Boarlander Beast Boar

by T. S. Joyce

  “Not three against one,” Emerson rushed out. “Bash and Audrey are trying to keep them from killing each other. Clinton has been on a tear since Mason left. He has no control. And Mason feels…” She shook her head. “He doesn’t feel right.”

  Harrison was in the fight now, and Kirk had Changed into a massive silverback, pacing the outskirts on long, powerful arms and legs, his eyes blazing gold.

  Beck couldn’t decipher who was winning. The white gravel road was speckled with blood, and the roaring of the bears rattled the park. They were all so fast, so lethal, their movements blurred, she only got flashes of the battle. Audrey with her claws sunk deep into Clinton’s back. Bash swiping a massive claw at Mason’s front hooves just before he lunged his tusks into Clinton’s exposed belly. Bear slaps echoed through the trailer park and then, in an instant, it was done.

  Harrison shrank into his human form and yelled, “Change back. Now!”

  The result was instantaneous as Clinton and Bash shrank back into their human skin with pained grunts. Audrey, too, but Mason refused, lifted his tusks higher, and glared down Harrison.

  “Please,” the alpha said breathlessly, putting pressure on his bleeding hip.

  Mason shrank back but landed hard on his knees.

  “Fuck!” Clinton yelled, gripping the underside of his right arm. Red streamed through his fingers as he glared at Mason, then struggled to his feet. “You did this. You made this place Hell, just like I knew it always would be. It wasn’t the girls who screwed us. It was you! You’re the reason Bash can’t smile anymore. You’re the reason Harrison’s so quiet. You’re the reason none of us can look at your damned trailer without feeling empty, why the girls won’t say your name, why Kirk can’t stop his Changes.” He jammed his crimson-soaked finger at Mason. “You’re the reason my chest hurts. I didn’t break the Boarlanders. You did.” Clinton spat red, and with fury in his silver eyes, he strode off toward the trailer across the street with the burns in the yard.

  Mason disappeared behind his truck, and when he reappeared, Harrison was following closely behind. Mason wore his jeans, but his shirt was still MIA. He yanked Beck’s belongings out of the back and strode toward the porch she stood on.

  “Clinton’s having a hard time,” Harrison said.

  “Yeah, and you think I meant for any of this to happen?” Mason barked out, rounding on the alpha. He looked from one face to the other as the Boarlanders gathered around in a loose half-circle, tugging on clothes, averting their gazes, completely silent.

  “You think I’m hurting you on purpose? Really? My animal is so fucked up right now I have no control. All I want to do is fight and wash away everything that’s going on in my head, and I’m stuck feeling all this shit I don’t know how to deal with. My time here made that harder. It made me too soft. I wasn’t trying to hurt you!” Mason shook his head and looked like he was about to retch. He lowered his voice. “I was trying to protect you.”

  Slowly, Mason set her luggage at the bottom of the stairs and dragged a hollow gaze to Beck. “I can’t be your driver. I’m sorry.”

  With that, he spun on his heel and strode back to his truck, then peeled out of Boarland Mobile Park, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Leaving a trail of friends in his wake. Leaving Beck with a strange hole in her middle that felt as if it would never be filled again.

  He didn’t know it, nor would he ever, but her animal had chosen him. And for the millionth time in her life, she hated being a shifter. Hated not having control of her body, of her heart.

  Because her animal worked on pure instinct and didn’t understand that Mason Croy, the untouchable beast boar, was the worst decision she could make.

  Chapter Five

  Mason paced his room. Down to the minutest detail, it looked the same as it had before Damon’s enemy, Marcus, had torched the mansion. Damon was like that, though—thorough, detail oriented, a perfectionist.

  He should call Beck. He should apologize and explain, but no. That would require talking about Esmerelda, and he wasn’t there yet. He wouldn’t be able to say what he wanted without Changing and ruining everything. Again.

