Howl & Growl: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Various Authors

  You can find all of these and more of Scarlett’s books on:

  AMAZON

  ***

  Becoming His Mate: Douglas Mountain Shifters

  (Fountain of Love Series)

  By Lillian Danté

  From the Author:

  This story is a lot of things. It's my homage to stories about strong warriors confronting their destiny, star-crossed lovers, and fated mates. It's a love song. It's an adventure.

  It's also my tribute to the Pacific Northwest.

  While Alki Valley, Foxwoods, and the whole Douglas Mountain region as described in the story are fictional, they're based on the area where I grew up. As far as I know, there weren't any shifters living there - but I've been wrong before.

  Most of all, though, it's something I hope will put a smile on your face.

  Without you, the readers, nothing I do would be possible. So every book I write is sort of a love letter to the audience. If you can escape into this world for just a little while, just long enough to forget about the things you want to forget, and remember the things you want to remember - then I've done my job.

  xoxo,

  Lillian

  P.S. If you can't get enough stories about magical and mysterious fountains, please check out the rest of the books in the Fountain of Love series. The Fountain of Love is Timeless. The Fountain of Love is Wonderful. The Fountain of Love is Magic. Join 15 authors as they spin the tale of the Fountain. The settings and characters may change, but the fountain will remain. Like us on Facebook, and the visit the Fountain website. Every book in the Fountain series is available for free, exclusively on Amazon Kindle, for the first five days after release.

  Chapter One

  His fingers trailed down the side of my neck, leaving a tingling pathway on my skin. The ghost of a sensation I'd felt just moments ago. He had that effect on me. Always had. Probably always would. My body refused to forget his touch, refused to let go, no matter how hard I tried.

  Not that I was trying particularly hard. Not right now. And I hated myself for that, but then his fingers dipped down, between my breasts, down my stomach, sliding under the waistband of my panties.

  I forgot to hate myself. I forgot why I'd ever tried to resist him.

  My nipples stiffened as I bit my lower lip, arching into his touch until I felt a twinge of protest in the muscles of my hips and ass.

  Cole chuckled in my ear. I shivered at the sensation of his hot breath against the sensitive skin. "It always drives me crazy when you do that," he murmured. "Biting your lip, trying not to smile." He blew out a tiny puff of air, making me shiver and moan softly. "Failing."

  Drives, he said. Present tense, like this was a thing we were still doing, had been doing all along - like we hadn't spent nine and half years as strangers trying to forget each other's existence. Like he hadn't run away right after high school graduation…

  "Heather," Cole whispered. "Heather. Where are you?"

  I bit my lip harder. "Right here," I insisted, and a moment later the dip of his fingers made it true. Memories scattered in my mind like so many dandelion seeds in the wind. His teeth scraped against my earlobe, gently, and my whole body shuddered in response.

  "I don't believe you," he whispered, his fingers curling deeper. "Well. Maybe now I do." His lips were curved up in a smile, all wickedness and sin.

  I sighed, feeling myself melt and surrender to him completely. My inner muscles clenched around his fingers as he stroked against that particular spot deep inside.

  "You haven't changed a bit," I murmured, absently.

  He grinned. His teeth glinted in the moonlight shining through the window, and I felt an inexplicable shiver of fear in the pit of my stomach.

  "I think I have," he said. "Never found this before, did I?"

  He punctuated with another stroke, and I shuddered.

  "No," I moaned, my head arching back into my pillow. "But I don't remember complaining."

  A moment later his thumb joined in, rubbing little circles on the stiff nub at the top of my sex. Shuddering, I gave in.

  This wasn't part of the plan. When I let him spend the night in my house, this wasn't supposed to happen. I was going to be strong.

  But I never felt stronger than when I was in his arms. I might be weak now, as my climax overtook me - but in a little while, I'd have him reduced to a similar state, shuddering and needy inside of me. It was all part of the give and take. It was beautiful. It was fucking terrifying.

