Hunt
The Grizzly Brothers Chronicles
Alyssa Rose Ivy
Contents
Hunt
Copyright
Books by Alyssa Rose Ivy
Preface
1. Mara
2. Ian
3. Mara
4. Ian
5. Mara
6. Ian
7. Mara
8. Ian
9. Mara
10. Ian
11. Mara
12. Ian
13. Mara
14. Ian
15. Mara
16. Ian
17. Mara
18. Ian
19. Mara
20. Ian
21. Mara
22. Ian
23. Mara
24. Ian
25. Mara
26. Ian
27. Mara
28. Ian
29. Mara
30. Ian
31. Mara
32. Ian
33. Mara
Afterword
Dire: The Dire Wolves Chronicles
Dire Preview
Mary Anne
Hope(less)
Hunt
The Grizzly Brothers Chronicles
Alyssa Rose Ivy
Copyright © 2016 Alyssa Rose Ivy
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written approval of the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Photo and cover design by Sara Eirew Photographer
Created with Vellum
Books by Alyssa Rose Ivy
Flight (The Crescent Chronicles #1)
Focus (The Crescent Chronicles #2)
Found (The Crescent Chronicles #3)
First & Forever (The Crescent Chronicles #4)
Soar (The Empire Chronicles #1)
Search (The Empire Chronicles #2)
Stay (The Empire Chronicles #3)
Savor (The Empire Chronicles #4)
Storm (The Empire Chronicles #5)
Seduction’s Kiss (The Allure Chronicles #0.5)
Lure (The Allure Chronicles #1)
Lust (The Allure Chronicles #2)
Lost (The Allure Chronicles #3)
Dire (The Dire Wolves Chronicles #1)
Dusk (The Dire Wolves Chronicles #2)
Dawn (The Dire Wolves Chronicles #3)
Forged in Stone (The Forged Chronicles #1)
Forged in Ice (The Forged Chronicles #2)
The Hazards of Skinny Dipping (Hazards)
The Hazards of a One Night Stand (Hazards)
The Hazards of Sex on the Beach (Hazards)
The Hazards of Mistletoe (Hazards)
The Hazards of Sleeping with a Friend (Hazards)
Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology)
On The Rocks (Mixology)
Derailed (Clayton Falls)
Veer (Clayton Falls)
Wrecked (Clayton Falls)
Beckoning Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #1)
Perilous Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #2)
Enduring Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #3)
Life After Falling
www.AlyssaRoseIvy.com
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Preface
In the space of a few moments I went from kissing Ian to being held in rough arms as I was carried up toward the sky.
Disoriented and petrified, I watched Ian’s ranch disappear below. I tried to scream, but I was breathless from the shock. Instead I held onto the creature carrying me, both hoping he’d release me and terrified he would let go and send me falling to my death.
Less than forty-eight hours before I was a normal law student. Now I was falling for a bear shifter and kidnapped by a guy with wings.
It turned out my summer in small town Montana wasn’t going to be so quiet after all.
1
Mara
No one should be laid to rest alone. Even if you’ve been forced to walk the road of life with no one by your side, you deserve to have someone present at your burial. At least that’s what my grandfather taught me when I was a kid. Somehow even at twenty-three I couldn’t shake the lesson, which is why I was standing in the pouring rain without an umbrella.
The weather report hadn’t called for rain. I’d checked twice before leaving the house dressed in the black cotton dress I saved for these sorts of occasions. The material was too thin for the cool Montana morning, but I didn’t have any other options in my closet.
I’d made the slow drive over to the old cemetery just outside of town for the first time since arriving in Crestview six days before. I’d witnessed far more burials in the same time period when I lived in Philadelphia, but it seemed most people in this small town had someone around to bury them. I hoped people would be able to say the same thing about me when the time came.
The rain had started innocently enough. A few drops landed on my wavy brown hair while I watched the gravedigger work. I ignored the water, watching the surprisingly upscale wooden coffin sit beside the hole in the ground that would become its new home. I’d been to plenty of these burials before, but this one felt different. Usually it was older people who had money but no family. This man was in his thirties. Had the dead man bought himself a high-end coffin before he died? Most thirty-year-olds I knew weren’t preparing for their own death.
The small drops of rain became larger, but I refused to run back to my truck. It couldn’t take that much longer. These burials never did. There was no one around to make speeches or to play music. There was something beautiful about the simplicity even though the reason for it was depressing.
The worker turned the crank and lowered the coffin into the hole. I walked closer, still keeping enough of a distance that he might not notice me. Explaining my presence was the most awkward part of these things.
