Shifters Gone Wild; Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  He wasn’t in the cabin.

  But he had been at some point. The white plastic canisters tucked in the corner of the kitchen were full of water now. Replenishing his supply because of her? She would have to remember to thank him for the bath.

  She tiptoed across the room, heart racing as she strained to hear him, afraid that he was on the deck and would hear her and walk in while she was only wearing a towel.

  When she reached the wall behind the log burner, and her black backpack that rested against it near the door, she glanced off to her left.

  Froze.

  Rath stood by the river, his bare back to her, faded jeans riding low on his lean hips.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he twitched a fishing rod back and forth, the line swishing with each swing, his muscles working in a symphony that had her soul singing praises for him. He finally cast, and as soon as the fly settled on the rippling water, he began gently jerking the rod with his right hand, causing the tip to twitch as he slowly pulled on the line with his left, drawing the fly across the river.

  Her breath lodged in her throat, and hell, she wanted to grab her camera and take a picture of him because he was stunning, a sight to behold as the sinking sun cast golden light over him and the mountains rose beyond him.

  The only thing stopping her was how angry he had been when he had seen she had photographed him.

  He struck, leaning back as he lifted the tip of the rod and it bent. It jiggled as he began drawing the line in quicker, the fish fighting back.

  When he had it at the bank, he stooped and lifted it, his profile to her, and then his head turned her way.

  Ivy dove into the bathroom with her backpack.

  She slammed the door shut, and set the bag down, and rifled through the lower section for a fresh set of clothes. Her charcoal trekking trousers were her only spares, and while they were a little tighter than her brown ones, they definitely went better with her chestnut hoody. She loved natural colours, but there was such a thing as too much brown.

  She slipped into a fresh set of black underwear, pulled on a merlot-coloured t-shirt, and pushed her arms into her hoody, leaving it open as she shimmied into her trousers.

  Her hair came next, a task she never relished. She grimaced as she brushed the tangles from her damp waves and wrestled them back into submission, and debated tying it back. It would dry faster if she left it loose, so she placed her elastic around her wrist and used his toothpaste and her brush to clean her teeth.

  When she was done, she eased back and admired her work in the mirror hanging above the sink between the toilet and the bath.

  She looked brighter, fresher, and she felt it too.

  All the disappointment of not seeing bears today, and the stress of everything that had happened this morning with Rath, drifted away, rose from her shoulders and left them feeling lighter as she smiled at herself in the mirror.

  Tomorrow, she would see bears, she was sure of it. She would get her shots.

  Ivy pulled the bathroom door open.

  Rath lifted his head as he walked into the cabin, and his eyes widened slightly before he looked away, down at his hand as he held up a pair of trout. “I hope you like fish.”

  He moved into the kitchen, set the fish down on a plate he grabbed from one of the wooden cupboards below the counter, and put them in the small refrigerator. He washed his hands. Thoroughly. Avoiding her again?

  She stared at his back, almost disappointed to see he had dressed. The dark green fleece hugged his shoulders, making it easy for her to recall what they had looked like naked, his golden skin stretched tight over mouth-watering muscles. She had sworn off men, but she wouldn’t have said no to a closer look at him.

  He cleared his throat, the sound a little awkward, and turned towards the refrigerator again as he dried his hands. “Beer?”

  She nodded. “Please… and thank you for the bath. It was heavenly.”

  “No problem.” He grabbed two brown bottles, cracked them open and walked out onto the deck without even glancing at her.

  Ivy followed him, stopping only to put a pair of socks on, arriving on the deck in time to see him slump into the chair furthest from the door, the one she had occupied this morning, and kick his feet up on the railing of the fence.

  His grey eyes locked on the horizon as he lifted the beer to his lips, and her eyes locked on him, drinking in his profile as he tipped his head back slightly. After a few seconds of her staring, he grabbed the other beer he had set down on the low table between the wooden chairs and held it out to her.

  Ivy took it and the other seat, wanted to lift her legs as he had but they weren’t long enough for her to reach the fence around the deck. She stretched them out in front of her instead and sank into the chair, leaning back with a sigh as she let the beauty of the scenery wash over her again.

  The sun was lower now, and it looked as if they were in for a beautiful sunset, perfect for enjoying with a cold beer.

  The silence that stretched between them as they sat next to each other, watching the world, was strangely comfortable. Birdsong in the trees brought a smile to her lips, the melody becoming entrancing as it mingled with the sound of his steady breathing and she sipped her beer and waited for the sunset.

  “Do you like it out here, in all this wilderness?” She didn’t take her eyes off the horizon. The sun was edging past a mountain now, a great jagged peak that had a dusting of snow clinging to it that turned gold in the evening light. “Do you not get lonely?”

  She would.

  It was beautiful, but it was so quiet.

  “I’m a solitary kind of guy.” His deep voice rolled over her, warming her as much as the beer. “Everyone who owns a cabin here is like that.”

  “They don’t live here year-round though, and I’m thinking you do.” She took another mouthful of beer to stop herself from looking at him as she wanted.

