by Dakota West
Copyright © 2018 by Dakota West
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Shifter Country Bears
Shifter Country Wolves
Copper Mesa Eagles
Contemporary Romance Novels
EXCERPT: Chapter One of Running with Wolves
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About the Author
A Bear’s Secret
Shifter Country Bears, Book Five
Dakota West
Chapter One
Sloane
Sloane couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so excited to shower. She’d had a long, rough five days hiking through the southern end of the Cascades, and she couldn’t wait to wash the layers of sweat, dirt, sunscreen, and miscellaneous filth off of herself. With every step closer to her destination, she could practically feel the clean, warm water washing over her body, smell the soap and shampoo as they rinsed all the gross stuff currently on her into the drain.
Then, she was going to sleep in a real bed for two whole nights. When she’d started planning her months-long backpacking trip, two days at the Double Moon Ranch to recuperate had seemed totally overindulgent, and she’d worried over losing that hiking time. But now, two days at the ranch didn’t seem like nearly long enough.
Hiking down the mountain on its northeastern side, already in the shadow of late afternoon, Sloane could see the long, flat valley laid out in front of her, turning gold in the slanted sunlight. The spur trail to the ranch was a pretty easy one, and she was practically flying, especially compared to the last few days.
You can bail any time, she reminded herself. You don’t have to do this, you wanted to do this, on your insane ‘find yourself’ mission.
I think you’re pretty found, she thought. How much more can you sit around in nature and think?
Visions of warm water, washing over her, followed by a real meal and a soft bed danced in Sloane’s head as she barreled along, her pace only getting faster as she got closer to the promised land of creature comforts.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw a flash of bright blue. Only for a moment, and then it was gone.
Sloane stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn’t exactly say why, but that simple flash of blue was wrong somehow. Suddenly all her senses were on high alert, adrenaline prickling through her veins, and she couldn’t even say why.
Chill, she thought. Someone lost a hat or something and you happened to see it.
The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Nothing had changed on the trail: a gentle breeze still blew through the summery forest, the leaves of the trees waving slightly back and forth, the smell of pine needles and dirt wafting through the air.
And yet, Sloane’s stomach clenched, and she looked around, her skin practically tingling with the knowledge that something wasn’t right.
Did I see a ghost? She wondered. I don’t really believe in ghosts, though.
Holding her breath, Sloane stepped to the side of the trail, peering through the trees, trying to find the blue thing again, scanning through the greens and browns and deep blacks of the forest, not sure what she was looking for and not really knowing why it was so important.
Stop freaking yourself out, she thought. You could be like fifty feet closer to a shower and dinner right now. Stop imagining weird stuff and move it, Garcia!
Instead she stood still, scanning the forest. It seemed like everything went quiet, all at once: the birds, the wind, the rustle of the leaves.
Sloane took one more step, and then she saw it. It was only a triangle of blue fabric, poking up above a fallen tree, the color loud against the muted earth tones of the forest.
It’s just a scrap of fabric that someone lost, Sloane thought. A hat or a glove or a piece of tent that got torn off. She tried to ignore the suddenly-heavy feeling in her gut. Carefully, she unstrapped her own pack and sat it on the forest floor, pushing aside branches and leaves, making her way toward the fallen tree.
Sloane felt drawn toward the downed tree and the scrap of fabric, like it had some magnetic draw on her. Somehow, she knew that it wasn’t a tent scrap or a hat or a glove, and as she approached, she held her breath, bracing herself against the terrible feeling that she was about to find something bad.
On the other side of the log was a boy.
There was no other word for him. He was adult-sized, but he couldn’t have been older than his early twenties, maybe. There was still baby fat on his cheeks.
For one quick, easy second, Sloane thought the guy was asleep. It almost made sense: he looked so peaceful, lying there next to a fallen tree, like he’d just wanted to grab a quick siesta in the middle of hiking.
But his head was at the wrong angle, one of his arms twisted oddly beneath him, his legs all akimbo.
Sloane’s hands started shaking, and she knelt on the other side of the log.
Don’t be dead, she thought. Please please please.
She held her breath and watched as his chest rose and fell very, very slowly.
Okay, Sloane thought. Okay. I can handle this.
She glanced back to her pack, up against a tree, right next to the path.
He collapsed while he was hiking, but he’s alive, and I’m going back to the trail and yelling for help, because every single wilderness survival guide out there says not to leave someone alone.
Sloane took a deep, shaky breath, pleased that she’d put together a plan without freaking out.
Then, she saw it.
There was something sticking into his neck. A needle with a tiny syringe on it.
