The Scent of His Woman (Northern Wild Book 1)

by JJ King

Kennedy glanced down at her bikini and went to get a cover up. Nothing too heavy, because it was sweltering outside, but enough to make her not appear naked. A few minutes later, she put the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway with the radio blaring Rhianna. Inside the cab, with the air conditioning on bust, she felt a million times better than she had earlier. The weather network had said today was reaching record highs but that tonight would bring rain to cool the area and restore the status quo.

  The drive into Moonbeam took less than ten minutes as their cabin wasn’t far from the small community. Kennedy had gotten sick of the pop music station and had switched over to classic rock after the first song, and was now singing along with Bowie at the top of her lungs. When she saw a sign that read “Best local ice-cream!” with an arrow pointing down a dirt road, she made a snap decision. Checking her rear-view mirror, Kennedy clicked on her blinkers and made a U-turn, anxious to test out the sign’s claim. There was nothing better than home-churned ice-cream.

  The small stand sat at the end of the road, next to a parking lot that was filled with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. The line for ice-cream wasn’t as long as she’d figured it would be, so she thanked her lucky stars and stepped into line to wait. Ahead of her, three children, a few teenage girls, and one tall, broad-shouldered man stood waiting their turns.

  A mom and her son walked away, holding delicious smelling ice-cream and chatting happily about what they wanted to do next, swim or go to the playground. Then the man stepped up to the stand. Kennedy smiled as the teenage girls, probably fourteen or fifteen, preened and giggled, pointing at his tight ass in a pair of well-worn blue jeans. She didn’t blame them. It was a spectacular ass. It lay just below a trim waist that expanded upward into a triangle, forming strong, sexy shoulders. The taut t-shirt he wore did little to hide the toned body beneath.

  Kennedy allowed herself to look. There was no harm in that. She hadn’t wanted to check out at a man for so long that there’d been a part of her that had begun to worry if she was asexual, so this sudden desire to watch this stranger was a relief. Everything about him screamed outdoorsman, from his muscular forearms to the broken-in boots on his feet. He was the most masculine man she’d ever seen. He even smelled masculine.

  Even with the girls between them, Kennedy could smell him, the fresh pine scent mixed with something deeper, darker, and more primal. It was a strange scent, something she’d never come across before, but the more she breathed it in, the more she felt like pushing the teenagers out of the way and pressing her nose against his shirt.

  What the fuck?

  Kennedy frowned and chastised herself for being weird. Who thinks that way? Who wants to smell strangers? Apparently she did, because even her stern self-talking to wasn’t working. Her skin tingled, starting with her fingers and spreading rapidly, over her arms and torso, down her legs and through to her feet. She felt hot, cold, and confused all at once. Kennedy stumbled back, away from the girls who looked at her with contempt and scorn, and let out a soft moan.

  ****

  Trace’s cougar crouched, ready to pounce.

  Startled, Trace whipped his head around, looking for the source of danger and saw a woman fall to her knees just past the teenage girls who had been eyeballing him. Her head was lowered and her breathing labored, and for a long moment, he didn’t know what he should do—call 911 or let someone else deal with it. There were other adults around, after all.

  Then she raised her head and looked straight at him.

  Mate.

  Trace’s cougar reacted instinctively, not allowing for the human half of him to think. He rushed forward and picked her up from the ground, calling out behind him, “She has epilepsy. I know her,” while he rushed her to his truck.

  The woman’s body shook in his embrace, flashing from boiling hot to freezing cold. Her eyes were open in terror, but he knew she saw nothing. It was a look he’d seen before, but not in a very long time. She was experiencing her first shift, and it was coming fast.

  “Shhh…” he soothed, the unfamiliar sounds coming out gruff and rusty from his throat. “You’re going to be okay.” He needed to get her away from this public area, away from the interested eyes that were watching them both keenly, probably making mental notes about his description and license plate number to give to the RCMP. Trace didn’t care. Let the police show up. He had bigger things to worry about now. The existence of his kind was in danger.

