“Yes,” she said, and turned to me. “My sisters and I explored everything growing up. Even if it meant we spent the night out every once in a while.”
“Lenient parents,” I said.
“Not so much,” Amy smiled. “I didn’t say we were allowed to spend the night in an abandoned cabin miles from home.”
“I see.”
“There was this one summer when my sister Nora was obsessed with fairies. She was convinced that tiny glitter-coated women with wings roamed the mountains at twilight,” Amy said. “And she was determined to catch one.”
“What did you think about that?” I asked.
“Oh, I was all for running around outside at sunset. I thought we’d catch some fireflies, and enjoy an extra hour or two outdoors before my Mom dragged us in for bed,” Amy said. “Each day we searched farther and farther from the farm house. Until one evening Nora was convinced she’d found one. The queen.”
“And you followed?” I asked.
“It was good fun at first,” Amy said. “Until the sky grew too dark. We were too young to shift, too young for good sense. I was twelve at most, and she’s three years younger than me.”
“But full of adventure,” I said.
“Yeah,” Amy replied. “We found this place after we were good and lost and spent the night. Nora was sure this would have to be our new home. I knew better. My dad found us before daybreak, and after that Nora and I knew exactly where to run to.”
Talking about her family made Amy smile. She was fond of them, even if Christmas was stressful for her.
“Are you two close?” Harkins asked.
“I stay in better contact with Nora than with my other sisters. But I love them all. We’re all close in age so we played together a lot growing up. My mom had six girls in three years. I have no idea how she survived us.”
“I’m sure she loves all of you,” I said. “And having you all home at once.”
“She glows at family gatherings. It’s the grandkids more than us now, though. I see the way her eyes sparkle when she looks at them. You’ll see soon enough,” Amy said. Then she paused before speaking again, and stared into the fire. “Is there anyone back east that you wish you could spend Christmas with? Instead of being stuck out in this uh…lovely cabin?”
She bit her bottom lip between her teeth, as if she was unsure about the question. Her eyes searched my face. I guessed I hadn’t told her about my family. It wasn’t like I meant to keep it from her, but I didn’t like to think about my past. Not if I didn’t have to. I hadn’t told anyone, but I told Amy everything about the life I led now.
“I never knew my parents,” I said. “Lived in a group facility, then on the streets after the first shift. Couldn’t bring that home to anyone.”
“That must have been lonely,” Amy said, and placed her hand on mine. The contact brought my desire for her to the surface, the constant need that I tried my damnedest to ignore. She was curvy, gorgeous, and the only woman I’d ever wanted to claim as mine.
“I didn’t think so at the time,” I said. “It just was. Met up with some other shifters, but never felt like I fit there.”
“Is that why you traveled out west?” Amy asked, again biting her lip.
Oh how I wanted to pull that full lip from between her teeth and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Her nervousness made her more adorable, more tempting.
“Kind of. I met a girl,” I said. Her shoulders slumped, only slightly. “Not my mate. She was a friend, and a fling. She worked as a waitress at this crappy little diner. I only slept with her once, but she got pregnant.”
Amy squeezed my hand and looked deep into my eyes.
“When I held that little boy for the first time, my life was fuller than I thought possible. I was determined to be in his life and stay friends with his mother. Two months later, on Christmas, there was a territory dispute. My son died in the crossfire when I was out fighting. His mother with him. She was human and stood no chance when the wolves attacked,” I said. “And I wasn’t there.”
My chest was tight, my arms tense. It was painful to talk about, but this was Amy.
“Oh, Harkins,” Amy said, “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned toward me. She put her hand over mine, the one I hadn’t realized I’d raised to my scar. “And this happened then?”
I lowered my hand, and she reached for my face. Her fingers were soft, her touch gentle. “I avenged them. And it wasn’t easy. Left scars. I know they’re ugly, but they’re a reminder.”
“I don’t think they’re ugly,” Amy said. “I think they show the kind of man that you are. A wonderful man who cares even when it hurts.”
