A woman determined to find answers, a man sworn to keep secrets
She was a child when it happened, an innocent brutalized by a man who was meant to protect her. When Kennedy ran, he came after her with every intention to kill—only to find himself face to face with creatures no rational human could explain.
Now, fifteen years later, Kennedy has returned to Pride Mountain, intent of finding out more about the creatures that saved her. Are they animals? Or something more…
Duncan Pride remembers Kennedy. But the woman he sees is nothing like that terrified child he saved. But he can’t let her learn the truth of Pride Mountain. He doesn’t count on her stubbornness, or her courage. He also doesn’t plan on falling in love with the willful, beautiful woman.
He can’t let that get in the way—his Pride is counting on him.
Warning: this title contains hot, steamy, explicit sex told in contemporary graphic language and violence.
Copyright
Hunter’s Pride
Copyright © 2006 by Shiloh Walker
Reissue 2018
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Prologue
Pride Mountain…for as long as any of them could remember, Pride Mountain had been theirs. Not all of them stayed there, but even those who left, they knew Pride Mountain was home.
It wasn’t a true mountain, more of a big hill, but for Michigan, it seemed plenty mountainous enough. And it was theirs…the mountain itself and the land that stretched around for it for miles.
It had been theirs for years, going back nearly two centuries, almost since the first time people settled in the region.
They didn’t like change.
Change could be dangerous—that was one thing none of them ever forgot. Change could bring predators into their midst, for the sake of fame and notoriety, for the sake of fortune…or for the sake of mayhem.
But it hadn’t been them that had brought this latest change.
He scented it first, the powerful sour scent of fear. The moonlight filtered down through the canopy of leaves as he wove silently through the trees. Fear, sweat, blood…somebody was hurt. Scared.
She was running—he could hear branches snapping, her harsh ragged breathing. A soft cry when she fell. Leaves crunched as she pushed herself back up to her feet.
Soft, desperate little sobs. Those cries barely even sounded human. More like an animal weak and terrified, soft little whimpers and mewls that sounded disturbingly like the plaintive cries of a cougar’s young. He knew when the others became aware of her.
Suddenly, he wasn’t alone as he moved closer to the source of the disturbance.
“Son?”
He glanced over his shoulder at his dad. Although he was nearly as tall as his father, he had yet to fill out much. At nineteen, he stood nearly six three and was as lanky as a scarecrow. But he was strong. He knew how to hunt, how to fight.
How to protect.
That was his job. It was their job and they took it seriously.
Protect—
There was somebody else. Somebody chasing her. He stank—reeked of blood and violence.
“She’s hurt,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I smell blood. He’s chasing her.”
Nausea roiled through him as he scented something else. Lust. It was like a fever boiling in the man’s blood.
His father breathed deeply, his eyes darkening as he murmured, “Yes, I know. Go back to the others. We’ll handle this.”
We…his father, Ryan Pride, and the three men that served under him. Not a king, exactly, but definitely the leader. And Duncan would one day take his place.
“No.” Shaking his head, Duncan turned his eyes back in the direction of the disturbing scents of blood, fear, and violence. Blood, he was used to. After all, they had come up Pride Mountain on this moonlit night to hunt. But he couldn’t ever recall smelling such fear.
“Duncan, now.”
“No, Dad.” He shook his head a second time. “I found her. I have to help her.”
It was long standing custom—the one who caught the scent of the prey led the kill. But it wasn’t so much the kill he wanted, not yet. It was the need to protect.
Behind him, he heard his father’s quiet sigh, sensed his frustration. He had to do this, though…she needed him.
She could hear him behind her.
She had his blood on her hands and it felt like it was burning her. She hurt inside—her legs pulled with every step and running was agony.
Kennedy tripped, falling down. Rocks tore into her knees, cutting her flesh. She cried out and then clamped her hand over her mouth.
No, he couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t catch her.
If he did…Oh, God…she prayed silently.
With every muscle in her body screaming, she shoved herself to her feet. A desperate energy flooded her and she took off running once more.
Kennedy didn’t know where she was—she’d been running for so long and it was so damned dark. But she couldn’t stop.
“Found you, bitch!”
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him. Her stepfather’s face was smeared with blood, and the ugly gash on the left side of his face had dried over.
Part of her wished she still had the poker she had hit him with. Should have brought it with me…
“Little bitch, you’re going to pay for that,” he said, his voice cold and angry. He didn’t even sound winded—
With a sob, she forced her legs to move faster, run harder.
And when his hand closed around the back of her neck, she screamed.
Seconds later, she was on the ground, her face pressed into the dirt. He still had his hand on the back of her neck and she could hardly breathe. Her hands tore and dug into the earth as she tried to get away from him.
He laughed. “You’re not getting away again, Kennedy,” he said as he levered himself over her.
