Bite of the Moon: Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance Boxed Set

by Michelle Fox

  His reaction to Andi shocked him because at his age, he’d thought he’d made peace with his unmated status, but apparently, that wasn’t the case. With all his heart, he hoped the damn Bluebell Motor Lodge sale would go through and that she’d spend a good portion of the coming months on his mountain. They could get to know each other, and with strict self-restraint to avoid another bite, he might even risk taking her to his bed. God, how much would he love that? If he could maintain his patience and things went as well as he hoped, maybe in a few months’ time, he’d share his secret and let her know exactly what the deal was.

  Climbing into the truck, he turned the engine over. The truck rolled slowly downhill. The afternoon sun beyond the dusty windshield made him squint. Daytime remained bearable, but the night intensified his longing for Andi. He’d spend the evening wanting her and moping around the cabin in a grouchy mood. He’d not even trusted himself to contact her in any way, not even an e-mail, and he still had eighteen nerve-shredding days ahead until they were in the clear. The moment the next bear-claw moon rose in the sky, he needed to see her, and he’d considered the possibility of surprising her on her own turf. He was confident that if he really put his mind to it, he’d think of a plausible excuse to visit her in L.A.

  When he reached the ranger station, he thought it looked extra lonely. Then he saw the silver town car parked near his greenhouse and hoped it belonged to some tourists who’d stopped to ask directions. Somehow, he guessed that wasn’t the case. His heart and mind flew into panic mode at the same instant. He opened the door and leaped from the truck so fast, his boots hit the ground before it rolled to a complete stop. “Andi?” he shouted.

  No answer.

  He ran over to the sedan and peered through the windows. The neat interior betrayed no clues to the identity of its driver. Placing his hand on the hood, he noted the sun had warmed the metal but the engine beneath had cooled. Hours might have passed. He wondered if she could be waiting on the front porch. Taking long strides toward the cabin, he couldn’t reach the front door fast enough. Turning the corner, he saw no one there, but a larger piece of paper had been pinned next to the note he’d left for Warren.

  Snatching the clothespin away, he unfolded the note. A faint whiff of vanilla perfume covered the paper, along with the enticing hint of female bear in season. Holding the paper to his nose, he inhaled the enthralling scent.

  Matters had progressed. The scent of she-bear was many times stronger than it had been the night she’d spent with him. His hands trembled as he read and reread the note, trying to grasp the message. She’d been here earlier today. He glanced west. She was on foot heading toward the portal trail.

  Holy fuck, why had she done this? He doubted she’d be prepared for how demanding the trail could be. At this time, there was no way in hell he could be anywhere near her and not behave like a randy bull bear. A disaster of epic proportions brewed, and to make it all worse, he knew the scent of she-bear heat on her skin might attract the attention of an actual male bear. Just last autumn, two bulls had been tagged in the area. Poor Andi—precarious situations awaited her at every turn, and she had no idea.

  He retrieved the box of treats from the greenhouse. Hurrying inside the cabin, he threw a few essentials into a pack he’d modified to be worn on his back or carried in his mouth when in bear form. The rubberized padding on the pack’s straps made it possible to have clothing, food, and keys handy for those times he planned to travel as both a man and a bear.

  Andi likely had a head start of many hours. In a cloud of anxiety, he locked the cabin and set off, confident his long legs and better conditioning would help him overtake her before sundown. The journey started at a brisk pace, almost a jog. Could Andi hike this fast over steep terrain? He doubted it and smugly reasoned that at his current blistering pace, he’d catch up to her in no time.

  When he reached the highway, he raced past the turnout on his way to the trailhead. The sugary scent of sun-warmed honeycomb brought him to a halt. He sniffed the air, salivating. Where did the honey come from? There had not been a bees’ nest near the turnout when he’d passed this way yesterday.

