Blade Song - By J.C. Daniels

I carried a picture of Doyle in my back pocket. I’d made a copy and tucked it in my pocket the day I accepted the case. Maybe it was silly, but I wanted to remember what I was risking my life for. A kid.

A nervous, scared kid who wasn’t even sure he could survive the change from human to were.

He had blond hair, sleepy-looking eyes and the promise of what would be a killer smile. So much promise. And what was more…he had kind eyes. The kindness in his eyes hadn’t been lost on me.

The cat shifters needed more kindness in their ranks…not less.

I knew his face now. He was mine. I’d do everything I could to find him and if I couldn’t find him, it would be because there was nothing left to be found.

On the way down to the cold lower level of Banner HQ, I slid my hand into my pocket and tugged out the picture of Doyle, rubbing it with my thumb. I didn’t look at it. There was no need. I knew his face well enough now that I could draw his picture. More than once, I’d found myself doing just that.

He didn’t look like his aunt.

A hand came up and closed over my neck as the elevator doors opened. The people trickled out, but before we could follow them, Damon hit the button to shut the doors and then he just held it. “Are you trying to push yourself into a panic attack?” he asked, dipping his head and growling right into my ear.

I drove my elbow into his stomach. I might as well have been hitting steel for all the good it did. I did it again anyway.

He swore and spun around, shoving my back against the elevator doors.

My hand itched—bad, bad, bad.

“Listen, little girl,” he snarled.

He reached for me.


Blade Song


J.C. Daniels

Kindle Edition

Copyright 2012 Shiloh Walker

First digital edition 2012

Cover Art by Angela Waters

Editorial Work Sara Reinke

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people.

Please note that if you purchased this from an auction site or blog, it’s stolen property. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Your support is what makes it possible for authors to continue to provide the stories you enjoy.


Dedicated… as always with love to my husband and kids. Love you…

Thank God for you…

Thanks to Tori and Sara. Tori, for all the feedback and how much you believed in this book, and Sara for all the help you gave me.

aneira [a-nir-a] derived from Antianeirai, found in the Illiad, warrior women, meaning ‘those who war like men’. Also known as Amazons.

Chapter One

My sword arm is mighty.

I will not falter.

I will not fail.

My aim is true.

My heart is strong.

I’m the descendant of some legendary badasses and I’ll damn well make myself wake up—

“You are so lovely…”

The silken voice whispered to me in the depth of my dreams, wrapping around me and pulling me under. It was a seductive thing, full of promise. Full of warmth and wonder and lies.

Jude. The bastard had never been able to keep to himself.

It had been six years since I’d met him and in those six years, he’d done his damnedest to infiltrate my life. I’d trusted him, sort of. Once. But in the years since I’d made his acquaintance, I’d learned to place my trust elsewhere…and to keep my distance.

So far, we were at a stalemate, but when it came to dreams, he usually had the upper hand. I’d always had surreal, vivid dreams anyway, and here, he reigned supreme.

Lost in the dark, velvety grasp of sleep, I wasn’t able to do much more than grumble and groan when he first appeared. It always took me a few minutes to get my bearings when he shoved his way into my dreams. Jude, the bastard, took great advantage of it.

He stretched out beside me on the bed and I could even feel it giving way under his weight, under that long,