Against the naked curve of her rump, she could feel him as he wedged himself against her.
No…not again!
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block it out.
Block it all out.
None of this had happened—she hadn’t gone home yet, he hadn’t grabbed her…she was out with friends and they were laughing…
Laughing…
Screaming…
His hands fell away and he swore softly. Freed, she shoved her body upright and tried to crawl away. Her limbs didn’t want to work, but she dragged herself a few feet away.
Just as she fell against the trunk of a tree, she heard it again.
That scream…it wasn’t human.
It was a deep, terrifying scream, unlike anything she’d ever heard before.
“She saw us.”
Duncan sat on the ground, the girl’s head pillowed on his lap as he stroked her tangled hair back from her battered face.
Glancing up at his father, he said, “She saw cats, Dad. That’s all.”
Big cats. But they weren’t cougars. Duncan and the others were much, much bigger than a cougar. But they had been seen once or twice before and they looked like cougars.
His voice was hoarse and ragged as he whispered, “He raped her, Dad.”
They knew the man. Knew he had a violent streak in him. They watched him, but other than bar room brawls, there hadn’t been much trouble with the bastard.
Until now.
Zane Matthews spoke up, his voice harsh and angry as he looked at Kennedy. “Where do you think her mom is?”
“Where she usually is,” Ryan said bleakly. “Out screwing around. Masters here finally snapped, I guess.”
<
br /> Kelly and Jack Masters had been married for close to ten years, but that hadn’t stopped Kelly from screwing any man she could get close to. Hell, Duncan was nearly twenty years younger than her and she hadn’t been at all subtle when she’d tried to come on to him last year.
She stank of other men, cigarette smoke, whiskey, and easy sex. Even the thought of touching her had turned his stomach.
Now he wished he had, though. Touched her and torn her apart. He knew, as well as he knew his own name, that Kelly Masters was part of the reason her daughter lay half naked on the wooded hillside of Pride Mountain.
Jack Masters had lost it, all right. And his stepdaughter had paid for it. Adopted daughter…he thought absently. Jack had adopted Kennedy years ago.
She looked so fragile—rage burned low in his belly as he recalled just how small she had looked, curled on the ground as Jack pushed himself to his feet, dragging his jeans back up as he faced Duncan down.
“If you want a piece of the little whore, go ahead,” Jack had said, his voice wary. Jack’s eyes had been glowing, a sure sign of anger and fear. The glow had only increased as Duncan moved closer.
“You’re dead, Masters,” Duncan had told him quietly.
And he was.
Duncan had killed him. He could still feel the blood on his claws…hands. His hands…he had Changed back to his human form just before he’d ripped Jack’s heart from his body. Jack had shifted to his own preferred form, one that was half man, half wolf. He’d known he was fighting for his life and he’d fought hard.
But Duncan couldn’t feel anything from the various bruises, bites, and claw marks on his body. They didn’t matter.
None of it mattered.
“We need to get her into town…before she wakes up,” Zane said quietly as he padded back into the clearing.
“Masters?” Ryan asked.
Zane said, “Hidden for now. We’ll burn him later. But for now…”
Ryan nodded, hunkering down in front of Duncan. “You need to let me have her, son. She needs to get to the hospital.”
Duncan cradled her protectively against his chest. “I’ll do it.”
Ryan shook his head. “Look at yourself, boy. You’re torn up and bleeding all over. We’re going to have enough questions—we can’t risk anybody seeing you until you’ve healed up.”
And that would take a few more hours. Dropping his eyes, he studied her battered face. “What’s going to happen to her?”
With a sigh, Ryan said, “I don’t know. But he can’t touch her again. And for now, that’s enough.”
Chapter One
“Little whore—just like your mama.”
It was a dream. Kennedy knew that.
But she couldn’t push it aside. Couldn’t wake up.
In the dream, she was fourteen, rooting through her closet for something to wear to the party.
Jack came in—she smelled the liquor on him even before she heard him.
Little whore…
He stared at Kennedy as she stood there wearing just the bright red button down.
She’d been scared. She had called out for her mother, but it as pointless. She knew that even before Jack told her in a slurred voice, “She ain’t here—out fucking anybody she can find.”
Her mother. Yeah, Kennedy knew what her mother was. She pretended otherwise, but she knew. Hard not to when the woman would come home drunk, her clothes messed up, makeup all smeared.
“You think you’re going to go out and leave me here, too?” Jack stared at her, his eyes on her bare legs, and Kennedy circled away from him, grabbing the jeans on her bed.
He laughed. And then he reached for her.
She ran, but she only made it to the living room before he caught her. Toyed with her.
Things turned into a blurry, pain-filled haze and in her sleep, Kendall sobbed.
