Hunter: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Beast Warriors Book 2)

by Devlin, Bliss

  Brett had made an abortive attempt to court the lovely, lush-figured healer when she first arrived in Elysia last summer, but she had made her preference for Rafe plain from the beginning.

  He wondered if he would ever find another mate of his own. It was tricky for any of the bear shifters to find ordinary humans willing to accept being mated to someone who was not quite human.

  At least it was no longer a done deal that the immortal shifters would outlive their human mates. Most of them, Brett included, had yielded to love and loneliness at least once in their long lives, and their matings with ordinary humans had inevitably ended in the tragedy of old age and death.

  Some of the bear shifters had found comfort in their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, but Brett's children had died at the same time his wife had, leaving him heartbroken and alone.

  It was only recently that he had begun longing for more than the short love affairs he had settled for in the decades since Adelaide's tragic death.

  Part of his willingness to consider taking a mate again stemmed from Dr. Liam Donlon's arrival in Elysia. Another fugitive from WSS, both he and his granddaughter were familiar with the immortality serum he had developed while working for WSS, though the treatment was extremely risky.

  Brett was jolted from his musings by another gust of wind that brought with it the unmistakable scent of a cat shifter.

  A strange shifter! Here!

  Leif and Svein had also caught the scent, which seemed to be coming from a nearby stand of trees. Their complaints forgotten, they grabbed their rifles from under the tarp in the truck bed. Brett put down his saw and picked up his rifle from under the shelter of a nearby tree, and the three of them ran towards the pines.

  They arrived just in time to see a big leopard vanish into the woods on the other side of the grove. A certain appealing muskiness to its scent told Brett that the shifter was female.

  "You there! Stop!" Brett called, first in English, then in Norse, knowing it was useless.

  Leif and Svein were already stripping off their clothes in preparation for the shift. They were both sniggering, and the eager, predatory expressions on their faces made Brett feel a little sick.

  He knew what Wolf Team liked to do to female prisoners.

  Cursing, Brett turned to lean his rifle under the nearest tree. He undressed swiftly, folding his clothes into a neat stack next to his rifle, then shifted into bear-shape, grunting with the pain of the shift.

  With the bear's keen sense of smell, it would be easier for Brett to track the intruder.

  And in bear-shape, he could prevent Leif and Svein from abusing her when they caught her. Two wolves were no match for a large, angry bear.

  He was expecting the chase to be over quickly. So were the two wolf shifters.

  Brett was shocked when the stranger eluded them, staying far ahead of her pursuers with mocking ease. He almost lost her trail several times, but the shifting gusts of wind aided him time and again to resume the chase.

  As he loped along on four paws, he wondered: had WSS actually begun recruiting female Beast Warriors in the years since he had left the organization?

  It made sense, since the armed forces of most nations now recruited and trained women. Colonel Perry would have located the shifters among them and approached likely candidates with offers to become Beast Warriors in an organization where they didn't have to hide what they were.

  Brett saw Leif and Svein, who had shifted into two large gray-and-white wolves, stop in confusion as they lost the trail by the banks of a rushing creek.

  He huffed at them and lumbered away, following the feline scent in the air.

  Hal Sigurdsson would be very unhappy if Brett and the others lost their quarry, leaving a strange shifter to wander the countryside.

  Even with three experienced hunters, the chase went on for much longer than Brett expected. The stranger was clever, using the stream repeatedly to break her scent trail.

  And he had never heard of a cat other than a tiger that would willingly immerse itself in water—icy rapids, at that—and swim.

  Stranger and stranger, he thought as he moved through the forest at a steady, ground-eating pace, following the teasing whiffs of scent.

  Slowly but surely, aided by Brett's long familiarity with this area, they were gaining on her.

  They chased the large spotted cat down the long, winding unpaved forest service road to the highway, closing the gap between them all the while.

  Brett could smell the two wolves' excitement as they cut away from the road to move into flanking position, readying themselves to attack from each side while Brett continued to drive the leopard forward.

