by ML Guida
Skye shivered, remembering how her wrists had been tied behind her in that car. “No, I’m not.” Her voice trailed into a low mumble. “Wherever I go, he finds me. He scares me, Sandra. I’m afraid someday he’ll kill me.”
Sandra’s brows buckled into her famous scientist analyzer look. “Did you ever––”
Skye flung her arms up in the air. “Okay, once. We just had one beer after a gig one night. I do that zillions of times with roadies. No big deal.” The rap-tap-tap-tap rhythm of her words ended in the ding of a cymbal.
“Well, unfortunately, something did happen. Maybe not for you, but definitely for him.”
Not wanting to think of that night, Skye turned her head. Cars whizzed by. Snow was melting off the mountains and pouring into streams. Pines and aspens spilled over the mountains like a green river. She wanted to get lost in the forest and hide forever, but Hector always managed to pick her up scent.
He was relentless.
“You’re going to love our cabin, Skye. It’s beautiful. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure it is.” She tried to sound cheerful but failed miserably.
The police wouldn’t be able to detain Hector for long and then the hunt would be on again.
Chapter 3
Walfea shut his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t dream again. He put his hands behind his head, took a deep breath, and tried to relax. His body nearly overtook the king-size bed. Arian beds were twice this size, but it would have to do. He just wanted to pass out into nothingness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep.
Not since Sutois.
Outside, the moon and stars blanketed the sky. One of those stars was Aria, but he couldn’t go home.
Not yet.
A six-pack of beer had made his brain sluggish, but it wasn’t as powerful as slads. He missed the cool, drink. It was ten times more powerful than any alcohol on Earth, and three drinks would have knocked him out for hours.
But he wasn’t on Aria. He was on Earth.
He tossed and turned on his bed, clutching the sheets tightly.
The drone of the television lured him to sleep. His heart beat slowed, his breath grew heavier, his fingers unraveled.
The smell of pine dissolved, and the cool mountain air faded, replaced with unbearable heat and humidity. His warm, soft bed was gone, and he sat on a cold, hard floor.
Crap, he was back on the planet Sutois, captured by the Gogs and tossed into a dark, damp cell. Its walls were at least twenty-feet tall. The only light was at the very top where he could watch the hairy Gogs walk-by, not at all worried that any of their prisoners could escape.
His brother, Dech, was locked in the cell with him. He had the same long white hair, the same muscular build, the same green eyes as Walfea. Walfea always thought he was looking at a mirror. Most Arians transformed into brown bears, but he and Dech were white.
They both leaned against the wall, their bellies growling. They’d been captured three days ago, and the Gogs had only given them enough food to feed a cub.
A one-eyed Gog looked down into his cell. It’s bright orange eye glowed. The creature smacked his lips and then sneered, revealing sharp, pink-stained teeth.
Chills crept down Walfea’s back. Not tiny chills that meant he needed a blanket. Warning chills that said he needed to transform into a dragon. But he wasn’t a dragon. He was a bear.
He refused to show fear. He jumped to his feet, growling and snarling.
The Gog smacked his lips and then sneered, revealing sharp teeth.
“Did you see that?” His brother leaned closer.
“Yeah, I saw him. Not a good sign.”
“They’re hungry again.”
Walfea woke with a start. His heart pounded, his body was paralyzed, and his lungs squeezed shut. The Gogs were coming. Fear scraped him raw. Shades, they were coming…
Something moved over him. He growled.
The shadow passed. The moonlight fell across him.
Clouds. Damn, clouds.
He wasn’t in a damp cell. He wasn’t lying on a cold, hard floor.
He was on a soft bed, tangled in sheets. He put his hand over his sweaty forehead. He sucked in the scent of fresh pine.
He was safe.
Dech was dead.
Fat tears slid down his temples. He kicked and clawed at the sheets sticking to his legs. He wanted to rip the hearts out of the soulless Gogs.
He jumped out of bed, trembling uncontrollably. He ran his clammy hand through his damp hair. “I need a beer.”
Losing his brother was like losing half his soul.
He wandered into the kitchen and opened a beer. The master house was dark except for a single light in one of the bedrooms. Funny, he hadn’t noticed it being on before.
He shook his head, trying to think clearly. The nightmares took a while to shake off.
The master house was three times the size of the caretaker house, but the caretaker’s house was all he needed. Sandra Rotella had alerted him that there would be a woman staying for a couple of months. His job was to not only take care of the grounds, but to protect her from some mysterious stalker.
He took a swig, wishing one more time that it was a slads. Hopefully, he could protect a human from another human. He didn’t trust his abilities.
Not anymore. Not after Sutois. Not after Dech.
He’d taken a leave from the Intrepid. To be honest, he didn’t know if he could ever go back. Earth was safe. No flesh-eating aliens here. Here, he was the top of food chain and he liked it that way.
The sun peeked over the horizon. He needed air. He finished the beer and slammed it on the counter. He stepped outside and changed into a bear.
He wandered into the thick forest. He detected other bears who had learned to keep their distance from him. He was twice their size and his claws could easily rip them to pieces. Moose and mountain lions were nearby, but like the bears, they hid.
