Dare to Bear (Book 1 Trail Guardians Series)

by Julian, Christine

  “I’m Stephanie,” she introduced herself.

  The brother skewered her with a searing look. “I know exactly who you are.”

  She didn’t appreciate his accusing tone. “Mason and I have been together on this trail for days.” After a fumbling pause, she blurted out, “I love him.”

  “I hope so,” he replied with a severe expression. “He marked you.”

  At the ominous-sounding statement, she pressed her hand to her throat. “What does that mean?”

  “If you don’t know, then—” He scraped a hand down his face. “I guess my opinion doesn’t matter now. He’s made his choice. I hope you appreciate his dedication to you.”

  “He’s proven himself to me a hundred times over,” she said.

  “Yeah. That’s Mason.”

  What was the man getting at? She took a stab. “You don’t approve of me being with Mason.”

  Midas shrugged his big, bare shoulders. “Not up to me. He chose his mate. I have to accept it.”

  “Wait, his mate?” she wheezed. That sounded rather…permanent.

  “You’re not a shifter, or a werebear. I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

  “Get what?” she asked, exasperated by his caustic responses to her.

  “We put our mates before anything else, and we protect our females with our lives. You are his mate. He’s taken a blood oath to love and protect you as long as he has a heartbeat. You’re the only woman he will ever love. For the rest of his life—however long that might be.”

  The words filled her with heartfelt emotion. I had no idea…

  Then Midas turned his back to her, heaving a thick sigh. “Follow our tracks,” he told her. “We can’t wait for you to keep up.”

  The rescuer who carried Mason’s body on the stretcher transformed into a black bear. The remaining man, the brother, and the medic strapped the stretcher to the harness they fitted over the bear’s shoulders. Then the other three shifted, too, and four bears trampled through the forest, taking Mason away.

  Left alone, without Mason for the first time since she’d met him, she glanced around at a loss. How could one person have filled her whole world, and her contemplation of the future, so completely that his absence made her half of who she was?

  She’d survived and mostly recovered from Kyle leaving her a month before their wedding. Broken-hearted, yes. But not devastated like she was now. At the time, she’d been thoroughly dejected, but that didn’t begin to compare to the emotional impact of possibly losing Mason.

  Her best friend Ashely’s words came back to her. Kyle did you a favor. This frees you up to find your true soul mate.

  Had she found that soul mate partner in Mason?

  That statement deserved more than a question mark. Yes, she had found her future in Mason.

  Then the brother’s remark struck her anew. He marked you…you are his mate…he will love you until his heart stops beating. That epitomized the notion of romantic love.

  Startled by the concept, she searched herself for some “mark” Mason had given her. Coming up with nothing tangible, she thought back to the night they’d made love. The intensity. The piercing eye-contact. The one-on-one soul unity. She’d felt it, she just hadn’t understood the depth of what she’d felt until now.

  None of that changed the fact that he was different from her. He was so different from any man she’d ever known or been with—he was a shapeshifter. A werebear. His kind, she imagined, lived by another set of rules than regular humans. According to his brother, Mason had claimed her, and in that claiming he’d linked their lives together.

  While she wanted that more than anything, even beyond her rational consideration of reality, she feared he’d taken risks by fighting the wolves that he wouldn’t have taken otherwise. If she hadn’t come into his life, he might still be back at his home base, assisting hikers, instead of lying half-dead on a handmade stretcher fighting for his life.

  No wonder his brother was pissed off and didn’t like her. Mason never would’ve endangered his life if it hadn’t been for her.

  She had to get to him. She had to tell him she wanted him, too. As long as that gorgeous, remarkable man wanted to invest himself in their potential future, she wanted every part of that possibility.

  It didn’t matter how short their time together had been, she knew. She knew. In her heart, to the depths of her soul, she wanted Mason in her life. She needed him.

  Admittedly, the injuries he’d endured on her behalf might have sealed his fate, but she felt something deeper with him than a strictly physical bond. Even if her rational brain questioned the depth of her emotions, she agreed with her heart when it told her despite all of this happening so soon, it all seemed destined.

  What they’d experienced together defied logic anyway. Not to mention what she’d seen. If a person could turn into a bear, couldn’t she fall in love in three days?

  Nope. You’re a fool. Maybe none of this is real. Maybe you’re having a psychotic breakdown from dehydration and overexertion.

  So her mind said. But her heart told her differently. Her heart told her to trust in the madness that could make her the happiest woman alive. Madness and happiness, in the same sentence? Crazy? She’d take that bet. She’d gamble on those odds. She believed in Mason, in a way she’d never connected with another human being in her life.

  When she’d taken on the challenge of the Appalachian Trail herself, she’d expected to grow and change. She hadn’t anticipated a complete transformation inside and out. And the last thing her broken heart had planned on was falling in love.

  But she was. In love. With Mason.

  As it turned out, he was something beyond extraordinary. He was otherworldly.

  “Take heart, dear one.”

  Alert, senses tuned to the whisper in the wind, she cocked her head. She swore she’d heard the faintest voice carry to her.

  “Keep your faith and your love steady. It will carry you through.”