  She shouldn’t have seen his boar that soon. Beck was a classy human not used to the fighting. She wouldn’t understand that he and Clinton had needed to bleed each other. That it was instinct, and that it fixed more than it hurt.

  A soft rumble rattled his chest. She shouldn’t have been there. And why the fuck had Cora and Damon thought an unmated human belonged in Boarlander territory anyway? It couldn’t be to tempt the shit out of him because he didn’t even live there. Didn’t visit there.

  The heavy double doors to his room swung open, and Damon glided in uninvited. He had a tendency to do that since he wasn’t used to being told “no.” The dragon simply did what he wanted and, apparently, right now, what he wanted was to piss off Mason.

  “What happened yesterday?”

  “Nothing. I did as you said, got Beck to your mountains safely. I even fed her.”

  Damon pinched the thighs of his charcoal gray dress pants and lifted them an inch before he sat on Mason’s bed. His eyes were lightened to the silver of his dragon, and his pupils dilated in that eerie way that reminded Mason of a snake. Apparently Mason’s animal had the dragon in Damon riled up, which was one hell of a dangerous game to play.

  “Clara has told me something unsettling.”

  “That the new chef sucks? Because he does, and he’s an asshole.”

  “You’ve never had a single complaint about my staff before, nor have you had a problem getting along with anyone. Clara says you have a ghost problem.”

  Mason stopped his pacing and leveled Damon with a calculating look. Damon’s mate was a clairvoyant. Or maybe a psychic or a seer, but she could definitely see ghosts. She’d seen all of Damon’s phantoms the second she’d set foot in his mansion a couple years ago.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Young, dark hair, dark eyes, beautiful. She follows you around but only late at night when you’re getting ready for bed and are about to sleep. Clara says she sees her clear as day, and while my mate doesn’t know your whole story, I do. And I would be willing to bet Esmerelda is part of the reason you are struggling now. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Mason swallowed hard and whispered, “She was beautiful.”

  “She also died ten years ago.”

  “Yeah, and how long before you moved on from your first mate? Huh? How long until you moved on from Feyadine?”

  “It was different for me.”

  “Why?”

  “It just was.”

  “Tell me why you were allowed to mourn your mate like you wanted, and I’m not!”

  “Because I had all the time in the world to mourn her. Centuries if I wanted them. You have one short life, Mason. Ten years is enough. Maybe it was too much.” Damon gripped the edge of the mattress and leaned forward, eyes softening to a medium gray. “You aren’t supposed to live your whole life alone. Esmerelda wouldn’t have wanted that. If she’s here now, it’s because you made her spirit restless. You conjured her by hanging on too damn tight. Let. Her. Go.” Damon stood to leave, but when he reached the door, he turned. “I want you out of this house.”

  “Are you firing me?”

  “No, old friend. I’m setting you free. You will be Beck’s driver. You will move into your old trailer at the Boarland Mobile Park, and I’ll pay you the same salary I do now. You’re using this house as a crutch. This job as a crutch. Me…as a crutch.”

  “That’s not true. I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing. Surely, you understand you weren’t ever just my employee. I didn’t take you from your asshole people because I pitied you. I took you because you needed a friend, and I needed that, too.”

  “It’s not as simple as just moving back there, Damon.”

  “Do you know what happens to a tree that never succeeds in putting down roots?”

  It dies. Was Mason dying inside? Hell, it s
ure felt like it. He’d figured out how to survive, but living was something that had always stayed just out of reach. He’d been closest to it when he’d spent a season logging with the Boarlanders.

  But…

  Mason had left for a reason. He’d been dreaming of Esmerelda, and he didn’t want Harrison and his crew to feel the effects of his downward spiral. The Boarlander alpha already had enough on his plate with Clinton and trying to bring his crew out of a deep, dark hole. They had their own problems to overcome, new mates, and intricate new relationships that only worked if one of the crew wasn’t dragging them all to Hell.