  Moaning and convulsing under his fingers, every part of my body tingling with pleasure, I forgot everything. The only thing that mattered was us. This moment. Pure bliss.

  When I opened my eyes, he was still smiling.

  "You're gonna be the death of me," I whispered.

  As it turned out, I was almost right.

  On the day Cole came back, everything seemed ordinary at first. But isn't that always the way? Wake up, gulp down some coffee, take your meds, shuffle through your morning routine. Nothing's memorable - until suddenly, something is.

  It was like that.

  I got to work early, like always, and spent a while sitting behind the counter and yawning before I sorted through the keys in the overnight drop-off box.

  "Hey, Heather - what's the blue Cobalt? Oil change or something?" My boss, Joe, was popping his head out through the connecting door into the garage.

  "Wheel bearing," I said, handing him the key fob. "Sounds like it, anyway."

  He nodded, disappearing. I'd been working the front desk at Joe's Automotive since high school, and I'd picked up just enough car know-how to avoid embarrassing myself. Some women might wrinkle their nose at the idea, but I don't mind being surrounded by the testosterone all day. These guys had known me since I was a kid, and I had a feeling most of them wouldn't hesitate to help me bury a body.

  Not that I ever would. You know. It's a figure of speech.

  We had the advantage of being very close to Foxwoods, the massive planned community with houses so far out of my price range, I felt myself get poorer just by looking at them. The residents would bring in their fancy sedans because it was the cheapest tow, but Joe's honesty, fairness and lightning-fast repairs kept them coming back.

  We had plenty of customers from Alki Valley, too. They were my favorites. Well, maybe it's more accurate to say that the Foxwoods people were my least favorite, and everything else shone by comparison. But even on the worst days, it was never too bad. Joe and the others would always have my back when an irate customer got out of hand. That was more than I could say for most retail jobs.

  While I sat there, sorting through some parts orders from the day before, a subtle scent made my nose twitch. On a conscious level I couldn't have identified it, but the flood of feelings and memories filled in the blanks for me.

  Cole.

  I looked up, my heart pounding like a snare drum. It was totally irrational; no one could get in or out of this tiny room without my knowing about it. He wasn't here. The smell was a phantom. Like everything else involving Cole, it was just a flight of fancy. Nothing real.

  All the same, I couldn't focus on the my work again until I'd poked my head through the connecting door to make sure he hadn't suddenly materialized in the garage. The instinct was too strong to ignore. Every part of my body, from my racing pulse to the goosebumps on my skin to the hairs on the back of my neck, standing stiff, was convinced of one thing.

  He was nearby.

  I shook my head at my own stupidity and sat back down, trying hard to squash the memories.

  I hadn't seen Cole Jackman in almost ten years. He left Alki Valley in his rear-view right after high school graduation, and by then, I'd lost my right to cry for him. His girlfriend Dani cried instead, but instead of vicious triumph, I felt a stab of jealousy.

  Which was, in fact, balls-out crazy. But I never claimed I was sane.

  Not when it came to Cole, anyway.

  And this was just more proof of that. My eyes kept scanning over t
he same line of numbers over and over again, but I couldn't understand them. The roots of my hair still tingled.

  "Heather?" It was a voice from behind my shoulder. I almost jumped out of my skin.

  "Sorry." Steve was chuckling as he walked in, wiping his hands. "Didn't mean to startle you."

  "I wasn't," I lied, briskly rubbing my upper arms to calm the goosebumps. "Just got absorbed in, uh…" I glanced down at my desk. "…this stuff."

  "Sure." Steve was smiling, but he looked a little concerned. He wasn't going to push it, though. That was one of the many things I liked about him. That, and the fact that he and his wife put me up in their furnished basement apartment for about half of what they could've charged, on the open rental market.

  "Did you see the paper today?" he asked, patting where it sat on the desk.