She didn’t see me the way I saw myself, she couldn’t and still look at me like that. I didn’t deserve her. Amy was perfection.
“So the answer is no,” I said.
“No?” Amy looked at me with confusion. She smelled as alluring as she always did, like blueberries and cherry blossoms, even in this shithole cabin. She was only inches away, and I breathed her in.
“No, there’s no one in the world I’d rather spend Christmas with than you, Amy—”
Her lips pressed against mine, and damn she was as sweet as I’d imagined. She was more, better. It was a dream come true. I kissed her like I she was my lifeline. Because she was. Amy was my world, my everything. Her lips were soft and supple, her tongue gentle in its caress. I devoured her, the monster in me let loose on the angel who deserved so much more.
Selfishly, I pulled her close, onto my lap. My cock pressed hard against my jeans, hard against her. And she wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms over my shoulders. I kissed down her warm neck and pulled off her coat.
“Why?” Amy asked, moaning. “Why’d you turn me down before? I’ve always wanted this, Harkins. Always.”
“I’ve always wanted you too, Amy,” I said, running my fingers up her back. “I’m just afraid of losing you.”
“You’ll never lose me,” she said, and pulled my shirt up over my chest. She touched my bare skin. Her fingers were so soft, so small, so precious. Just like everything about her. “And holding back doesn’t keep me safe. It’s you being close that makes my life better. It’s you who came for me when I was lost. It’s always been you. I want to be there for you too.”
“I love you,” I said. It was three words I’d never meant more. Three words I’d never told another woman. There was only Amy.
“I love you too,” she said.
I took her mouth on mine, and flipped her beneath me. She smiled that genuine smile that told me this was exactly what she wanted. I touched her golden hair and ran my hand down her neck, over her soft breasts, down to the button of her jeans. Her desire mingled with the scent of blueberries and cherry blossoms, and I knew there was nothing more tempting in all of the world. Amy.
Boom. The cabin shook. Dust fell from the wood covering the room’s only window. Porch boards squeaked, and I smelled it. The danger I’d failed to detect. The danger I’d let close to Amy.
A fucking grizzly.
Chapter Ten
Amy
One second he was on top of me, giving me exactly what I wanted. The next, Harkins was on his feet, back turned and muscles stiff. My head was clouded with desire, with excitement, with delight. Until I heard the banging on the window.
The decaying wood bowed as a thunderous force assaulted the boards nailed over the broken glass. The scent of the beast was feral and distinct. Every hair on my body stood on end.
I threw on my coat and rose to my feet, unsure whether Harkins intended to fight or if he’d be willing to flee. I could hear the beast breathing through the wooden walls, sniffing, snorting, hunting us. Every fiber of my being screamed that we should run. Run like hell.
The boards splintered when another booming crash shook the cabin. The door screeched as it was being torn apart. Harkins had been right about the markings on the trunk in the forest. The grizzly was wide awake.
My h
eart raced. My inner wolf was desperate to haul ass out of there.
“We should go,” I whispered to Harkins, and laid my hand on his hard, tense shoulder. He turned to me and nodded.
I tossed our bucket of melted snow onto the fire, while Harkins wedged a piece of wood under the door handle. It didn’t have to hold long, just long enough for us to get out of reach. Harkins stepped back from the entry at the exact moment the door splintered.
“Harkins!” I cried.
A massive brown paw burst through the wooden door, leaving a jagged, splintered hole. The furry limb attached to the sharp claws was as thick as my neck. Sharp slivers of wood scattered all over the floor; and I dove for Harkins’s hand.
“Gotta move,” he said, keeping his head turned toward the cabin’s front door but allowing me to lead him away. He felt stiff, resistant. It was as if Harkins wanted to stay and fight. But I wasn’t having that.
It wasn’t until we went through the side door that led to what had once been a part of the house, that Harkins turned his attention forward. We ran hand in hand through the remnants of the foundation, across the snow-covered ground. What was left of sunlight hid behind storm clouds, but would soon fade. Within the hour, night would fall.
