Rebel Heart: A prequel to Rebel Alpha (Book 5 in the Aloha Shifters: Pearls of Desire series) Read online

  Rebel Heart

  Aloha Shifters: Pearls of Desire

  by

  Anna Lowe

  A short story prequel to REBEL ALPHA, Book 5

  Rebel Heart

  Copyright © 2018 by Anna Lowe

  [email protected]

  Editing by Lisa A. Hollett

  Proofreading by Donna Hokanson

  Cover art by Kim Killion

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

  Other books in this series

  Aloha Shifters - Pearls of Desire

  Rebel Dragon (Book 1)

  Rebel Bear (Book 2)

  Rebel Lion (Book 3)

  Rebel Wolf (Book 4)

  Rebel Heart (A prequel)

  Rebel Alpha (Book 5)

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  Desert Wolf: Friend or Foe (Book 1.1 in the Twin Moon Ranch series)

  Off the Charts (the prequel to the Serendipity Adventure series)

  Perfection (the prequel to the Blue Moon Saloon series)

  Contents

  Other books in this series

  Rebel Heart

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Sneak Peek: Rebel Alpha

  Free books

  Books by Anna Lowe

  More from Anna Lowe

  AnnaLoweBooks.com

  Rebel Heart

  Uptown girl meets rogue biker — with a shapeshifter twist!

  All Cynthia was planning for the weekend was a quick escape to the countryside where her inner dragon can stretch its wings. She wasn’t counting on a handsome, enigmatic wolf shifter coming along and sweeping her off her feet. Cynthia has always been driven by duty rather than desire. But suddenly, she finds herself making reckless, irresponsible choices and telling herself, Just this once…

  A night of sizzling passion ensues, but the question remains. Is Cal to blame for making her throw caution to the wind — or is it destiny?

  This short story prequel reveals Cynthia’s backstory and sets the stage for her second chance at love, a story told in Rebel Alpha (Aloha Shifters: Pearls of Desire, Book 5). It takes place a decade before she comes to Maui after many cruel twists of fate. This story can be read at any point in this series.

  Chapter One

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  * * *

  Cynthia sat on a rocking chair on the porch of the Koakea plantation house, her new home on Maui. The sun was setting in all its grandeur, but she closed her eyes, looking to the past instead of over the Pacific. Another long, hard day was coming to an end, and she deserved this little escape, right?

  She caught herself giving the chair a push. God, she wasn’t far over thirty, yet there she was, rocking like an old maid. But memories were all she had, and rocking brought out the details of better days. So she’d rock, damn it.

  Her lips curled into a bittersweet smile. Her mother would be scandalized to hear such language coming from her. Of course, her mother would never have predicted how her neatly ordered life had taken a sharp turn. If a few curses had snuck into her vocabulary since then, she’d chalk it up to fate.

  She frowned and rocked a little harder. Love. Fate. Destiny. Funny how those forces worked.

  Not so funny, her inner dragon scowled.

  She pushed the thought away. The night air was scented with tropical flowers, but she swore she caught a hint of leather and sandalwood, too. Maybe even the distant roar of a motorcycle. Her fingers twitched over the armrest, and her heart skipped as she relived the memories, one by one.

  * * *

  “Damn it,” Cynthia muttered as her car cruised to a stop at the side of the road.

  Steam rose from under the hood as the tires crunched over dry leaves. When she turned off the engine, the night seemed eerily still, the way only a fall night in upstate New York could be. She clenched the steering wheel for a full minute and scowled, listening to crickets chirp. So much for making a surprise visit home.

  So much for independence. Her inner dragon sighed.

  She frowned. She’d spent the past three semesters working a side job to save for the battered little Honda that had seemed like such a good deal. And now, this. She could hear her parents already.

  Honey, we would have bought you a car if we knew you wanted one. A nice, safe Volvo — or that Audi you liked.

  But that was the thing. Her parents were already paying for tuition, her apartment, and meals. She didn’t want to be the coddled rich girl who got everything she wanted.

  Everything but freedom, her dragon grumbled.

  She stared into the shadows. Her parents meant well, but they didn’t understand what it was like being the only child of one of the oldest, most venerated dragon clans on the East Coast. They ricocheted from being overprotective to smothering her with expectations, and sometimes, she yearned to breathe free.

  So why was she heading home for the three day weekend? A dragon needed space to fly, and her inner beast was getting itchy again. Nearly stir crazy, in fact. For the past week, she’d felt an inexplicable urge to spread her wings.

  She sighed and looked up at the stars glittering through the trees. At least there was that. Fall colors were spectacular in the Adirondacks, and when she did get airborne, the views would be amazing.

  Funny, though, that her inner dragon seemed more tuned in to who might come hurtling down the road next than what was in the sky.

  All right, already. Do something, she ordered herself.

