by Bliss Devlin
Fugitive
Beast Warriors Book 1
By Bliss Devlin and Ophelia Sexton
Published by Philtatos Press
Second Edition
Text copyright 2016 by Bliss Devlin and Ophelia Sexton. All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Jacqueline Sweet
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Excerpt
Shannon glanced at him through her lashes, admiring his broad, muscular frame.
She had wanted to kiss Rafe again for days now, and the craving only grew stronger with each passing hour. "So you're pleased with me, Mr. Magnusson?"
"Of course I am…and didn't I tell you to call me Rafe?" His gray eyes narrowed.
She smiled as sweetly as she could. "I'm glad to hear it. I was beginning to fear I had displeased you in some way."
"What?" He seemed honestly bewildered. "Why on earth would you think that?"
"Because I noticed that you've been avoiding me," she said boldly. "I thought that maybe I had offended you in some way."
He flushed and looked uncomfortable. "Of course you haven't offended me! It's just…there's been so much work…uh, guests. You know…"
Good. She was getting to him. Just one more small push…
"Yes, you're very busy," she agreed. "And I can see that I'm imposing on you, taking up a room that might be used for paying guests. You've been more than kind and more than generous—" she swept her hand around, indicating the clothes that she wore as well as the clinic's furnishings. "But Brett says he has a large house as well, and I was thinking that perhaps I could rent a room from him—"
"No," Rafe growled, suddenly looming over her.
She started, and he grabbed her arms, hauling her up. "But—"
"You're mine," he said, definitively, silencing her with a long and very thorough kiss.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Hunted
Chapter 2 – Encountered
Chapter 3 – Sheltered
Chapter 4 – Desired
Chapter 5 – Sponsored
Chapter 6 – Clothed
Chapter 7 – Healed
Chapter 8 – Mated
Chapter 9 – Warned
Chapter 10 – Surrounded
Chapter 11 – Imperiled
Chapter 12 – Rescued
Epilogue
Chapter 1 – Hunted
Exhausted and hungrier than she had ever been, Shannon Joyce listened intently for signs of pursuit as she moved as swiftly as she could through the rugged, unfamiliar wilderness.
Above the sound of her beating heart, she strained to hear the crack of a twig under a giant paw, the steady huff of lupine breath, the sough of a twig brushing against a broad furred back…
At first, she thought maybe Whitepine Security Services would think she was dead and not send wolf shifters after her.
Escaping her armed escort had been a stroke of sheer good luck…if you defined luck as a terrifying airplane crash in a remote wilderness area.
One minute she had been sitting in her cramped seat in a small propeller airplane, paging through a magazine that she couldn't concentrate on, hyper-aware that every minute of travel brought her closer to an unknown but terrifying fate at WSS headquarters.
Then she had heard the explosion that took out the plane's engine, and looked out the window to see thick black smoke streaming past. She had frozen in terror at the sight.
This can't be happening to me now! Not after all of the other things that have already happened…
Her two guards, who until that moment had made no secret of their boredom, instantly sprang into action, ensuring that she was belted in properly, then handing her a pillow to hold against her face, to prevent bruising, just prior to touchdown.
A few minutes had passed that had felt like an eternity as the plane made a rollercoaster plunge. Then they had hit a steep hillside meadow with a bruising impact. The plane had bumped and skidded on a terrifying course towards a stand of trees at the meadow's edge, plowing a deep furrow in the soil before hitting the trees with a tremendous crash and a deafening screech of tortured metal.
But it hadn't immediately burst into a fireball like in the movies. Which was why she was still alive, bruised and shaken up.
The pilot and her two guards hadn’t been so lucky. As she peered around, bruised and dazed in the aftermath of their terrifying dive to earth, she saw that the aircraft had lost most of a wing, and the impact with the trees had peeled open the side of the plane where her guards had buckled themselves in.
Their deaths hadn’t been pretty. Both had died instantly from the massive trauma. Even with her background in administering first aid and her healing, Shannon had to look away and swallow hard.
With shaking hands, Shannon had unbuckled herself and crawled cautiously forward, only to discover that the pilot was also dead. She touched the side of his bloodied neck, feeling for a pulse, but knew it was hopeless.
Then she had sat and shaken violently for a few moments, feeling alternately hot and freezing cold as the shock of the crash caught up with her.
Finally, her thoughts moving as slow as syrup, she had made her way to the back of the plane, where her guards had kept a cooler full of bottles of water and soda and a tall brown paper bag of packaged snacks.
Ruthlessly, she had emptied out a duffel bag belonging to one of the guards, dumping shirts, socks, toiletries, and underwear onto the plane's crumpled floor.
She had kept his thick fleece pullover, recognizing that nights might be cold in these mountains even at midsummer, then packed all of the drinks and snacks she could comfortably carry into the duffel.
