Wolf Rock Shifters Books 1-5: Five BBW Paranormal Romance Standalone Novels (27 page)

“I’ve never liked that idea. I’ve always looked after myself.”

“Yes, well, your looking after yourself has made you into a fugitive, hasn’t it? It’s not exactly ideal. You need to learn what it truly means to have a family and community. The nice thing about shifters is that we understand that notion better than people. I’ve been a member of the wolf pack here since my late teens. And I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Zoe sat for a moment, silently pondering Kyla’s words. The she-wolf had a point, she knew. But one didn’t just change and let one’s guard down. She knew that she couldn’t suddenly become a different person.

“Zoe,” said Kyla, who seemed now to be reading her thoughts. “Here’s my card.” She handed over a business card with only her name, a cell phone number and an email address on it. “Call, email, text anytime. I’d like to help. I have some knowledge of what it feels like to be isolated. Almost all of us here understand that. I won’t judge you, but I also won’t force you into situations that make you uncomfortable. When you’re ready, get in touch with me.”

“Thanks,” said Zoe. “I will, if I can.”

“I know you will,” said Kyla.

Z
oe spent
the rest of the evening wandering between tents, watching the acts as performers entertained the throngs of shifters and their young children, who’d obviously been granted special permission to stay up all night. She supposed that in a way this was like school for them; watching people such as them enjoying themselves and displaying their abilities. For the parents it would be a simple way to show their children what they had to look forward to. Zoe wished there had been such a circus around when she was a child.

A magician in one tent held up a silk cloth over a young woman, and when he pulled it away she’d seemed to disappear. Zoe’s eyes caught a tiny mouse running out through a small opening in the side of the tent. The woman then appeared at the back of the tent, dressed in different clothing which she’d no doubt grabbed on the way around.

Another made his assistant levitate and as she did so, she turned into a dove and flew out through a round opening in the tent’s ceiling.

Though cynical, Zoe found herself enchanted seeing the fair through the eyes of a child. She wished above everything that she could forget all of the miserable experiences that she’d had and embrace this world full of wonders and potential, and accept how fortunate she was to have this body with its many abilities. But for one thing she did feel fortunate: in this place, she found that she could begin to be herself. For the moment she remained unknown, anonymous, and didn’t need one of her many disguises.

Even more than that, she felt at home in a society where other women were shaped like her. She had yet to see what she would call a “skinny” woman, though she hated that word. They were different shapes and sizes, but each female shifter had curves to her, and though she had no doubt that they were all strong to endure years of transformations, they didn’t look like they’d stepped out of fitness magazines. Their strength was that of mothers and of protectors; of women who were simply women.

The most remarkable and encouraging aspect of all of this was that Zoe found them pretty, even beautiful. She’d somehow grown up looking at advertisements and television, thinking that no one could ever love a woman like her. Every woman she saw was created to fit into a pair of size two jeans and as a girl, Zoe had decided that there was no hope for her of ever finding a man who would care about her. She’d built up a strong resistance to the notion of affection and admiration, and instead took what she could, using boys and later men to fulfill her momentary needs. But there had not been love.

A
s she walked along
, Zoe pondered all of this, remaining in human form as she walked in between tents. She peered into this and that opening to catch sight of the spectacle but never committed to taking a seat for fear of feeling that she had to remain in place.

It was when she was turning the corner around a shiny purple tent that she stopped in her tracks at the sight of a bear coming towards her. He was pale in colour and large, though not so big as a grizzly. He was beautiful, she thought, and gentle looking. But Zoe’s every instinct told her to turn and walk the other way.

Over the bear a large, cream-coloured silk cloth was draped, and as he came upon her he shifted, quickly folding the garment around himself.

“Colson,” said Zoe, half-smiling. “Nice toga.”

“Yeah, I think the ancient Roman look suits me,” he laughed. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you here, let alone ever again.”

“I was curious about this. Not just the fair, but Wolf Rock. The people. The shifters.”

“And? What do you think? Not so scary as all that, are they?”

“No, of course not. So far they’re fine. Of course they’re all focused on other things and ignoring me, and I like that.”

“You shouldn’t. You should get all sorts of attention, and you should enjoy it.” He was right in front of her now, and she could feel his breath on her chest. God, he smelled so good.

“I don’t like attention,” she said, collecting herself. “It can start off well but it always seems to end up with me getting hurt.”

Colson reached a hand out, placing it beside her face. But he pulled back before he’d made contact, as though he’d touched something hot and been burned.

“But why does attention hurt you?” he asked. “It doesn’t have to.”

“You say that, but it just does, Colson. Look, you don’t know me. You don’t know how my life is. Maybe some people can walk around all sunshine and flowers, but I’m not one of them.” Her eyes darted around as she looked for an escape route. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Okay, okay. Fair enough,” Colson said. “Let’s drop it. Why don’t you walk around with me a little bit?”