I looked up at the sky, letting large droplets of rain splash down my face. Was my Grandfather watching me? He’d never told me much about his belief in the afterlife. He’d always been more concerned about his life while on earth.
“Miss?”
I startled at the sound of a voice. The gravedigger paused with the coffin midway into the hole. He was older than I expected. At least seventy something with a weathered face that suggested he spent a lot of his time outside in the sun.
“Yes?” I brushed my wet hair way from my face.
“You should get on out of this rain.” The man squeezed water from his soaking wet t-shirt.
“So should you.”
He frowned. “This is my job.” Then his expression softened. “Unless. Are you a friend of his?” He pointed to the coffin.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve never met him.” And I’d been unable to find out anything about him. Some might call it stalking, but I called it honoring. I always researched the deceased in an attempt to know them in some small way. Even if you are alone at the end of your life, you still did something, and someone should acknowledge, even if silently, the imprint you left on the world.
“Then why are you here?” He tilted his head slightly.
“Because someone should be.” That’s what my grandfather used to say. Of course it sounded better coming from him. More sage.
“Well, I’m here already, so why don’t you go ahead home.” He
gestured with his hand for me to leave as if shooing a fly away.
“Ok.” I accepted his logic half to be polite and half because the rain had picked up even more. “You do an important job.”
His body stiffened. “No one has ever said that to me.”
“Now someone has.”
“Get out of this rain before you catch a cold.” His expression was serious.
“That’s not possible.” I shook my head. “It’s an old wives’ tale.”
“I believe the old wives. There was a reason for every story they told.”
“There’s also a reason for science.” I may not have gone into the sciences, but I had a lot of respect for people who did.
“Is that why you’re here?” His brow furrowed. “Standing in the rain at the burial of a man you never met?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged before walking back toward my truck.
And that’s when I saw him standing underneath the trees only a few feet away from me. Tall, dark, and with intense emerald green eyes so bright they almost gleamed. The intensity of his eyes was only matched by his scowl that seemed born more out of sadness than anger.
I looked away, despite my desire to study his handsome face. Handsome faces brought heartache with them.
I resisted the urge to look back as I made my way across the parking lot to my truck. I’d chosen to park in the furthest spot in the lot. Given the rain, it wasn't my best decision. I manually unlocked the door and stepped up into the Chevy S-10 truck that had been my grandfather’s only months before. It was nice to have my own vehicle, but I’d had far preferred his company. I’d learned to drive in this truck, but somehow now that the title bared my name it felt different, less like mine.
Choosing to spend my summer break working in a small town in Montana probably didn’t help matters, but it sounded good at the time. I needed to get out of the city. There is something soothing and healing about silent, dark nights. They are the kind of nights that only exist in the country, and even though I hadn’t lived in the country since I was eighteen, it still called to me in a way the city never would.
Besides, it gave me the opportunity to spend more time with Connor—also known as Professor Daniels, the one person who knew my Grandfather almost as well as I did. And even if all my law school classmates were convinced I was sleeping with Connor, I didn’t care. I wasn’t, and I had no plans to ever change that.
I pulled out of the freshly paved lot and onto the bumpy road. I was glad I had a truck with good clearance. I’d have bottomed out a regular car at least a dozen times already. I took a quick glance back out toward the rainy cemetery. I was too far away to see the grave, but I assumed it was being covered up. The attractive guy was gone, and a small voice in my head wondered if I’d completely imagined him. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
2
Ian
She didn’t look like a bitch. Nothing about her suggested she’d been involved with Jonovan or his death, but she had to have had something to do with him. Otherwise, why was she even at his burial? No one was even supposed to know about it. Normal people don’t show up at a stranger’s burial—especially not people who looked like her.
I wanted to forget about the way her wet black dress hugged her body. And how her damp hair fell in her face hiding one of her eyes. None of that mattered. What mattered was finding out how involved she was with Jonovan and whether he’d planned to make her his mate.
The old pickup truck didn’t fit her. It was as though she’d borrowed it from her father. Maybe she had. I wasn’t sure when she’d gotten to town, but it had to have been after I left a month before. I’d hoped my brothers would keep things under control while I was away, but as usual as soon as I left everything fell apart.
I walked into the trees and shifted, waiting for the familiar feel of my bear to take over. He was stronger and more instinctual than my human form, and he was the only chance I had of catching up with her truck now that it had already disappeared around the curve of the road. My vision tunneled as I adjusted to my second form.
I didn’t have any time to waste, so I took off through the trees that ran parallel to the worn road that led back into town.
I caught up to the old truck quickly. She was driving slower than people normally would. Either she was being especially careful because of the rain, or she wasn’t used to driving these roads.
