Fugitive: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Beast Warriors Book 1)

by Bliss Devlin

  But behaving honorably while she lived here under his roof was going to be damned difficult.

    

  After lunch, Brett and Drake departed to resume their fence-building labors.

  Shannon helped Rafe clean up his kitchen and put the dirtied dishes in the large dishwasher before he escorted her outside to where his truck was parked.

  Rafe's house was large, with enough guest bedrooms to rival an Irish manor house. Like many of the ranchers in the area, Rafe also worked as an innkeeper during the warm months of the year, hosting visiting hunters and fishermen.

  The house's décor reflected his mostly masculine clientele, with the downstairs rooms displaying an impressive collection of elk and deer antlers on the walls as well as an assortment of old weapons ranging from shields and spears to a collection of antique rifles and shotguns.

  One item in particular caught Shannon’s eye. It was a medieval broadsword with a pitted blade, a large round pommel of yellowed, cracked ivory, and an intertwining design of flying birds and flowers engraved in black down the center of the blade.

  "Thirteenth century, from Toledo," Rafe said, smiling proudly when she asked about it. "I found it at a flea market in a little town near Madrid, and it looked so bad that I was able to buy it for a song. Took me a couple of years to restore it properly."

  As they drove the five or so miles to the town, Rafe told her about his ranch and explained a little bit about the history of Elysia. She was fascinated, since she had never met a real cowboy before.

  Brett and Drake both lived on the ranch as well, but since bears were solitary by nature, they each had their own houses located elsewhere on the property.

  The lands he shared with his business partners stretched along the valley bottom from the highway to the base of the nearby mountains, consisting of pastures for beef cattle and hayfields to feed his livestock over the winter.

  The three bear shifters had cleared most of the pastureland themselves over the years since Bear Team had settled here.

  As Rafe had mentioned yesterday, Elysia saw a thriving trade in visitors over the summer and autumn, who traveled here from large cities in the west, south, and east to hike, hunt, and fish.

  Shannon was the ranch's only guest at the moment, but Rafe was expecting a small group to arrive later in the week. His guests were planning to fish at the north fork of the Salmon River, not too far from the highway where Shannon had entered Elysia.

  Hal Sigurdsson, who was a canny man, had made Elysia a haven for bear shifters dispossessed from their original homes by WSS "recruiters."

  Soon after the members of Bear Team had escaped from WSS, they had chosen Elysia and established themselves on various ranches in the valley. Only a few of Elysia's ordinary mortals knew about the bear shifters living amongst them, though most of the shifters were investors in the town's businesses. They left the day-to-day operations of shops, restaurants, and pubs to the town's ordinary mortal residents, preferring to live quietly with mates and families on their ranches and farms.

  From Rafe's descriptions as they drove, Shannon was expecting Elysia to be a ramshackle town reminiscent of the ghost towns she'd seen in movies and on television.

  When they arrived, she was surprised and impressed with its size and evident prosperity, with its fine century-old stone and brick buildings lining the streets.

  The main street was lined with shops, with large glazed windows that displayed all manner of sporting goods, with a generous sprinkling of restaurants and cafes.

  Rafe parked his truck on the side of the street and led Shannon to a large clothing shop. As they stepped inside, a middle-aged woman with short, light brown hair and spectacles hurried up to greet him warmly.

  He spoke to her in a low voice, and Shannon heard something that might be her own name. The shop assistant's expression turned to sympathetic concern. She asked him several questions, and he responded.

  Then Rafe turned back to Shannon.

  "This is Ellen. I told her how you were newly arrived from Ireland and how the airline lost your suitcase," Rafe explained. "She says that she'll provide you with all the clothing that you might need."

  "Hi there, Shannon," the woman greeted her, smiling warmly.

  She extended her hand, and Shannon took it, pleased with Rafe's quick thinking. Ellen gave her hand a brief squeeze and released it.

  Then she touched Shannon's shoulder, urging her to the back of the shop.