She had also dug through the other guard's duffel, looking for anything useful, and found a military-looking knife with—praise God!—a compass embedded in the handle.
And, even more useful, a map of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming, with a helpful annotation of their intended flight path, ending at WSS headquarters, which was apparently located in a remote corner of Montana near a large lake.
Her grandfather had always told her that if she was ever in trouble with WSS, she should contact Hal Sigurdsson in Elysia. He could protect her if she needed protecting. Granda had told her Elysia was a small town located in the United States, deep in the wilderness of northern Idaho along the Salmon River.
Even if Shannon didn't know exactly where she was right now, she could make a guess, and she set a course for Elysia…which, oddly enough, she couldn't find on the map.
She had located the Salmon River on the map, though, and saw it was a dismaying distance and a mountain range away from the plane's flight path.
Fine, she had told herself. I'll just head towards the river, and then I can find someone to ask for directions.
Then she had climbed awkwardly out of the shattered plane, trying not to injure herself on sharp bits of the jagged hole in the fuselage, and, consulting her newly acquired compass, had set off in the general direction of Idaho…or so she fervently hoped.
At that point, she had already been traveling for a week, more or less, starting with the helicopter used to abduct her from her island home off th
e southwestern Irish coast.
The helicopter had landed on a large fishing vessel cruising several miles off the coast, but the ship had been crewed by WSS personnel rather than fishermen, so there had been no one to appeal to for help.
After several days at sea, they had made landfall on an uninhabited stretch of coast, where she had been transferred to another helicopter, which had taken her to a large training facility with an attached airstrip, located in the middle of a forest.
From there, she had been forced to board a military-looking aircraft bearing the WSS logo of a stylized wolf's head framed by the cross hairs of a rifle scope.
They had flown for hours, heading west. Just before the crash, one of her guards, who had the air of a former soldier, had taken pity on her and answered her questions about where they were and where they were taking her.
"We just crossed over into Montana airspace, Miss," he had said, gruff but not unfriendly. "And we're taking you to our commander, Colonel Lugh Perry. I know you're upset, but he says that getting you to HQ is a top priority."
Her blood had run cold at the guard's words. Her grandfather had warned her about Colonel Perry, who apparently liked to acquire people with special talents and then experiment on them like laboratory rats.
And then there was the matter of Granda's secret…a secret that would be worth a great deal to certain people, like Colonel Perry.
As Shannon entered the forest, she had wondered how long it would take for WSS to realize that the plane had crashed…and to find the wreckage.
If they realized she was still alive, they would probably be expecting her to run east for the nearest city. But sooner or later, if what Granda had told her was true, Colonel Perry would send his Beast Warriors to the area in hopes of picking up her trail and recapturing her.
She had known she would have to travel quickly and in the opposite direction from where they expected. And she knew her only hope now lay in reaching Elysia before Colonel Perry realized that she was still alive and on the run.
Despite the rigors of traveling in unfamiliar wilderness, luck had continued to follow Shannon on her desperate journey west through a wild landscape of forests, meadows, and mountains.
She had followed backcountry trails wherever she could, and despite her fears about mountain lions and bears, hadn't seen any wildlife beyond a few startled deer and bighorn sheep as she slogged determinedly up ridges and through woods.
The knife turned out to have a hollow handle filled with a variety of survival items, including fish hooks, which she didn't use, and matches, which she did, gratefully, to light a small fire near a stream or lake every night.
She had walked for three days until the trail she was following ended at the edge of a dense, dark stretch of close-set firs.
After hesitating, she had entered the unnaturally silent grove with its densely clustered trees. As she walked, she missed the guidance that the trail had given her, and she kept glancing at her compass, fervently hoping that she was still headed toward the Salmon River.
When Shannon finally emerged from the trees into a broad meadow, she saw a silvery brook running through the middle of the clearing.
Beyond that, somewhere in the distance, she heard the rumbling sounds of a motor vehicle, possibly a large lorry—truck, she corrected herself silently. She was in America now.
It was the first sign of civilization she had sensed since the plane crash. Her heart lifted at the familiar, comforting sound. There might be a highway nearby! Perhaps she could even hitch a ride!
And perhaps the person who gave a ride might know the location of Elysia.
Safety!
Or so she fervently hoped. All Shannon's hopes depended on locating Hal Sigurdsson, a man she had never met before…and on his agreeing to help her.
Almost there!
And then her luck finally ran out.
She was crossing the meadow when she caught the flicker of a huge lupine shape darting through the trees in the grove she had just emerged from.
Sudden terror sent the blood pounding through her veins.
Beast Warriors!
Had she come all this way, through rough terrain, only to be captured within sight of her goal?
No! I won't let them take me. I won't go to Colonel Perry! I'd rather die!
