Ride the Wicked Woodsman (A Night Falls Alpha Werebear Shapeshifter Romance)

by Christa Wick

  Squinting, I tried to piece together the bits I had just seen with what I had heard. The long snout and sharp canines, the short and dense mane of brown and black, the tips of the hair white, and a vocalization nothing like what I'd heard from any of the big cats our pack had tangled with in Champaign but a roar nonetheless.

  "What is he?" I whispered in Braeden's ear.

  "That, miss," he chuckled. "Is 100% grizzly."

  Still sitting on his motorcycle, Joshua casually inserted himself into the discussion. "None of Axel's pups are old enough to assert any claim, but there are others in the club and the female did enter our territory."

  My grip on Braeden's jacket tightened. I wanted to ask him what the hell Joshua was talking about. Among the packs and prides of Champaign, all unions were approved by the leaders of the group. Only the most political of unions within shifter society were done without the couple's full consent.

  So what the hell was this claiming nonsense?

  "You, cougar?" Taron growled as he moved closer to the big cat on his bike, his facial hair bristling with the urge to shift again. "You think you want to square off against the she-wolf?"

  Square off?

  This was getting out of hand! I couldn't engage in any kind of combat with these men -- I couldn't shift!

  Joshua shook his head, his attention focused on straightening the edge of his riding vest. "Not my type."

  "I didn't think so," Taron growled, returning to the center of the horseshoe. On the edge of shifting, he seemed taller, the shoulders more massive and the angular face brimming with menace. He looked around at the men again, making eye contact with them one-by-one as he spoke.

  "You want to forget sanctuary?" he asked, his gaze locked for a moment on Mallory before moving to the next shifter. "Fine, fuck sanctuary. All you need to know is this..."

  He unleashed another of his skull crushing roars then pointed at me.

  "The she-wolf is mine! Any one of you mongrels want to take her on, you have to get past me first. Now get the hell off of my mountain before your pelts are hanging from my porch."

  Another roar unleashed and then every motorcycle but Braeden's was running again, the smarter members of the pack already navigating their bikes to the dirt road that would take them to the valley below.

  Only Mallory lingered, his bike revving with a challenge he didn't have the nerve to voice before he suddenly accelerated.

  Braeden turned to shield me from the flying gravel. A big hand landed on his shoulder, the fingers dancing with unreleased tension. Braeden slid to the side, sweat breaking out on his furrowed brow as his boss growled in warning.

  "Mine."

  His? Oh, hell fucking no! Everything that was wrong about this place and situation was rapidly multiplying. I belonged to no one -- not my pack, not Taron, not the men who had just left on their bikes. I hadn't had even the smallest taste of freedom since fleeing my pack and I wasn't about to go back inside some damn cage.

  I pushed around Braeden, my hands balling into fists over all that had taken place the last few days and screeched at Taron. "I didn't ask you to do that!"

  He stared at me, not a trace of comprehension in his gold-brown eyes.

  "Think about it!" I yelled. "Even after what we...uh...discussed last night..."

  I cast a quick glance at Braeden to find the shifter trying his hardest to pretend like he wasn't eavesdropping on us.

  "Look, even if that was fixed, what's the point in claiming me?"

  Nostrils flaring, Taron stepped forward until we were chest-to-chest and glared down at me as he answered.

  "Oh, I don't know -- maybe to keep your foolish ass safe?"

  Frustration bubbled up my throat in a weak growl. I hadn't been foolish fleeing my pack and I didn't have much choice taking the trail. Calling me foolish wasn't fair -- but the fire flickering in Taron's gaze told me he had no interest in playing fair, just in winning.

  So much for his "decency" argument to the other shifters.

  Clearing enough space between us, I lifted a finger up to his face. "You said you'd take me to the train station if I couldn't get my car back -- that's keeping me safe. This..."

  Pausing, I waved my arm wildly at the now empty clearing.

  "This was pure idiocy!"

  A running growl scraped along Taron's throat but he turned his anger toward Braeden. "And you're still here why?"