  Following his nose, he headed toward the ravine. There were still scars dug into the ground where the heavy crane had been braced against the boulders to retrieve Andi’s wrecked SUV. Glancing over the side of the road, he saw a line of bear-shaped cookies set like sentinels around a boulder. A smoky scent greeted his nose as well. He climbed over the edge to investigate. His boots landed on a flat-topped rock. There he saw the group of offerings. He leaned closer to inspect a marching line of bears and saw wedged between the rocks a stack of dried meat set beside a box of glossy honeycomb. It looked delicious and he almost snatched it from its hiding place. The entire area had Andi’s distinctive scent all over it. She’d left gifts for the bear. Her affectionate gesture filled him with so much hope he wanted to shout for joy. Instead, he reverently broke a gingerbread bear in half and tucked the souvenir into his pocket.

  Then the envelopes gained his attention. They were pale rice paper bundled together with jute. With care, he slid a single envelope from the stack and opened it. The handwriting was neat and feminine. Andi had beautiful penmanship. He scanned the page, at first confused by the content, but soon realized he was reading poetry directed at the bear. His gaze skimmed the lines that read like an abstract confession of lust and fear.

  Conflicted, he froze. He had not been invited to read this personal glimpse into Andi’s thoughts, but he was grateful to know how she felt. Then an irrational touch of jealousy welled. She’d presented him with a bottle of good scotch and some pasta, which he loved, but she’d offered the bear her heart and soul. There were at least six envelopes in the stack. With misplaced envy bedeviling him, he reached for the poems, planning to open each envelope and read them all.

  “No.” He didn’t feel good about snooping behind her back, and returned the envelopes to their sheltered niche. These were private sentiments between Andi and his bear. If she had something similar to say to him, he hoped she’d say it to his face, preferably while pressed against him and gazing into his eyes.

  Rising, he stepped away from the spot made sacred by Andi’s loving presence. The ultimate prize awaited him farther up the trail. With evening coming, he couldn’t leave her on the mountain alone.

  He climbed back onto the road and walked a quarter mile to the portal trail, which wound in zigzagging switchbacks toward the summit. The path was shaded by pines and clearly marked. Any hiker of moderate skill could make good time. A light drizzle the night before had left the clay path impressionable. A far daintier pair of boots than his had pressed a distinct hearts, clubs, and diamonds pattern into the damp ground.

  Every now and then, he caught a faint whiff of her. Sometimes it was a mere hint of scent left on a branch she had brushed against, or on a patch of wild flowers she’d stopped to admire. He imagined what the trail must look like through her eyes. Was she enjoying the cloudless vistas, or wondering if she’d taken on more than she could handle? He had no idea. More relevant, when he caught up to her, would she be happy to see him or peeved at his intrusion? The farther he walked, the more apprehensive he got.

  The trail grew steeper and made a sharp turn. On the west face, Mac had a clear view ahead. Moving fast and breathing hard, he gazed across a rugged gorge and miles of twisting trail. Andi remained nowhere in sight. He’d expected to see her immediately. Where was she? His keen gaze scanned the landscape. Thankfully, there were no bodies in plain sight, nor were there shrieking ravens circling above. He worried that by now she would be nearing exhaustion and barely trudging.

  Then a speck of red on the distant horizon caught his eye. He paused to remove his binoculars from the top pocket of the pack. Squinting, he honed in on the moving object. On a sun-drenched slope on the farthest edge of the western face, he saw her. He was shocked to see how far she had traveled. She marched at a brisk clip, back straight, chin held high, and would soon be ne
aring the north face switchback where she would move beyond view.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He slipped the binoculars back into the pack, zipped it, and broke into a sprint. “I’m going to keep my eyes on you.” Grunting like an angry bear, he sped along the trail, but soon had to admit he was tiring. Andi had made good progress by anyone’s standards. It both impressed and worried him. Now faster and stronger, she’d gone she-bear on him. The closer he got, the weaker his willpower would get. He raced toward personal folly, and he’d doomed Andi. He’d been snared in the ultimate no-win situation.

  If he maintained a runners’ pace, Mac might catch up to Andi within an hour. His lungs ached just thinking about it. Then again, Andi might stop to make camp. He prayed she would. It would give him a chance to ease up and get himself under control so he didn’t race up on her at nightfall, panting like a wild man.

