Wolf Rock Shifters Books 1-5: Five BBW Paranormal Romance Standalone Novels (15 page)

T
hat evening
, Kyla received a phone call from Dr. Cooper.

“The man’s woken up,” he said. “We know a little more now. For instance, his name is John Peterson. He says he was attacked and robbed by a shifter.”

“No way,” said Kyla. “Our pack members would never do that. We have a code of conduct…”

“Yeah, I’ve seen your code of conduct on television,” said the doctor, obviously referring to the mayhem created within the pack when Tristan and Craig let their rage out, nearly tearing each other to shreds.

“We would never hurt a human. If you watched the show you’d know that.”

“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t a member of your pack.”

“Who then?” Kyla knew the answer as the question came out of her mouth.

“A man. Another shifter, a bear, according to the victim. And a very large by the sounds of it. Mr. Peterson said that he came at him out of nowhere, shifted, and stole his pack and wallet.”

There was only one bear shifter that Kyla knew of in the area, and she couldn’t imagine that Maddox would do something like this, even if he’d been a little out of control in the bar.

“This all sounds a little sketchy to me,” she said. “Do you think we could come by tomorrow and have a word with him?”

“Sure. Come by after ten and find out what you can. By the way, Kyla, my own thoughts about in-fighting aside, if your pack ever needs anything, call me at home. To be quite honest I’m fascinated by your genetic structure and this man, this Peterson, he’s not exactly kind. I’d like to offer my help. I realize that you’re facing an uphill battle, trying to be accepted be society. I know you’re good folks.”

“Thanks, Doctor. The pack is grateful for that.”

That night as she drifted to sleep, Kyla had another vision. She wasn’t sure, until she realized that she’d shot up, awake and alert, that it wasn’t a dream.

In her mind’s eye she saw flashes: a bear. A stream. Buildings in the woods, blurred by a veil over the scene. Even a white tiger, padding down Wolf Rock’s main street.

Breathing heavily again, she did her best to get back to sleep and to forget the tricks that her head seemed to be playing on her.

I
n the morning
, she and Dascha headed for the hospital as soon as visiting hours had started up. The thought of what John Peterson might say filled Kyla with foreboding; she wanted to believe that the man she’d met in the bar, the guy who’d been so appealing in every way, wasn’t responsible for this mess. Aside from her personal attraction to him, it would do irreparable damage to the wolf pack to have it get out that shifters attacked people.

“We’d better smile and be friendly,” said Dascha. “God knows what kind of man this is. He’s probably more than a little pissed that someone shredded his chest.”

“Agreed,” said Kyla, her inner wolf shuddering in apprehension. She didn’t like what her instincts were telling her
. This is not going to end well.

“Mr. Peterson,” she said gently as they approached the stranger’s bed. The man was lying on top of his sheets in a hospital gown. His face was scratched and there was a lump under his clothing; no doubt the bandages covering his chest. He had a sour look about him, but Kyla couldn’t blame him for it.

“Yes? Who the hell are you?”

What a charming fucking man
, Kyla thought.

“I’m Kyla Greene, and this is my friend Dascha. We’re members of the Longtooth pack.”

At hearing that they were shifters, the man recoiled in fear, his hands pushing his back up against the head of the bed.

“I should have known,” he said, his voice trembling. “Those fucking blue eyes. But he didn’t have your eyes. He...”

Peterson clammed up, reluctant to say anything more.

“Please, don’t be frightened,” Kyla continued. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’d never hurt a human anyhow. It’s not our way. We just have some questions for you.”

“Not your ‘way?’ You’re fucking mutes. Animals.
That’s
your way. One of you tried to kill me two nights ago and…”

“One of
us
did nothing of the kind,” said Dascha.

Rage was building in him; this man was clearly a bigot and probably deserved whatever he’d received and worse. The shifter found himself unable to maintain anything like a charming smile.

“What my friend means,” said Kyla, though she herself was fighting an urge to change into her wolf form and to bite the man’s head off, “is that you claim it was a bear shifter who did this?”

“It was. But you’re all the same, your kind. Fucking lunatics. The government should just nuke this whole damn part of the country and wipe you off the map.”

