Between Two Wolves (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Menage Werewolf Romance) (2 page)

I rolled my eyes, probably for the tenth
time in the last hour. We'd had this conversation before, too. “I didn't join
the club looking for a date, Maggie. I wanted to get in shape...”

“You can get in shape at a better place
than a fight club, Risha.”

“It's not a fight club...”

Maggie was already holding up her hands
in mock protest, but she was smiling. “I know, I know. Boxing is a great work
out, great for cardio, gets you strong...I've heard the sales pitch before.”
She laughed as she stood up and grabbed her purse, then leaned over and kissed my
cheek.

“Listen, Rish, you do what you need to
do. You've never done the conventional thing, so if heading into the woods, and
bending yourself into a pretzel is what you need, then go for it. Personally I
think a weekend at Bloomingdales would be a great way to forget an ex,
especially if you happened to still have one of his credit cards. But then
again, we never do see things the same way, do we?”

“I guess not,” I replied with a smile. Maggie
drove me crazy at times, but I know she always has my best interests at heart.

“Have fun,” she said, hugging me.
“Everything is going to be okay. Harrison was a jerk… you know you’re better
off without him. So go and zen out until you feel better. I love ya, girl.”

“I love you too, Maggie…”

After Maggie left, I slumped back into my
chair, avoiding the couch, shifting around until I got comfortable. Maggie had
known me since grade school. We'd seen each other through boyfriends and
college, jobs and first apartments. She knew me better than anyone, even if it
was clear she didn’t understand me.

But she was right; I wasn't conventional,
never had been. And that was fine with me.

I was headed to Big River, which ran down
the backside of Black Wolf Mountain. Most of Black Wolf, and the mountains
around it were part of the Seven Mountains State Park, but the ridge that ran
north along the backside of Black Wolf belonged to a huge tract of land, over
several hundred acres that stretched all the way to the Canadian border, which
everyone assumed belonged to a private party. It was crisscrossed with disused
logging roads, some that ran up to the park land. Most were posted with
No
Trespassing
signs, blocked off with chains and padlocks, and over the years
small trees had sprouted, further blending the roads back into the surrounding
forest. There were rumors the land had belonged to a recluse. Or currently
belonged to a cult. Or aliens landed there frequently. It all depended on whom
you talked to, and on what day, and on how much the storyteller had to drink.

According to local lore, and then
translated through stories that got passed around among hikers who used the
springs, there had been sightings of big animals—wolves, mountain lions,
bears—bigger than any ever sighted in the park. Most of those stories
were told around the campfire, along with a bottle or three of wine, or
something stronger, shared with novice hikers coming up the mountain for the
first time.

The logging road that ran up the back of
the mountain wasn't on park land, and there hadn't been any logging in the area
for decades. It had always been rough, but this year there had been torrential
rains, and the road turned from washboard, to rutted, to washed out far below
where the trail to the hot springs began. So I parked my car, dragged out my
gear, and locked up. I always worried I'd come back to find the car gone, but
in all the years I'd been coming here it was always right where I left it. The
only problem I'd ever heard about was when a bear had attacked a friend's
ancient Subaru to get after some food that had been left on the dashboard. He'd
come back from a week in the woods to find the roof torn off the car, and the food
long gone.

I stopped to look around, breathing in
the cool air. I closed my eyes and smiled. It felt like the first time I'd
smiled in a long, long time. Or at least the first time in a long time the
smile felt authentic, not forced for a client on Skype, or a cashier at the
market, or a cab driver. It occurred to me that there might be more to think
about on this weekend besides Harrison. Maybe it was time to think about the
bigger picture, rather than just the missing piece to the puzzle.