  He finally caught sight of her on the last stretch of the road. She was long and lean and muscular, with a deep golden spotted coat and a smooth, gliding lope. The rain had darkened her fur nearly to brown, her legs and underside caked with mud…and she was utterly magnificent.

  And almost within reach.

  But she wasn't going to make it easy for them.

  Sensing their proximity, she stretched into a flowing run and surged ahead, easily outpacing the wolves pursuing her and certainly faster than Brett's bear could gallop, even at full speed.

  The road came to an abrupt end at the highway.

  To Brett's horror, he saw the leopard leap boldly out onto the highway…right in front of a large Subaru station wagon with a dead buck tied to its roof-rack.

  He saw the vehicle try and fail to stop, leaving long black skid marks on the wet pavement. He heard a loud, sickening thump as the Subaru hit the big cat and sent her flying into a graceless heap by the side of the highway.

  As she lost consciousness, the leopard shape melted into a naked, dark-haired woman with smoothly tanned skin.

  The car rolled to the shoulder, and the driver got out, hurrying over to the woman's crumpled figure.

  Brett recognized him as Dave Thorvald, a fellow bear shifter and Brett's neighbor, whose property adjoined the Grizzly Peak Ranch.

  Good, he thought with relief. At least I won't have to try to explain away the shape-shifting to an ordinary human.

  Brett stopped and shifted back to man-shape before cautiously crossing the highway.

  When he reached Dave's side, the big, brown-bearded man was kneeling at the shifter woman's side.

  She was beautiful under the battering and abrasions from the accident—tall, with long legs, wide hips, generous breasts, and thick, shoulder-length black hair.

  "She jumped out right in front of me! I couldn't stop!" Dave blurted, looking pale.

  "I know," Brett assured him. "I saw the whole thing."

  Dave reached out and put his fingers against the side of the woman's throat, feeling for a pulse.

  "She's alive," he reported, relief coloring his words. "Should we take her to Shannon's clinic?"

  "She's an intruder," declared Leif as he swaggered up in man-shape.

  With disgust, Brett noticed that the wolf shifter was sporting a hard-on from the chase.

  "And she's our prisoner,” added Svein, close on Leif's heels. "We caught her skulking around and spying on us."

  "We should question her," Leif said.

  Brett caught the lascivious interest in Svein's face as he stared at the woman's exposed breasts and torso.

  He scowled at the two wolf shifters and, feeling oddly protective, moved to block their view.

  "Not until she's been seen at the clinic," he snapped. "You two go back to the trucks. Get our clothes and guns and then park the vehicles at the ranch house."

  Leif and Svein both scowled back at him.

  Leif sneered as he asked, "And where are you going, all naked like that?"

  "I'm going to borrow Dave's cell phone and call Hal to meet us at Shannon's clinic. Got a problem with that?"

  Leif made a warding gesture with his fingers. "Taking her to the Irish witch? No thanks," he muttered.

  Brett suppressed a smirk. After last summer's events,
all of the wolf shifters feared Rafe's mate.

  "Dave," he turned to his neighbor with an apologetic smile, "do you mind driving us over to the clinic?"

  "Of course," Dave answered promptly. "I'm done with hunting for the day, and I feel bad about hitting this lady." He squinted at Brett. "You gonna ride naked or do you want to borrow some sweats?"

  Clad in the sweatpants that Dave had loaned him, Brett sat in the station wagon's back seat and held the unconscious woman on his lap for the 45-minute drive south to Shannon's clinic. He was intrigued by her and not just because she was a shifter.

  Whoever she was, he sensed she was going to be trouble.

  Shannon will heal her, he told himself. Then he'd be able to question this beautiful, enigmatic shifter and get some answers.

  Chapter 2– Questioned

  Well, this feels awfully familiar.

  It was Catrina's first thought upon regaining consciousness in a strange place. She hurt all over, which only added to the feeling of déjà vu.

  She smelled the sharp, familiar scent of rubbing alcohol and disinfectants, overlaid with the scent of herbs, and wondered where she was.

  "She's waking up," said a low feminine voice with a lilting Irish accent.