  "Not yet." I hadn't even glanced at it. I usually didn't, unless someone tipped me off to a particularly juicy story. The local news was seldom interesting, and often irritating.

  "They're talking about developing the woods," he said, tapping on a particular headline. "Selling off the land to the highest bidder."

  I sighed. "They talk about that every year. And every year, nothing changes."

  "No, not like this," Steve insisted. "The new commissioner is giving statements about it. Look."

  Frowning, my strange interlude with the phantom smell all but forgotten, I picked up the paper and began to read.

  Anyone who's hiked the five-mile trail that connects the Foxwoods housing development to Alki Valley will tell you how beautiful it is. The old-growth pines and mossy boulders give a home to countless species of wildlife, while the old fountain marks a perfect halfway point to enjoy a picnic lunch on your way through. For decades, the land that it bisects has been state property. But with the recent departure of County Commissioner Lane Watkins, new questions have been raised about the land's future.

  While it costs the state little to maintain the trails, relying mostly on volunteer labor, the sale of the land could bring in a significant amount of revenue.

  "It's certainly nothing to sneeze at," new Commissioner Wanda Pollitt says. "We're very mindful of the importance of maintaining our area's natural beauty, and it's not a decision we'd make lightly. But the fact is, the land is highly desirable, and the demands on our state budget increase every year. Everyone wants the best of all worlds: well-maintained trails and parks, perfect schools, smooth roads - but realistically, something has to give. If the residents of the area can learn to live without the trail, the benefits could be wide-reaching."

  During his tenure, former Commissioner Watkins was determined to keep the land preserved in its natural state. At the time of this article, he could not be reached for comment.

  The article continued on the next page, but I only scanned the words, looking for another mention of the fountain. There was none.

  "I know what you're about to ask," said Steve. "And no, there's no guarantee the fountain wouldn't be part of the sale. God knows what would happen to it."

  "That's insane." My stomach clenched with anger. "How can they even talk about this?"

  Steve let out a bitter laugh. "I'll do you one better. Guess who's backing the plan to sell?"

  My jaw dropped. "No," I said. "You've got to be kidding me."

  He shook his head. "Afraid not. The Foxwoods community board just made their statement. They're all in favor."

  "This is insane." I rubbed my temples, staring down at the paper without really seeing it. "I really think I'm losing my mind. Or maybe this whole county is."

  "Could be," Steve grunted, flopping down in one of the chairs we kept for customers. "But there's no way Alki Valley will let this happen."

  "There's no way they'll be able to stop it," I countered. "Nobody loves the fountain as much as politicians love money."

  "Ain't that the sad truth." Steve grinned ruefully, sticking his legs out in front of him. "Still. I think Alki might surprise you."

  I wanted to believe him, but I wasn't sure I could. The rivalry between Foxwoods and Alki Valley was bitter and long-standing, but Alki lacked the organization and resources to fight the sale of the land.

  Officially, both places weren't part of any town or city. They existed in a no-man's land of unincorporated county property, which meant they were subject to the leadership of politicians who rarely, if ever, set foot in our neck of the woods. We had no local representation in the government. I'd grown up listening to the murmurs of discontent, but until now, I'd never found a reason to get angry about it.

  The bell on the door jingled, and both Steve and I looked up.

  "Do you have time for an oil change?" asked a melodious voice that I immediately recognized. I smiled, looking up.

  "Adanna, how are you?"

  She slipped into the room, swaying up to my desk with her usual dancer's posture. "Very well, thank you. I haven't had a chance to call for an appointment - I'm so sorry."

  "No trouble at all, Ms. Ogbuagu." Steve stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. "Keys?"

  Alki Valley didn't really have an official leadership structure, but when we were kids, Cole's father had acted as a sort of de-facto one-man community board. Everyone seemed comfortable going to him for advice, and he did a good job speaking for the rest of us whenever we needed a voice in county affairs. Shortly after graduation, he'd decided to retire to Florida with his wife. Adanna moved to town right after that - a fortunate coincidence, as she turned out to be the perfect replacement. Stepping into his shoes effortlessly, she'd become one of the most beloved members of our community.