I caught a glimpse of her through the window. She’d pulled her long brown hair back into a bun on the top of her head exposing her neck.
My bear growled, and I became even more certain of her significance and her involvement with Jonovan. An image of him touching her came to my mind, and I wasn’t sure if my bear or human side growled louder. It didn’t matter. There would be others. I didn’t have to claim her as mine even if every part of me knew I should.
She pulled into Mrs. Peterson’s long driveway, taking out a row of dark pink hollyhocks with her sharp turn. For someone who drove well under the speed limit she wasn’t cautious with her turns.
She slowed down as if to assess the damage she’d caused before continuing up the driveway and over to the gravel extension that led to the guesthouse. Mrs. Peterson had been renting out the place sporadically for years, but the girl’s presence there could only mean one thing: she wasn’t staying in town long. If she were she’d have rented a place far away from the watchful eyes of Mrs. Peterson. But it also meant something else. Mrs. Peterson would be able to tell me everything about the girl. Starting with her name.
I stayed hidden in the thick woods that ran all around the back and side of the property. She sat in her truck longer than I expected. She could have been waiting on the rain to slow, but she was already soaked. She’d seemed unperturbed by the water at the cemetery. I didn’t imagine a little bit more water would change anything. But what did I know? I was as clueless about women as the next guy.
She opened her door slowly and stepped out. She clutched a cream-colored envelope and held it against her chest as she dashed toward the front door of the small blue cottage.
I couldn’t make out any writing on the envelope, but by the way she clutched it, I could see it was important to her.
She closed the door to the house, cutting out my view. I had no clue who the girl was, but she was someone special. I’d find out who she was and get my answers. After that I’d either never let her go or pretend I didn’t want her. I already knew the latter would be almost impossible to do.
3
Mara
I’d have to pay Mrs. Peterson back for the flowers I destroyed. Hopefully they weren’t expensive. Otherwise I’d be using every cent I made from the measly salary Connor was supposed to be paying me.
It was fair pay I guess. It was the standard work study rate I’d have gotten if I worked for him on campus, but considering how well he knew my family, I’d hoped he’d wrangle a way to pay me more. But he didn’t, and by the time I realized that, it was too late to find another summer position. There was no way my student loans from the past semester would hold me over until the fall. If law school didn’t kill me first, then the loans I had to pay back would.
I stripped off my wet dress, tossing the black fabric onto the linoleum floor before my bra and underwear followed. That’s how you knew it was heavy rain. When it soaked through to your underwear. I set an envelope down on the bathroom counter before stepping into the tiny combination bathtub/shower. I wasn’t sure who other than young children or dogs could actually use the bath. It didn’t matter. The water pressure was fine, and the water heater did its job. I closed my eyes and washed away the rain. Maybe it was counter intuitive to shower to get rid of the water, but I was chilled as well as looking for a way to put off the inevitable necessity of opening the envelope.
Maybe it was luck that I finally noticed the cream paper sticking up from underneath the passenger side floor mat, but I didn’t believe in luck; I believed in fate. It was both far more dangerous and far more believable.
&n
bsp; I turned off the water and reached out for my towel. I met air. I opened the curtain to find my towel on the floor.
"Terrific." I picked the towel off the ground with a wince. I had a thing about floors no matter how well cleaned they were.
I dried off, careful to only use the side that hadn't touched the ground.
Only after I was dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top and drinking a fresh cup of hot cocoa, did I dare open the envelope that bore my name.
I settled into the one worn out couch in the living room of my rented space.
Mara- my grandfather’s perfect penmanship stared back at me. I’d always envied his ability to make words look like art. My handwriting more closely resembled that of a child.
Mara. He repeated my name as though we were having a conversation. Tears welled in my eyes as I prepared to read the rest of the letter.
When life gives you lemons you make lemonade. I've taught you that.
I nodded. It was yet another lesson he'd pressed upon me.
But sometimes lemons go bad and the only lemonade they are going to make is sour and undrinkable.
I froze. Now that was never part of his lesson.
I'm afraid I've left you with sour lemons. And for that I am sorry, but there was no other way. I ran out of time and chickened out.
Your father didn't die. He left you. When your mother died he couldn't handle raising you so he put you in my care. As I said. Sour lemons. You may be asking why I'm telling you now, and the answer is simple. He's going to find you one day. He couldn't handle you as a child, but now he needs something from you, and I know sometime soon I won't be there to protect you anymore.
Take these sour lemons and throw them far away. Don't let him pull you into the world that destroyed your mother. Connor knows everything, and he will protect you as best he can.
Hunt (The Grizzly Brothers Chronicles Book 1) Page 1