by Cecilia Lane
Chapter Two
Chase flung an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight streaming onto his face. He shifted and snorted back a huff of pain as a twig poked painfully into his side.
That wasn’t right. He had a cabin with a bed that sagged in the middle. Had housekeeping really left debris in his bed? He cracked open his eyes and winced at the pain from the light.
Trees. Leaves. Far too bright sun.
He sat up and took stock of his surroundings. Tree were all around him. Gouges marked the trunks of more than a few, as if a bear had gone a little crazy and wrecked the place. Smaller saplings were pushed over on their sides, balls of roots sticking into the air where the thin trunks hadn’t snapped.
He could see all of it, but he couldn’t smell a damn thing. Chase pressed a hand to his head and winced again at the protest from the muscles in his arm. His head felt stuffed full of cotton. His ears throbbed with each beat of his heart. Trying to swallow was a chore; it felt like ants lined his throat and bit him in unison.
He reached for his bear in the back of his mind. The beast growled viciously at him, swiping claws to ward him off.
It was a surprising reaction. He and his bear had been as one for as long as he could remember. They didn’t try to steal control from one another. He relied on the bear’s power and the bear relied on him to know when it would be appropriate to change shape. They worked well together.
Now, it was as if an entirely different animal was inside him. It was as grumpy and groggy as his human side felt, and placed the blame firmly on Chase. The problem was, Chase had no idea what happened to them, either.
He tried to urge the beast to take over their form. A bear in the woods would be easier for a human to swallow than a naked man. There was also the added benefit of immediately reducing the pain his human side felt and hopefully rushing his recovery with the shift, though he insisted to himself it was strictly for the sake of appearance. A growl was his only response.
There would be no shifting, that was for sure.
He pushed himself to his feet and squinted at the sky. The morning was still chilly, though that didn’t much matter to a shifter. He didn’t know which direction to head. Without an idea of where he was on the mountain or his sense of smell, he was lost.
The bear growled and snapped its mental jaws at him.
Slowly turning in a circle and still staring at the sky, Chase tried to remember the survivalist skills he learned as a young boy in a club. He could remember different knots and how to build a fire from scratch, but his mind blanked on basic navigation. His training with the Agency hadn’t extensively covered how to navigate uninhabited space without his other form. Oh, how Eustace would mock him for becoming so domesticated if he heard the tale.
Spotting a small line of smoke, Chase breathed a sigh of relief. How regular humans made it out of the woods without a powerful sense of smell, he had no idea.
Each step jolted excruciating pain up his legs and back. He bit off the sharp gasps that wanted to escape his lips and walked on. He wouldn’t let a little pain hold him back. He certainly didn’t want to be discovered alone and naked out there. The questions he’d be asked would just spawn more questions from the lack of answers he would be able to provide.
Finally, blessedly finally, the roofs of the resort poked through the trees. He skirted around the main cluster of buildings and hobbled to his own den.
His first clue to the abnormal day, besides his bear refusing the shift and waking in the woods, was the door to his cabin. He’d used the sliding glass door to exit the previous night, but the front door was ajar. His body went into high alert as his training as a special agent took over and he crouched down behind a clump of bushes, ignoring the pain from the sudden motion.
He circled the building, darting from behind bushes and tree trunks to remain hidden from any eyes that could be looking for him. Had the gang running the illegal shifter fighting ring caught up to him? The Agency had done its best to protect his identity by bringing him in with the others when they were busted, but retaliation was a possibility if his true allegiance had been discovered.
He couldn’t see any movement inside, but the curtains on the windows had been closed when he arrived and he never opened them. The back deck looked as he left it with the glass door blinds turned open. His sense of smell was still utterly absent, so he couldn’t get a good reading without approaching.
He snatched up his pants from where they dropped the night before and stuffed his legs inside, scanning the sliver of the cabin interior visible from his position and the woods nearby. There was no movement. The only sound came from the main cluster of cabins.
Cautiously, Chase circled back to the front door. He thought of going for the weapons in his SUV, but his keys were inside and the doors locked. The alarm would sound as soon as he broke open a window to get to his stash and spook any possible enemy. No, better to gain access on silent feet.
He crouched again, in case someone was aiming for the bulk of his body higher up. He could roll from his position if needed, too. The door creaked open at his push and he pulled back around the jamb.
No sound. No footsteps rushing to examine to sound. No rustling of clothes as someone took aim.
He poked his head around the doorjamb. Blood throbbed in his head and he did his best to ignore the damage from his night activity. He didn’t have time to give in to the pain when someone could be hunting him at that moment.
No one was in his eye line. He moved into the cabin and began clearing the rooms. There weren’t many spots some unknown assassin could hide and he soon checked them all.
Chase stood in the center of the living room once he made sure he was alone in the cabin. He could almost believe an attack was the cause for his lapsing memory and the open front door, even if he didn’t want to believe he’d been bested by anyone. But his temporary den hadn’t been filled with enemies and he still had no clue why he woke in the woods without an idea of how he got there or what made his bear so upset.