  Putting one boot in front of the other, he pounded along at a steady gait. As the trail got even steeper, he slowed. Andi disappeared from view around a bend. The sun skimmed the ridgeline. The sky turned peach, and purple shadows were cast over the trail. He didn’t have time to stop and fully appreciate the panoramic beauty of a spring sunset on the Sierras. Choosing each step with care, he plodded forward.

  Then, in a soft patch of dirt on the side of the trail, he saw them. Bear prints, big ones belonging to a bull. “Goddamn!”

  The animal had clawed the ground to hoist its great bulk up the steep side of the canyon and traversed the trail at several points. The heavy scent of male musk hung in the air. Following the prints, he saw the bear had chosen to climb back down the canyon wall and take a shortcut along the western slope.

  Obviously, the bear had caught Andi’s scent and now tracked her.

  Mac braced for a disastrous game of beat-the-clock against another male bear. “Andi!” He burst into a sprint. All exhaustion fled as his heart jackhammered inside his ribs. “Andi!” He shouted her name even though he knew there was no way in hell his voice could carry the length of the gorge. At that moment, he hated himself for biting her and putting her in such danger. He’d been foolish to believe the she-bear in her would stay put in the city. He should have guessed she’d want to roam in the wild.

  Halfway to the goal, his stamina faded. Slowing, he wished he could take a short break. Just below the trail, he heard a loud snort. He glanced over the edge to the canyon below. Upwind of him, a large black bear ambled across a debris field of slate and shrubbery. The bear paused to sniff the air and then climbed the grade and scrambled back onto the trail. For a moment, the bear looked his way and stared, as if it were assessing the competition. Perhaps sensing a threat, the bear turned its back to him and broke into a lope, headed in Andi’s direction.

  “You bastard!” He took off running. The race was on. The bear disappeared around the bend.

  Chapter Six

  Andi arrived on the north face, took one look at the jagged, bald peak above, and called it a day. Here, the trail had widened just enough to lay down a sleeping bag. Even better, as the guidebook had promised, an icy waterfall of freshly melted snow trickled over the rocks. This would be a good place to make camp.

  She slipped the pack from her aching shoulders and stretched. Surprised she had done so well today, she sighed with relief. Even Mr. CrossFit would have been impressed. The obsessive stair climbing she’d been doing daily had really paid off. After the longest hike of her life, miraculously she wasn’t sore; though she suspected that could change by morning. Overall, she was proud. She’d pushed beyond her comfort zone, done something new, and it felt great. The view of the world from atop the Sierras at sunset thrilled her.

  Too bad Mac wasn’t with her to make the moment over-the-top fabulous.

  The temperature dropped. She unzipped her pack, grabbed a second polar-fleece hoodie, and slipped it over her head. Then she took out her water bottle with the built-in filter and patiently filled it at the waterfall. Priming the pump, she gave the plunger several energetic strokes. The water in the drinking container appeared crystal clear, but the filter guaranteed any unfriendly bugs wouldn’t be invited to the party in her lower GI tract.

  Flipping the top of the bottle open, she brought it to her lips and took a long drink. The water was so cold it gave her a brain freeze, but so delicious after her challenging afternoon march that she luxuriated in the feeling.

  Her stomach grumbled. She set her rolled sleeping bag on the ground and used it as a seat as she dug through the pack for the double-sealed food sack. Once it was located, she unzipped it and pulled out carefully rationed bags of shelled nuts, dried fruit, her favorite tiny round cheeses dipped in red wax, and, the star of the show, bacon jerky. She grabbed a piece of jerky first. The smoky flavor made her mouth water. Untrue to its name, this jerky wasn’t dry. The texture was soft, chewy, salty, and sweet at the same moment, and so rich it melted in her mouth.

  “When I buy the Bluebell Motor Lodge, I’m going to put this in every welcome basket in every room.” As she chewed, she dreamed of quitting Five-Star and going independent. “I could do this. I could live like this.” She laughed at her mumblings. “Listen to that rant! What the hell has gotten into me?”

