Forever With The Wolf: An Erotic Shapeshifter Romance (Werewolf's Harem Series Book 5) (9 page)

The sound came again, so Cam scooted out from between the girls. He grabbed the discarded pile of his clothes and shoes and padded out of the room, closing the door behind him. The hallway led to the two bedrooms and guest bathroom, but Cam wasn’t ready to head to his own bed just yet. It was early, just about eleven. The two brunettes had been more than excited to go to bed with him, and upon their invitation, Cam hadn’t been crazy enough to linger at the bar.

Dropping his bundle in front of his door, he fished his phone out of his pants pocket and went on to the living room. The loft-style apartment’s soaring ceilings and huge factory windows formed a perfect open floor plan, the exposed brick, gleaming stainless-steel kitchen, and spotless white furniture making the whole place look like something straight out of an IKEA catalog. It was a little impersonal, but easy to maintain. The place did have a great view, overlooking downtown Portland’s modest skyline.

Cam wasn’t putting a whole lot of work into decorating or keeping up a place he didn’t even own. No, he was saving that for his dream house, the one he was itching to build out near the mountains. Someplace where he could run in his bear form, a place where his kids could grow up like he and his brothers had at the Lodge, unrestrained and unafraid of their Berserker sides.

Of course, there was one missing piece to the puzzle. All the money and property and dreams of a perfect home and family didn’t mean squat if Cam couldn’t manage to settle down with one girl. And not just any girl, either… Just like his specifications for his dream home, Cam had a list a mile long when it came to picking a mate.

His phone buzzed again in his hand. Cam looked down, surprised to see a series of texts from Luke.

“Of all people,” Cam said.

We’ve been called home to the Lodge this weekend
, said the first.

Mandatory
, said the second.

Be there by Friday night, or find another clan. So says Pa
, said the last.

WTF?
Cam texted back.

No idea. See you Friday
, came Luke’s response.

Cam groaned. He would get notified by the brother who barely spoke. For a moment Cam thought about calling Gavin, but then he nixed the idea. It was late in Billings, and Gavin might not even be in the loop on something this big. Though if anyone knew anything, it would be him. Gav spent the most time at the Lodge, helping ma out with her horses and generally keeping Pa from killing everyone he knew.

Cameron couldn’t even pretend jealousy of his brother. Pa was an asshole, Ma sweet but smothering, and Billings was about as boring as it got. On top of that, Gavin actually worked for Social Services. He spent his whole day helping strangers, a concept foreign to Cam. As far as he was concerned, his brother was a masochist of the highest caliber.

His phone buzzed one last time.

Tell Finn
.

Cam supposed that Finn would have to be the next on the list, since he was the only one whose calls Noah would return. Who knew what the twins were up to, since they always kept to themselves. Hell, Cam didn’t know what country Noah was in. Realizing that any hour was a gamble, Cam opted to shoot off some texts to his little brother. Finn contact Noah, who would get the details when he got around to picking up the phone, his usual M.O. in life.

Cam drifted off after that, sprawling out on his perfect white couch in his perfectly clean apartment, forgetting the two perfect strangers in the bed he’d just abandoned.
All in all
, he reflected,
a normal day in my life
.

Noah and Finn

Noah Beran was literally falling asleep standing up. His head hit his chest and he swayed on his feet, before snapping to attention once more. He blinked several times, rubbing grit from his face as he stared at the luggage passing on the conveyor belt.

Right. I’m still in Baggage Claim. In… Seattle? Shit, I hope I made it all the way to Seattle.

He gazed around, trying to see if the airport was familiar. They all kind of looked the same to him now, though. He’d been on a series of flights for almost a full day now, this time flying back from Tunisia.

Today was very much like the last hundred times he’d flown home from some far-flung destination, wherever some high-end newspaper or magazine paid him to go. As one of the top freelance photojournalists in the U.S., Noah was as much at home in airports as in his own ill-used Los Angeles apartment.

Pulling out his cell phone, Noah ignored the flood of texts, voicemails, emails, and tweets that awaited his attention. He’d been in Libya for almost a month this time, having crossed over from the Tunisian border. His battered leather briefcase held his laptop and notes, and he had a hell of an article forming. With the photos he’d captured of government-approved violence against student protestors, he was sitting on a serious story. He was also going to have to stay the hell out of Northeast Africa for a while, but that was a concern for another day.

He sent a single text.
Home
, was all it said.

Call me. 911
, came the response.

Noah was so tired that his first reaction was to stick his tongue out at his phone. He looked around, embarrassed, but since it was about three a.m. no one else was around to see his childish lapse. Clearing his throat, he realized that his two bags were the only ones left on the conveyor belt. Dragging them off, he tucked his phone in his pocket and made for the twenty four hour coffee stand near the airport’s entrance.

After fortifying himself with the biggest cup of black coffee the place sold, Noah finally made it to the long-term parking lot where his Land Rover waited. Once he and his bags were safely inside, he used the car’s computer to dial Finn’s number.

“Guess this means you’re alive?” came Finn’s voice after a couple of rings.

“Despite all my efforts to the contrary,” Noah affirmed.

“And to think, I paid those Libyans five g’s to take care of you.”

Though he was annoyed with Finn’s demand for a middle-of-the-night checkin, Noah softened a little at Finn’s sardonic humor. It was something they shared together, never flinching, never wondering whether the other was kidding. No one could read Noah like his twin brother, same for Finn.

“You’re an asshole, and I’m alive. Good enough?” Noah asked.

“Actually, I’m not looking for proof of life. I was calling to let you know that Pa has called some kind of family meeting for tomorrow.”

“At the Lodge?” Noah said, surprised.

“Yeah. I keep hearing the word mandatory thrown around,” Finn sighed.

“Mandatory, huh? Sounds serious.”