Maybe he’d had a few too many drinks from the minibar? He pulled open the fridge and found it completely stocked. Unless those bottles were full of stronger stuff than humans usually drank, they shouldn’t have gotten him blackout drunk. He was a large man and burned off alcohol faster than most.
He couldn’t remember coming back to the cabin and hitting the booze, though he also couldn’t rule out housekeeping already replenishing the supply while he was out in the woods. Perhaps that was how the door came to be open in the first place. The thought did nothing to settle his unease.
There were too many questions to be answered and his head hurt too much. He needed to clear it and maybe make a report back to HQ. But first, he needed to wash off all the grime that clung to his skin.
He paused and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What would Eustace say? Tell him to take a few more weeks off until he could account for his missing time? Chase scowled at his reflection. He didn’t need a mark in his file questioning his sanity. Best to make sure his head was on straight and figure out what happened on his own.
Freshly showered, dressed and armed with his standard issue Glock 22 loaded with the special silver bullets in case the shifter fighting ringleaders had sent their men after him, he made his way to the main cabin. His cabin was equipped with a small kitchenette, but no one had told him to pick up groceries. He rolled his shoulders and tried to let loose the tension over his forced vacation. It wasn’t what he would have planned for himself.
He nodded politely to the couple coming out of the door, then ducked to enter the building. The chatter of voices led him to a small dining room. Most of the tables were occupied by couples focused on each other or families with children that made his pained head ache, but he managed to snag an empty corner spot by the window.
A pretty woman stomped over to him. Even though she smiled and greeted him, he could see her body lined with anger. He tried to take her scent, but he was still st
uffed.
His bear, groggy as hell and eager to eviscerate his mind, sat up when the woman appeared. It ached to take her scent and growled when nothing came to them.
He must have missed her question, because she scowled down at him with grey eyes that held a stormy tempest inside. She snapped, “Well? Do you want anything or not?”
The nearest tables quieted and turned curious stares on them. Chase tensed. He was acutely aware of what the scene looked like to outsiders. A small woman—because next to him, everyone was tiny—angry and directing it at him. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He’d done nothing, but she was the one deserving protection and he’d be the one to offer it.
He tried to brush it off as alertness from his odd morning, but there was no denying his bear was in full agreement that the small woman needed watching. He scanned the small dining room for whatever had ignited the beautiful woman’s ire. Anything that hurt her was a threat and needed to be taken care of. Anyone who stared needed to mind their own damn business.
“Sorry. I got in late last night. Must still be half asleep. I’ll take a coffee for now.”
He couldn’t decide if her hair was more blonde or red, but the color was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen next to the pink of her lips, even after being pressed together in her annoyance. She turned on her heel and marched through the swinging double doors to the kitchen.
She made him uneasy. It was the same prickling he felt in the middle of his shoulder blades right before taking a blow in the ring. After clawing his way through his training with the Agency and fighting his way to the inner circle of a fighting ring, he’d learned to trust the instinct. She maybe didn’t need protecting, but she definitely needed careful observation.
Ariadne’s knuckles turned white with the force of her grip on the handle of the coffee pot. She sought courage and patience from the ceiling above her, but none came. She would need to deal with the damn shifter herself.
“Rough night?” Ariadne blinked down at the shifter. She resisted the urge to dump the pot of coffee in his lap. The other guests didn’t need to see the man heal right before their eyes.
He looked in pain enough, so her magic had worked. She’d feared it would have no effect on the shifter, but there he was. Freshly showered, judging from the dampness of his too-dark hair. But the bags under his brown eyes looked like he was suffering the worst hangover of his life.
She’d recognized him immediately. Who else would take up so much space? He crowded himself into a corner spot, back against the wall and eyes always searching. Searching for his next victim, no doubt. Shifters wanted nothing more than to run away with innocent girls who had no idea of the trouble that awaited them. Her sister was an example of that.
She quickly recovered from the surprise of seeing him saunter into the dining room as if nothing had happened. It ground on her nerves. He hadn’t made it back to his cabin when she checked in under the guise of housekeeping. She wanted him packing his bags and peeling out of the resort instead of asking for coffee in his stupid, rumbly voice that seemed to reverberate inside her head.
Harmless to regular humans, the wolfsbane and herb mixture she used should have driven him a little mad the night before. It was an old family recipe passed down from frontier times, if not before. The Wren witches used it to ward their homestead against those paranormal beings that could change their shape and scout out the vulnerable places of their land. After a quick prayer to all the goddesses under the sky, she lit the bowl of herbs on fire and wafted the scent in the direction of his cabin.
His kind prided themselves on marrying their human sides to that of their animals for utter dominance and power. The concoction would have stripped that control away and turned him into a full beast the moment he shifted. A deep aversion of the area would be instilled into the man and animal, even if they didn’t know exactly why.