  Catrina slowly opened her eyes and found a very pretty dark-haired woman with a heart-shaped face and big dark blue eyes gazing down at her.

  "How do you feel?" the woman asked.

  Catrina struggled to sit up and realized that she was naked, with just a sheet to cover her. She clutched at it to keep it from sliding off.

  "Like I've been hit by a truck," she answered groggily.

  Her head felt like it had been split open, and a throbbing spear of pain impaled her from her temples to the back of her skull.

  The woman frowned.

  "Or a station wagon?" asked a deep male voice, with just the faintest trace of a European accent, maybe Swedish or German.

  Startled, she looked away from the woman and met the gaze of a tall, handsome cowboy leaning against a pale green wall nearby.

  He had bright blue eyes with sinfully long lashes. As their gazes met, he grinned sardonically at her.

  And something just…clicked.

  Though she'd never met him before, Catrina suddenly felt as if they'd known each other forever. She smiled back hesitantly and forgot all about her headache.

  Damn, she thought admiringly.

  Her new friend looked like a hunky cowboy model in worn jeans and a flannel shirt. He was big and tall and tanned, with shoulders a mile wide, long, dark-blond hair tied into a ponytail, and a short, neatly trimmed beard.

  He even held an honest-to-goodness cowboy hat in his hand. Yum.

  And that smile…combined with those eyes and that deep voice, it made him downright dangerous. Who was he?

  And where the hell was she?

  The last thing she remembered was being in jaguar-shape, running at full speed towards a paved highway…

  Oh no.

  "Dave said you jumped out right in front of his car, Miss,” Yummy Cowboy continued, his manner polite and friendly.

  He was still smiling, but Catrina noticed that his blue eyes remained cool and assessing.

  Then she caught Yummy Cowboy's scent, and alarm shot through her as she recognized it.

  Shit! It's that bear shifter who was working with wolves!

  "You broke both arms below the elbow, your left leg, and three of your ribs. You also have a concussion. It's fortunate that you didn't crack your skull," the black-haired woman informed her in her lilting English. "I've healed you, but you'll probably be quite sore for a few days to come."

  "Thank you," Catrina said, with sincere gratitude.

  The doctor—or whatever she was—did not smell like a shifter. Instead, the scent of herbs permeated her own natural scent.

  The jumbled memories of Catrina's attempted escape from the bear and the wolves began to return and sort themselves out.

  Did the guy who hit me see the jaguar? And if so, did he tell anyone about the big cat that mysteriously turned into a human?

  Or was hitting a naked lady running across the highway in the middle of nowhere upsetting and shocking enough that he hadn't noticed the cat?

  I've totally fucked up this mission, Catrina realized in despair. What now? Am I a prisoner?

  A sick feeling of panic began to churn her gut. She glanced around, looking for escape routes.

  "What's your name, Miss?" Yummy Cowboy asked.

  "C-Catrina. Catrina Hunter," she answered, examining her surroundings.

  It looked like she had been brought to a clinic of some kind, though it looked very New Age.

  In addition to the usual examining couch, sink, and containers filled with cotton swabs, tongue depressors, and other medical paraphernalia lined up on a counter, one wall of the room consisted of glass-fronted cabinets holding dozens of jars of what looked like dried roots and herbs.

  She noted two possible exits—one a closed door to her left and the other an open doorway to what looked like a waiting area, with another door beyond.

  The waiting area had floor-to-ceiling windows. Catrina saw a gravel parking lot just outside and a fenced pasture beyond that, with mountains not too far in the distance.

  No weapons in sight, and Catrina wasn't restrained.

  She'd have to move fast to get past Yummy Cowboy, though. Despite his seemingly relaxed lean against a nearby wall, he looked alert and ready for trouble. Damn.

  She hoped she wouldn't have to hurt him.

  "Ms. Hunter, I'm pleased to meet you," he said. "I'm Brett Thorfinnson. Now that you're all healed up, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."

  He was still smiling, but she saw steel under his friendly expression.

  Uh-oh.

  As a shifter, she was stronger and faster than the average human male, but Yummy Cowboy Brett was a shifter, too.