  "Go ahead and follow her," Rafe urged when Shannon hesitated. "She'll show you to a dressing room and bring you clothing to try on."

  "But I don't have any money on me," Shannon protested. Her lack of funds had been worrying her ever since Rafe had announced his intention to take her shopping. "Will she accept a promissory note in return for a future payment? Once I begin working as a paramedic, I could—"

  "Shannon," Rafe interrupted her, quietly but firmly. "I swore to do all that is right and proper as your sponsor. Ensuring that you're properly clothed is only right and proper."

  The hungry gleam in his eyes said otherwise…he looked as if he'd prefer her naked.

  With a pleasurable shiver and a rush of hot blood to her cheeks, she hastily looked away. "Thank you, Mr. Magnusson," she said formally.

  "Rafe," he corrected her. "Call me Rafe…please."

    

  The next hour passed in a whirl of activity.

  Ellen did indeed provide Shannon with a dazzling variety of clothing to try on.

  She tut-tutted over Shannon's lack of a decent bra and promptly provided her with one that proved far more comfortable than the one that Shannon was accustomed to wearing. Her home island's clothing store had only had a limited selection in her size, so she'd gotten used to always being in some discomfort.

  Jeans, blouses, and skirts followed, as did stockings and sandals and a pair of sturdy hiking boots. It was all very practical and outdoorsy, Shannon thought, until Ellen brought her several cute dresses in beautiful patterned and floral prints, each made of a light summery fabric.

  When Ellen had finished with her, Rafe paid for Shannon's new clothing with a credit card.

  He suggested that they take a break for some refreshment, and they stopped to put the sacks of clothing in his truck.

  Then they strolled down the street. Shannon enjoyed the feeling of warm sunshine on her face, and the clean, cool breeze. They stopped in front of one shop, which stood empty, and Rafe's face fell as he read a handwritten placard stuck to the door.

  "Larry's Bakery is closed until further notice!" he said with evident dismay. "Says here that Larry's gone back east to care for his mother." He shook his head. "And here I was hoping to buy you a bear claw—he makes his own almond paste from scratch—and some coffee."

  Rafe put his arm around Shannon's shoulders and steered her across the street. After a moment, she slipped her arm around his lean waist as they walked, and his arm tightened, drawing her in close to his side.

  She didn't mind. She liked touching him far too much and couldn't stop thinking about kissing him again.

  Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had been running for her life through the woods, friendless and alone. Now she was here, warm, well-fed, and protected. And she owed much of her present comfort to the tall man next to her.

  I'll have to find some way to repay him, she thought. And why hasn't some woman already laid claim to this wonderful man?

  "You like ice cream, right?" Rafe said, coming to a halt in front of another shop that smelled of some mouthwatering baked confection. "Let me treat you to a waffle cone sundae, and then we'll start shopping for some healer supplies."

    

  When they finally returned to Rafe's ranch some time later, Shannon found herself in possession of an embarrassment of riches.

  In addition to all of the shoes and garments Rafe had purchased for her, she had laid in a large stock of bandages in various shapes and sizes as well as a number of salves and creams.<
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  As well stocked as Elysia's shops had been, they had been unable to supply most of the herbs she needed to compound her remedies. Rafe told her that she could order whatever she needed from the Internet and had shown her the computer in his study.

  He helped her unpack her new clothing and hang it in her bedroom's closet. A toothbrush, comb, and scented soaps went into the bathroom.

  When they were done, she followed him back downstairs. There, he had one final gift for her—an iPad.

  "Hal said that WSS was probably monitoring your email and Facebook accounts, and said not to log in to anywhere, but I thought you might want to start looking up continuing education courses," he explained as she turned the tablet over.

  She smiled up at him, impressed by his thoughtfulness. She wanted to be able to help any patient who crossed her threshold, even if they weren't one of the town's bear shifters.

  "Thank you, Mr., ah, Rafe," she corrected herself. "You've been so very kind…and very generous. I can't thank you enough."

  Yielding to impulse, she rose on tiptoes to kiss him. She had been longing to do it since she awoke but hadn't found the right opportunity…until now.