His weight was suffocating her and when he finally moved away, for a moment, she couldn’t do anything but suck air into desperate lungs. You just stay right there, little cunt. I’m not done with you…
No. Kendall shook her head silently, watching him as he turned to grab the beer bottle from the coffee table. Scuttling back on her hands and knees, she moved away. When she came up against the wall, she pushed herself to her feet, trying to convince herself to run.
But she hurt…
“Didn’t I tell you to stay there? Little bitch—your mama might not listen to me… yet…but you are going to. Get back where you were.”
Kennedy shook her head, folding her arms around her middle and staring at him. Jack moved towards her and she snapped. The poker was in her hand before she realized it and she swung at him like she was going for a homerun in softball practice.
He fell to the floor like a stone and she dropped the poker.
And ran. Out the back yard and over the small creek that separated their land from the sprawling forest. Into the woods, heading away from town—into the hills. Pride Mountain—even though it was really nothing more than a big hill, it had been called Pride Mountain for as long as anybody could remember.
She’d run. Just keep running. That was all that mattered.
But he caught her. Dirt and leaves choked her as he pressed her into the ground. “You’re going to pay for that…”
She knew. He’d rape her again, maybe even kill her. She wanted to scream, tried to, but with her face pressed into the dirt, she didn’t have the breath.
But something did…something screamed.
The last thing she could remember clearly was a cat. Not a fuzzy little house cat, either. But a huge, golden cat that looked like something from National Geographic.
And a monster—one with Jack Masters’s cruel, cold eyes.
She woke up with a start. Tears were drying on her face and the pillow was damp. Kennedy shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around her.
“Just a dream,” she told herself.
But it wasn’t. It had been more than that.
It had actually happened.
Fifteen years ago, her stepfather had raped her. She’d run away and he’d followed her. What had happened then, she didn’t know. But Jack Masters was never seen again.
She suspected a lot of people thought she might have killed him and blocked it from her mind. Hell, her own mother had screamed it at her. “You killed him—little whore…you always wanted what was mine.”
Kelly had screamed that at the hospital two days after it had happened. Most of what had happened was a blur. Kennedy remembered the rape with brutal clarity. Remembered running. Falling. Him on top of her—but he didn’t rape her again.
There had been something there…
Something had saved her.
Images of big cats haunted her dreams.
She was taken out of her mother’s custody even before the doctors let her leave the hospital. Lisa and Cole Franklin had taken her—nice people, her foster parents. They’d done everything they could for her.
Kennedy had spent the next eight years in their house. They’d gotten her into counseling—and Kennedy knew it had probably helped. They’d kept her mother away from her.
And…they had left her their house.
The childless couple had been killed in a car wreck just three weeks ago. Kennedy still couldn’t believe they were gone.
The kind people who had paid her way through college, who had bought her a car when she turned sixteen—the people who had loved her were gone.
Closing her eyes, she swallowed back the tears as she reached up and touched the string of pearls around her neck. They’d given the necklace to her when she graduated college. There was a matching pair of earrings that had been a present when she graduated high school.
They’d given her so much—and now they were gone.
The Franklins had been the only thing that had brought her back to the small Michigan town where she’d grown up. After graduating from college, Kennedy had found a job as a social worker in Detroit, helping kids get away before th
ey could be hurt like she’d been.
It had been more therapy.
Until the last case.
Marisa Armstrong had been raped, just like Kennedy had been, by her stepfather. Mama had been too busy partying to care. Even when Marisa had hung herself, the bitch had been more worried about her own life and how badly this messed up her fun.
Kennedy hadn’t been able to save Marisa.
And that had broken her.
She had been thinking about quitting—Kennedy couldn’t take any more, she knew it.
But then the Franklins had died.
They’d died—and they had left everything to her. They’d left her the house and the small bookstore. But Kennedy would rather have them than all the houses and bookstores in the world.
No way to trade, though. They were gone and Kennedy owned the house and the small bookstore.
At least for a while.
As much as Kennedy had loved her foster parents, as much as she missed them, she didn’t know if she could stay in Pride, Michigan.
With a sigh, she sat up, gazing around her old room with bleak eyes.
It hadn’t changed.
The pale blue walls, the lace eyelet curtains, the pictures of old school friends, and brightly colored posters. On the dresser there was a framed picture of her with Lisa and Cole the day she’d graduated from high school.
Even though she couldn’t see it well in the early morning light, she knew how it looked.
How she had looked. Almost happy.
Kennedy forced herself to climb from the bed and move across the room into the bathroom. She turned on the shower spray, knowing it would take a few minutes to heat up and in the meantime, she left to gather some clothes from the suitcase she had yet to unpack.
Five minutes later, she was under the hot pulsating spray, trying desperately not think.
If she could avoid thinking, maybe she could avoid remembering.
The time would come when she would have to think—Kennedy knew that.
She’d come back to Pride for a reason.
Not for her mother, and not to try to accept what the woman had let happen to her only daughter. She’d accepted that.
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