“Fine,” she said, defeated. She was stuck now; just what she’d been avoiding. Stuck with a gorgeous man by her side; a man who wanted to be there, even. Everything that should make her happy was rendering her hesitant and miserable.

“Great, I can see that I’ve charmed you. Don’t fall in love with me too quickly, now,” he said.

Zoe almost smiled again, checking herself before showing him any vulnerability. The two began to walk slowly between the tents, ending up on the lantern-lit path in the woods.

“We’re not all bad, you know,” he said. “People. Shifters. Some of us are even good.”

Zoe remained silent.

“A lot of women, especially the ones of our ilk, are attracted to strong, aggressive males, then get all upset when they turn out to be strong and aggressive,” Colson continued. “But not all men are controlling or cruel. Some want to make their mates happy.”

“I thought you said we were going to drop this,” she said.

“I did.”

“And besides,
you’re
strong and aggressive.”

“I’m strong. I’m not that aggressive. At least I wouldn’t be, with you. Unless you wanted me to be,” he said, his tone mischievous and suggestive.

“And you’re a flirt.”

“Not really. I’m just…”

Colson’s sentence was cut short when a small boy ran into him head-first as he fled from an invisible pursuer.

“Sorry, mister,” said the little boy, eyeing Colson’s outfit with curiosity.

“Quite all right. What’s going on? Are you being chased?”

“Yeah, my sister got mad at me.”

“And is she bigger than you?”

“A little. But the problem is she can shift and I can’t.”

“Well,” said Colson, “You’ll be able to shift soon enough. And you’ll be…what? Let me guess. A coyote.”

The little boy laughed. “No,” he said, biting his lower lip.

“An emu!” said Zoe, enjoying the playfulness and beginning to relax. Children always managed to soothe her, somehow.

“No!”

“A koala?” asked Colson.

“No.”

Just then, a spotted cat came upon them, sprinting out of the woods, and lunged playfully at the boy.

“Oh, a cat is it? I like cats,” said Colson.

“Do you?” asked Zoe, wondering if this was a new development.

“I do, very much,” he said as the children ran off, the little boy still laughing. When they were out of earshot he added, “I like pussies,” sending a quick wave of pleasure through Zoe which seemed to shoot straight to the cat between her legs.

Colson stood in front of Zoe and looked down at her face in the pale light. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him.

She gasped, realizing that he intended to kiss her. Though every part of her wanted to be kissed by this man, who seemed honest, good, and so fucking sexy, she pushed him away.

“No,” she said. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

With that she shifted and sprinted off into the woods, her dress trailing behind her.

C
olson waited
until the next morning to seek out the panther who’d evaded him at the fair. Something in him felt protective of her. Though she was strong; probably even more so than he was, he wanted to see that she was all right. Even at the risk of making her angry.

The fair had emptied out as dawn approached and the tents were mostly quiet, though some were occupied by sleeping, shifted animal forms awaiting the next night’s activities. The spirit bear padded through the area quietly, wanting to pick up Zoe’s scent again. But it wasn’t until he came to the now extinguished pathway of lights that he smelled her. There were so many other scents and trails that it was difficult to discern hers, but by now he knew it well. As his nose picked it up he felt a rush of endorphins take him over. The desire that he’d felt the first time he’d seen her hadn’t abated. If anything, he wanted her even more now. This, he knew, was going to be difficult.

He traced her scent through the woods, weaving quietly in and out between thick tree trunks.

She’s concealed herself well, at least,
he thought.
Anyone who might be after her would have a hard time of it.

Finally her smell grew stronger when he came to one particular tree, and he sniffed it, standing on his hind legs and leaning two paws against the thick trunk while he sniffed. Yes, this was the place. She’d spent the night above him.

He looked up, but all he could see was the multitude of tangled branches overhead. He was a relatively good climber, but didn’t want to terrify Zoe or to create a threatening situation by invading her hiding space. Besides, he’d tracked her once and could do it again if necessary.

He walked away, heading back towards the road and his truck.

Z
oe saw
the pale bear below. He paced around her tree and sniffed it, looking up towards her. But, concealed among the thick tree limbs, she felt confident that he wouldn’t come near. Surely he knew better than to do that. And if he didn’t, she thought, he’d be in for some pain. He should have figured out by now that she was trouble.

She found her emotions a mix of irritation and pleasure at his attentions. He should leave her be. She was damaged, and she’d told him to stay away, for God’s sake. She’d told him how she was. Well, sort of. He should have figured it out, anyhow.

