Stranded (Boys Behaving Badly Book 4)

by Delilah Devlin

  She raised her right hand. “I do so solemnly swear…I was.” She nodded. “You’re not half bad to look at.”

  His gaze ran from the tip of her head to her cold toes. “And you’re even prettier beneath those coveralls than I expected.”

  Katie stepped back into his arms and laid her face against his chest. “Got a plan for the night?”

  He nodded toward the cot with the thin mattress. “I do.” He set her aside and removed the mattress from the cot. He shook off the dust and spread it out on the floor in front of the stove. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’ll do until our clothes dry and the Coast Guard comes looking for us.”

  “How long do you think that will be?”

  “I figure by morning the storm will have cleared enough for the helicopter to fly. If we’re lucky, we’ll be rescued before we have to stay another night in this cabin.”

  Katie grabbed his hand. “Then we’d better make the most of tonight.”

  They made love well into the evening.

  Later that night, Lucas pulled on his boots and braved the cold to hang their bright orange life vests on the rickety dock. They shared cans of beans and peaches for dinner. Then Lucas stoked the fire one last time before he gathered Katie into his arms, and they settled down to sleep.

  “What happens when your team finds us tomorrow?” Katie asked.

  “We go back to our regular lives,” Lucas said.

  Katie sighed and snuggled closer to Lucas. “It’s too bad we can’t stay a few more days.”

  Lucas tightened his hold around her, his body warm against hers. “I can take the life vests down if you want.”

  She shook her head. “No, my family and your team will be worried.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. “I’m glad we were stranded, even if it’s only for a short time.”

  “I can’t say I’m glad we were washed overboard,” Lucas said.

  Katie stiffened.

  “But I’m glad we lived to save each other.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her long and hard.

  Katie fell into a deep sleep, wrapped in her lover’s arms, wondering what the morning would bring and how things would change when they got back to the real world.

  Lucas woke first, his bare skin chilled in the early morning air. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and the cabin had lost much of its warmth. A different sound had awakened him. One that wasn’t natural to the quiet of the wilderness.

  He strained to hear the sound again.

  There.

  The thumping sound of rotor blades moving closer made him sit up straight. “Katie,” he said. He leaned over her sleeping form and kissed her on the lips. “They’re here.”

  Katie’s eyes opened wide. “So soon?” She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss. “I don’t suppose we have time for…”

  Lucas chuckled. “I wish. But unless you want an audience, I suggest we get dressed and go meet our rescuers.” He loved that she wanted him, and he would’ve stayed in the cabin if it were a less dangerous situation. But they were running out of logs. If they didn’t get back to civilization soon, they could still perish from exposure, or be discovered by bears.

  “Kramer!” a muffled voice sounded through the walls of the cabin.

  Lucas gave Katie a quick kiss and grabbed for her clothes, tossing them toward her.

  He jammed his feet into his stiff jeans, pulled his shirt over his head, and tugged on his boots. “I’ll buy you some time,” he said and headed for the door.

  “I don’t need much,” she said, already in her bra and shirt.

  Lucas stepped out into the morning sunshine. The helicopter hovered over the island, a cable hanging down, having deposited a rescue swimmer on the shore.

  “Kramer!” Samuel Waterson walked up the hill toward the cabin, a grin spreading from ear to ear. “You don’t know how good it is to see your ugly face.” He wrapped Lucas in a bear hug and squeezed him so tightly he could barely breathe. “We thought we’d lost you for good in that storm. We didn’t even know you were washed overboard for the first five minutes. When we figured it out, the storm had gotten so bad, we couldn’t do anything but get the boat to shore.” Waterson stepped back, shaking his head, his grin turning downward. “We really didn’t expect to find you alive.”

  Lucas nodded. “I wouldn’t have expected it either, but thanks for giving us the benefit of the doubt and coming out to look for us.”