  Attempting to identify the source, she whipped around. No one, nothing, came into view. “Me? What about Mason?” she asked the disembodied voice.

  The wind calmed. Nothing further came from the strange, soft voice.

  Even if it had issued from her own imagination, the kind words helped. All she knew for sure was she had to get to Mason.

  As she gathered her and Mason’s packs, she clipped them together the way he had when they’d crossed the cavern. “Holy moly,” she huffed, shocked by the combined weight. “How did he manage all this?”

  And hold onto me when I fell?

  His physical and mental fortitude confounded her anew.

  Setting one determined foot in front of the other, she struggled along the winding path Mason’s brother and friends had made through the forest. They hadn’t followed the Appalachian Trail, blazing their own shortcut instead.

  The added weight of both packs slowed her down considerably. She made it perhaps three miles before the double burden forced her to stop and rest. Irritated by her lack of progress, she considered leaving the packs and gathering them later, along with a guide who knew these woods.

  But she had no idea where she was.

  Glancing around, she realized the path Midas had told her to follow had vanished. Not one broken branch or dented blade of grass or uprooted ivy showed evidence of the bears’ stampede.

  Instantly, she thought of the satellite phone. She rummaged through her pack, coming up empty. Had she left it under the tree she’d climbed to escape the wolves? Had she dropped it in the leaves when the four werebears came onto the scene? Tears of frustration burned along her lashes. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

  No map would guide her out of these dense woods. She was good and lost. And the sun had dipped low behind the treetops. If she didn’t find her way soon, she’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere while night closed in around her. Who knew what lurked in the shadows… More shapeshifters? Another pack of wolves out for blood?

  Consi
dering his chilling reception toward her, she doubted Midas would return for her. He’d probably take up residence in the operating room and refuse to leave Mason for a minute. That’s what she would’ve done. She let out a curse and whacked a spindly branch with her palm.

  How would she make it to Mason? Or even return to the trail?

  Spirals of angst twisted inside her. Still, she had to keep going. He would’ve done the same for her.

  With few options, she stood and forced herself to continue, despite not knowing the way. The sun sank deeper behind the hills, throwing shadows of dusk and an eerie hush over the woods.

  The urgency to be by Mason’s side pushed her to her limits. Another hour slipped by, and she dragged herself along until her legs collapsed beneath her. She hit the ground hard. The uselessness she’d felt earlier didn’t compare to the desperate helplessness she experienced as she struggled to her feet, only to drop to her knees again.

  With no other choice, she unburdened herself from the two packs. She rested them against a giant Maple tree and tied her pink bandanna to the lowest branch she could reach, leaving the ends dangling like a flag. While she hated to abandon the life-sustaining packs, maybe she’d have a chance of finding them tomorrow.

  As she continued, fatigue settled in her bones. Too late, she wished she’d left the packs behind earlier. Had she known how far away Haventown was from the location of the wolf attack, she would have dropped them without a second thought. Too late, she realized how the weight of the both packs had sapped nearly all her strength.

  Another hour passed. Brief hints of sunlight seeped down through the thick foliage, but darkness loomed. And now she had no pack, no tent, no sleeping bag, nothing to protect her from the elements if she didn’t find Haventown soon. She wasn’t a quitter, but she had so little fight left in her. She was too tired to even cry.

  When she doubted she could take another step, an unexpected breeze fluffed the curls of her ponytail, cooling the back of her neck. A chill went down her spine. God knew what she would use to defend herself against a creature that meant her harm. She’d drained the last of her water a half-hour ago. Throat dry as tinder, she couldn’t scream for help if she wanted to, and from the looks of the empty forest, no one would hear her cries.

  To her surprise, an owl coasted silently overhead, landing on a branch two stories high. Bleary eyed, she gazed up at the creature.

  It hovered, then flapped and dove to a lower branch, further away. Talons gripping the bark, it turned its head around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and stared at her with unblinking yellow eyes.

  Am I imagining this? she wondered, her head fogged with fatigue. Back in her plugged-in life, she’d caught episodes of Animal Planet, where she’d watched documentaries about dolphins that led people lost in the ocean to safety. Could an owl help her do the same, in the woods?

  It flew and landed on several subsequent branches in a row, creating a sort of trail, like a personal guide. But why would an owl be out before dark? A miracle? A delusion? Could she trust this creature? She didn’t know, didn’t care.

  Exhausted beyond the ability to derive logical answers, she shoved to her feet. For no reason other than instinct tinged with desperation, she followed the owl.

  The white, speckled bird fluttered from branch to branch, urging her onward. Each time she neared the creature, it took off in silent flight to another branch twenty paces away. This went on and on with an eerie consistency.

  Although she stumbled over fallen trees and trudged through muddy passes, a sixth sense she couldn’t explain pressed her forward. No matter how many times her muscles wanted to collapse under the exertion, she kept on like a dazed sleepwalker, pulled beyond her body’s limitations as if by some invisible force.

  Just when she doubted she could take one more step, she heard voices beyond a small rise fifty feet away. She crawled to the summit of the next elevation. She witnessed the glorious sight of rooftops, similar to the slate roof that had initially drawn her to Mason’s outpost.