  He made a low sound in his throat and returned the kiss hungrily. She found herself pushed against the wall of his entryway and wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself eagerly against him.

  Her blood pounded through her veins as he plundered her mouth, and every inch of her longed for his touch of his bare skin against hers.

  Then Rafe made an unhappy sound and stepped back, holding her at bay with a steely grip on her upper arms.

  "Shannon…I can't," he said hoarsely.

  "Why not?" she asked, bewildered. She was sure that he had been enjoying the kiss as much as she had.

  "I—it wouldn't be fair. You've only just arrived, and I'm your sponsor, and it wouldn't be right," he said in a breathless rush. "I don't want you to think that you have to repay me for the clothes—or anything else."

  She stared at him, her bewilderment deepening. He thought she was doing this out of some sense of repayment or obligation?

  "But—" she began.

  Rafe grabbed his hat from where it hung on a hook near the door.

  "I need to go help Brett and Drake with that fence line," he said harshly.

  Then he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

  A moment later, Shannon heard his truck roar to life. She wasn't certain whether she wanted to laugh or cry at Rafe's abrupt withdrawal.

  He wanted her, and badly. That was good, because she wanted him, too.

  She had never met anyone like him. Every fiber of her being felt drawn to him. She liked his deep, quiet voice, his smile, his kindness, his generosity of spirit, and his kisses. Most especially his kisses.

  He made her feel like the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.

  But he was also chivalrous to the core, it seemed. Frustratingly chivalrous, and somehow convinced that he was forcing his attentions upon her when she had kissed him first!

  She looked forward to finding a way to dissuade him of this mistaken notion.

  Chapter 7 – Healed

  Two weeks later, Shannon heard Rafe's truck come roaring up to her tiny clinic.

  Truck doors opened and slammed. Then Rafe was barking orders, and Drake replied in curt monosyllables.

  She hurried outside to find Drake crouching in the truck's bed. Blood spattered his shirt. Rafe was unlatching the back of the truck. His hands and sleeves were covered in drying blood as well.

  Rafe glanced up at her arrival, and she was warmed by the relief she saw in his expression.

  "It's Brett," he said tersely. "Injured himself cutting brush."

  "I'll be all right," Brett said, his voice weak but grumpy. "I'm a bear. I heal fast."

  "And I'll help you heal faster," she told him, climbing up into the carriage to kneel next to Drake. "Let's see what you did to yourself."

  "That's the last time we let him use the chainsaw," Drake commented grimly.

  Shannon glanced down at Brett's shredded, blood-soaked right leg in alarm.

  Someone had looped a leather belt tightly around Brett's upper thigh to slow the bleeding, but his injuries were severe. Treating him was going to take more than any of the humble medicaments she had in her clinic.

  She took a deep breath, forcing down fear. I can do this. I've done it before.

  But with the exception of the boy at the monastery ruins, Granda had always supervised and helped her. Now she was on her own.

  Putting a reassuring hand on Brett's upper thigh, she said, adopting the same light, chiding tone that Drake was using, "Brett Thorfinnson, what have I told you about attempting amputations on your own?"

  "You're right, and I'm very sorry, Shann—I mean, Ms. Joyce," the big man said dryly.

  He was pale as curdled milk under his tanned skin, and his lips looked bloodless.

  "Brett," she said as warmly as she could. "I promise I'll take good care of you."

  She looked over at Rafe. "Can the two of you bring him inside without loosening the binding on his leg?"

  Rafe nodded. "That's the plan." More softly, he asked, "Will he be okay?"

  Swallowing her doubts, Shannon nodded.

  She scrambled down from the truck bed to make room for Rafe.

  Since arriving in Elysia, Shannon had devoted herself to setting up a traditional medicine business similar to the one she had owned back on the island.

  At Rafe's suggestion, Shannon had set up her shop and clinic in what used to be a small roadside shop, located on the side of the highway within walking distance from his ranch house.