“Fucker,” growled Dascha, who could barely restrain himself now. His youth was rearing its head and Kyla could see that she needed to diffuse the situation before he made things worse.

“Dascha,” said Kyla quietly, “please could you get me a drink? Just some water would be fine.”

Her pack mate understood and left. He knew perfectly well that transforming and killing a wounded patient wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Now, Mr. Peterson, can you describe the man for me? The one who attacked you? We want to find him and make sure he’s brought to justice.”

“You probably want to give him a fucking medal. I’ll bet that’s what you want.”

“No. As I said, that isn’t our way. Put yourself in our shoes, sir. Can you imagine for a second that, with all the media attention we’ve received, we’d want the world to think we’re killers?”

“I suppose not,” the man grumbled, the reluctance to agree palpable in his voice.

What an asshole,
thought Kyla.

“So please tell me what he looks like,” she said, her voice calm.

The she-wolf feared the answer. The idea of her pack hunting down Maddox…

“Well, he came at me kind of fast and asked me a pile of questions about what I was doing there in the woods.”

“And what were you doing?”

“I was hunting.”

“Hunting what?”

“Doesn’t matter what. The bastard stole my things. My crossbow, my gun, my pack, my wallet. Everything.”

“I think it does matter what you were hunting, Mr. Peterson. Hunting is illegal here.”

“What are you gonna do, report me, you fat bitch?”

Wow. This man might have his insides torn to pieces but Kyla would have liked a go at the giant balls that made him think it was a good idea to insult a powerful female shifter.

“I won’t report you,” she said, using the discipline that she’d learned over the years as a pack member. “Unless you give me no choice. But let’s just get back to the point: what did he look like?”

“He was tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. Black tattoos.”

Damn it, why couldn’t he have been blond and blue-eyed?

“Any other distinguishing features?”

“He turned into a fucking bear. That was a pretty fucking distinguishing feature.”

Dascha came in then with a bottle of water.

“Thank you, Mr. Peterson,” said Kyla, and she grabbed Dascha by the arm and guided him back out.

“Any thoughts?” he asked. He’d managed to calm himself a little.

“Well, he’s a jackass, that one. I’m glad there aren’t too many people around like him. As for our bear, he’s apparently tall, dark hair, dark eyes.”

“That sounds like the guy who showed up in town the other day. You and Jay were there, right?”

“Yeah, we were. I was the only one who talked to him—Maddox is his name. But honestly, he doesn’t strike me as a guy who would do this sort of thing.”

“Well, he didn’t do himself any favours by freaking out a lot of tourists. It’s not that hard to believe he could be violent.”

“He was just having fun with them. He could have killed them if he was really a psycho, but not for one second did my wolf tell me he was a threat. Besides, what would you do if a strange woman came up and grabbed your junk?”

“See if she’s a good kisser.”

T
he pack held
a meeting that evening to discuss the next move.

“There’s going to have to be a hunt,” said Tristan. “We need to make a pre-emptive strike here. It’s for the bear shifter’s own good; if we don’t get to him and convince him to get out of Dodge, the cops will come down on him. I’ve talked to the sheriff, and he’s agreed that the pack would do a better job combing the woods than the police anyhow, so he’s left this in our hands. For now.”

“So what’s the plan?” asked Dascha, eager to get moving.

“We’ll split into groups. First off though: Kyla, you’re the one who talked to him in the bar. Any idea where he lives?”

“No. I mean, I do know he’s from Montana and doesn’t live around here. I saw some red dirt on his boots, which means he’s been up in the mountains east of here, and I have a feeling we’d find him up there rather than in town.”

“We’ll start our search there, then,” said Tristan.”

“Tristan, you know me: I’m not one to challenge your authority,” said Kyla, attempting to sound confident. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go looking myself first. I know his smell and, well, he’s a good guy, believe it or not. I don’t think we need to mount a full-scale hunt. Besides, this attack happened not far from here. It would be smart to keep vigilant in case more hunters are roaming around the area.”