  Mason stared out his window at the wilderness, shaking his head over and over in denial of what Damon was doing. He was pushing him to take his baggage and his damned ghost to a trailer park of misfits on the cusp of becoming great. He was a poisoned arrow Damon was launching at the heart of a beast, and damn it all, Mason didn’t want to hurt them.

  Beck was going to see him. They all would. They would see all the ugliness he’d been hiding because he was incapable of keeping it in the shadows anymore. For years he’d been stoic, easy-going, dependable Mason. That was the character he’d played, but that side of him was unreachable now. He didn’t have control over anything anymore.

  For reasons he couldn’t understand, he revolted against the thought of Beck watching him break, but maybe Damon was right. Maybe it was time to throw away the crutches and make an honest effort for something more than the half-life he’d settled for.

  Mason scrubbed his hands down his face as he looked around his room—the one that had never felt like home. “When do you want me out?”

  “Now.” Damon’s lips thinned into a straight, somber line. “I want you to start living now.”

  Chapter Six

  “Hello?”

  Beck stopped fiddling with the sheets on the bed of 1010. “Robbie?”

  “Obviously. You’re the one calling me.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” God it was still so weird to talk to him. They’d cared for each other once. A long time ago. And now co-parenting would force them to always be in each other’s lives. She had to keep things cordial. “I’ve called a few times—”

  “A few dozen times.”

  She cleared her throat and counted to three so she wouldn’t remind him in a scream that he was supposed to let her talk to her son. “I’ve been calling because I wanted to see how it was going and talk to Ryder. I miss him a lot.” So much more than she was admitting out loud, but right now, just the idea of getting to finally talk to him and hear his squeaky little voice had her heart ripping apart.

  “It’s my month. I get one a year, so the least you can do is let me enjoy it without you breathing down my neck.”

  “Yes, I totally understand that, and I’m glad you are stepping up—”

  “Stepping up?” he said in that deep, familiar timbre of his. “I’ve always provided for him, have I not?”

  “Well…no. You’ve only made one child support payment, and it was thirteen dollars and a Snappy Freeze Yogurt coupon. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m really glad you asked for the month and are putting an effort into spending time with him. That’s what I want. For you to have a relationship with our son because he loves you and deserves to have you in his life. But you know how when I have him and you decide to call, if I’m able, I always let you talk to Ryder? I guess I thought it would be more like that. Where I wasn’t just cut out of his life for the entire time you have him.”

  “Yeah, well, you can’t talk to him right now. I’m working.”

  “Wait, working? You said you were going to take time off. Where are you?”

  “None of your damned business, Beck. I’m working a few more days at this job, and then I’ll go pick him up from my parents. He probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone. This is how we’ve always done it.”

  Yeah, with him being gone. “Why did you ask for him if you aren’t willing to spend time with him, Robbie? I don’t understand. Is it to hurt me?”

  “Goddammit woman, not everything is about you.”

  “I’m not trying to make it seem like that. I’m really not. I just don’t understand why we went through all of that mediation if you aren’t even taking time off to be with him. And don’t tell me it’s to spend more time with your parents. I love them. They are like a second set of parents to me, and I let Ryder see them whenever they ask. I just don’t understand why I’m spending an entire month away from our son when you aren’t with him.” Rage was bringing her blood to a slow boil, and she needed to end this call, quick. “No, you know, it’s fine. I’m sure he’s having a great summer with your parents.”

  “He is. He’s having a great fuckin’ time. I just talked to him two days ago, and they were taking him to the zoo.”

  Two days ago. Two days ago? It was supposed to be Robbie taking his son to the zoo! Not “checking in” with him every few days via phone. He’d done that shit Ryder’s entire life, and her disappointment that he hadn’t changed was infinite.

  “Hey,” Robbie murmured in a softer tone. That was his go-to voice when he wanted favors. Cuss at her, but then go smooth and ask for some inconvenience of her. “Since I have you on the phone, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “What is it?” she ground out, debating hanging up now and blaming a bad connection.