  The new clinic was easily accessible to any resident of Elysia or the neighboring ranches who needed a healer, but it gave her patients privacy from Rafe's hunting and fishing guests, of whom there was a constant flow.

  Rafe had commissioned a sign for her clinic, Shannon's Traditional Healing & Herbal Medicine Center, and word had spread quickly.

  Since opening her doors for business, she had treated a steady stream of minor injuries, from residents and tourists alike, and had prescribed numerous herbal infusions for sore throats, coughs, stomach aches, and similar ailments.

  Her new business had given her the opportunity to meet many of her new neighbors, who were mostly kind, welcoming, down-to-earth folk intrigued to find a genuine Irishwoman in their midst. Many of them told her of having Irish grandparents or great-grandparents.

  The Beast Warrior exiles, in particular, preferred coming to her for treatment rather than risking uncomfortable questions at the nearest hospital. She knew and accepted what they were, and in return, their initial wariness about finding a newcomer in their midst had given way for the most part to genuine friendliness.

  She realized she was happy despite being torn away from everything she had known, though she still woke from frequent nightmares where Colonel Perry's men found her and dragged her away, just as they had before.

  And she missed Granda dreadfully. She longed to email him an assurance that she was safe, but mindful of Hal Sigurdsson's warning, she had not dared to contact him lest she lead WSS straight to him.

  If he's not already their prisoner, she thought bleakly. But there was no way to know for sure, not without exposing herself and the bear shifters whose secret she had promised to protect.

  Now, as Rafe and Drake carefully lifted their injured companion out of the truck, she held open the door of her clinic and ushered them inside.

  She directed them to place Brett on the high, narrow treatment couch and turned to wash her hands.

  "Will you have to amputate my leg?" Brett asked apprehensively as she soaped up.

  "What? Are you afraid it won't grow back?" Drake asked sarcastically.

  Shannon shuddered. Some of her bear shifter patients had told her of WSS's barbaric practice of lopping off injured shifters' limbs in the name of healing. In time, the missing limb would fully regenerate, but it was a terr
ible treatment.

  "No, I'm not going to cut off your leg," Shannon assured Brett in a brisk tone. She dried her hands with a paper towel as a terrible suspicion began to coalesce in her gut. "Haven't you ever been healed before?"

  "No, ma'am," Brett answered. "Back when we were still working for WSS, we mostly treated our own wounds."

  "Colonel Perry said that whatever didn't kill us would make us stronger," Rafe said bitterly. "And he was right. If one of us was injured, we healed. Eventually."

  Shannon felt sick. "That's inhuman!"

  Rafe gave her a level look from his clear gray eyes. "One of the many reasons we left the colonel's service," he said dryly.

  He looked around. "Shannon, can you treat Brett on your own, or do you need me? I have guests due to arrive at the house shortly, and they'll be expecting lunch." He looked down at his blood-stained clothing. "And I don't want to scare them into thinking I'm a serial killer in my spare time."

  "Those the birdwatchers who want me to take them to see the nesting eagles on the North Fork?" asked Drake.

  "The very same," Rafe said with a slight smile. "I like the birdwatchers. There's only a limited amount of trouble that a city slicker can get into when they're armed only with a camera or pair of binoculars."

  "Oh, you'd be surprised," Drake said darkly as he followed Rafe to the door.

  "I'll return after lunch to check on Brett," Rafe said. "Shannon, if he gives you any trouble, you have my permission to turn him into a frog with one of your potions."

  "Yes, Mr. Magnusson," she said, sweetly, as the door slammed behind them.

  She winked at Brett.

  "Now I'm tempted to go down to the pond and catch a frog, just to see his expression when he returns," she told the big man as she donned a smock to protect her dress, then reached for the box of latex gloves. "He already thinks I'm something of a witch."

  The big bear shifter gave a weak chuckle as she pulled on a pair of gloves and picked up a pair of scissors from her tray of instruments.

  "Let's get these jeans off you," she murmured, starting to cut away the fabric encasing his injured leg.