When she was confident that he’d gone, she stood on the thick branch which easily supported her weight and stretched, her cat-spine feeling the full extent of the pull as her front legs extended out in front of her. After her night spent in the tree, she felt refreshed; it was the first time in ages that she’d passed a peaceful night, and sleeping under the stars was beautiful. It had been a long time since she’d done it. A wave was washing over her that felt something like happiness.

Zoe shifted and, standing naked on her branch, reached into the knot to extract her plastic-wrapped money. She put just enough into her bag to get through the next day then concealed the cash again, wrapped the satchel’s strap around her neck and shifted, this time into the form of a long-armed orangutan. This was out of her usual comfort zone, and she wanted to laugh at her ridiculous limbs as she swung from branch to branch, landing finally with a thud on the ground below. There were certain advantages to being such a skilled shape-changer, she knew, and she was learning to feel gratitude for the gifts that had always seemed like such a curse.

Since the fair was over for the night, Zoe shifted into panther form and headed back towards town. Kyla the fortune teller had given her a business card, which was all well and good, but Zoe had no phone or computer with which to contact her. If she were going to seriously consider making friends, she’d need at least to acquire a cell phone.

Wolf Rock was still relatively quiet first thing in the morning and Zoe found herself heading straight for the main street and the town’s only diner, which she’d noticed the night before after her meal. In cat form she could have hunted in the woods, but she wasn’t yet certain what the rules of this place were, or if hunting on a wolf pack’s territory was considered in poor taste at best, and illegal at worst.

She didn’t want to find out the hard way, and planned to maintain her relative anonymity as long as possible. Besides, eating in a diner seemed nice and seedy, not to mention much more luxurious than sniffing for rodents among fungus-coated trees.

Others were beginning to quietly roam the streets; a few solitary individuals here and there, and the occasional family made up of a set of parents and their offspring. Zoe wondered if ever a normal human family with small children came wandering into town not knowing what they were in for. The image amused her; it was one thing to walk into a mountain town and see a deer on the street, but it must be shocking to see a panther or a grizzly hiking up the sidewalk towards you, she thought. Fun for the shifters. Maybe not so much for the terrified parents of curious toddlers.

She turned into the diner when she’d arrived. Its door opened automatically when she advanced, and she noticed a sign next to it that read “All Forms Welcome!” By now most of the establishments in town had been set up this way, to accommodate animals whose paws couldn’t grasp handles, and Zoe was grateful for it; it was some sort of evidence that she would fit in. Back where she’d formerly lived, she could never have walked into a restaurant in any of her animal forms. Terrence was a human town and shifters there mostly kept their identities a secret for fear of alienating the locals.

A waitress smiled at Zoe and gestured towards the back of the building where there was a sign for the washrooms, so that Zoe could shift and get dressed in private.

The bathroom was impressive, particularly for a diner which would normally have a small space for such things. This one seemed large enough to house an elephant and contained several curtained changing booths, and even bathrobes and slippers for shifters who hadn’t brought clothing along. For a seedy diner, the place was like the most posh and elegant spa Zoe had ever encountered. Given the spacious room, it was easy to extract her clothing and get into it without worrying about some awkward act of physical comedy.

“I could get used to this town,” she thought as she tightened her belt around her mid-section.

She looked into the mirror, examining her face, which she was still getting used to. Her eyes were large, ringed with dark lashes and tilted slightly upwards at the outer corners, giving her a cat-like appearance. This, she supposed, was related to her affection for her panther form above all others. It was a strange thing; Zoe had spent over a year in that tall, thin body and yet this soft form with its flawed, round belly and wide hips felt so much more like a home for her. She wondered if women who constantly covet the shapes of other women would ever grow to understand that sometimes what you were born with suits you best.

When she came back out into the diner’s main area, the waitress seated her at a booth with a view of the street outside. Zoe found herself watching passersby and feeling a general sense of relaxation set in.

Somehow she’d made it.
He
wouldn’t find her, and maybe he wouldn’t even be looking. This place felt like another universe to where she’d woken the day before, and she was filled with gratitude for it, and even for Colson, the handsome, frustrating spirit bear, despite the fact that she knew she might never see him again. He seemed to want to watch over her and though it irked her she felt a warmth as well; she wasn’t used to being taken care of.

This was a new emotional state for Zoe; gratitude wasn’t particularly in her internal vocabulary. She wondered if the altitude was beginning to mess with her brain.

“What can I get you, hon?” asked the waitress when she came by.

“Bacon and eggs, please. Eggs scrambled. Brown toast, coffee. Oh, and do you know of somewhere where I can buy a cell phone?”

“Yeah, there’s a little shop around the corner, if you take a right out of here and then another right,” the young woman said.

“Great, thanks.” Zoe closed the menu and handed it to her.