  After finishing the jerky, she unzipped the wax jacket from a mini round of cheese. The gouda was creamy and had a slight bite to it. The snacks hit the spot. She checked to see that the Belgian chocolate bar she’d stashed in the pack had not melted; it hadn’t.

  The sky turned a brilliant shade of ruby and bathed all the mountain ridges beneath with hot pink. Her mother came to mind. The breathtaking moment was so beautiful she stared, with warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She gave into a hard cry, complete with wet gurgling sounds. It occurred to her this was what her mother had always wished to share with her—nature, the splendor of the mountains, a drink of pure water—but she’d been too disinterested or busy striving to get her career established to ever make the outdoors her thing. She’d been such a fool.

  Situations changed. It wasn’t too late. Digging to the bottom of the pack, she retrieved a small box that contained a portion of her mother’s ashes. Looking into the scarlet sunset, she knew the perfect moment had arrived.

  She stood and walked to the edge of the chasm. Opening the lid, she shook the ashes into the air. They shifted on the breeze like a foggy veil before sinking. “I love you, Mom. You’ll always be with me. Especially today.”

  A grunt caught her attention. She turned. A bear lumbered along the path, headed toward her pack. With its head raised, the creature sniffed the air. It snorted as drool poured from its mouth.

  She froze in overwhelmed awe. “Oh, God,” she muttered. “What do I do?” Standing on the widest part of the trail, at no point did she have more than five yards between a chasm and a cliff. Short of outrunning a bear, which she doubted she could do, she was trapped. With her pulse pounding, she slowly backed against an outcropping.

  The bear ignored her and stuck its head inside her pack to root around. It gobbled food, plastic bags and all.

  With great restraint, she stopped herself from shouting at the bear, and instead allowed it to plunder her pack. Folding her arms across her chest to make herself look small, she remained still. Could this be her bear, the one that had saved her? Perhaps she had nothing to fear. As majestic as this creature was, she remembered “her” bear as being bigger, browner, and far more dignified, almost human in its behavior. This bear made slurping sounds as it shamelessly chowed down on her trail mix. Grunting, it tore into a foil packet.

  “Not the bacon jerky!” She had finally reached her limit. “Leave me something.”

  Snarling, the bear turned on her with rubbery lips drawn and fangs bared. The bloodcurdling sight made her quail.

  It took hold of her pack, shook it hard, and then flung the pack into the chasm.

  “No!” she screamed as the pack arced high into the air and then plummeted from view. Everything she needed to survive the night disappeared over the edge. “Why?”
Despair washed over her.

  The bear focused its attention on her. Its nostrils dilated and sniffed in her direction. Something about the intense gleam in its eyes added to her worries that the bear’s interest wasn’t only in the contents of her pack. In a display of dominance, it reared onto its hind legs and released an ominous bellow. When its front paws smacked the dirt, it charged toward her with the explosive power of a speeding freight train.

  “Oh, shit!” She stumbled a few faltering steps then ran, but trying to outrun a bear was like racing a lightning bolt. In several bounds, the creature caught up with her and pawed her ankles. She tripped and hit the ground hard. In an instant, the bear stooped over her with its moist breath bathing her face. Drawing her limbs close, she curled into a ball.

  With a clumsy step, the bear straddled her and snuffled its wet muzzle against her clothing. Locked between its forepaws, she whimpered and waited for the worst to happen. She tried to mutter a prayer, but instead, ended up holding her breath.

  A booming growl warned her that a second bear had joined the first. It loped around the bend and paused to survey the scene.

  Numb with terror, she noticed this bear was the size of a grizzly, shaggier than the black bear, with a broader head. Fiery menace glowed in its eyes. It snarled at the sleeker black bear, showing curved canines and switchblade-length claws.

  The thought of being torn to ribbons between two warring bears made her gut lurch. She rolled out of the way to avoid being crushed by the quarreling giants.

  Standing on its hind legs, the grizzly roared so loudly the canyon rang.

  With a submissive whimper, the black bear stepped away from her with its muzzle lowered and its ears flattened against its skull.