  Cheeks flushing a bright red, Braeden looked at his boots and shrugged. "Thought you might have something you want me to do."

  His gaze slinked from his boots to my bare feet. "Something you need me to retrieve, maybe."

  "Get your keys," Taron snarled in my direction.

  My hands instantly found my hips. "Last night you said I could leave!"

  Closing his eyes, Taron took a few deep breaths. His lips rolled against one another and then his tongue came out to wet the top one. Safe from him observing me, I stared at his face, my gaze caressing the flushed cheeks and long lashes before getting stuck on the full, red lips that glistened where his tongue had just touched them.

  I felt a moment's tragedy in the fact that he was a bear and I was a wolf. Maybe we could have lived together for a time, even fucked around, but mating wasn't possible. And an alpha as strong as Taron owed it to his bloodline to pass on his DNA.

  "That," he said, opening his eyes to find me still staring at him. "That was last night. Braeden will get the rest of your clothes and see if anyone set a watch on your car. The Crockers might be human, but they know to keep their loyalties with the Woodsmen instead of the cops."

  He looked to Braeden, who nodded in agreement. "Around here, we are the law."

  "Fine," I relented, glaring at Taron. "But the clothes you threw in the garbage last night were all I was able to bring with me on the trip."

  "No problem," Braeden answered, pulling out his cell phone and snapping a picture of me.

  "What the hell?"

  I snatched the phone from his hands and hit delete while he stared at me with an open mouth.

  "I'll write my sizes down, thank you very much," I growled and switched to his note app. "I hope you don't shop for all females like that!"

  "I usually measure them with my hands," he smirked until a warning that even unintentional flirting was forbidden rumbled through Taron.

  "I'll get my keys," I said as Taron continued to stare down his shrinking subordinate.

  I ran up the steps, grabbed my car and hotel keys and two hundred dollar bills. I didn't want someone else spending my money since I had to make it stretch as long as possible, but I really didn't think I had a choice, especially before I had my car again.

  When I returned to the porch, I heard Braeden warning his boss.

  "This disagreement is going to come up again at Church tonight."

  Taron's gaze cut in my direction. He stepped onto the porch and took the keys from me but waved off the money. "He'll square it with me later."

  "Some of that was for the Crocker's because of...you know...the...uh...condition of the room." Horror flushed hot across my face at the thought of anyone other than me or old Edna going inside the miniature cabin and encountering the bloody sheets I had left soaking in the tub and my equally bloody panties in the trash can.

  "He'll square that with me later, too," Taron said. "You have anything inside the room?"

  I shook my head, my embarrassment probably writ large across my face because he gave Braeden the exact order I would have given if it was my job to boss his second-in-command around.

  "Just return the key," he said. "Don't go into the room. Find out if any more cops have been around then pay the Crockers for their troubles and information. Clover can find some clothes and shoes and bring them out."

  Braeden nodded, took the key but held his ground. "About Church--"

  "This isn't Church business," Taron growled.

  Braeden's gaze bounced off me then back to his boss.

  "What you just did with them -- it could m
ean a no confidence vote."

  Even if I didn't fully agree with the course of action he had taken, my chest seized at the possibility that Taron would be ousted as the pack's alpha for protecting me. My father had his position threatened at least twice because of me -- when I wanted to start college and again when I'd asked to work outside the pack. Both times he had immediately caved to the will of the pack.

  Would Taron fold just as quickly to protect his position?

  Head down, I snuck a glance up at him to see his reaction.

  "There's more to life than being a pack leader," Taron answered. "Fuck anyone who doesn't agree with me on this. Fuck them all."

  ********************

  A decades old Jeep rumbled into the clearing a few hours later. A girl I guessed to be around my age jumped out then reached into the back and pulled out several grocery-sized bags stuffed with clothing and I hoped at least one pair of shoes.

  "Sounds like Clover's Jeep," Taron said, coming out of the bathroom, his golden brown hair wet from the shower.

  He had to have been playing with whatever was in those little apothecary jars because I could smell a mouthwatering array of scents as soon as he stepped into the room. Something juicy like a raspberry, but something nutty, too, with a little evergreen mixed in.