  “I’m gonna be in Saratoga on Wednesday. I know you’re stayin’ close to there, so I was wondering if you’d like to meet up. To talk. About Ryder.”

  Well, that was new. Robbie usually did his best not to see her at all. She’d even been dropping Ryder off with Robbie’s parents when he wanted him on the occasional day or weekend, just so her ex could avoid her. He wasn’t the best, or most mature, co-parenter. “What about Ryder? Why can’t we just talk on the phone about it?”

  “Because it’s important, and I have paperwork.”

  “Robbie, I swear to God if you’re taking me to court for primary custody—”

  “No, it ain’t like that. I’m good with a month in the summer.”

  She huffed a soft noise and shook her head. She wished she could reach through the phone and strangle him. A month? He would probably spend five days with his son out of that month. She’d made a huge mistake with her ex, and Ryder was always the one who got hurt by her bad decision. “I just don’t understand why we can’t talk about it now.”

  “You got better shit to do than talk about your kid, Beck? You’re the one always actin’ so high and mighty, perfect parent. Are you just having so much fun partying while he’s away, you can’t give up one night to focus on him?”

  This time she counted to five so she wouldn’t say a bunch of words to Robbie McFartFace that started with “Fs” and ended with “uck yous.” He’d always been the partier, not her.

  “I’m not up here partying. I’m working. You know, for money? That’s the green stuff I need to raise our child, and if you call him ‘your kid’ one more time, I’m going to explode. He’s ours. Ours, ours, ours!” Because her dumb ass hadn’t insisted he wear a condom when he was a whiny twenty-year-old who didn’t like using them. She loved Ryder. Loved him more than air, but damn it all, she wished she’d had him with a man who cared about people other than himself. “I can’t raise him on hopes and dreams, Robbie! And you don’t pay child support. You give me no help, so yeah, when you have him, I have to go lady-balls to the wall working my ass off so we can be okay. So I can afford our apartment, so I can pay our bills, so I can save up for the puppy he’s been begging for the last six months, so I can feed him and take him on vacation someday.” And here came the waterworks because Robbie always did this. He always made her feel completely alone.

  “I want to talk about his animal!” Robbie yelled into the phone.

  Beck gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth to keep her sobs inside. He’d never wanted to talk about Ryder’s shifter side before. He’d always avoided it like the plague and cut her off anytime she mentioned it.


  “You want to know why I’m not with your kid? I left for work because the day I was supposed to take him to a park, he got mad at me and Changed. And what am I supposed to do with him when he’s like that? Huh, Beck? You want me to stick him in a little animal cage and take him around with me? Introduce him to the other little normal kids? Explain to everyone why I’m carrying around a fuckin’ pet to the kiddie park?”

  God, she hated how he talked about Ryder’s shifter. “How long was he Changed?”

  “All fuckin’ day!”

  “Well, did you make him upset?”

  Robbie got real quiet, and that was answer enough. He knew better than to lie. He knew she could tell if he did. Poor Ryder. Beck would bet her bones Robbie had been shaming him for the tiny animal in his middle, and Ryder had escaped the rejection the only way he knew how. Twin tears streamed down her face, and for the first time since she’d met Robbie, she admitted to herself that she hated him. But all the hate in the world didn’t change the fact she had to co-parent with this person. No matter her feelings, Ryder needed a relationship with his father.

  “Fine. Where do you want to meet?”

  Robbie sighed a relieved sound and said, “I don’t know the area. You pick.”

  She didn’t really know it either besides what she’d researched. “Okay. There’s a bar the locals like to hang out at. Sammy’s.”

  “Boring Beck meeting at a bar?” he asked in a baiting murmur.

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not boring. I’m not yours anymore, Robbie. You don’t get to put me down like that.”

  “Pissy, pissy. Meet at Sammy’s then. Nine o’clock is good with me. I’ll be staying the night at a bed and breakfast outside of town.”

  “I have a big photoshoot scheduled for that day, so keep your cell phone on in case I’m running late.”

  “Well, don’t run late!”