  She stalked out of the car, slammed the door — stupid car — and raised the hood. Her long, black hair cascaded forward when she looked down, and she twisted it out of the way. The light of the quarter moon illuminated all kinds of hoses, wires, and blocks. But other than the battery, she had no clue what did what. Three and a half years at Yale had taught her plenty about capital markets, optimal growth, and international trade theory — everything she needed to lead the family businesses someday. But did she have a clue what to do about all that steam? No.

  “Couldn’t you have made it another twenty miles?” she muttered, kicking a tire.

  The hum of an engine sounded in the distance, and her nostrils flared as fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. There she was, a young woman, way out on a country road at night, alone. As a dragon shifter, she could defend herself against human foes. But the world was full of ruthless enemies too, as she’d been taught from a young age. Shifters, vampires, and witches who would stop at nothing to capture a prize like her. Kidnap, rape, murder — previous generations had been subjected to all sorts of horrors, and those crimes were still common occurrences in the shifter world.

  The single light of a motorcycle appeared around a bend on the road. The cool fall breeze carried the distinct odor of a wolf shifter to her nose, and Cynthia tensed.

  Oh, God. She knew this had been a bad idea. She held her arms out from her sides, ready to shift and fly to safety.

 
Then her nose processed the details of that scent, and the feeling that washed over her was more like calm. Curious. Aroused, even.

  She frowned, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Shouldn’t she be scared?

  As the motorcycle approached, she threw up a hand against the blinding headlight. The driver slowed, then revved up, and the bike rolled right past. Cynthia’s jaw hung open as her inner dials flipped all the way over from cautious to incensed. Wait a second. Was that jerk not even going to stop to help?

  Okay, okay. So a moment earlier, she’d been praying for the stranger to leave her alone. But now, something in her mourned, and every nerve in her body strained.

  No! Don’t let him go.

  Without thinking, she stepped as if to follow. But what was she going to do, shift into dragon form and hunt the stranger down?

  Yes, her dragon murmured urgently. Can’t let him go.

  The motorcycle slowed to a near-stop, and she held her breath as the driver slowly circled back. Should she flee, following her initial instincts, or should she wait and see, as her dragon insisted?

  The stranger cruised past one more time, looped around, and coasted up cautiously. Which nearly made her laugh outright. She was the one in mortal danger. He was the one with mile-wide shoulders and an unmistakably broad chest — not to mention a vehicle he could run her over with and huge hands capable of throttling her neck.

  Those hands are capable of other things, too, her dragon hummed, licking its lips. All kinds of wickedly good things.

  Cynthia scowled. There were advantages to being a dragon shifter, but there were disadvantages, too. The need for constant secrecy. The burden of duty. And above all, this — the never-ending need to resist raw, animal desires.

  The biker stuck out a foot, propping up the motorcycle, and cut the motor. He didn’t extinguish the headlight, so all she could see was his silhouette. A big, bulky silhouette that made her blood rush in all kinds of inappropriate ways.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked in a deep, growly voice.

  Tingles went down her spine, and something sounded deep in her soul. A low, bass Bong, like a clock striking midnight, marking some kind of countdown.

  “There’s no problem,” she lied, hating the waver in her voice.

  He looked her over, giving nothing away.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, unable to stand the silence.

  Were all wolf shifters that quiet? Her parents had exactly one wolf shifter acquaintance, almost as a token representative of his species. What most wolf shifters were like, she had no clue. Only that they were legendary for loyalty to their loved ones and their ferocity in battle.

  A little tingle went down her spine as she allowed herself another whiff of his scent.

  The man tilted his head toward her Honda. “And the car’s fine, too, I suppose.”

  She scuffed a foot over the gravel and finally admitted the truth. “No, it isn’t.” And yes, I need help. But that part, she couldn’t force past her pride.

  Still, he didn’t move or utter a word. He just sat there, letting the breeze carry his scent to her. He smelled of leather, sandalwood, and yes — wolf. A big, powerful one. Young enough to be in his prime, old enough to have gained some wisdom about life — the hard way, no doubt.

  Of course, wise could mean scheming, and young could mean brash. Either way, every alarm in her body ought to have been clanging away. Dragons were at the top of the shifter totem pole, and other than employing lesser shifters from time to time, Cynthia had been taught that different species had no reason to mix. Plus, lone wolves were dangerous. He could be a rogue. A mercenary. A ruthless, selfish criminal.

  So why was she dying to see his face? To discover his name?

  “Well?” she demanded a minute later.

  She couldn’t see much of him, but she did catch the cocky grin that spread on his face.

  “Well, what?”

  “Are you going to sit there and watch or are you going to offer to help?”

  She winced at her own words. That was her mother’s side of the family coming out. The haughty, imperial side, accustomed to having staff around to sweep away the little problems in life.

  “I mean…” she added quickly, trying to channel her father’s generous, steady nature. “I could really use some help.”

