Chapter 1
Dr. Quinn noticed the girl’s movements. She was reserved, cautious, and wouldn’t look him in the eye. “New courier,” he said as more of a statement than a question.
Ingrid Sandburg nodded and pushed the electronic clipboard at him for a signature. The sooner she was out of Mountain View Crest, the better. Shifters made her uneasy, and the town was full of them.
Dr. Quinn looked at her name tag. “Have a nice day, Ingrid.”
She startled on hearing her name. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Was he one of them? She glanced up quickly and just as fast looked away. It was better not to know. He was an attractive enough, but you just didn’t know what lurked beneath. Her father had warned her about shifters, and growing up on the other side of the fence, she kept her distance. Until her job sent her here…into the very town she’d avoided all of her life. Ingrid reached up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. Her heart raced as she spun to leave. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Figures her first day on the job, she got sent to Mountain View Crest.
Dr. Jagger Quinn watched the girl leave. He could smell her fear. It wasn’t just her body language. A bear’s sense of smell was acute, and as he watched her leave, he wondered what it was she was afraid of. Him? The town? Or shifters in general?
He returned to his work, frustrated that their latest serum wasn’t doing what they’d intended. It was back to the drawing board. He’d spend his entire career chasing a cure if that’s what it took. He closed his eyes and remembered his mother’s face. For you, Mom .
Jagger shook off the sadness that swept over him. Years of work and they were back to square one. He pushed his hand through his dark hair and sighed. He’d have to separate the amino acids and figure out what altered its course when it was introduced to the muscle tissue. The injections, at least the first ones were doing their job, helping to regenerate new tissue, but this final serum, it was supposed to lock the new growth and stop it from copying the bad cells in the body that caused the mutation. To the outsider, that sounded like a simple process, but Dr. Quinn knew it could take years. That thought alone overwhelmed him at times.
He loved to dabble in the smallest details, and yet he was having trouble concentrating. He got up to stretch. His muscles were stiff from too much sitting. Slipping off his lab coat, he did a full bend, reaching for his toes, and then came up and twisted his torso. His broad shoulders and thick, meaty arms flexed with each movement. The black cotton shirt that clung to his body highlighted his pecs while hugging the solid, wall of muscle. One last stretch, forcing his shoulders forward and back, and he was ready to settle back in for more work. Or so he thought.
The courier slipped into his mind. He retraced the image of her frightened posture and the chubby hand that slipped a lock of hair behind her ear. The fear…bred out of ignorance, he was certain. He’d seen it before. Those not raised around shifters had a natural caution with them. He hated living in the segregated community of Mountain View Crest, but it was the only place he could conduct his research that was willing to invest in it. Pure humans didn’t care about the medical problems and needs of shifters. They didn’t want to be bothered by the half-breeds or invest their hard earned money in helping the mutated community. And the genetic research and need for a cure…it was damn well important to his kind. The humans might not need answers and recovery, but the shifters did. What used to be a genetic mutation that touched 1 in 10,000 lives was now touching closer to 1 in 4,000 lives. It more than doubled, and why? He was certain it was the chemicals being dumped into the waters that fed their community, but without proof, without help, without a cure, there would be no solution. His mother was one of the
Dr. Quinn noticed the girl’s movements. She was reserved, cautious, and wouldn’t look him in the eye. “New courier,” he said as more of a statement than a question.
Ingrid Sandburg nodded and pushed the electronic clipboard at him for a signature. The sooner she was out of Mountain View Crest, the better. Shifters made her uneasy, and the town was full of them.
Dr. Quinn looked at her name tag. “Have a nice day, Ingrid.”
She startled on hearing her name. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Was he one of them? She glanced up quickly and just as fast looked away. It was better not to know. He was an attractive enough, but you just didn’t know what lurked beneath. Her father had warned her about shifters, and growing up on the other side of the fence, she kept her distance. Until her job sent her here…into the very town she’d avoided all of her life. Ingrid reached up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. Her heart raced as she spun to leave. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Figures her first day on the job, she got sent to Mountain View Crest.
Dr. Jagger Quinn watched the girl leave. He could smell her fear. It wasn’t just her body language. A bear’s sense of smell was acute, and as he watched her leave, he wondered what it was she was afraid of. Him? The town? Or shifters in general?
He returned to his work, frustrated that their latest serum wasn’t doing what they’d intended. It was back to the drawing board. He’d spend his entire career chasing a cure if that’s what it took. He closed his eyes and remembered his mother’s face. For you, Mom .
Jagger shook off the sadness that swept over him. Years of work and they were back to square one. He pushed his hand through his dark hair and sighed. He’d have to separate the amino acids and figure out what altered its course when it was introduced to the muscle tissue. The injections, at least the first ones were doing their job, helping to regenerate new tissue, but this final serum, it was supposed to lock the new growth and stop it from copying the bad cells in the body that caused the mutation. To the outsider, that sounded like a simple process, but Dr. Quinn knew it could take years. That thought alone overwhelmed him at times.
He loved to dabble in the smallest details, and yet he was having trouble concentrating. He got up to stretch. His muscles were stiff from too much sitting. Slipping off his lab coat, he did a full bend, reaching for his toes, and then came up and twisted his torso. His broad shoulders and thick, meaty arms flexed with each movement. The black cotton shirt that clung to his body highlighted his pecs while hugging the solid, wall of muscle. One last stretch, forcing his shoulders forward and back, and he was ready to settle back in for more work. Or so he thought.
The courier slipped into his mind. He retraced the image of her frightened posture and the chubby hand that slipped a lock of hair behind her ear. The fear…bred out of ignorance, he was certain. He’d seen it before. Those not raised around shifters had a natural caution with them. He hated living in the segregated community of Mountain View Crest, but it was the only place he could conduct his research that was willing to invest in it. Pure humans didn’t care about the medical problems and needs of shifters. They didn’t want to be bothered by the half-breeds or invest their hard earned money in helping the mutated community. And the genetic research and need for a cure…it was damn well important to his kind. The humans might not need answers and recovery, but the shifters did. What used to be a genetic mutation that touched 1 in 10,000 lives was now touching closer to 1 in 4,000 lives. It more than doubled, and why? He was certain it was the chemicals being dumped into the waters that fed their community, but without proof, without help, without a cure, there would be no solution. His mother was one of the
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