  “Us?” Waterson’s eyebrows rose, and his smile was back. “You mean the deckhand made it, too?” He clapped Lucas on the back. “That’s good news. Damned good news.”

  The door to the cabin opened, and Katie stepped out, fully dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before, including the coverall with Fishin’ is Livin’ embroidered on the front.

  “Your boss is going to be one happy captain when he finds out you two are still alive and kicking,” Waterson said. He hugged Katie as well, and then got down to the business of hooking them up to the cable and lifting, first Katie, and then Lucas, up into the helicopter.

  Once all three of them were aboard the aircraft, the pilot turned the chopper away from the little island and flew to the mainland.

  Lucas’s team was glad to see him, all gathering around, laughing and joking.

  Katie’s family and the captain of Fishin’ is Livin’ were there to greet them as they stepped off the helicopter, engulfing her in hugs. She was swept toward a waiting vehicle before Lucas could say anything.

  Now that they were back on land, would Katie forget what they’d shared and go back to her stubborn stance about dating Coasties?

  Lucas watched as Katie was ushered into an SUV. He was about to run after her and demand to know where they stood, when his unit commander stepped in front of him. “Kramer, we’re all glad you made it.”

  He straightened. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’m proud of how you saved the deckhand and kept her alive. There will be a commendation for your efforts.”

  Lucas shook his head. “Sir, you have it all wrong. Katie saved me.”

  The commander frowned. “Is that so?

  “Not exactly,” a feminine voice said behind Lucas’s boss. “We kind of saved each other. I wouldn’t have made it without him.”

  “And I wouldn’t have made it without her,” Lucas said.

  Katie held out her hand to him.

  He took it, feeling awkward with a handshake after all they’d been through the day before. But he felt her leave something in his palm as he pulled away his hand.

  “Well then,” his commander said, “I guess both of you are to be congratulated.” He shook Katie’s hand. “Thank you for helping our guy to safety.”

  “I’m glad I could be of assistance.” She smiled at the commander then turned her smile on Lucas. “I’d better get back to my family.” Katie quickly hugged Lucas, turned, and ran.

  “She seems like a nice young lady,” the commander said.

  Lucas heard him as if he were in a tunnel as he stared down at the business card in his hand. Alaskan Creations was written in bold print on one side with an address in Homer. He turned the card over to find a phone number and a note. His heart warmed, and a smile spread across his face. Based on the handwritten message, their time together wasn’t over.

  Call me for that second date. I’ll be waiting. K

  Reviving Artemis

  By Ara Geller

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit!

  I scampered up the rock formation, then onto the nearest branch, and further into the dense foliage. There I stayed, holding my breath.

  Two sentries passed beneath me without pausing, moving on into the darkness and leaving me behind, undetected. I could finally assess the situation.

  I, Artemis Beck, was in deep shit.

  Well, that hadn’t taken long.

  It was my doing. Technically. But, actually, it was the fault of Gavin Lazarus, my pack alpha and the bane of my existence.

  The strongest werewolf in t
he western states, Gavin was the one responsible for our pack’s survival throughout the decade-long war with the Farrows. An heir to the ancient Lazar bloodline, Gavin was a brilliant tactical commander, a compassionate leader, and an all-around stand-up guy.

  But don’t be fooled. He was the devil.

  It was him who, on my sixteenth nameday, against all pack tradition, refused to read the name of my Mate from the Alpha’s Almanac. He’d decided to withhold it.

  I hadn’t even known he could do that! Every other sixteen-year-old got their Mate’s name—or No-Name, if none had been located via complicated DNA matching—during the annual ceremony.

  Except for me. I’d been left standing there, gaping at him in shock in front of the entire pack.

  Alone. Stranded.

  The Harpy had claimed he was within his rights, postponing the Mating of a pack member for his or her own benefit. But what did that hag know? She might have been the pack’s Elder, but she was also his grandmother!