Shannon settled the strap of her duffel more securely over her shoulder. Forcing her weary, aching legs to move, she began to run for the shelter of the trees on the other side of the meadow.
She hadn't caught sight of the other wolves in the pack yet, but she knew they were there.
Whitepine Security Services wouldn't have sent just one of their wolf shifters to hunt her.
Fighting the urge to look back and see how quickly her pursuers were gaining on her, Shannon splashed through the shallow brook, jogging for the trees that bordered the other side of the meadow.
Her breath rasped in her throat, and a stitch stabbed her right side. But she didn't slow down.
She needed to build up as much of a lead as she could.
Panting, Shannon tried to run more swiftly and felt the ground begin to slope uphill. She was sore and hungry and so very weary…and so very close to her goal of finding a highway where she might hitch a ride.
What if the map was wrong? What if I read it wrong?
She listened for sounds of pursuit behind her but heard nothing but her own harsh breathing and the blood pounding in her ears.
Then she spotted the thin ribbon of a road winding up the slope of the mountain. An intoxicating draught of relief and renewed hope flowed through her veins at the sight of it.
A wide path in the middle of the wilderness? Surely it must lead to the highway!
Panting, she changed course to follow the path.
As she climbed the forested slope, she strained to listen for the crack of twigs or any other sign of the wolves hunting her, but she heard nothing.
The muscles of her legs burned like fire now as she made her way steadily up and up and up, and she couldn't seem to get enough air into her lungs.
She looked up and ahead of her, but there seemed to be no end to the trees, and she seemed no closer to the road. It would be twilight soon, and she did not want to crash blindly around the forest in the dark with Beast Warriors on her trail.
They wouldn't kill her. No, her fate would be far worse. She had heard the stories. She knew what lay in store for her when they caught her.
And in the end, when they were satisfied that she had suffered enough, they would bring her to Colonel Perry. And then he would be free to conduct whatever experiments he liked on her. And to torture her until she'd betrayed Granda's secret…the reason he had fled his forced employment at WSS all those years ago.
Shannon shuddered and gripped the handle of her knife. The blade was honed sharp enough for a man to shave with.
She knew she stood no chance of fighting against Beast Warriors, but maybe she could kill herself before they could do their worst to her.
Then she saw a weathered wooden mile marker standing upslope like a sentry, marking the edge of the road.
She was close, so very close to her goal now.
But as she climbed the remaining distance uphill with desperate haste, her knees trembling with the strain, she could sense the unnatural wolves closing in.
She heard the crack of twigs breaking beneath heavy steps and threw a frightened glance over her shoulder.
What she saw made the blood freeze in her veins.
Two giant wolves were loping up the steep slope, pink tongues lolling between long white fangs. One was furred in pure white and the other in black.
They were still far behind her at the bottom of the hill, but she saw that they would close the distance quickly.
Shannon called up a burst of speed from her last reserves of strength and reached the wooden mile marker.
Before her lay a rutted, stony dirt road.
Behind her, she heard a scraping sound of claws against rock,
then a low, rumbling snarl.
Shannon glanced over her shoulder. A shock of pure terror jolted through her as she saw a great black wolf's head peering at her from between a pair of trees. Its golden eyes glowed malevolently above the huge triangular muzzle.
In a few more moments, it would be upon her, and then all hope would be lost.
The white wolf was halfway up the slope now. It had slowed to a walk, making a show of stalking her.
And the black wolf slipped through the trees, following close upon the white wolf's heels. It growled triumphantly at her as she made eye contact.
Left or right?
Did it matter? She knew she would never reach her goal in time. Then she heard the faint sound of an engine in the distance to her left.
Left, then.
As she broke into a stumbling run, the two wolves scrambled onto the road, and Shannon saw them clearly for the first time. Twice the size of ordinary wolves, and bristling with malevolent intelligence.
Then the Beast Warriors lunged for her, their huge fangs bared.
Before she could move, strong jaws clamped painfully onto her upper arm and thigh, breaking her skin. Their weight and momentum propelled her forward, stumbling and fighting to keep her balance, before they dragged her to a halt.
Shannon screamed in terror and despair as she saw the two wolves, who were growling triumphantly, begin to shift and turn into something much more terrifying, a monstrous fusion between man and beast.
Chapter 2 – Encountered
When he heard a woman's shriek of pain and terror mingled with loud growling and snarling, Rafe Magnusson knew that his long weekend from the ranch was not going to be the idyllic ramble through the woods that he had planned.
It was a beautiful midsummer's day, and Rafe had headed for a national forest several hours' drive northeast from Elysia, wanting to give his bear a chance to stretch his legs and enjoy the warm, sunny weather.
When he reached his destination in the Bitterroot National Forest, Rafe had driven his pickup truck several miles up a rutted dirt road and parked in a clearing. There, he had stripped down before shifting into his bear-shape.