  The stranger swung his leg over the bike and stood towering over her. “Now, did that hurt?”

  Cynthia pinched her lips. Damn it. Pride was both her strength and her enemy, as her father always said.

  “No. It didn’t. It’s just…just…”

  He stepped forward, raising an eyebrow. “Just?”

  Cynthia stepped back, tongue-tied from seeing him step into the light.

  His hair was thick, short-cropped, and chocolate brown. He had a bold, edgy jawline, dark, flashing eyes, and perfectly straight lips. The kind of man who would never be cast to model the expensive suits or watches that appeared in business magazines, but exactly the kind of man who might feature in a cigarette or jeans ad, à la James Dean. A gorgeous, thirty-something-year-old with a rakish, I don’t give a shit manner she shouldn’t find as appealing as she did.

  Her mind banged out stilted, staccato thoughts.

  Wolf shifter.

  Rogue.

  Forbidden.

  She was a goody two-shoes girl from a straight-laced family. And yet, everything taboo about that man drew her in.

  “It’s just that I’m stuck out here, and it’s not safe at night.”

  He snorted. “Not safe? For you or for me?” He looked her up and down then mimed flapping with his arms. “Dragon shifter, right?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. Was it so obvious? “And you’re a wolf, I presume.”

  He laughed, and the rich timbre worked its way into her veins, swirling and rushing around. “Yeah. Just don’t presume much else.”

  She cocked her head. What did that mean?

  He stepped past her, leaned over the engine, and touched various parts. Cynthia tried not to admire the rear view of his jeans. Man, oh man. There was something untamed about him, like…like a wolf, she supposed. All that hidden power, daring her to try to tame him. All that cunning.

  All that desire, her dragon murmured.

  She fanned herself, ordering the beast to stop imagining things.

  “How bad is it?” she asked through tight lips.

  Again, he waited an eternity before straightening to reply. “Not too bad. Easy to fix. But unless you have a spare radiator hose, you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  She knotted her fingers and worked them anxiously around. Stupidly, she hadn’t joined AAA. Calling her parents was the last thing she wanted to do. But what choice did she have?

  Her inner dragon coughed and forced her gaze over to the man’s Triumph. Why not catch a ride with him?

  Her eyes went wide. No way. No how.

  Why not?

  She could think of a dozen reasons, while her dragon could only come up with one.

  Come on. It will be fun.

  She wanted to snort. Fun? She didn’t do fun. She was responsible. Cautious. Sensible.

  Boring, her dragon muttered.

  The stranger followed her gaze to the bike then snapped his head back to her.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” he grunted. “For you or for me.”

  She frowned. What on earth did that mean?

  Her dragon grinned. He likes us. He’s tempted, too.

  Cynthia buttoned her lips. She was not tempted. Not in the least. And the smart thing to do was to swallow her pride, call her parents, and go straight home.

  She was prepared to say as much, too, but somehow, her dragon seized control, and she found herself flicking her hair back. “Maybe you shouldn’t presume.”

  She snapped her lips together, aghast. Was she flirting with him?

  He cracked into a huge grin, making her girl parts warm. “Maybe I shouldn’t.” He looked her over again as if to
check for something he’d missed the first time around. Finally, he nodded. “Listen, I don’t make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress—”

  She huffed. “I’m not a damsel.”

  “No, just a dragon princess who shouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road at night,” he said in a perfectly even voice. “One whose parents will be ready to roast a wolf’s hide if he so much as breathed the same air as her.”

  Her jaw hung open. How had he figured out so much about her in such a short time? And, damn. Why did the breathing the same air comment make her cheeks flush?

  “I am not a princess.” Although technically, if she went far enough back through her family tree…

  He shrugged, unimpressed. “Could have fooled me. Not even that car can hide that.”

  She frowned. Was it her shoes? Her jacket? God, she hoped she didn’t come across as a snob.

  “But seeing as I can’t exactly leave you here…” he said.

  Her inner dragon batted its long, rigid eyelashes. No, you can’t.

  “…and what with the terrible danger you’re in,” he continued in a dry tone.

  Oh, I am. I am, her dragon cooed.

  “…I suppose I ought to offer you a ride.”

  Cynthia pinched her lips, making sure the words she uttered were hers and not her dragon’s. “I would very much appreciate it if you would.”

  He shrugged like it was nothing, and her heart sank. She was all excited, but to him, she was just a chore.

  “Where to?” he asked, stepping toward the bike.

  She motioned up the road. “Saranac. About twenty miles.” She hemmed and hawed for a moment, wondering if she dared trust him.

  Of course, you can, her dragon breathed.

  “I’m Cynthia,” she said, reverting to the polite society girl her mother had raised. “And you are?”

  He flashed that little grin again — the one that found her so amusing. “Call me Cal.”