She had a plan for the day ahead: she’d buy a phone and then call or text Kyla, and she would meet with her about the school she’d mentioned. Much as she wanted to remain inconspicuous, she knew that a woman who disappeared into the woods nightly would gain more of a reputation than a nice young lady who’d come to town looking to help children, and it seemed like she should err on the side of normalcy. Elementary teachers generally didn’t draw attention as fugitives, at least not in her limited experience.

Besides which, as the previous night had reminded her, she did like children. She always had, and had constantly, as a child, wished for siblings. But her adoptive parents seemed satisfied that they had their hands full with her and had denied her the pleasure, or else had saved themselves from it.

Zoe hadn’t been an easy child, she knew. She was prone to nightmares and her imagination always seemed cruelly to tell her that she’d been discarded because she was no good. Her new parents had the job of assuring her constantly that she was loved, which she’d never fully believed. How could anyone love such a person? She was an ugly child, she’d thought, and dull, and it was for these reasons that she’d begun to create new personas for herself when she came into her abilities. She could play the roles of different girls, different women, and satisfy her own needs as well as those of others. If one person grew tired of her she had only to become someone else. It was like plastic surgery without the knife.

The problem was that she no longer entirely knew who she was.

A
fter breakfast Zoe
settled the bill and walked down the street towards the shop the waitress had mentioned. She was still barefoot, but this wasn’t an uncommon state for shifters. Still, she stopped in at a store on the way that sold outdoor gear and bought a pair of flats so that she wouldn’t feel quite so much like a homeless person, even if that was exactly what she was. She would eventually need to buy some new clothes as well; this one dress would only last her for so long, after all.

As she turned the corner and approached the phone store, she noticed that across the street was a well-kept automotive shop with several cars parked out front, including a shiny red pickup truck. She knew that Colson would be inside, working on someone’s engine. Zoe kept focused on the store, not wanting to be seen, and was relieved when she finally entered.

A non-descript man of thirty or so was working behind the desk, seemingly playing games on his own phone to occupy himself.

“I need a cell phone,” Zoe told him when he’d finally acknowledged her presence with an awkward smile. “Nothing fancy. I just need to be able to call and text.”

“Okay, but we’ll still need to set you up with an account and all that stuff,” he said apologetically, sensing that she probably didn’t want to be there for a long time.

“Whatever’s quick and easy,” she said, her eyes darting to the shop across the street. She wanted to get the phone and make herself scarce.

“This model’s pretty good,” the man said, holding up a smartphone that looked like perfectly ordinary and pretty well like every other phone Zoe saw in the glass case.

“That’ll work. Let’s just get the paperwork done,” she said.

As the cashier printed out the pages that she’d need to acknowledge and sign, the door opened behind Zoe, who remained in place pretending not to hear it. She didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone if she could possibly avoid it.

“Hey, Zoe,” said a voice behind her as she fidgeted with a package of headphones on the wall.

She turned, her jaw clenched. Colson stood before her in a green coverall which was partly undone, revealing a white t-shirt underneath, his strong chest stretching the cotton thinly over his muscles. Damn, he was a good-looking man. What a pain in the ass.

“Hey.”

“I saw you come in here,” he said, wiping engine grease off his hands on the legs of his coverall. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re good at finding me, aren’t you?”

He knew that she must have been referring to that morning’s outing to the woods.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he smiled. Zoe thought she detected a hint of suggestiveness in his tone and his face. “Anyhow, I just wanted to check and see that you were all right. You took off sort of fast last night.”

“I’m all right. I’m very good at looking after myself.”

“Right, so you tell me,” he said, a blackened hand scratching the stubble on his chin. “Okay. Well, you know where to find me.” Colson nodded to the garage across the street. “If you need me.”

“Thanks. I don’t
need
anyone.”

“Saying that is a sure sign that you do,” he said, “and the sooner you figure that out, the better.” And with that, he walked out of the store.

Zoe stood watching him, frustrated at his ability to sense her inner workings. She wanted to argue with him and to insist that he was wrong, but somehow he always seemed right.

“Are you new here in town, then?” asked the shopkeeper, pulling her out of her thoughts. Zoe rolled her eyes before turning to him.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Would you…like to go on a date with me?” The man looked immediately apprehensive after he asked the question, as though she might hit him.

And she wanted to. Why the hell did men ask strange women on dates, especially when they didn’t know shit about them?

Zoe sized him up. Everything about him was wrong; his appearance, his seeming shyness, his hair. What the hell was with his hair? Was that a combover? How could such a young man have a combover already?

“No,” she said, grinding her jaw.

“Okay, sorry, just thought I’d ask.”

Now he looked like a puppy who’d just been struck with a rolled-up newspaper.

“I’m sorry. That was really rude of me,” said Zoe, who felt immediate remorse for her cruelty. She was beginning to realize that not everyone in the world was an enemy. “I’m just not really in a place where I can go out on dates. With anyone, I mean.”