  "I guess you must've seen the paper," I said, as I filled out her claim check.

  Her expression clouded over. "I spent all morning on hold with the commissioner's office," she said. "Just to leave a message. This is the first I've heard of the whole thing. But see if you can guess who already knew about it - and gave the commissioner his blessing."

  Shaking my head, I handed her an invoice. "I just heard - but to be fair, I probably could have guessed."

  "Arthur's the next person on my 'to call' list," she said. "I'm almost going to enjoy it. Although I doubt I'll get anything productive out of him."

  Arthur Craven was the community board leader of Foxwoods, self-appointed neighborhood watch captain, and regular contributor to the local paper's op-ed column. I couldn't be in his presence without developing a persistent eyelid twitch.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "If it helps, just remind yourself about the time he called the cops to his house because there was a raccoon walking across his pool cover."

  Adanna's laugh was musical and infectious, filling the small room.

  "Oh, Heather. You always know what to say." She smiled, and as always, it had that certain Mona Lisa quality about it. "I'll see you in about an hour?"

  "Sounds good."

  Business picked up over the next few hours, and I didn't have much time to dwell on my strange morning. It wasn't until we closed up for the evening that I started to think about everything again. Cole. His scent. His face, the way I remembered it. The fountain.

  "You want a ride home?" Steve asked me, like he did every night. I shook my head.

  "No thanks," I said. "It's nice out."

  "You sure? I hear there's a dangerous prowler around." He grinned. Even though crime in these parts was rarer than a bigfoot sighting, people still found a way to get whipped up into a frenzy about "suspicious" strangers. I felt bad for anyone who got lost and pulled into a driveway to check their GPS - most likely, they'd end up photographed and posted on the "NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH" board at the Foxwoods community clubhouse.

  "I'll take my chances," I told him, smiling. "Thanks, though."

  Tonight, more than ever, I wanted to walk. The remains of summer weather were still clinging stubbornly to the early autumn, and I wouldn't have many more opportunities to enjoy the trip home without getting rained on.

  And tonight, more than ever, I wanted to see the fountain.

/>   It wasn't directly on my way home, but I often stopped by anyway, taking a short detour into the woods. As a kid I'd come to make wishes, but nowadays I knew better. All the same, I liked it. Spending time by the fountain always seemed to quiet my mind.

  When I was with Cole, I never brought him here. He never tried to bring me, either. We never discussed it, but I was grateful. Even when things were the most heated between us, and we hardly wanted to be apart, I still needed this place to be mine. I needed a place to go that had no traces of him.

  Once he left me, I needed the fountain more than ever. Many nights of my senior year, its cool, clear water mingled with my tears. But when I left, my eyes were always dry.

  Leaving through the back door in the garage, I made my way to the wooded path that would take me where I wanted to go. The sun wasn't even setting yet, but the thick foliage made the way seem dusky-dark and full of secrets.

  I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

  Enjoy it while it lasts.

  Visions of high-rise condos and shopping malls flashed before my eyes, but even those worries faded as I walked. Fallen pine needles crunched beneath my feet, releasing their pungent, Christmasy scent into the air.

  There was a soft rustling noise from just off the path. I stopped and peered towards it, finally spotting an expanse of tawny fur that was well-hidden in the underbrush.

  "Hi," I whispered, meeting the glint of his eyes with my own. "I don't want any trouble, buddy." He remained motionless as I stared at him. After a moment, I turned back to the path and continued on my way. I didn't hear any more noises, but all the same, I knew the cougar was following me. They always did. The first few times, when I was a kid, it scared me half to death. But soon enough, I realized they were just curious. Cougar sightings were common enough around here, but I sometimes wondered if they took a particular interest in me - or if I was just more observant than most people. I didn't know anyone else who claimed to be followed as often as I was.