  He closed the passenger side door and ran around to the driver’s side, anxious to touch her again. His need to physically connect with her was intense, almost overwhelming, after a lifetime of shunning intimacy of any kind. Gritting his teeth against the need, he left her where she was, slumped on the front seat, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for home.

  This was the last thing he fucking needed! He didn’t want a mate, didn’t need a female in his life, especially one who looked like a woman but was going through her first change like an adolescent girl. Trace breathed through his mouth, leaning his head out the window to find fresh air. Inside the cab, the woman’s semi-conscious body released waves of pheromones so enticing that his cougar had its claws out and was slicing at his will-power, shredding his insides.

  He hurt. His entire body was half in pain, and half in what he thought were the throes of hormonal mania. It was miserable and wonderful all at the same time. Trace sucked in deep breaths to keep himself centered and focused on staying on the road, on keeping his hands off her.

  The turn-off to his place was in sight when she cried out and began to convulse, her body arching so acutely that he feared she would snap her spine. Trace’s entire being came into perfect focus at the sound of her pain. He stepped on the pedal and tore down the pavement, turning sharply onto his remote road.

  One hundred meters in, Trace pulled the truck over and slammed on the brakes, throwing out his hand at the last second to stop her body from rolling onto the floor. The instant he touched her skin, he regretted it. Searing heat shot through his hand and straight to his groin, pulling much-needed blood from his body and brain. As painful as his sudden massive erection was, the shock of fear that clutched at his heart when she didn’t respond to his touch was worse.

  “Open your eyes.” He pulled her to his chest and out of the cab. “Come on!” Trace adjusted her in his arms, cradling her body and ran for all he was worth.

  The boreal forest swallowed them quickly, surrounding them with thick evergreens and damp, verdant earth. Trace stopped in a small clearing and carefully lowered the woman to the mossy ground, his eyes raking her convulsing body for signs of awareness.

  It was taking a long time, too long from what he remembered. She should have been turning by now. Fuck, what if she dies? I was seen carrying her out of a parking lot!

  “Come on.” He scowled down at her and reached for her arms, shaking her lightly, and then more vigorously. “You need to let it loose.”

  Her mouth slipped open and a keening sound that small animals made when they were in pain slipped free. It shot straight to his heart, crushing it and making it hard to breathe. Trace drew in rough inhalations and prayed to whichever god was listening that she didn’t die. As hard as he tried to ignore it, he needed her to live.

  Uncertain what to do, Trace went with instinct and began pulling his clothes off, leaving them strewn across the mossy floor of the forest. He closed his eyes and called to his cougar, rushing into the change. Pain exploded over his entire body as his bones elongated, snapped, and then clicked into place. His skin, pulled too taut, adjusted over the new bones and then sprouted thick, tan-colored fur, covering his bare human flesh. In seconds, the pain was gone, and so was his human body.

  Trace stared at the woman and stepped back as her eyes flew open, unseeing through the pain. He knew the agony, remembered his first change, but that had been different. His parents had been with him, and they’d helped him, shown him how to accept the pain, to use it to usher in his cougar. He didn’t know
how to do that for her.

  Needing to do something, he nudged her hand with his nose and instantly she grabbed for his fur. Her fingers dugs deep into his hide, pulling him closer. He sunk to his belly next to her, his large cat frame longer than her human one, and nuzzled her neck, urging her to accept the change.

  The first crack of bone was like a welcoming parade to Trace’s ears, but the scream of agony following it made it hard to breathe. He paced his inhalations, trying to help her find the rhythm, and leaned against her, offering his body heat.

  Slowly, bone by bone, she stretched and broke, and then reformed. Last came her fur, thick and tawny-red, an almost perfect match to her human hair. Trace thought it was beautiful. He touched the tip of her nose with his and watched as she blinked open eyes the color of the forest, deep and mesmerizing, and utterly terrified.

  Chapter Three

  Kennedy’s mind fractured.

