he then focused on his hand and watched in agony as the claws receded. He swallowed the pain and drew strength from it. Pain meant he was alive and winning.
    He wiped the sweat from his brow then jogged to the entrance. Before peeking outside, he allowed the scents of the night air to drift in his nose. Above the smells of shifters he could detect food, green things and sex. All common things within a den, but something else drifted faintly in the air.
    Susan.
    No shifter’s scent hung close to the door so Sorin stuck his head out and scanned the area. He’d heard of the Payami den and how they’d built a stronghold inside a mountain. It was quite a sight to see in comparison to his simple canyon home. High walls with multi-level living areas surrounded a well-manicured, garden-like forest. He could even scent a vegetable garden close by.
    But where was the singing, the camaraderie of pack? He’d witnessed how the members socialized in small groups and how they all retired to their own entertainments. That was all fine but he hadn’t seen anything that made them pack. The Payami may have wealth but they lacked family. He’d take his close, impoverished pack over this life any day.
    Sorin didn’t hear anyone walking around. It was late, and most shifters would be asleep or otherwise occupied. He crept along the wall and followed Susan’s scent trail. It was easy to identify since she was the only human inside the den. He backtracked it through a dense part of the garden.
    Leaves rustled to the left. He froze.
    Grunts and mewls of pleasure followed the movement. The couple was too distracted to care about him. He probably could sit next them to watch and they wouldn’t have noticed. Shaking his head, he continued on his hunt. He’d never personally experienced such blind passion. It seemed dangerous. He could have killed both of them if he’d cared to.
    Susan’s scent led up a flight of stairs. He paused at the base and spotted a pile of clothes by an unguarded cave. The exit? Shifters usually left leather kilts and dresses by the den’s main entrance so they could dress after shifting to civil form. It was considered rude to stride around naked, like he was doing. However, there were no guards protecting the area.
    He wasn’t sure what that meant but it gave him a bad feeling. He’d been unconscious when they carried him inside the den so he hadn’t observed any of their defenses. This was another reason to find Susan.
    What if she didn’t want to come with him? Would he knock her unconscious and carry her home like his father used to do? He sighed. Never. Not even to save his pack. He’d have to rely on his charm. Nausea rose in his gut at just the thought. His pack was doomed. He knew enough not to barge into her room naked though.
    He went through the kilts as fast as he could before anyone noticed him out in the open. One of the troubles of being an alpha was size. Nothing fit well. He settled on a kilt that fit his waist but fell well above his knees and didn’t bother with a shirt. At a glance he could tell none of them would get past his shoulders.
    As he dressed, he noticed a pale figure making her way along the balconies toward the ground area. Sorin slipped back