  A mix of anguish and relief flooded her. Further down, normal-looking people walked through the streets below or gathered in clumps on lighted porches, talking in muted tones.

  A tear tracked down her cheek, and she glanced up at the nocturnal bird who’d defied its nature to help her. “Thank you,” she whispered, before it took off one last time and disappeared beyond her sight.

  Scraping together the dwindling threads of her energy, she half-walked-half-slid down the hillside and made it to the main street in town. Several people stared at her from one of the front porch gatherings, jaws dropped.

  “Where is the hospital?” she asked, her voice quaking.

  A man with a beard, wearing a flannel shirt with the arms cut off, motioned her to follow him. “You okay, miss?”

  “I will be, when I see Mason.”

  “We were just talkin’ about that,” he said in a thick southern drawl filled with concern. “Do you know what happened?”

  Yes. But she couldn’t make her brain form sentences in the proper order. She remained silent.

  “Just askin’.” The man shrugged. His tanned, deeply lined face drew tight. “Seems our Trail Guardian ran into some trouble, with wicked claws and fierce fangs.”

  “Something like that,” she whispered.

  “Straight through that entrance,” the man said, sweeping his arm at the door with the medical symbol of staff-and-serpent tacked to the door.

  She didn’t make it inside. She collapsed on the porch, her mind sinking into a gray place.

  The spaces between realities are a mystery, she thought, in a strange, reflective state. I want to know them with Mason.

  Then the black hole of unconsciousness sucked her under.

  12

  Pain.

  Torment.

  Fire.

  Pure hell.

  Its flames lashed Mason’s body, roasting his flesh from the inside out.

  I’m burning alive…

  This must’ve been the torture the Ancestors had suffered, when humans’ diabolical need to destroy what they didn’t understand had nearly extinguished his kind. Pagans, witches, shamans, shifters—they’d been called by many names, some incorrect, all misunderstood. Shifters were a class unto their own, but no less persecuted through the ages.

  While lucid thoughts drifted in and out, the Dark Ones sank their poison-tipped talons into his soul. He had no other way to describe the monstrous, shadowy figures dragging him downward, no matter how fiercely he defied them. In old writings, he’d been taught the Dark Ones were put on earth to destroy the Ancients. His Ancestors had persevered. Mason wasn’t so sure he would.

  Again and again, the grip of evil clutched his mind. He fought it with his entire being. A brutal battle to free his wild spirit from a cage of dark, dangerous suppression.

  There was the option to surrender, to give into the chilling, hollow darkness. There were moments when the inferno crippled him to the point of breaking, burned him to the edge of disintegration.

  The only thing saving him from the abyss were the quenching waves of softly spoken words, wafting over him like a river coasting across the hottest desert. Sometimes he feared they wouldn’t return, but they always did. The calm, gentle consolations soothed his torture. Feminine caresses whispered over him, and he reveled in their cooling ministrations.

  Other times, he heard the primordial, echoing words of the Ancestors calling him back from the brink. “You have everything to live for, son of light. Keep the faith and your love steady. She’s waiting for you. She needs you. Do not give up this most precious gift.”

  Steph.

  He fought for her.

  The image of her came to him at intervals, like a shimmering mirage. False but true. He would—he had to—reunite with his mate, forever under the blessing of the Ancients. He prayed to them. And his heart spoke to her. I will find you again, my precious half of me.

  Then the pitch-black fire overtook him again, pl
unging him to the depths of agony and despair.

  I won’t give you up, Steph, he vowed, gnashing his teeth against the brutal pain. I will never give up on you.

  Love.

  Soothing. Cooling. Healing.

  I love you. He reached out to a blurred image of her that materialized before his scratching, aching eyes.

  But the flames returned, riding higher and hotter, searing his flesh down to his bones, searing his determination down to his soul.

  “Give in to usss,” the Dark Ones hissed in his brain.

  Never, he vowed.

  Yet they clawed. Ripped. Scraped. Eviscerated. He couldn’t hang on…

  A fresh sound interrupted his agony, sweet and pure, the golden sound of an angel. “Come back to me, Mason. I love you.”

  The words pierced him.

  He fought for his life. He fought for fate. He fought for the Ancestors. He fought for her. He fought for love.

  Was it enough…?

  *

  “You need to shower.”

  Stephanie’s head snapped up. The blurred image of Dr. Tyce over her shoulder finally came into focus. “Hey,” she said with a weak smile.

  “Doctor’s orders,” he stated firmly, placing a comforting arm around her, lifting her from the chair at Mason’s bedside. She hadn’t left him for two days.

  Instinctively, she panicked. “Will he be okay?”

  Tyce nodded. “He’s a strong man with a powerful sense of survival. He knows you’re here for him. This town’s Bear Necessities store is right next to the hospital. A quick shower in the locker room won’t dampen your commitment, I assure you. If Mason comes to, I’ll tell him of your unwavering devotion.”

  She twisted her hands. “I want to be here if—when he wakes up.”

  “The fever’s still strong, but I believe he’ll beat it.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve known Mason for many years. He’s too damned stubborn to give up. Especially when he has something so important to live for,” Tyce said, tilting his head at her.