  Pain, more intense, more acute than she’d ever experienced in her life, coursed through her body, pulsating stronger with every beat of her heart. There was no beginning or end to the agony, only endless torture and the certainty that she was dying. Her sight and awareness snapped in and out of place, but the snippets of sensory information she received were jumbled and made no sense to her screaming consciousness.

  Pressure built inside her mind and bones, dragging a jagged scream from her lips that she felt but couldn’t hear. It felt like her body was trying to tear itself apart, trying to explode. Kennedy sobbed, wanting her mother.

  A mass of heat and weight touched her, moving close to her body. She reached for it, needing to not be alone, and touched something soft and warm. Her mind calmed for a just a moment, and then erupted.

  Kennedy knew she was screaming, knew her bones were breaking and moving inside her body, but her brain refused to accept that it was reality. She whipped her head back hard and struggled for breath, riding the waves of shock that threw her limbs around like a puppet. She gasped and sobbed, wishing for death, wanting it to end.

  Then it did. The world around her went completely silent. The cold that had felt bone deep disappeared, replaced by a warmth so sweet it almost made her cry. Kennedy dragged oxygen into her lungs with her eyes pressed firmly shut, not wanting to open them in case she was actually dead.

  A soft wetness touched the tip of her nose, startling her. It felt strange, but the touch comforted her, made her feel oddly welcome. She pried her eyes open and stared into the endless brown eyes of a massive cougar.

  Terror flooded through her immediately and she reacted, throwing her body back away from his huge form. Kennedy stumbled and fell to the forest floor, backing away from the huge cat, but nothing seemed to work. She couldn’t seem to stand up. She cried out in panic, wondering if her body was broken from whatever episode had just happened to her, wondering if the cougar would attack and eat her now that she was crippled.

  The cougar didn’t move. It stayed silent and still with its head laid on its huge paws, watching her intently. Kennedy forced herself to calm down, to accept that, for now, the cat wasn’t trying to hurt her. She frowned, remembering the softness she’d held onto during the pain. Had it been the cougar’s fur?

  She opened her mouth to speak and a soft rumble escaped from her lips. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t stand… Did I have a stroke? Kennedy tried lifting her arm and found that she could. Oh, thank God… She touched her fingers to her lips.

  Thick pads tipped with sharp claws pressed against her mouth. They felt so strange, so alien, that she threw herself back, not understanding where they’d come from. Kennedy shouted for help but, again, the sound that came from her throat was muffled, sounding more like a roar than a human cry. She lifted her hand again and stared, moving the digits of her paw slowly, and began to laugh.

  She was broken, she realized. Something huge had happened to her body, a stroke, an aneurism, something that had changed her brain chemistry so much that she was hallucinating. And it wasn’t just visual hallucinations, she was also experiencing auditory, vocal, and physical delusions. She was probably in a hospital somewhere, fighting doctors, or, like she’d first thought, she was dead.

  “You’re not dead,” a voice rumbled from directly behind her. Kennedy whipped her head around and searched for the speaker, praying it was a real person and not St. Peter or the cougar talking to her. She needed something to make sense right now.

  “Fuck.” The voice sounded as frustrated as she felt. Kennedy swirled back around to stare at the cougar, who was sitting up now, looking at her with its head cocked to the side. The expression on its face was so human, so grumpy, that she almost laughed.

  “I’m not grumpy, and you’re not dead. Kind of the opposite, actually.”

  Kennedy stared at the big cat in astonishment and formed the words she wanted to say in her head, since her mouth wouldn’t work. “Are you talking to me?”

  The cougar nodded. “Yes.”

  “So, I’m crazy now?”

  He huffed out a laugh, or what sounded like a laugh, and shook his head. “No, you’re not crazy.”

  “Then…” She searched for the right thing to say, to the cougar, who she was talking to, inside her head. “What am I?”

  “You’re a cougar shifter.” The response was so matter of fact, so final, that she couldn’t think. For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at him, wondering how her brain had come up with this mythology.