  My eyes were just as mesmerized. He had taken the time to shave. It wouldn't last the day, but for a few hours the absence of facial hair would give me time to memorize the strong jaw with its broad chin and the prominent brows that were softened only by the deep honey color of his eyes. And there was absolutely nothing to hide the exact outline of the full lips that had snuck into my dreams as I slept propped against the wall the night before.

  "Who is she?" I asked, my voice suddenly scratchy.

  "Braeden's baby sister."

  As he moved to meet her at the door, I peeked out the window again. She had rich, mahogany colored hair that she wore in a pixie cut. She had paired combat boots with a bright, multi-colored skirt that swished around her knees and topped it with a sleeveless t-shirt and dark brown hoodie.

  This was the person Taron had sent to pick out clothes for me?

  He cracked the door open a few inches and stuck his hand out, huffing at her before she had a chance to say "hello."

  A very feminine laugh tried to tickle my ears, provoking an unfamiliar flare of anger.

  Was she flirting with him?

  "You get your big ole bear ass out of my way this instant!" she said, her laugh turning into a giggle. "It's been months since Paisley returned to college and I'm dying to talk to someone my age. Is it true she's from an actual city?"

  "She can hear you," he rumbled.

  "Good!" Her combat boots sounded loudly as she walked to the picture window and waved at me. "Tell him I can come in, please."

  I looked at Taron and gave him an uncertain nod. She sounded harmless, like a young kid on a sugar rush holding a brand new puppy. But no one in Night Falls, not even Taron, was really my ally and her exuberance and cheer could mask a different agenda.

  "Awesome," she chirped as he let her slide past him into the cabin. Looking around, she frowned. "Dude, you really need to get some furniture, especially now."

  Offering another huff, Taron disappeared into the kitchen and started banging some pans around. Shrugging, Clover came over to where I stood by the bed. She placed the bags down and extended her hand, offering me her name as we shook.

  "Clover Hughes. Braeden, that big hunk of gorgeous you met earlier is my older brother, but don't hold that against me."

  I laughed and let her keep pumping my hand up and down. "Onyx Parry. Thank you for picking some stuff up for me."

  "Yeah," she rolled her eyes, released my hand and started dumping the contents of the bags on the bed. "About that -- I'd still be driving back from Wal-Mart if I had left town to shop, so this is from the re-sale shop."

  She pulled out two pairs of jeans, a couple of tops, a backpack, an unopened pack of socks, a bra with its original price tag on it, and a pair of running shoes that also looked completely unused.

  "Everything smelled okay, but, as you've probably noted, no panties."

  A pan hit the floor out in the kitchen, the metallic impact vibrations ending as Taron scooped it up and uttered a swear word or two under his breath.

  A giggle erupted from the bubbly young wolf, her cheeks plumping higher and dimples appearing at the sides of her mouth. When she lifted her brows at me, I wanted to pass out from sheer mortification.

  Her impish expression could only mean she thought Taron had dropped the pan because of the idea of me going around without panties. She didn't know that nothing was going on between us beyond his being an overbearing protector. Of course, I managed that news had already spread to the entire pack that he had claimed me as his.

  "I also picked up some toiletries and..." she pawed around in one of the piles, "some makeup, even though you seriously don't need it. But my bedroom looks like it's turning into a drugstore from all the care packages my best friend sends while she's away getting her forestry degree."

  "Would that best friend be Paisley?" I asked, trying not to be a complete social dork. It was hard, though, because no one back home talked to me if they could avoid it. I was Miss Invisible, except they made eye contact just often enough for me to know they actually could see me.

  "Yes," she said. "And it sucks so bad she left me for another year while she picks up her master's degree. Hence the non-stop stream of bribes that come to me in the mail."

  She looked over her shoulder, her body leaning backward to try to see into the partially walled kitchen where Taron continued to hide.

  "Hey, pooh bear, can Onyx come and play at my house while you're at Church?"

  "No," he rumbled. "Stays with me."