“For the record, Kyla, I trust you and that’s the only reason I’m willing to take your word in all of this. Otherwise I’d say that we need to surround him and capture him. I’ll give you until tomorrow. But if you haven’t found him by morning we’re going to split up and form groups.”

“Fair enough. Let me see what I can do, Tristan.”

T
he autumn air
had taken on a bit of a chill and Kyla found herself glad to have bundled up. She’d decided to hike out in human form, so that in the event that she should come upon Maddox she’d have the option of talking to him. Shifters had incredible instincts and Kyla’s were heightened more than most, but she wasn’t sure how the young man would react to her wolf, and she didn’t want to make him feel unnecessarily threatened, or to provoke a conflict with a grizzly who could take her down in a heartbeat.

This hunt was a mixed blessing, or at least the results would be. If she found Maddox herself, she could protect him. But that in itself was a conflict in her mind; maybe he didn’t deserve her goodwill. Maybe she was wrong about him. But no; every instinct in her told her that he wasn’t the guy the pack should be looking for.

She wished that she had some sort of control over the visions that had begun when she met Maddox; that she could somehow be certain of what had happened, and more particularly of what was to come. But it was all a fog, and not helping her in the least.

“Why the hell can’t I have a useful skill?” she mumbled to herself as she hiked through the dense underbrush, dry leaves crisp under her boots.

Her hike took her in the direction of the nearest peak to the cabin. The mud she’d noticed caked on Maddox’s boots could be found on one of its flanks, and she knew to begin her search there, in a dense pine wood that sat just below the treeline. It was rare for her to venture in that direction, but something told her that it was her best chance.

As the ground below her began to slope upwards, she came to a clearing, which she’d never seen before. Her time in the pack had been spent exploring the territory, but she realized that the woods that she knew so well were all within a few miles of the cabin. Now she was on someone else’s land and it would be wise to remain cautious.

Kyla sat down at the edge of the clearing to gather her thoughts and ponder her next move. Which way to go? She sniffed the air, her human nose as sensitive as her lupine one. She smelled deer, trees, grass…and something else.

Maddox.

She’d know that smell anywhere; from the first moment he’d walked into the bar she’d been aroused by it. And now it was coasting on the wind, and he was somewhere in the forest ahead.

At this point she was going to have to start moving faster to catch up to the grizzly, and she knew that the best way to do so was in wolf form. She began to unbutton her shirt, a sort of reluctance setting in; now she’d be risking coming upon him in her form and any thoughts of being unthreatening were potentially being dismissed.

After she’d peeled her shirt off, she pulled off her boots and unzipped her pants. It amused her more than it should to stand mostly nude in the woods; she always wondered what a group of hikers would think if they came upon her.

Looking around, she became confident that no such incident would occur and she unhooked her bra, allowing her full breasts to be kissed by the breeze as she exposed them. The combination of sensations: the soft wind on her nipples, and the scent of Maddox in the air made her go wet.

“Jesus, I’m hunting for the guy and all I want to do if I find him is fuck him,” she thought.

Finally, she pulled her panties down and laid her clothing in a tidy pile before her shift. It was only when she was about to change to her wolf form that she realized that, if she found Maddox now, she’d have no clothes when she came into her human form. Things could get a little awkward. After all, most girls wait until the third date to get naked.

Kyla shifted, knowing that she had little choice. It was always a little unpleasant, the sensation of being torn apart and put back together, but by now she’d learned to accept it as one accepts having legs waxed or a needle jabbed into one’s arm at the doctor. It was more the anticipation of the pain that was unbearable than the pain itself.

Her light brown wolf form began to lope through the woods then, following the scent that she’d picked up. He wasn’t far off, she knew; it was just a question of finding him before he ran off.

The jog wasn’t long. After about ten minutes Kyla found herself on the bank of a narrow creek, just like the one she’d seen in her mind, and hopeful, she sniffed the air again. He was somewhere east of her, and she’d be upon him soon.

She followed the water, remaining concealed in the woods though she knew that Maddox could probably smell her just as she could him.

Ahead, she saw that a tall rock face climbed skyward, spreading from the north to the south. She knew now that if she didn’t come upon him soon, she’d have to turn and change trajectory.