A narrow pine-needled path led to Rainbow Lake. Sunlight warmed his fur. The stern scent of whortleberries caught his attention. Not as tasty as the sweet buddles on Aria, but he’d gotten used to the taste. Whortleberries gave off an astringent scent, but they were sweet and tasty. He sat on his haunches and munched on the blue berries.
Soft footsteps skidded to a stop. “Oh, my God. A polar…bear.”
A little further up the path, a beautiful red-head with the prettiest blue eyes stared at him. The blood drained from her face. A brilliant green aura sparkled around her.
Mate. His.
He stopped chewing the berries and sucked in his breath. Adrenaline flooded through him.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
His cock immediately hardened. Shades, how could this be true? How could a damn human be his?
But it was true. The Shades, the Arian gods, had marked her. Unknown to her, stars descended onto her flesh, one landing on her delicate wrist.
He went to say hello, but released a menacing growl.
She screamed and turned around, running up the trail she’d come down.
Shit, he was still a bear. He transformed, then immediately rushed after her.
Through her purple baseball cap, her pony-tail bounced up and down and her black short shorts hugged her sweet ass. Her arms and legs pumped as fast as she could. She had nice, muscular arms and legs. Every desire woke inside him and all his instincts told him to claim her, but this wasn’t Aria.
She slipped on a rock and fell down a ravine, screaming. She rolled faster and faster. Her baseball cap flew off her. Her limbs flopped around her. She rushed toward a log with a jagged branch.
Damn it. His fault. Just like Dech.
Not this time.
He leapt into the air and landed in front of her. She slammed into his legs hard. He grunted like a bear.
Twigs, leaves and pine needles were tangled and twisted in her hair. She groaned and his heart sickened. Crap, he couldn’t do anything right.
He knelt down. Shades, she’d smelled
like sweet vanilla, but that wasn’t all. He smelled something metallic. His chest tightened. Thanks to him, she was definitely hurt. He gently turned her over. “Miss, are you all right?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “I guess.”
Not true.
Pine needles, aspen leaves, and sticks, poked into her hair. Tiny scratches marred her beautiful face, but it was the ones on her thigh that made him frown.
“You’re bleeding.”
She touched her forehead, her eyes dazed. “I am?”
“You’ve got a nasty cut down your thigh and your arm.” He used the tip of his shirt to dab her cuts.
She sat up, her eyes wide. “Did…did you…see it?”
“See what?”
“A polar bear.” Her voice was shrill and her breath rapid. She looked around as if a Gog would jump out at her.
But she was safe. He’d die protecting her.
He raised his eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “A polar bear? In Frisco?” He ripped the edge of his shirt. He sniffed and released a growl from the back of his throat. A mountain lion was nearby.
She grabbed his wrist. Her eyes grew wider by the minute. “Did you hear the growl? It’s a bear. I swear.”
“Easy. You must have bumped your head. Nothing’s here.”
He wrapped a strip of cloth around her thigh.
She skidded away from him. “What are you doing?”
“Binding your wounds. You don’t want to leave a trail of blood out here.”
Something hissed. The mountain lion hadn’t left.
“Did you hear that?” She gripped his arm hard.
“Hear what?”
“A hiss.”
“No.” He shouldn’t lie, but he didn’t want to send her into panic if he had to fight the lion.
She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe I’m losing my mind. I really thought I saw polar bear eating berries.”
“Well, if he was here, he’s gone, but something must have scared you.” He finished tying a knot around her arm. “You’re going to need bandages and antiseptic for those wounds.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“Can you walk?”
Her brows furrowed. “I think so.” But her small voice said something else.
He put his arm around her. “Let me help you.”
She stood and winced. “Ow!”
He immediately wrapped his arm around her waist. “What’s wrong?”
She grimaced. “Damn it. I twisted my ankle.”
“Do you mind if I have a look?”
“Sure.”
He gently lowered her onto the log, away from its ugly, jagged limb. He edged down her sock. Her skin was swollen and red. “If I remove your shoe, I won’t be able to get it back on. I think you definitely sprained your ankle.”
Her shirt was ripped, revealing a pierced belly-button.
Odd. Was there something wrong with her belly?
“Shit, how the hell am I going to get home?”
He winked at her. “Don’t worry, I can carry you.” He scooped her up into his arms.
“Whoa!” She clutched his neck, her feet kicking.
He smiled. She weighed nothing. She was smaller than the Arian women who were bred for mating. How could she even accommodate the size of his cock? What if she wouldn’t survive? Because one thing he knew for sure, they would mate. She was his.
She put her petite hand on his chest. “You don’t have to carry me.”
The slight touch made his cock swell. He cleared his throat. “Where do you live?”
“I’m staying at the brown and white log house about a mile off the bike path.”
He lugged her up the hill to the path. “Brown log houses are a dime a dozen on the bike path. Can you be a little more specific?” She belonged in his arms.
She frowned. “Sorry. There’s a caretaker’s house on the grounds. Does that help?”
