Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“His name is Corey,” I continue. “You’ll meet him. He’s a great guy. We’ve known him all our lives. He’s always been best friends with my cousin Peter and him and Dawn have been dating since they were fourteen years old. They’re so good together.”
“I hope I get to meet them,” Noah says with a twinge of sadness in his voice.
“You’ll meet them,” I say in a sharp tone. “You’ll be my date at the wedding. Okay?”
He looks at me and stands a little straighter. “Okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. I’ll even hold your purse all night.”
I laugh as I picture this giant man with a tiny little silver purse under his arm.
“Now you’re talking.”
We settle against the rock and talk for hours. By early afternoon, I’m starting to think this idea is not going to work.
“I don’t think they’re going to come,” I say as I kick a pile of rope some climbers left behind.
“They’ll come,” he says as he looks out at the forest. “They’re tracking my scent.”
Half an hour later, Noah perks up and sniffs the air.
“What is it?” I ask as I grab the shotgun off the ground.
He closes his eyes as he listens intently. “They’re coming.”
“Shit.”
My heart starts pounding as I look around. There are no rumbling engines this time. They must be on foot.
“Over there,” he says, pointing to the forest.
I stare at the trees with my tingling finger on the trigger. Finally, The Foxhounds emerge from the forest, walking on foot—three men and a polar bear.
I swallow hard when they spot us.
“Oh great,” the big one with the tattooed arms and scars across his chest says, “the crazy lady with the gun is back.”
“She’s my mate,” Noah roars.
The Frenchman tilts his head in confusion. “You mated with da crazy lady?”
“The next man to call her a crazy lady gets his jugular ripped open,” Noah growls.
“That’s far enough,” I say as I point the gun at them. “Don’t come any closer.”
They stop moving forward, but they start to spread out.
I fire the gun in the air and they all flinch. The polar bear yelps.
“What the fuck did I just say?” I shout. “Stop. Fucking. Moving.”
I point the shotgun back at them and this time they listen.
“I’m running out of patience with you assholes,” I shout as furious adrenaline rips through my veins. “This man is mine, you understand? He’s off fucking limits.”
“Hate to break it to you lady,” scarred chest says. “But he’s a wild feral beast. He’s going to maul you to death while you’re sleeping.”
“Or eating cereal,” the Frenchman says. “One morning you’ll be reading da paper and eating your Lucky Charms and da crunching will set him off. He’ll bite your head off your neck.”
“No, he won’t,” I say. “I trust him.”
“Never trust a feral bear,” the Frenchman says with a hardness in his eyes. “I trusted a feral bear once. He massacred my entire pack.”
I swallow hard as the pain flashes in his bright green eyes. He reaches over his shoulder in a blur and pulls out his long sharp sword.
“Hey!” I say as I point the barrel at him. “Drop that sword.”
“Non, mon cherie. I will not.”
“Then, you’re about to have a really painful afternoon!”
“Hold on,” Noah says as he steps forward. “How can we settle this without swords and guns?”
“Easy,” the leader Jackson says with a deep booming voice. “You come with us. You do what’s right. You take what’s coming to you. For the greater good.”
“Fuck that,” I say as I swing the barrel of the shotgun at him. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“Calisee, these American women,” the Frenchman says with a huff of breath. “Why are they always so frustrating?”
“Part of our charm, Frenchy. You’re welcome to get on an airplane and fly your ass back to France if you don’t like it.”
“Jackson,” Noah says, ignoring both of us. “There’s gotta be a way to fix this. My bear is different. I found my mate and she’s changed everything.”
“Not this shit again,” scarred chest says with a roll of his eyes.
“What’s he talking about?” I say. “This happened before?”
The three of them look at each other wearily. The polar bear is busy sniffing a broken branch on the ground.
“Spill it!” I say, losing patience. “What happened before?”
“The last feral grizzly we were chasing found his mate while we were hunting him,” Jackson says with a sigh. “His bear mellowed significantly after.”
“And you let him go?”
“That almost never happens,” Jackson quickly says. “It’s very rare. We can’t risk letting a feral bear go on the rare chance that he’s improved.”
“But you did it before?” I say.
He stares at me. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“Parfait!” The Frenchman says as he starts walking closer. “Now, dat dats settled, let’s take out dis mad bear.”
“Not one more step,” I warn as I train the gun on him.