  He sighed, the sound more contentment than anger or dissatisfaction. “I like it here and I feel no need to leave.”

  He was silent for a minute.

  And then said something that resonated with her.

  “This is home.”

  Chapter 6

  Rath wasn’t sure why he was telling her anything about himself. It wasn’t as if he wanted to know anything about her, or whether it had any point when she would leave tomorrow and he would never see her again.

  But as Ivy sat beside him, her eyes on the sunset, swigging her beer, and started idly talking as if she was speaking to herself rather than him, he couldn’t help but listen to her.

  Found himself aching to know more about her.

  “I get that.” She smiled at the world. “I feel it too, you know? That connection with nature, that this place is a sort of home to me… like I belong here or something. It’s silly.”

  A part of himself whispered a dangerous question.

  What if it wasn’t silly, what if the reason he was so aware of her ran deeper than merely the spring affecting him or him finding her attractive?

  What if the reason she felt at home here in his territory ran deeper than her simply finding it beautiful, a world away from the cities and their fast pace of life?

  Rath didn’t want to contemplate the answer to that question, and Ivy mercifully started talking again, filling the silence and his mind with her words, drawing his focus away from the instincts she had awoken in him.

  “I hit a slump in my work last year.” She scowled at her beer and picked at the label. “I just couldn’t get my compositions right. They were lacking something. Or maybe it was me lacking something. I don’t know.”

  She sighed, a deep one that had him looking across at her because it spoke of hurt.

  “I was in a bad place for a while.” She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on the horizon again. “But I’ve taken some good shots of the grizzly bears and I’m beginning to feel like my old self again.”

  He could see the relief as it crossed her face, felt it in
her as she tilted her head back and looked at the emerging stars.

  She breathed, “God, it’s beautiful here. I can see why you like it. You can’t really see the stars in the cities.”

  Rath tipped his head up. They were faint still. She was in for a surprise when the sun sank beyond the horizon and the sky darkened, and part of him was excited to see her reaction, wanted to keep her outside so she wouldn’t miss the show nature was going to put on for her tonight.

  He had seen it for decades, but it still moved him when he saw the Milky Way stretched above him, a billion stars forming a spine across the night sky.

  “My brothers tell me the same thing.” He swigged his beer, frowned when the bottle turned out to be empty, and brought his feet down and pushed onto them. He glanced down at her and waggled his bottle. “Another?”

  She drained the last of her beer like a pro and smiled as she held it out to him. “Definitely. I was always a beer girl rather than a wine one.”

  He could see that, and fuck, part of him found it charming that she had a little more country life than big city life in her, looked comfortable in practical clothing and drinking beer, getting muddy and breathing fresh air, rather than fancy dresses and high heels, and posh wine at grand parties.

  He took the empty from her and brushed past her, his leg skimming hers. An accident. Definitely an accident.

  Although the way she tensed and her pulse leaped had a shiver arcing up his leg and along his nerves, and a need to rub against her rising to the fore again.

  That was twice now.

  Twice he had brushed her and twice she had tensed, had reacted in a way that screamed she was interested in him.

  Gods, he had barely stopped himself from dropping his face to her throat and scenting her when he had been close to her at the river cabin earlier. The need to do it had been fierce, consuming, had driven him to press his nose to her smooth flesh and inhale her, branding her scent on his soul.

  Had filled him with an urge to lick her nape.

  That had startled him into backing off and pacing away from her before he could even consider why that need had arisen in him.

  A need reserved for when a male found his fated one.

  The mate who had been made for him.

  A true mate.

  He froze by the refrigerator and looked out of the window at Ivy.

  She couldn’t be that for him.

  He was just wound up by the season, on edge because of the gathering and her arrival, thrown off balance by her beauty when the urge to mate was strong in him.

  A groan tore from his lips as she ran her hands through her thick chestnut waves and stretched, pulling the tangled strands away from her neck, exposing her nape.

  Wasn’t going to happen.

  He shoved his head into the refrigerator to cool off and stared at the gutted fish he had hunted for her, the need to provide for her driving him to the river while she had bathed. Just as it had driven him to run her a bath and gather her enough water in case she wanted another or grew thirsty for something other than beer.

  Gods, he wanted her.

  He had thought he had built a barrier around his heart during his time at the river, one that would withstand her, but the moment she had emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair down and curling around her shoulders, that damned dark red t-shirt pulled tight over her ample breasts, a sparkle in her hazel eyes and her skin rosy from the heat of the bath, the wall had crumbled.

  She was beautiful. Fucking beautiful.

  And the fact she now smelled like him in a way, the scent of his bath products all over her, was playing merry hell with him.

  He wanted her to smell of him properly, ached with a need to rub his scent all over her and mark her as his.

  He growled as he grabbed two more bottles of beer and kicked the refrigerator door shut.

  Wasn’t going to happen.

  He needed her gone tomorrow, before any other cougar shifters arrived. He couldn’t have an unmated human female hanging around when fired up males were about to descend on the creek.

  Because he would probably end up killing them.