Snowflakes floated down from the sky instead of sleet. It was a pleasant change, and hopefully just as blinding for the bear as it was for us. Ahead was the mountain that led home. I couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of me, but I knew that was the way.
The icy coating on the ground crunched with each step, and I cringed knowing that the grizzly could hear us even if he couldn’t see us. I didn’t turn back to check for him, just ran as fast as I could on my two human feet. The pounding stopped and I listened to the crunch of our boots. It was just us heading up the slope, but I could hear the bear sniffing inside of the cabin behind us. We’d escaped just in time.
“Which way?” Harkins asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” I said. Everything was so white, hidden in a blur of moving snow. My eyes stung from the harsh cold and biting wind. Snow pelted my face, and I held tight to Harkins and kept moving. “Up. Anywhere but here.”
The ground was sloped, suggesting that we were moving toward home to the safety of the farm. But it wasn’t close enough.
“He’s coming,” Harkins said.
Crunching, bounding paws. I turned back and saw six hundred pounds of fur and fury barreling up the slope toward us. Harkins stopped in his tracks and began to strip.
“We can’t stop,” I said.
“Don’t stop,” he replied. “Run. Let me keep you safe, Amy. I have to protect you.”
Crap. He wasn’t going to listen. Harkins dropped to all fours, and the sounds of cracking bones overshadowed those of the bounding bear. Before I could unzip my pants, Harkins took off back down the slope toward the grizzly. If he wasn’t going to listen, neither was I.
It would be both of us or neither that would make it to my family farm. I wasn’t going to find the man I was meant to mate and then let him go. It was Harkins, and always had been.
My pulse pounded in my ears. The grizzly stood on his hind legs as Harkins raced by. He wanted to lead the grizzly away. Of course he did. My eyes burned, but I refused to blink as I watched Harkins dart around the towering beast. Snow fell hard between us, causing me to lose sight of Harkins with each lap he made around the bear.
I dropped my bra onto the ground and let go of humanity. My bones cracked, and hair sprouted. My face grew long, my ears tall. But I never blinked. As soon as I regained control, I took off for Harkins and the bear, with the strength, agility, and heightened senses of the wolf. We could outrun the beast, make it to the farm—if the bear didn’t catch Harkins first. I wouldn’t leave him. For better or for worse, it was me and Harkins against the grizzly bear.
Chapter Eleven
Harkins
Too precious to lose. I’d give anything for Amy. She should have run away, but she was as selfless as she was beautiful. And for reasons beyond what I could see, she wanted me.
Her white fur blended in with the snow. If I hadn’t caught her scent, I might not have known she was coming. But there it was. Blueberries and cherry blossoms, racing down the mountainside.
“Follow me, ya bastard,” I howled at the grizzly. Then I sank my teeth into his hind leg. His head snapped toward me, and his paw came down hard. My vision blurred and my head ached. I blinked at the sideways trees before I understood that I was down.
Amy. I had to help Amy. I struggled to regain my footing, and realized that the bear hadn’t made a second blow. Once he’d knocked me to the ground, it should have been over. Panic rose.
A blur of white raced past, the grizzly bounding after. Crimson stained her alabaster fur. She’d been hurt. Frustration and purpose—instinct took over. My head throbbed as my paws pounded the snow. Amy was quiet, in control, weaving with every deliberate step around rocks and bushes, just outside the grizzly’s reach. The grizzly roared in frustration, barreling after her without regard for the terrain, without Amy’s grace. I ran for her, again tearing into the bear’s hind leg, hoping to slow his assault. My teeth pierced the beast’s flesh, and I let go. This time I leapt back when he countered.
“This way,” Amy said, and I followed, leaving the bear only a few feet away. I could hear his labored breath behind us as we ran up the snow-covered slope. And I could smell the copper-like scent of Amy’s wound.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’ve been better,” Amy replied, with as much of a grin as wolf form allowed. Always smiling. “This way,” she said, just before ducking under a fallen tree. “And watch your step.”