But she found him.

When she came upon him, Maddox was sitting on a large rock by the water, his arms wrapped around his knees. He wore only boxer shorts, and Kyla could see that he was aware of her presence. She stopped and stood, studying his form.

His legs were muscled like a Greek statue’s and his large, strong arms with their tribal markings were tight. He seemed deep in thought, and tense.

“Kyla,” he said. She knew that he was familiar enough with her scent to be confident of her identity, in spite of the fact that he’d never seen her wolf.

She walked up to him and put her muzzle near his face, her tongue darting out in a reassuring pant. Maddox laid a hand on her side, both to assure her and himself that neither was a threat to the other. Though it went against shifter protocol, Kyla liked it.

“I guess you’re here to take me in?” he said. There was no smile on his face now; no dimple. “Let me get you something to wear and we’ll talk.”

With that, he rose and walked to a small opening in the rock face which stood about twenty feet from the creek. Kyla wondered for a moment if he might run, but instinct told her not to be concerned.

He re-emerged carrying a large flannel shirt, the sort that a lumberjack might wear. He wrapped it around her form and turned away to give her a little privacy while she shifted.

“Thanks,” she said as she buttoned the shirt. “We’re not usually modest within the pack but somehow this was feeling like it might get a little awkward.”

She sat down next to the stream as Maddox had done, her knees bent, legs tucked to the side in a pose of feminine discretion.

“I don’t want to take you in, Maddox,” she said.

He looked her in the eye. Kyla got the impression that he was too gentlemanly to stare at her legs now, as he’d examined her body in the pub, though a part of her wished he would.

“Well, you probably should. It’s what your pack wants, I assume.”

“My pack wants to know who attacked John Peterson. That’s all.”

“It was me, Kyla.”

“I don’t think it was. I think you’re your mother’s son, Maddox.”

“I’m also my father’s, and my father is a warrior,” he growled. This was the first real show of hostility that Kyla had seen from him, if you didn’t include his toying with the young tourist women.

“Maybe. But you rebel against that side of your nature. No, I don’t think it’s you. But I want Peterson to take a look at you so he can confirm for our alpha that you’re not the guy.”

“There’s no point, Kyla. I
am
guilty. Even if I didn’t do it myself, I’m guilty.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Maddox. How are you guilty?”

“Because I could have stopped it. Now it’s too late; a man is in hospital.”

“How could you have stopped it?”

Maddox paused before replying, as though he was considering giving her a proper response.

“Never mind. Look, I realize you don’t think I’m a bad guy. But I’m not so sure sometimes.”

“I
know
you’re not a bad guy. I know it in my bones.” Kyla let out a shiver just then. Her mind was trying hard to access its prescience, to see into the future. To assure her that she was correct in her assumptions about this man.

“You’re cold. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

“Inside where? That cave?” She wondered what he had up his non-existent sleeve.

Maddox stood now and she got a full idea of his scale as he loomed over her. He was at least six-foot-four and his shoulders were broader than anyone’s she’d ever seen. She tried her best not to allow her eyes to glide over his body, though it cried out for her stare.

He seemed designed for two things: strength and fuckability. Was that even a word?

He held out his hand and she took it. Again, he was hot to the touch.

Maddox looked away as Kyla stood, which only confirmed what she’d said: he was a good guy, and didn’t want to get an accidental glance at anything he shouldn’t.

“He’s more discreet than I am,” she thought, remembering the peek she’d enjoyed in the pub.

Maddox guided her into the dark cave, which was occupied only by a pile of tidily-folded clothing, a small lantern, a sleeping bag and a backpack. No crossbow, no gun. None of the items John Peterson had said the bear shifter had stolen from him.

Kyla recognized Maddox’s chaps on top of the clothes, and she doubted if the other garments belonged to the wounded hunter.

“So is this where you’ve been staying? I would have thought a motel might be a little nicer.”

“I told you I’m looking for someone,” he said. “It’s easier to do it from out here.”

“Are you going to tell me who it is?”

“No. Not right now, anyhow.”

“I assume it’s not a hunter.”

Maddox didn’t reply.