  Gods. He set the beers down on the counter and gripped it. The urge to fight would be too strong to resist, the thought of another male trying to claim her pushing him to react, to battle for dominance over her and assert himself as her male.

  He needed her gone before anyone arrived.

  He snarled at that, his claws lengthening in response to the idea of her leaving him.

  Rath stared down at them, shocked by the sight of them, by the ferocity of the need that rocked him to his soul.

  He breathed through it, lifted trembling hands from the counter and focused on opening the beers, on a small task that would keep his mind and hands occupied enough that he could shut down his feelings, these urges, and claw back some control.

  Because he was dangerous as he was now, liable to do something he might regret.

  Like revealing to Ivy that he was no ordinary man.

  When the beers were open, and his nails were normal again, he sucked down a hard breath, expelled it and strode out onto the deck.

  Ivy glanced up at him. “You took your sweet time.”

  Gods, she sounded so at ease around him now, so comfortable with him.

  He wanted to snap something at her to drive her away, to place more distance between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “Sorry.” He handed her the beer and nursed his own one as he sank into his seat, leaned back and rested his ankles on the railing.

  She glanced across at him and smiled. “You were saying something about your brothers?”

  Had he been?

  He thought back, and realised that he had, and that he had been gone longer than he had thought and had missed the sunset. The sky was growing darker now, the stars brighter.

  He watched them as they broke through the fading light above the horizon, beyond the mountains.

  “My brothers say the same thing about the cities… about not being able to see the stars. I’ll never understand why someone would want to live in such a place.” Because the stars were beautiful. Nature was beautiful. It was ever-changing. Even the same scenery could look different every day, altered by the weather, the lighting, or the season.

  She shrugged, lifted her beer to her lips, and lowered it again. “Not everyone is made to cope with a life like yours, out here in the wild, not a soul for miles.”

  Was she?

  Rath scrubbed that thought, not wanting to think about it.

  “I should set up my tent and bear fence before I get drunk or it gets too dark.” Those words leaving her lips left him cold and had him close to growling again.

  “No way.” He wasn’t going to let her sleep out in the open, where she would be vulnerable, not when other cougars were due to return at any moment. He wanted her safe. “You’re staying in the cabin with me.”

  Her eyes widened and leaped to him.

  He hadn’t meant it like that, but the flicker of heat in her gaze had him considering it.

  He pushed out other words than the ones he wanted to say. “You can take my bed and I’ll take the couch.”

  She fidgeted with her beer. “Sure. If you insist.”

  “Believe me, I insist.” Because he was damned if he would leave her unprotected, out here in the dark to fend for herself in some flimsy piece of material, or would allow her to get cold when he had a warm bed she could use.

  When she smiled at him, and it hit him hard, had that warmth curling through his veins again, he dragged his eyes away from her and swigged his beer, and reminded himself that she shouldn’t be here, couldn’t be here. He needed to get her to leave tomorrow, before anyone arrived.

  Keeping her around today had been a mistake.

  Being near her, around her, was too damn comfortable, and she drew him to her too much. It was only a matter of time before he messed up, before he did something that revealed he wasn’t like her a
nd would send her running, exposing his kin to danger and forcing him to move the location of their home again to avoid the hunters.

  He stared at the stars and made a vow.

  One he was going to keep this time, no matter what.

  She was leaving tomorrow.

  Chapter 7

  Rath threw his left arm across his eyes as birdsong roused him from a fitful sleep. It was a miracle he had slept at all. After a few more beers while stargazing and an all too comfortable dinner with Ivy, she had made her excuses and retired up to his bedroom.

  It had been hell.

  The moment she had left his sight, his senses had locked onto her and tracked her every movement while he had stripped down to his long-sleeved cream t-shirt and black trunks, and arranged himself on the couch. He had done his damnedest to block her out, but it had been impossible.

  He could smell her, feel her, and that sensation she stirred in him, the restlessness, had grown stronger.

  He had stretched out on the couch, aware of her, that she was close to him, in his bed of all places.

  Her breathing had echoed in his ears, the rhythm of it changing as she had fallen into a deep sleep, and gods, it had been difficult to resist the urge to climb the stairs, to look at her while she was sleeping, and stand guard over her, protecting her while she was at her most vulnerable.

  It had taken more than an hour to convince himself that she was safe in his cabin, and that he could protect her from his position on the couch, would be aware if anyone entered his home and could easily dispatch them before they could reach her.

  Eventually, he had dozed off, into dreams of her that had caused fire to lick through his blood, searing him, making him burn for her.

  He bit back a groan, blew out his breath and focused on the loft to check on her, sure she would still be fast asleep.

  But the only heartbeat in the cabin was his own.

  Rath sprang from the couch, whipping to face the door, his pulse rocketing and senses sharpening, stretching as far and wide as he could reach, hunting for her.

  Where was she?

  He growled as he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on, his muscles protesting over the sudden surge of action, threatening to cramp as panic seized him in a tight grip, squeezed his heart so hard he feared it might burst.