After hiking halfway up the mountain to
the turn off to the springs, I was sweating, breathing hard, and very glad I'd
only brought enough in my pack for a long weekend. The idea of setting up camp,
kicking back in one of the hot springs as the sun went down, and then having a
simple dinner by the fire with some wine, was looking more and more enticing. I
dropped my pack for a minute, loving that fleeting sense of weightlessness that
happened after shedding all that weight. I stretched my arms and rolled my
shoulders. This was going to be a great weekend. I would be one with nature,
live in the moment, stop dwelling in the past. Maybe I'd come home with my own
tall tale from the forest, my own lore to add to that of my camping friends.

The forest ahead of me was deep, dark
green. I always loved this part, stepping off the road, out of the sunshine,
and into the cool darkness of the woods. It was magical, like stepping into a
fairy tale. I thought of Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and the other stories I'd
read as a child. If I could build a house anywhere in the world, it would be
here, on the edge of the unknown, just over the line from civilization. Not so
far over that I'd have to give up plumbing and shaving my legs, but just enough
to ease out of the rat race.

So I shouldered my pack and took one last
look back down the road. There was no one in sight, no other cars, no sounds of
traffic, nothing but a lone hawk circling overhead. I felt like I was alone in
the world. And that was fine with me. Out of habit I dug my phone out of my
pocket. I had it out, and checking for messages, before I remembered there was
no service up here. I chided myself for bringing along this last bit of
technology. I held it for a minute, and considered flinging it off the edge of
the mountain, but I wasn't quite ready to divest myself of all the trappings of
civilization. I shut it off, and jammed it into my pocket.

The woods were cool, the path covered in
pine needles. I was on level ground for the next couple miles, and then I'd
find a gentle descent to Big River and the springs. My steps were muffled,
almost soundless. I could already feel the tension, and anxiety of the past
months ebbing out of my body. I was pretty sure by the time I reached the
springs, got my little camp set up, and made dinner, I'd be exhausted, in a
good way. A soak in the hot springs, and a little wine, and I'd be too tired in
body and mind to obsess about Harrison. And tomorrow, maybe a sunrise session
of yoga, a nice breakfast, and then I'd sit and think.

The pines here grew so close together
they almost touched overhead. The path wound in and out of shafts of sunlight,
and for a time I was conscious of the difference in warmth against my skin,
then the chill as I stepped out of the light. My senses seemed heightened,
every detail popping out at me. I started to notice my footfalls, the shushing
sound my boots made, the wind above me. I was in my zone, living in the moment.
This was going to be a great weekend.

Something was off though. The hair on my
arms stood on end. I stopped, thinking there was someone on the path ahead of
me, or behind me. Or in the woods. I listened carefully, but the only things I
heard were the wind, a few birds in the trees. Maybe I wasn't as relaxed as I
thought I was.

I did a slow circle, but I didn't see
anyone. A bird sang somewhere close by, another answered. The forest seemed just
as it always did, filled with its usual flecks of color. I shook my head,
laughing at myself. Maybe I'd turned into a city girl, buffered by traffic
noises, city sounds, and now freaked out by a little silence.

But standing in the middle of the path
wasn't going to get me to those hot springs. With one last look back down the
path toward the road, I turned around. And stopped dead in my tracks.

The wolf stood in the middle of the path.
It was big,
really
big, but also amazingly beautiful. It stared at me,
and I was mesmerized, unable to look away. And then I panicked. Staring at them
was a sign of dominance, or aggression, or something. But I'd be damned if I
was going to take my eyes off the wolf.

But it didn't seem vicious.
Like I
would know what a vicious wolf looked like.

It looked more curious than anything,
standing in the path with its head tipped to the side, dark eyes on mine, as if
it were analyzing me. And it was stunningly beautiful, dark fur tipped with
silver, big eyes. I stared at him, and he stared back, and for a moment I had
the sensation of having my mind read, or my soul searched. Or the living
daylights scared out of me.

“Hey, boy...good boy.”
Oh my God, my
heart was beating wildly in my chest.
It tipped its head further. Progress.
I babbled on. “Oh, yeah. Good boy...”