Amy’s pulse slowed as we traveled around the mountain side, down a narrow path between monstrous boulders. The snowfall lightened, much of it blocked by the rocks. Amy held her head high, and her pace slowed, just like her heartbeat and the snow. Her confidence showed.
“You know where we are,” I said. It was a statement more than a question.
“I do,” Amy replied. “He can’t follow us this way.”
The pathway was narrow, but I wasn’t completely convinced. But with every step forward, over rocky terrain, the stink of bear seemed to fade away, and I found myself growing a little less tense.
The boulders to our left grew smaller until there was nothing but open air. Snowflakes continued down past Amy’s paws, over the ledge and into the darkness below. Amy hugged the side of the cliff, following the well-formed path around the side of the mountain.
I leaned close to the rock face, away from the unknown drop. Growling followed us around the curve, echoing in the dark canyon. But the bear did not. The path was too narrow for anything larger than a wolf.
“Looks like you did it,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“It’s not the ideal place to hide,” Amy said, “but we should be able to use this trail to make it up and around, away from the bear.”
“It’s good,” I said, following her white tail to guide my steps. We hugged the cold, hard rock wall and stepped slowly, carefully. “You should have run here to start.”
“I won’t leave my mate,” she said.
Mate. It was more than I’d dared to dream of. It was all I’d ever wanted. Amy. Mine. It was different than dating to test compatibility. Hell, the attraction had always been there. But if she was ready to call me her mate, then she was sure she wanted my mark on her neck, sure she was ready to accept my claim. As sure as I was about her. I didn’t know if I could be everything that she needed. But I’d spend my life trying if she’d have me.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” I said.
We walked slowly, quietly. A blustery gale carried a cloud of snowflakes in its wake. The rustle of pine needles echoed from off in the distance. And there was no sign of the bear.
“You’re that sure of me?” I finally asked.
“I always hoped,” she said. “But I thought that maybe you had someone else in mind. That you didn
’t want me.”
“I’ve always wanted you,” I said. “There’s no one else. But I thought you’d be happier with someone younger. A better, undamaged man.”
“There’s no one else for me either,” Amy said.
My heart was full, and I wanted her more than ever. I wanted my mark on her neck, the bite that would scar and forever seal our bond. A new memory for Christmas. For always.
Pebbles slipped down the side of the cliff ahead of me, from where Amy passed. The bouncing echoed for far too long. The sooner we reached the end of this passage, the better.
The gray sky was taken over by black. Even with our heightened night vision, it was difficult to see around the side of the mountain. There was no moon to guide our way, only darkness and the soft, cold flakes of falling snow.
I focused on my footing, and Amy’s. A gust of wind blew hard, doing its damnedest to pull us down into the pit. When it passed, the air was quiet once again, like the eye of a storm. Waiting for the next gust, the next threat, I listened to the rustle of pine needles, the crunching of icy snow. The tumbling of rocks as claws scraped down the frozen mountain ledge. Panic.
Amy’s back paw slid down, and her body with it. She gasped, and clawed to stay on the path.
“Amy!” I darted for her furry white tail with my mouth, desperate to grab hold and not let go.
She righted herself before I could help her.
“I’m okay,” she said, as the sounds of tumbling rocks echoed. It could have been her falling, crashing to the valley’s floor. My mouth was dry, my nerves shot. There wasn’t space to shift. I couldn’t have held her. Couldn’t have pulled her up in time to save her.
We walked in silence, and I ran it over again in my head. If she slipped again, what could I do differently? The best I came up with was try like hell, and probably end up falling with her.
After an eternity of tension and a walkway too narrow to travel in human form, the path widened. Not much farther on, it grew into a trail much more fit to walk. Each step was less perilous than the last, and I was able to breathe easier. Instead of one paw in front of the other, I walked calmly behind Amy, content that she wouldn’t slip.
Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set Page 48