WHAT THE HELL, she thought. She gasped and stepped backwards too quickly, her foot landing on a stump and sending her toppling over backwards.
Sloane yelped as she fell, then scrambled back up and ran for the trail as fast as she could.
What if I’m next? She thought frantically.
She reached the trail and didn’t bother with her pack, just half-ran and half-slid downhill.
“Help!” she shouted, her lungs starting to burn. “Someone help, a man’s hurt!”
What if you’re just attracting whoever shot him? She wondered.
Well, then, you’re probably fucked, she thought, her feet sliding over some small rocks and nearly sending her flying again.
She shouted again at the top of her lungs. She didn’t care any more about what the guidebooks said or about where her pack was. All Sloane wanted was to get away from the part of the forest where someone was shooting darts into other hikers, and to the Double Moon ranch, which presumably had a phone that dialed 911.
“Hey!” shouted a male voice.
Sloane spun around, her heels sliding on leaves, and scanned the trail before her eyes finally alit on a figure, nimbly hopping down after her.
“What’s wrong?” he shouted, coming into better view. In moments he was standing in front of her, his chest heaving.
Sloane noticed two things right away.
One, he was hot. Crazy hot. Calendar-of-underwear-models hot.
Two, he was naked.
The hell is wrong with you? she thought. Sweat poured down her face, and she could practically feel a river running down the back of her neck, sluicing in her sports bra, between her boobs.
“Someone’s hurt back there,” she gasped, her hands on her hips as she struggled to catch her breath. “He’s in the woods, and he seems asleep but there’s a thing in his neck.”
She gestured at her own neck, knowing that she wasn’t explaining anything even a little.
“Show me,” the naked man said. He had a low, musical voice with just a hint of a twang, and he seemed very, very calm, like this situation wasn’t all that unusual and he knew exactly what to do.
Sloane nodded.
Please know what to do, she thought.
Silently, she walked past the naked guy and they made their way back up the hill. Sloane’s brain concocted the worst-case scenario, despite her best efforts: they’d get there, and whoever shot the guy would be in hiding, waiting.
They’d get there, and there would be one extra person, lying next to the guy.
They’d get there, and the guy would be dead.
They’d get there, and the guy would just be gone.
That’s the worst one, Sloane thought. Then I’m the only one who knows that something hinky is going on out in the woods, and the sexy naked guy thinks I’m crazy to boot.
It’s like the beginning of a horror movie.
She reached her pack and turned into the woods. The piece of blue nylon was still there, and despite everything, she felt a quick wave of relief wash over her.
The naked guy stepped around her, and she realized that he didn’t even have shoes on.
He also had a really nice butt. Sloane felt herself start to blush, and then shook her head furiously.
Concentrate on the guy with the neck-syringe in the middle of the woods! she thought.
Naked Guy was kneeling next to the fallen tree now, looking over at the kid in the blue shirt. He frowned.
“This is really weird,” he said.
“I know,” Sloane responded.
“He’s on some kind of sedative, looks like,” he said.
Then he put one hand on the log and vaulted over, landing on the other side of the kid, kneeling.
“We’re about half a mile from the Double Moon Ranch,” the man said.
He stood, holding the kid in his arms like a rag doll, and stepped back over the log, toward the trail. He almost acted as if the kid was weightless.
It dawned on Sloane why he was naked.
He’s a shifter, stupid, she thought. You’ve been hiking through Cascadia for a week.
“Don’t forget your pack,” he said. “You headed to the ranch?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded once, his gaze flicking to the kid’s closed eyes.
“I’m going to get back as quick as I can with him,” he said, his beautiful voice still perfectly calm. “Just stay on the trail. You can’t miss the ranch.”
“Thanks,” said Sloane, lifting her pack to her shoulders.
“See you in a few,” the naked man said.
Then he half-hiked, half-jogged away, his long legs carrying him much, much faster than Sloane could have hiked.
The breeze blew behind her, cooling the sweat still coursing down her neck.
Being indoors had never sounded better, so she buckled the strap around her waist and got a move on.
So this ranch has hot guys, she thought, and hiked a little faster.
I hope that kid is okay, she thought.
But I also hope I see Mr. Naked again. Clothed or not.
Chapter Two
Austin
Running down the trail, a half-dead kid in his arms, Austin put his feet on autopilot and tried not to think. Minutes ago, he’d been happily tromping through the woods, as carefree as you like, deciding between rabbit and trout for dinner.
Then, he’d heard a voice screaming for help. He’d shifted and run after it.
And then, he’d found the single most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen in his life, just standing in the middle of a trail through the woods. In that second, all the thoughts had blown clear out of his head, and the only thing he could think about had been the way she looked, the way she smelled, like pine and sweat and some pure, unique scent that was her.