“Like, get kicked out of the clan serious.”

“No shit! Can’t believe Ma would let old Josiah say something like that,” Noah marveled.

“Yeah, well. I’m not too upset about it. I figure it means you’ll have to be in the same room as me for at least an hour,” Finn retorted. There was a long pause, and Noah could practically feel his twin’s unspoken hurt through the phone line.

“Finny…” Noah started, using his childhood nickname.

“Never mind,” Finn cut in.

“No, it’s just that I’ve been getting a lot of assignments this year.”

“You’ve worked nonstop for eight months. Right. Like I said, never mind.”

“Finn—”

“Gotta go. See you Friday, brother.”

Noah sighed as Finn cut the call off. He’d known Finn was mad about his extended absence, of course. When two people were as close as Noah and Finn, a hand’s breadth of emotional distance quickly became glaring and ugly. Noah had started doing stories abroad five years ago, but this year he’d purposely amped up his career in an attempt to…

Shit, he wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to do. Noah just knew that he and Finn were twenty eight years old, god damn it, and they were going to have to learn to live apart sometime. Before this year, they’d still been sharing a fucking apartment. While part of Noah loved living with his brother, loved being around the only other person in the world who really
got
him, part of him knew that if he wanted an adult life he’d have to make some changes.

If only Finn hadn’t been hurt in the process. Noah had tried to explain at first, but Finn had been oblivious. When Finn had brought home yet another girl who professed to be interested in dating both of them, Noah had moved out. He loved his brother to the bottom of his world-weary soul, but those girls were beyond weird. Noah had never taken any of them up on their hints about a threesome, though it wasn’t Finn’s presence that offended Noah.

How could he be offended by the person who was a natural extension of himself?

No, it was the girls that killed the deal. There’d been three candidates over maybe six or seven years. They were all the same odd type, cold and anxious and hypersexual. They seemed hungry in a bleak, dark way that gave Noah the creeps. And for Finn’s part, Noah couldn’t understand why his brother would want to settle for a woman who didn’t want Finn for herself. That possession was a defining mark of a relationship, to Noah’s mind, and he couldn’t see any way around that.

Looking at his watch, Noah realized that he needed to sleep so badly that he wouldn’t make it back to his apartment. Especially not if he had to be back on a plane in…

“Twelve fucking hours,” Noah moaned.

Pointing his Land Rover toward the Hilton, Noah forgot his rumination on his twin in favor of anticipating the hot steak and warm bed he was headed toward.

Home On The Range

Josiah Beran reclined at his desk in his home office, chewing on the stub of an unlit cigar, looking out the wall-to-wall window that displayed a beautiful slice of Montana wilderness. The sun was just beginning to set, tingeing the blue sky with dewy pinks and purples. The cloudless sky looked especially blue splashed against the vivid green of rolling hills, capped by the verdant darkness of rocky mountains in the distance.

His mind wandered from the scene before him, his reflections turning inward. The twinge in his lower back, the ache in his bones, they warned him to take things easy, not to push so hard. Not that he’d obey, but with every passing year Josiah found it harder and harder to silence his body’s complaints.

Most simply put, Josiah was growing old. He was older, more tired, and seemingly crankier with each passing day. His hair was going from salt-and-pepper to white, his once-glorious physique slowly diminishing. Though he didn’t think of himself as a vain main, after a lifetime of bodily perfection, it was difficult to accept that he was in decline. In a few years, he would have to either relinquish his spot as Alpha of the Montana clan or wait until some young punk challenged him for it. That young punk would almost certainly be one of his own sons, and such a fight was something he didn’t much relish. Win or lose, there was no good outcome of that match.

Josiah crackled his knuckles. Usually the serene countryside calmed him, pacified both man and bear in equal measures. Today, though, he’d gotten into an argument with his son Wyatt, and it had lit a fire under Josiah’s ass. Josiah was the Alpha of Pacific Northwest Berserker bear shifters, and the patriarch of the Beran clan.

As an Alpha Berserker with plenty of life experience under his belt, Josiah knew well the cost of letting his temper get the best of him. When he let his anger rise to the surface, he shifted into his bear form… After that, all bets were off. There was no controlling the bear, no reasoning with him, no mitigating the damage he might do. Berserkers were fearsome to behold, nearly unstoppable, and chilling in their frenzied fits of rage.

Today, he promised himself, he would carefully rein in his rage. Use his words, as Genny would say. This day would likely test his patience far beyond what Josiah would normally tolerate, but it had to be done.

He’d called all six of his sons back to the Lodge, the sprawling Montana estate Josiah’s father had constructed over a hundred years ago, and he expected compliance from his sons. One day each of them would be an Alpha, though whether it would be of one of the six major bear clans or of a smaller private pack had yet to be seen. As Alpha, they too would be called upon to made difficult and unpopular decisions.

There was a knock at his office door. Josiah turned to find his mate Genny in the doorway, giving him a long look. She wore what Josiah teasingly referred to as
her uniform
: steel-gray hair pinned up in a high bun, one of Josiah’s old button-up shirts tucked into tan breeches, black leather riding boots that came up to her knee. Her cheeks were pink, as if she’d just come from a ride, and she smelled pleasantly of horse and leather.

She leveled him with her sea-green gaze, her lips pursed. Without a word, Genny made it clear that the plans he’d laid before her only three days ago did not meet with her approval. In more usual circumstances, Josiah deferred to Genny in matters of child rearing and social issues. Boys would be boys, and grown or no, his sons were a wild bunch better left to their mother’s care.

Unfortunately, today was not the usual circumstance. Josiah set his cigar aside, reckoning that Genny had something on her mind. His mate wasn’t one to hold back her feelings, not from him anyway. Plain speaking had always one of the keys to the health of their mateship.