The wolf took a step forward, pink tongue
showing in a doggy grin. I took a step back.
No one's going to believe this.
Oh, shit. Take a picture
. Slowly I eased my phone out of my pocket, eyes
never leaving the wolf. I turned on the phone, dropped my eyes from the wolf
for the split second it took to take the picture, then looked up.

The wolf whined, a low soft sound.
But
what did that mean? Was it camera shy? Had I upset it?
Reflexively I
clicked off another couple of pictures. The wolf whined again, and I let my arm
fall to my side as it took another step forward. Every cell in my body told me
to run, but I held my ground.

“Okay. Okay. I'm done. No more pictures.
Good boy...” The wolf stopped, ears pricked forward. Then it advanced another
step.

I held up my hands. “Whoa...stop.” The
hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Please stop.” My voice came out in a
desperate whisper.

The wolf stopped, eyes still locked with
mine. They were blue, like a husky dog.
Maybe that's what he was, just
someone's pet, off its leash.
I let out a sigh of sorts.

“Would it be too much to ask for you to
sit?”

Behind it, the tail started to wave back
and forth in slow motion. And then, to my amazement, it sat down in the middle
of the path.
So it was someone's pet.

“Hello?”

I spun around. A man was walking toward
me, wearing a park ranger uniform. Relief washed through me, and along with a
wave of giggles. This must be the ranger's dog.

“Boy, am I glad to see you. Your dog...”
I was already pointing, and I turned back to the wolf. But the path was empty.
No dog, or wolf, or anything else was visible in the shifting patterns of light
and dark. My giggles faded away.

“Sorry, ma'am. Did you say dog?” His
friendly expression took on a hint of concern. “I don't have a dog. None of us
do.”

“There was a dog...” I was still pointing
to where the animal had been. “Or a wolf...”

The ranger walked past me, then crouched
down at the spot where the canine had been. “There's tracks here, ma'am, but I
can't really say what made them. Hard to tell when it comes to this stuff.” He
brushed his hand over the spot, scooping up a handful of pine needles. I
watched as he lifted them to his nose and inhaled. His face took on a strained
expression, a look briefly crossing his face, blotting out the friendly
neighborhood ranger concern. I'd have to say it was a look of recognition,
followed by one of pure hatred.

But when he tossed away the needles and
stood, all that was gone. I blinked, not sure what I'd seen, replaced by a
bland expression, a noncommittal smile. Maybe I was still spooked by the
phantom wolf, or the light and shadows were playing tricks. He smiled down at
me.

“It was probably just a coyote, chasing a
rabbit. The altitude, the light, the isolation...if you're not used to being
out in the woods, it can play tricks on you.”

I frowned. “It was a wolf...or a big dog.
I'm not a novice. I've been up here before...”

He cut me off. “We haven't had a wolf
sighting in the park in decades.”

There was something programmed about his
response, dismissive in a way I didn't like. It felt as though the guy was
hiding something.

“Okay. Then it was a coyote.” I shifted
my pack, settling it on my shoulders. “I should get going then. I've got a way
to go before I set up camp.”

“You're headed to the springs then.” He
stepped to the side of the path. “Then I'll let you get on your way. Don't
wander off the path. Wouldn't want you getting lost.” He touched the brim of
his hat, and I stepped past him.

“Thanks.” I walked down the path, looking
down at the spot where wolf had been. If there had been any sign of paw prints
they were obliterated now. Somehow the disturbed pine needles looked like a broken
window in a church. I wanted to put it all back on order. But I walked on.

I'd only gone a couple yards when I had
the urge to turn around, to see if the ranger was walking away. But I knew he
wasn't, and I knew when I turned—which I did—I'd find him watching
me. And he was. He waved again, still smiling. When he finally turned away, and
headed back down the path, I let out the breath I'd been holding.

Some of my excitement had dimmed after
the encounter with the wolf. And the ranger—something tugged at my mind
about the whole thing, something was off that I should have noticed. It wasn't
until I was almost to the springs that it dawned on me. He hadn't been wearing
a name badge. And he hadn't told me his name.