  To make matters worse, when I got my Warrior designation, instead of letting me join the other fighters training under my brother, Gavin sent me off to train directly under the infamous Halftooth. The former Combat Master lived off of compound grounds and, granted, was a brilliant instructor—the best, it was said—but he was also a few loose screws short of an Ikea package.

  I slid carefully onto the lower branches, checked that the almanac was secured in my backpack, and retreated into the woods.

  I’d had the perfect plan. Drug the guard wolves, break into the alpha’s office using my brother’s clearance, and sneak a peek at the almanac. No harm, no foul.

  Only I’d been surprised by an early shift switch and had to grab the almanac or forgo the chance of ever peering into it. I’d made it out of the compound, barely, but the wolves had woken up just as I was scaling the perimeter wall and started howling their heads off.

  I couldn’t return to the compound now—not with everyone looking for me. Missy Pert’s place on the outskirts of Howls Creek would have to do. She might not appreciate being involved in a little B&E, grand theft, and blatant disregard of all pack laws, but in my situation, I was discovering I was not above blackmailing a dear friend.

  I’d had to abandon my motorbike during my escape, and with it, my comm-link, tools, and supplies. The nearly-full moon hadn’t peaked over the Dunkirk massif yet, so I was basically going blind. I had to move on instinct, move fast, and move quietly, seeing as the woods were teeming with angry werewolves.

  I would check the almanac as soon as I got to safety. Gavin Lazarus was going to lose his power over me. My only regret was taking this goddamn long to disobey him.

  Because, at first, I’d trusted his judgment. Sixteen years old, a chip on my shoulder a mile-long, and a tendency to fight with every wolf who even looked at me funny… Maybe he’d been right. Maybe I hadn’t been prepared for the trials of Mating. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to bond, open myself up to a connection that could make or break a wolf. I’d been a kid in a war-torn pack. What did I know?

  But that had been four years ago. Four years! Do you know what it’s like for a werewolf to go through puberty imprinted but not Mated? Tactile creatures by nature, we have to have physical contact and the warmth of a pack. I’d been denied both.

  You see, imprinted wolves burn. With yearning, with lust, with ire—anything that gets the blood boiling. Constantly flooded with heat, we run a natural fever that consumes our minds and bodies.

  And then the aching starts. Not just the physical ache that accompanies a fever, but the ravening—that sweet ache that can only be assuaged by a hard fucking.

  The catch? Imprinted wolves, until Mated, can’t tolerate any touch but their Mate’s.

  As you can imagine, that fact put a damper on any social activity, let alone a love life.

  I froze at the sound of something moving through the brush and stared into the dark. The sounds paused then resumed, moving away. Maybe it was a squirrel.

  Probably.

  Farrow scouts had been spotted around here last week, but they’ve been chased off. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be doubly wary on a dark night like this.

  My current predicament was all Gavin’s fucking fault.

  He and I had a special relationship. A working relationship. Other pack members disagreed, on account of the weekly shouting matches that swept through the compound like tornadoes. Sooner or later, we always ended up at each other’s throats.

  Why? Because he never listened and always treated me like an aggressive child. Admittedly, he also allowed me to work out my aggressions.

  Once Halftooth had given his consent, I’d joined the other teams in training. Combat was my only life-source. My only outlet. When fighting, being imprinted didn’t matter, because you expected to feel pain when two-hundred pounds of werewolf tried to beat you bloody. Since every touch hurt, I took some pleasure in causing pain in return.

  By then, I was an outsider to the pack and had to fight tooth and claw for my ranking. But apparently, the old hermit had trained me a little too well. I topped my teammates, and then everyone in my age-group.

  A greater challenge had to be found. Gavin volunteered, and I soon discovered that beating my teammates up was not nearly as satisfying as beating him. I found it exhilarating to go up against the strongest wolf on the western coast and hold my own. I got a perverse gratification out of seeing our unflappable alpha riled, bare-chested, glistening with sweat, and breathing hard. Holding so much of his attention, so much of his intent, was addictive.