The half-dead kid was also a problem, that was for sure. But that was a problem that Austin knew how to handle: take him back to the ranch, call an ambulance. Trained professionals would come and take the kid away, and eventually they’d probably figure out why there was a tranquilizer dart in his neck.
Austin had no idea what to do about the woman. In that moment, he wished that they’d planned better. He’d known this day was coming; after all, for the past two or so years, he’d watched all his cousins find their mates, one after the other: Hunter, then Julius, then Kade, then even Olivia. He had almost felt like a ticking time bomb as they each completed their triads, and Austin watched with a mixture of jealousy and fear.
He knew that when his time came, it wouldn’t work out nearly so well, and so he dreaded the day it happened.
It’s today, his bear whispered, still growling deep inside his skin. It’s today, and fuck the consequences, she’s yours.
Up ahead, the ranch came into view, and Austin hustled a little faster, coming down the final hill full speed and then booking for the gate.
“Hey!” he yelled at the farmhouse. “Open up!”
The house’s side door opened, and a woman with gray hair in a low bun came out, took one look at the situation, and hurried to let Austin in.
“What on earth?” Barb asked, quickly glancing over the boy.
“A hiker found him in the woods,” Austin said.
“Get him inside and call 911,” Barb said. She opened the door and Austin entered the kitchen. It smelled like baked beans and biscuits, but just then, it didn’t even make Austin hungry.
“Put him on the table,” she said, and Austin laid the kid out on the well-worn wooden tabletop. He didn’t even stir, and Barb checked his pulse, phone already in her other hand.
“Hi,” she said, into the phone. “I’m at the Double Moon Ranch, and I’ve got a young man here who seems to be unconscious. Looks like a hiker.”
Silence.
“I don’t know,” the woman said. “But there seems to be some kind of syringe in his neck.”
She raised her eyebrows at Austin, who put his own hands up in the universal gesture of I don’t know.
Barb listened for a few more seconds to the person on the other end of the phone, then nodded once.
“Thank you,” she said, and hung up.
“They’re sending an ambulance,” she said to Austin, then looked him up and down. “Put some pants on and go open the gate off the highway for them.”
Austin nodded and did as he was told.
Five minutes later, Austin was wearing pants, shoes, and a t-shirt that advertised the 2002 World Rodeo Championships. He didn’t know where he’d gotten the t-shirt — shirts from rodeo events seemed to simply appear in any dresser that lived on a ranch — but it was soft and was one of the few that actually fit his enormous frame, so he wore it a lot.
He barreled down the ranch’s long dirt driveway, a cloud of red dust rising behind him. The double moon was huge, stretching for hundreds of acres. The driveway alone was nearly a mile long, but when Austin reached it, there was no ambulance in sight.
Not really surprising. The closest hospital was a thirty-minute drive, and he didn’t think an ambulance could drive all that much faster. When Wyatt had been gored last year, it had taken the ambulance nearly forty minutes — there was a crash on the highway, and the only available ambulance was in Granite County General, even further than Ponderosa General.
Austin leaned against the bumper of the truck and waited. Someone needed to guide the ambulance to the r
ight building, then the right room. His head felt like the swirling dust cloud behind him, all his thoughts and worries loose and scattered, some slowly ascending to the sky as others settled out into the dirt again, waiting for someone else to come along and rustle them up.
The unconscious kid wasn’t even his biggest concern. He was still breathing, and was probably safer now than he’d been in the woods. If he woke up and was a threat, Barb could handle him no problem. After all, the kid wasn’t a shifter, and she could turn into a wolf in the blink of an eye.
Is she here yet? Austin wondered, thinking again of the girl with pale olive skin, black hair, and deep brown eyes. Even a sports bra and hiking pants hadn’t been able to hide curves just made for grabbing onto, really digging his fingers into as he—
Austin heard sirens and swiveled his head, following them. The ambulance came into sight, and as it made the turn into the driveway, Austin got back into the truck, waved at them through the window, and barreled back up the driveway.
As he drove, a chilling thought occurred to him: what if the girl had done it?
By the time Austin got inside, the paramedics were already working. The syringe that he’d been afraid to touch was lying on Barb’s kitchen table, and they were taking the kid’s vitals, talking to each other in low, urgent tones.
“Ma’am, where’s the woman who found him?” a paramedic asked Barb.
“She’s in the restroom,” Barb said. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was watching the goings-on with a stern look on her face.
Austin’s heart beat a little faster, and he forced himself to watch them work, stone-faced.