Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
And that doesn’t make sense.
But I didn’t trust my senses when I was there. And being around all those shifters, being in the city—if you can call Tucson a city, and I do—had my bear so on edge, I was slipping between human and animal form the whole time I was there. Barely keeping my mind intact. It made me cranky as hell, and a danger to all those around me. All I wanted to do was get back on I-10 and drive away as fast as I could.
It’s only here, back at my cabin where I can be the antisocial hermit I am, I’ve sorted through my impressions. Now I wish I had stayed and asked questions about that scent.
I stand in my open doorway and stare out at the snow falling. Looks like going back into hibernation isn’t going to be an option. I have to go check on the human.
I’m not going to drive up to the research cabin—that would only scare the shit out of her. She’d think I’m the psycho stalker. I’m sure she’s been warned about the danger. It’s getting too cold to walk now, though. At least in human form.
I could wait until morning and hike over.
My bear rumbles.
Fuck.
Looks like we’re going for a four-legged hike.
I strip out of my clothes and stow them just inside the door. Outside, it’s started to snow harder. The flakes stings my bare skin and the soles of my feet as I shut the door in human form. Then I close my eyes and drop to all fours, the bear always so close to the surface, ready to take over.
He runs.
He fucking loves to run.
If he had his way, I’d give up all humanity. Roam these woods as bear. Forget all the pain, the tragedy. The life hardly worth living.
I almost gave into him in the months after Jen and Gretchen died. I wanted to. I hoped he’d swallow every last bit of Caleb, leave me without the ability to go back.
But the wolves intervened. I don’t know how they got word, but the Tucson wolf pack showed up on their bikes, scaring the snot out of the inhabitants of Pecos, who thought the Hell’s Angels had invaded.
They hunted me as a pack. Cornered me in a fight. They’re lucky I didn’t kill them all. The wolves kept me cornered and Garrett Green, their alpha, took his human form and ordered me to shift. He carried enough alpha command to make me do it.
They dragged me back to my cabin and stayed with me until I was human again. Forced me back to human form every time I tried to shift.
I guess they think I ought to be grateful.
I’m not.
I hate the fuckers.
They brought me back into my pain. Into a life I don’t want to lead.
On the other hand, there is something about knowing an entire pack of shifters have my back. Bears are generally solitary animals, so it was strange to be claimed by a pack. I still don’t know why they did it.
Because they could’ve just as easily come up here and put me down.
They probably should have.
I lope through the snow, my bear chuffing with pleasure at the snow on my snout, the taste of it on my tongue, the crisp air cooling my furry ears.
The trip to the research cabin takes no time at all with my giant bear stride.
I circle it twice, getting a sense for the scents.
There’s animal—dog.
That’s good. I’m glad she’s not entirely alone.
And the female’s scent.
It’s a pleasant tickle in my nose. Like strawberries and vanilla ice cream, only not that sweet. I don’t expect to enjoy it so much. It’s a human scent, after all. Not my thing.
The dog starts to bark when I get closer to the cabin. Smart animal.
The alpha in me growls, like I want to put him in his place, but he’s doing his job. Protecting his human as he should.
I amble toward the back of the cabin. I probably don’t need to stay any longer. I don’t detect any other scents here. But something pulls me closer. Some idle curiosity about the fearless female who thinks coming up here alone in a snowstorm with a killer on the loose is a good plan.
I stand on my hind legs and put my paws on the windowsill, peering in.
Fuck. Me.
The girl—scratch that, she’s all woman, even though she’s young—has built too big a fire. I know it’s too big because she’s stripped down to a soft pink tank top. A very small soft pink tank top. One that strains to contain her large, lush breasts. A pretty tattoo winds around her upper arm—green vines and a cobalt blue butterfly.
My bear growls.
She’s fucking beautiful. Human females aren’t my type—not at all. But if they were, I’d pick her kind. She looks like a Swiss milkmaid. A Viking princess. No, with that red hair, she’d be Irish farmstock. She’s sturdy. Big-boned, well-padded. Full-bodied with wide enough hips to carry a bear cub. Full strawberry lips. Smooth creamy white skin.