“You’re very mysterious,” she said. “For a bear.”

“What does that mean?”

“Bears strike me as open books. Not shifty like wolves; not sly like foxes. Like you always know what a grizzly is thinking, by his body language, his face even. But not you. I have no idea what’s on your mind.”

He turned to her then and for the first time that day, he smiled. Kyla would have described the look on his face as somewhat lascivious.

“You really have no idea what’s on my mind?”

“Hmm. This second I might have an idea,” said Kyla as she tugged at the flannel of the shirt, trying to cover herself. Maddox’s eyes had begun to explore her again.

“Well, some things are best kept secret,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to know half of what’s on my mind. Men are pigs at the best of times, but add another animal to the mix and, well…”

“I don’t get that impression about you though, Maddox.” Kyla was sincere now. “You’re not a sleaze, even if you were just looking me up and down like I’m some pricey veal that you’re considering cooking up.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You’re not. You could probably have fucked that girl in the bar. She was young and pretty, and a lot of men would have taken advantage of that. But you didn’t show any signs of wanting to go home with her. You also could have…”

He cocked his head at her now, and she laughed. It reminded her a little of a dog her parents had owned when she was a child.

“I could have…?”

“You’re really going to make me say it, are you? You probably could have gotten into my pants if you’d wanted to. Not that I’m wearing any now.”

“And yet I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“There’s a lot on my mind, if it makes you feel any better—in case you’re thinking that the problem is that I don’t find you attractive.”

“To be honest, I don’t know what to think.”

Maddox went silent again for a moment.

“I have issues…with people,” he said slowly. “A fear of them, even.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that sounds utterly bizarre, coming out of a man your size.”

“Not a physical one. I know perfectly well that I could beat pretty well anyone in a fight, including your pack members.”

“So what are you talking about then?”

“Ever since I lost my sister I’ve been hesitant to get close to anyone, Kyla. So I just don’t. And that usually goes for sex as well as anything else that’s intimate. I don’t like loss. I learned that the hard way.”

Kyla felt a deep sadness for the giant of a man who sat next to her. She wanted to put an arm around him and rest his head on her shoulder, to comfort him and tell him that he wouldn’t lose her, for whatever that was worth.

“I understand, I think,” she said. “I’m often told that I’m confident, even though I’m shy to begin with. But the thing is, Maddox, I’m confident in myself. I’m not confident in other people. I don’t trust them.”

He studied her again, looking for answers in her features.

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure. When I was a child, I didn’t really have much in the way of friends. I was one of those unfortunate kids who got picked on and teased. I found that the way to deal with it was to grow a thick skin and to come back at the others with bigger ammunition, so if someone threw an insult my way, I’d lob one back that was ten times as painful. I got respect that way, but not love.

“Then I came into my wolf skin, learned to shift, however you want to put it. And I could escape from everyone. Eventually I had the pack, and they’re like built-in friends. I trust them with my life.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“But not with my heart.”

Maddox looked straight ahead, his eyes narrowing in the dark cave.

“I would tell you not to be like that, Kyla, and to open yourself up. But I’m damaged and it would be hypocritical of me. I’m the least open person in the world, and the least open to love. So all I can tell you is that I understand. It’s hard to offer yourself up to vulnerability. And here we are, so big and strong, and yet so fragile.”

“Tell me about your tattoos,” Kyla said, changing the subject abruptly and deliberately. She gave in to the urge to touch Maddox by allowing her index finger to outline the spiral markings on his left shoulder.

“These are traditional. The Maori, you probably know, tattoo their faces. Really, it’s more a sort of chiseling of the skin than a tattoo; scars on flesh. It’s a rite of passage, a sign that you’ve proven yourself worthy. But not surprisingly, the parents of a kid in Montana didn’t want their son to show up to class with facial tattoos so I did the next best thing.”

“They’re striking,” said Kyla. Her finger continued to follow the pattern down his upper arm. She watched it, taking in how diminutive her digit seemed in comparison with his muscles. Maddox managed, somehow, to make her feel almost small and dainty, which was no mean feat. And yet he didn’t make her feel insignificant.