  “This is real, Kennedy.” He spoke softly, rising to his feet and hesitantly moving toward her.

  She backed up, not wanting to let him touch her, even though the memory of his soft fur sifting through her fingers gave her warmth and made her long to reach out. Her brain balked at the thought and she hissed, climbing to her unsteady feet and moving across the clearing away from him. He let her distance herself.

  “This isn’t real, it can’t be. Something happened to my brain and it’s created this … scenario … for some reason. There’s no such thing as werewolves … and how do you know my name?”

  “Cougar shifters,” he said, “and I know your name because I’m talking to you in your mind, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She huffed, defiantly, literally feeling the hackles on the back of her neck rise in ire. Kennedy swallowed hard and let her eyes fall shut, and then searched for reason. She wasn’t dead, that didn’t feel right, but she wasn’t human anymore either. Her body felt different: lower, leaner, and stronger than normal. It felt strange, so strange, but somehow, right. There was a part of her that recognized the shape she was inhabiting. Kennedy frowned, and then remembered. Her dreams, so intense and vivid lately, had felt primal, feral even. She recognized this form because she’d assumed it nightly, in her subconscious.

  Kennedy exhaled. This was really happening. Her body had been trying to warn her for months. She looked up at the cougar, focusing her mind on him, trying to stay sane in this insane situation. “What’s your name?”

  “Trace.”

  “I’ve been having dreams, lately.”

  She watched him get up and take a few steps toward her. This time, she didn’t move, didn’t run. She let him approach. When he was close enough to touch her, he sat and waited. He was beautiful, she realized, huge and powerful with a gorgeous, tan-colored fur. Her fingers, paws, she reminded herself, longed to touch it again. The urge to reach out grew, increasing the closer she allowed him to get. He was near enough now that she could hear his heart beating. She wished she could hear his mind, too.

  Intrigued by the idea, Kennedy wondered if she actually could read his mind like he so easily seemed to read hers. It was worth a try, she figured, so she imagined her consciousness as a bright light, thank you yoga meditation, and pressed it into his mind.

  “Get out!” Trace roared, baring his teeth at her aggressively.

  Kennedy stared at him. She’d only glimpsed his thoughts for a split second, but it had been enough. It was chaos in there, loneliness, loss, and confusio
n mixed with hunger and a need so strong it slicked her mind like oil on the tongue. She tasted it, trying to identify it, and then froze.

  Lust. He wanted her. A lot.

  Kennedy felt her legs weaken, so she flopped to the ground and stayed there, thinking. It was too much. Why would he be feeling those things about her when they’d just met? She couldn’t deal with his physical reaction to her strange new body while she was trying to accept the fact she had a new body. One thing at a time.

  Lifting her head, Kennedy appraised Trace’s mood and hoped he wasn’t angry at her anymore. She supposed it had been an intrusion, going into his mind like that. She should have apologized. “I’m sorry,” she rushed out the words, “I didn’t know it would work.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  When she’d peaked, she’d seen his grief and sadness, had felt it like a hand wrapped tight around her heart. She might not have known him, but she knew men, in general, wouldn’t appreciate having their innermost thoughts and feelings known by a stranger.

  He was alone out here, and she knew it like she knew her own name. Why, she couldn’t tell. There hadn’t been time to see or understand, but there was an emptiness inside him that made her want to reach out. She wondered where his family was.

  “Trace,” she said quietly, feeling a wave of sadness overtake her as she thought about her family, “will I ever be able to go home again?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, but you’ve got a few things to learn before you can go back.”

  “My mom will be expecting me back for supper.” She smiled sadly, hearing how silly the words were, how trivial they were in light of her current situation. Kennedy frowned. “What if I can’t shift back?” The knot inside her stomach twisted tighter.

  “You will,” Trace reassured her, his tone nonjudgmental. “I’ve never heard of a cougar being stuck in cat form.”

  “Then how? Can you show me?” Kennedy padded forward and reached out a paw, placing it over his, and marveled at how much bigger he was. “Please.”