  I never knew his eyes could blaze so fiercely, or that my whole being could answer so readily. My skin would flush, my heart would break into a gallop, and I’d become almost savage. I would feel this… anticipation, this burning cluster of something unspeakable in my chest. When he charged, my wolf answered the challenge.

  When we fought, he couldn’t tell me I was in any way less than him.

  It was in other spheres of my life that he felt all too comfortable shoving his big fat nose in my business. Which had brought me here, trudging through the forest with the stolen almanac, the center of a full-on manhunt. His little “intervention” last night had proven I could no longer let him dictate my life.

  “Pigheaded, egotistical, overbearing—”

  “Childish, irresponsible—”

  “You had no right!” I bellowed, stumbling for a moment after being escorted out of the bar by the brute.

  “As your alpha, I beg to differ.” Black locks framed ice-blue eyes, where amusement dominated. He folded his arms across his chest, his leather jacket stretching to accentuate his chiseled build.

  Something in that sight, and the accompanying memory of our earlier training session, made my mouth dry and my nether regions alert. Which in turn made me angry. “I may be a member of your pack, but you are not my father! And you will not tell me who I can sit with!”

  The amused twinkle disappeared, and his jaw locked. “You weren’t ‘sitting with,’ Artemis. You were sitting on. Those Jason boys were binge drinking and acting like asses. It was time for you to leave.”

  “It wasn’t,” I snapped back. “We were just having fun. Nate and Dan are over twenty-one, so they can drink if they want to, and it was Missy who acted like an ass. I don’t see her out here!”

  “Missy has a brother to look after her.”

  “So do I! And Mike doesn’t have a problem with my friends. So, now that we have that cleared up—”

  He grabbed my arm as I tried to pass by him and pulled me close. Immediately, I was lost to the world. Sandalwood and wet fur and dark cold nights and fresh rain and everything…everything good. The scent of him made me dizzy.

  “You are not going back in there,” he said, his voice low and dark.

  If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said his control had slipped, and that sound he made was nearly a growl. Fighting for clarity, I tried to pull back my arm. “Why not?”

  He stayed quiet for a momen
t, his gaze searching mine. Finally, he spoke. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  I frowned.

  “When they’re close? When they touch you? I was under the impression that you’re imprinted. But there you were, hanging all over—”

  “Stop!” I raised my voice sharply, cutting him off before he said something stupid that made me hate him. This time, I yanked my arm away. “What I do outside of training is none of your business, Alpha. I am unmated, thanks to you, and I will hang where I want to, with whom I want to, and on whom I want to.”

  He ground his teeth in irritation, and I wished he’d grind them into bloody stumps.

  Yes, it fucking hurt. Every touch hurt. Their very nearness hurt.

  But I wasn’t about to lock myself up, and he had no right to lecture me while denying me something that was rightfully mine. Something that should’ve been mine four years ago.

  Something I was no longer willing to wait for. I was going to get my Mate’s name.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw something move, and before it could manifest clearer, I took off running. There was no need to investigate. It was large enough to catch my attention and silent enough not to draw it before that moment. It had to be one of the pack’s security detail. Anything else and I would’ve caught the scent ages before.

  I headed north at a breakneck pace, swerving among tree trunks, sending night critters scuttling in the dark. Soon, I hit an impassable stretch of interwoven trunks, but instead of wasting time bypassing them, I leapt up into a junction of branches to climb over it. Chancing a glance back from the higher vantage point, I froze and cussed under breath.

  There were two of them.

  One chased me from the south, while the other planned to intercept me in the north. They probably wanted to trap me near the cluster of glacial boulders up ahead. Bullshit.

  A good move, but still bullshit.

  I darted east. I felt rather than heard both of them shift to give chase. There was something off about the sense of them, though. Too much anger, too much violence. And I still couldn’t scent them.