  "Fine, then I'll go to the clubhouse and keep her company."

  "Can't, you're not a sweet butt," he mumbled and started banging more pans around.

  "Neither is Onyx!"

  He came around the corner at her loud protest, his gold-brown gaze scrunched up like he had a bee buzzing about his head.

  "Are you seriously telling me," she chided, one impertinent finger wagging in her pack leader's direction, "that when you're behind locked doors in Church, you want her only company to be a bunch of other males and Landa?"

  "What is a Landa?" I asked, skin itching uncomfortably at the idea of being stuck around a bunch of men in whatever condition I was in even though I was still on the fence whether it was some kind of functioning estrus state.

  Clover laughed so hard she snorted. "That's what we've been trying to figure out the last two years. Ostensibly, she's a puma. But I've got my money down on some kind of moray eel slash vampire bat slash rattle snake."

  "You can come this one time," Taron growled. "Now leave."

  "Thank you," she smiled sweetly, batting her stubby eyelashes at him while she ignored his command to go and turned her attention to me. "You do know what a sweet butt is, right?"

  I looked at Taron, watched his agitation grow and wondered if it was because of the high octane girl in front of me, this Landa woman, or whatever a sweet butt was.

  "Sure," I winked and tried to match her broad grin. Trying to distract her from the topic, I picked up a pair of the jeans, a top and what undergarments she had brought, plus the pile of toiletries and the makeup. "I'm going to change out of this circus tent. Will you be here when I get out of the bathroom?"

  "She won't," Taron huffed.

  "Probably," Clover chirped.

  Trying not to laugh at the big bear who had rescued me and was still keeping me safe, I disappeared into the bathroom.

  ********************

  I took my time in the bathroom, even after I heard Taron tell Clover he was calling her brother if she didn't haul her ass out to the Jeep and leave, which she promptly did.

  The makeup she brought fascinated me. I'd never had any to use. My sister Selisma had tons, of course, and my mom wore mor
e than her fair share. Having watched them from afar as they helped one another get ready for some pack event and talked incessantly about contouring and highlighting and everything else they excluded me from, I knew enough about applying the stuff without looking like a porn star or a rodeo clown.

  I applied some smoky eye shadow, triple thick mascara, a little color on my cheeks because I was looking paler than usual. Killer red lipstick of course. When I finished, I pulled my long black hair back and held it like I was wearing it in a ponytail. I made a duck face. Blew a kiss.

  And then I washed it all off.

  When I emerged, Taron studied me for a second, his face pinched before he monotoned his tepid approval. "Good."

  I lifted a brow, wondering if he appreciated just how gruff and insulting a general manner he possessed.

  "I was worried you were going to..." His hand moved in a circle around his face like he was throwing flour on pizza dough. "You know."

  "Put the makeup on?" I asked, knowing that was exactly what he meant but wanting to hear him admit it.

  "Yes. You're trouble enough as it is without looking like you want to attract a mate."

  "Lord knows I don't," I snarked, side eyeing him hard.

  "Look, I don't want you here against your will anymore than you want to be here," he said, ushering me toward the door. "And this morning was only round one."

  "Well, Rocky," I said as I waited next to him on the porch while he locked up. "Try for a knock out next time and we'll both be happier."

  "Wait here," he growled and went around the back of the cabin.

  I hadn't been outside other than my arrival last night and in the clearing that morning while more than a dozen males gawked at me in curiosity. I hadn't noticed a vehicle of any kind, but clearly someone couldn't be the president of an outlaw motorcycle club like the Woodsmen without having a motorcycle.

  Taron had a beautiful one, as far as such things go. It was all black and chrome, the front wheel ridiculously far in front and attached by two chrome-covered rods on each side. It had a Harley Davidson maker's plate on it, but I didn't know anything about motorcycles other than they weren't cars.

  Stopping a few feet in front of the porch, he gestured for me to climb on behind him. I groaned and dragged my feet, wishing I'd been rescued by someone with a proper vehicle so I wouldn't have to wrap my arms around his big body and press my breasts against his strong back.