  Bears might not be as fast as jaguars in a race across open ground, but right now, he was standing close enough to her that it wouldn't matter.

  "Ask away," she said, bluffing. "But before you do…where am I? This doesn't really look like a hospital."

  "You're in my clinic," said the black-haired woman. "I'm Shannon Joyce Magnusson."

  Shannon Joyce? Holy shit. Dr. Liam Donlon's granddaughter!

  "Pleased to meet you," Catrina said, trying to cover her shock.

  "Now," said Brett. "I need to know—"

  He stopped talking as a big silver pickup truck came roaring into the parking lot and stopped in a spray of gravel.

  Catrina noted how Yummy Cowboy Brett's body language suddenly shifted from deliberately relaxed to wary alertness.

  Uh-oh, she thought again, bracing herself.

  "Hal's here," Shannon said. She, too, looked suddenly wary.

  And Catrina realized that things were about to get a lot worse.

  Hal? If that's really Hal Sigurdsson, former commander of Bear Team, I am so screwed.

  Catrina tensed as she saw a giant of a man emerge from the truck, his expression grim under long flowing white-blond hair.

  The newcomer strode to the clinic's entrance and pushed the door open so violently that it hit the wall and bounced back.

  Yummy Cowboy was a big man, a head taller than Catrina, who was tall for a woman, but Hal easily topped him in height and was built like a linebacker to boot.

  And he looked mad.

  Catrina swallowed hard and glanced at the clinic's other door, trying to decide whether it really was an exit or if she'd end up cornered in a closet.

  As if sensing Catrina's alarm, the black-haired woman touched her arm.

  "You're among friends, Catrina," she said softly. "No one's going to hurt you if you're here to ask for sanctuary—"

  "Don't make promises you can't keep, Shannon," growled the giant. "Brett, Leif, and Svein saw this woman sneaking around their ranch not two hours ago. I need to know what a shifter is doing lurking around here."

  Sh
it. I've got to get out of here, thought Catrina.

  "Surely she can't be working for WSS," Shannon said. "I've never heard of Perry employing female shifters!"

  The blond giant said, “Neither have I, but Dave Thorvald told me she was in animal form when he hit her with his car. Is that true, Brett?"

  "Yep," Brett said calmly. "And I can't think of any good reason for her to be sneaking around my ranch while shapeshifted."

  Shit, shit, shit, thought Catrina. How am I going to talk my way out of this one?

  Hal fixed Catrina with a glacial, pale blue stare.

  "You speak English?" he demanded.

  Name, rank, and serial number, Catrina thought despairingly. I am so fucked.

  "Yes, I speak English," she said.

  She wished fervently that she were wearing real clothes and not just a sheet. But putting prisoners at a psychological disadvantage was part of conducting an effective interrogation, wasn't it?

  "Do you speak Norse?" Hal raised his pale brows, and Catrina remembered hearing that the legendary Bear Team were originally from Scandinavia and had been with WSS for a really long time. Like, centuries.

  She shook her head, unsure of why he was asking.

  "I speak a little Spanish, though," she offered. "Deseo ver a un medico norteamericano."

  All three of the people in the room looked at her blankly for a moment. Then Hal laughed.

  Without his scary expression, he gave Yummy Cowboy Brett a run for his money in the "big, blond, and handsome" department.

  Catrina had met the enemy, and damn if they weren't a hunky bunch of shifters.

  Too bad Hal looked like he wanted to execute her on the spot once he finished laughing.

  "Well, now, here's a mystery, indeed," he said. "So what were you doing creeping around the Grizzly Peak Ranch, and in leopard shape, no less?"

  "Jaguar," she corrected him automatically.

  "Jaguar," he repeated slowly. "All right, then, what was a jaguar doing creeping around the ranch?"

  "What makes you think I was creeping around?" she challenged. "What if I just got lost hiking and ran because three male shifters I didn't know started chasing me?"

  Hal gave a brief bark of laughter. Then he sobered and Scary Hal was back. "Well, that's one possible explanation. But is that what happened?"