Every muscle tensed, every nerve went on red-alert. His bear growled, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. “Yeah, that helps. I know where it is.” So, she was the woman Sandra Rotella wanted him to protect.
His mate.
And she was in danger.
He held her closer. “I’m Walfea. And you’re?”
She looked away and trembled.
“Miss?”
She shook her head and tilted her chin. “You ask a lot of questions.” Her voice cut through him faster than an Arian blade.
“A lot of questions? I only asked one.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know who I am?”
His mate, but by her stern glare and clenched teeth, he knew that would definitely be the wrong answer. He reached the path and headed toward the Rotella’s house. “No, I don’t. Should I?”
“Do you listen to rock and roll?”
“That’s a strange question.” He looked into her sincere eyes. “Why would I want to listen to a rock roll down a hill?”
The stern muscles in her face lessened. Her smirky gaze changed to shock to amusement. She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Messing with me?”
He liked her hearty laugh that made him a smile. “No, not really. What does listening to a rock roll have to do with your name?”
“Oh, my God.” She leaned her head back. “Music, rock and roll music.”
“Music.” He shrugged. “I get it. Obviously, I don’t.” He maneuvered around people who were hiking up the trail. He nodded. “Hi.”
The man and woman glanced nervously at each other and both mumbled, “hi.”
His mate buried her face into his chest. Her soft hair warmed his neck and set off a wave of desire. Blood pumped through him and pooled right between his legs.
“What are you doing?” His voice came strained.
She slowly lifted her head. “Are they gone?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, why?”
“Just because you don’t recognize me, doesn’t mean they won’t.”
He shook his head. “Okay, you lost me. So, what does this have to do with you telling me your name?”
She sighed and didn’t answer.
The green roof of the Rotella’s home appeared through the tall pines. She squirmed in his arms as if she were about to jump out. He bet he’d have to pry her lips apart to get her to tell him what her name was. His mate was full of secrets, starting with her name.
He stepped on the well-manicured lawn that led up to the house. Red, yellow, and purple columbines decorated the base of an aspen grove that was right next to the house. The home had two wrap-around decks; one was stamped concrete and the top one wood. He lowered her in front of the French door patio doors. She put all of her weight on her opposite leg.
“Do you want me to carry you inside?”
She shook her head and pulled out her key. “No, that’s okay. I can do this myself.”
A strong woman. He liked that in a mate.
“If you need anything…” He gestured toward his cabin. “I’m in the caretaker house.”
Her hand flew to her chest. “You’re the caretaker?”
He bowed slightly and winked. “I am. My job is to take care of the house.” And you.
“Yeah, I bet.”
He gently clasped her arm. “Seriously, if you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you.” She immediately stiffened. “You’ve done a lot for me already. Just don’t tell anyone I’m crazy.”
“What?”
“About the polar bear. I don’t want to be locked up in the funny house.”
“Houses have emotions?”
She looked at him as if he were short of brain cells. “Excuse me?”
Wrong thing to say.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He headed toward his cabin, not sure how he could claim her. The Zalarians always kidnapped their mates and brought them to their spaceship, but they were desperate for mates.
The Arians weren’t desperate.
At least not yet.
“Walfea?”
“Yeah.” He turned around.
“My name’s Carr. Skye Carr.” She studied at him as if waiting for recognition.
Oh, he recognized her. Not the way she’d intended. But she would soon find out that he was her mate.
“Nice to meet you, Skye Carr. I’ll be seeing you around.”
His bear growled, demanding he go back and claim her, but he pushed back the urge. He’d have to go slow with this woman, or he’d lose her. His muscles tightened and bulked out, his bear threatening to burst through. He flung open the door. He cracked his neck and grabbed the back of a kitchen chair to steady himself.
Calm down.
The wood snapped.
Crap. A long jagged crack ran down the back of the chair.
“Shit.”
He sucked in deep breaths and slowed the rhythm. His bear slowly went to sleep. At least part of him could sleep. He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and looked out the kitchen window. Skye was in the living room and waved, but then closed the blinds.
His mate had secrets.
One thing for sure. If her stalker came here, he’d never leave this place alive.
Chapter 4
Skye wobbled into the beautiful master bathroom and plopped onto the toilet. Unlike Sandra, her mother hadn’t skimped on luxury–marble sink, marble tub, and a shower big enough for three Walfea’s.
She gingerly removed her shoe. Her swollen ankle was the size of a plum.
No dancing or strutting across the stage anytime soon.
Blood seeped through Walfea’s shirt that he had tightly wrapped around her thigh. How the hell had a Norse God magically appeared when she least expected? A coincidence? She didn’t believe in coincidences.
One minute the polar bear was there eating berries, and the next, Walfea was rescuing her from falling down the ravine.
But God, was he handsome. Shoulder-length white hair. Beautiful green eyes. He’d have been almost too perfect if he’d hadn’t had a scar on his left cheek. Sexy.
For such a muscular man, he’d been gentle when he bound her cuts. He hadn’t hesitated ripping off his shirt, revealing a gorgeous set of washboard abs.
She’d been tempted to skim her hand over those muscles, but Hector had taught her–never judge a package by its pretty paper.