She hoped it would have been enough to shake his confidence and send him running. But, she was forced to admit to herself, it was a shortsighted plan hatched in the initial anger of his presence. She’d need to step up her game if she wanted to secure the resort from the rest of his kind. It was foolish to think one night of herb-madness would be enough to drive him and other shifters away forever.
“What can a man do for fun around here?” He asked when she sloshed coffee into the mug she slammed down in front of him.
“You’re telling me you booked a cabin here without checking out the offerings?” She scoffed. He was a bigger oaf than she expected.
“The trip was a… gift from a friend. Surprise vacation.”
He looked a little embarrassed and she pushed back the twinge of guilt that rose up inside her. He was a shifter. He didn’t deserve any of her sympathy. Besides, maybe the comments of rude service would further keep his kind away.
But that thought cut off when another guest caught her attention with a sheepish smile. “I’ll take another refill, please?”
Rude to one guest was rude to them all. She needed reservations to keep food on her table and the resort running. She had nowhere else to go if they had to close the place down. And Raina wouldn’t know where to find them if she ever broke free of the shifter’s spell. Ari forced a smile on her face and returned to the big shifter at the corner table.
“There’s hiking, of course. Crooked Trails Resort, and all. Kind of our claim to fame. Volleyball in the center of the cabins. Barbecue. You can request something from the kitchen and we’ll add it to your tab, or you can drive back into town and visit the grocery store. There’s—“
“Tell me about the hiking.”
She shrugged and became aware of his eyes on her. It was too much. Did he suspect what she’d done to him? That’d be just her luck, if he found her out before she could drive him away. “It’s hiking. You put on boots and you hit the trails. Watch the birds, try to find a babbling brook. The snows haven’t completely melted, but there’s enough for some of the streams to run. You can pick up a map at the front desk. Stay on the trails; you never know what sort of creatures are in the woods.”
He smirked. “I think I have some idea.”
Ariadne sucked in a breath. She would not smack one of the guests with a coffee pot. “Do you know what you’d like to order? Others are waiting on their coffee and food.”
He leaned back and pointed to one of the selections on the menu. He had no business looking so relaxed when he was stuffed into the corner and wincing at the bright sunlight streaming in from outside. “I’ll take this for now.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could spin around and head to the kitchen. At least she would be hidden from him behind the double doors. The bold letters of the “Employees Only” sign looked like a refuge at that moment.
His fingers were loose around her wrist, but heat crawled up her arm just from his digits. It was unnatural. No one should be that warm.
“Is anyone bothering you?” He rumbled in a low tone.
His voice vibrated through her again. It bounced off all her organs and simmered the blood in her veins. Unbidden, her heart pounded faster to match the quickness of her breath.
Goddess, what was he doing to her? Was this how the shifter snagged her sister? By forcing her body to react in ways she didn’t want or need?
“No. Please let me go.” She tugged on her arm and he let her loose, but only after proving how easily he could have kept hold. Why did that thrill her? The man was a snake in human form.
Snake… She nearly stumbled when the swinging door hit her backside. She passed his order to the kitchen staff, then retreated around a corner. She’d seen the ritual in her mother’s spell book and been warned away from ever trying it. But maybe taking back a bit of territory for her family was worth the risk if it meant shifters would be out of their lives.
Chapter Three
After making it through breakfast, Chase retreated back to his temporary den. His head still felt like it was stuffed full of cotton and ants, even after consumi
ng an ungodly amount of food and coffee. Nothing seemed to make the pain recede and he was forced to admit defeat. His bear snarled and growled at him, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of his weakness or leaving the little waitress behind.
She intrigued him in her ire. He watched her from the corner of his eyes as he wolfed down his food. She was charming enough to the other guests that filtered in and out of the dining room, smiling at their requests and turning kind eyes on the children. But her eyes blazed angrily whenever she looked toward him. She definitely warranted watching.
He slept off the rest of his hangover with a cold cloth pressed to his forehead. It wasn’t until well into the night that he woke. The creaking of the fan blades lazily turning above him didn’t make him cringe and his head didn’t swim when he sat up.
The best part was his sense of smell had returned. He inhaled deeply and let the scent of the cabin roll through him. The scratchy smell of dust was coated with the harsh stench of cleaning solution. The cabin might not be deep cleaned on a regular basis, but at least it was sanitized after each visitor left.
He flattened the trail map he snatched from the front desk on the table and rested his chin in his hand. He wanted to get an idea of the land around him before taking off into the wild, just in case he woke with no memory again. It was a sour thought, but he’d rather be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. There was no telling what had caused his blackout the previous night and no predicting if it would happen the next time he ventured out in his bear form.
The resort was settled between split peaks of the mountain, almost like a little valley in the sky. Trails crisscrossed all over the place, with even a couple leading to the town several miles away. The map marked out the next nearest towns as well, with stars, arrows, and mile estimates. The resort was well and truly in the wilderness. No wonder Eustace had it labeled as a spot for shifters; the larger than normal animals stood a chance of never being spotted by human eyes even if they were careless.