by Amy Green
Deep inside, his wolf howled.
It was going to be a long three weeks.
6
“I’d like to start work first thing tomorrow,” Anna said as they walked down Howell Street. She was wearing her coat and hat against the cold, her cheeks red. She’d apparently decided to ignore the fact that they’d almost jumped each other ten minutes ago. “I hope that’s okay.”
“What kind of work?” Ian asked.
“It starts with an interview. Basically, a lot of questions.”
He shrugged, still trying to make his pulse calm down. “Okay.”
“Can I use part of the living room as a work space?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” He could hear a rising tide of excitement in her voice. “This is really an amazing research opportunity for me. I know it’s routine for you, but not many humans have the chance that I have.”
They were at the door of the sandwich place, and he looked down at her as he pressed it open. “As I recall, I didn’t have much choice.”
She smiled sweetly up at him. “I’m persuasive.”
“You think?” he said.
The sandwich shop was practically dead at this time of night, long past the dinner hour and twenty minutes to closing time, but the owners were happy to see Ian. Ian put his hands in his coat pockets and waited as Anna ordered dinner, then he accompanied her to a table and sat across from her. He was still full from the three rabbits he’d eaten on his wolf run. He didn’t usually eat so much in one run, but his wolf had been so happy to be free after a year locked up that he hadn’t been able to help it.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked when she was a few bites in to her meal.
“Sure.”
She sat back in her chair. “Earlier today, when you shifted.”
Ian scratched his chin, remembering how he’d teased her. “You mean when you saw me bare-ass naked,” he said. “Sorry about that. I should have warned you. I told you I was in a mood.”
Anna’s mouth opened for a second, and her cheeks went red again. “It’s, um, fine.” She waved a hand. “No big deal.”
“Right,” he said. “Sure.”
“What I wanted to ask was about the fact that you let me see it.” She paused, then went even redder as she realized how dirty that sounded. Ian repressed a smile. “The shift, I mean. You let me see you shift. Isn’t that… a private thing? That’s what my research books say.”
Her books were right. It was something he’d never shown to anyone, ever. Not a woman, not his shithead brothers, not even his own mother. No one had ever seen him shift into his wolf.
“Yeah,” he said. “That isn’t a thing we show anyone. Especially humans.”
“Then why did you show me?”
How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He really didn’t know. The fact was, in that moment he’d been following his wolf, and his wolf had told him to do it. After a year of captivity, the second his feet had hit the snow his wolf had come roaring up his spine, desperate to be free. And his wolf had wanted Anna to see.
“Did you like it?” he asked her, deflecting the question.
“It was incredible,” she said, and then she stopped, as if surprised the words had come out of her mouth. She slowed and spoke more thoughtfully. “I appreciated it. As part of my research, of course.”
“Of course.”
Anna opened her mouth to say something more, but they were interrupted by the chair next to Ian’s being pulled back and a man dropping himself into it. He was lanky, with a short beard, long blond hair pulled back into a messy man bun, and gray eyes. “Donovan the big dog,” he said. “Welcome back. I thought you had six more months.”
Ian turned to the newcomer: Wesley Carter, wolf shifter, member of the Donovan pack, though not a family member. “You keeping tabs on me?” Ian asked him.
Wesley laughed. “Man, everyone in this town is keeping tabs on you. You and your brothers. Who is this? Hi there, honey.” He eyed Anna, his gaze interested, but he quickly caught the scent of Ian’s shirt on her and lowered his eyes.
“This is Anna,” Ian said. “She’s with me.”
Wesley shrugged, looking away. “Sure, man, sure.”
Ian looked at Anna. “Anna, this is Wesley, a member of the pack.”
Anna was watching Wesley, her blue eyes missing nothing. Ian saw the exact second she figured out that Wesley’s reaction had to do with his shirt. She blinked, surprised.
“What do you say, Wes?” Ian asked, turning back to the other wolf. Wesley had been very low-level during Charlie’s reign as alpha, but since Ian had no idea who had status in the pack since Charlie’s death, he played it cool.
“I just thought you’d like to know what’s going on,” Wesley said, “seeing as how you’ve been away and all.”
Ian nodded. “Go ahead.”
So Wes started talking. Charlie’s death, it seemed, had left the pack pretty much in chaos. There had been fights for dominance among the higher-ranked members, though the fights hadn’t led to anything but violence and a few deaths. None of the brothers had been in town the day of their father’s death; they tended to come and go, sometimes on pack business, sometimes on their own business when they were on the outs with Charlie. But they were all back now, and no one was leaving. It was a sort of silent standoff, and everyone was nervous.
“No one has taken over as alpha?” Ian asked. Anna was quiet, eating her dinner and listening.
“Nope. Some thought that Heath would do it, but he’s too busy fucking.” Wes looked at Anna, embarrassed. “Oops, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Anna said.
Wes turned back to Ian. “You know what I mean. Heath can’t keep the women off him, and he doesn’t try. He’s distracted.”
Ian nodded. He knew. Heath was an asshole, but he was a good-looking asshole, and he slept with just about anything on two legs. “What about Devon?”
Wes explained that some of the more serious pack members, who thought Heath too lightweight to lead, had gravitated toward Devon. Devon was a warrior, big and serious, always ready for a fight, and he didn’t sleep around like Heath did. He didn’t have any women at all. Heath and Devon had butted heads once or twice, but they hadn’t fought or killed each other yet.
Ian glanced at Anna. She had finished her sandwich and was listening, her face going pale. Both Heath and Devon had tried to kill him, and he knew she was remembering that. “And what about Brody?” Ian asked, naming his last brother. “Where is he?”
Brody was in town, too. Except Brody was holed up in his cabin on the outskirts of Shifter Falls, trying to get Heath and Devon to meet so they wouldn’t try to kill each other. It wasn’t working.
Ian scrubbed his hands over his face. What a mess. “And you?” he asked Wesley. “Who are you loyal to?”
Wesley spread his hands. “Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Great,” Ian said. “When Devon comes to rip my throat out, I’ll have an army of one.”
“He’s not gonna do that,” Wes said. “Everyone knows he’s tried it and failed. Heath, too. Everyone knows you’re badass. I have to warn you, though, that John Marcus hasn’t left the Falls since Charlie died. And he’s keeping a close watch on all of you brothers.”
Hell. John Marcus had been Charlie’s top henchman, a tough, leathery biker wolf who loved blood—any kind of blood, including that of his fellow wolves. “I have nothing to do with John Marcus,” Ian said.
“Well, he’s sure as hell interested in you. And with Charlie gone, he brought his son Ronnie back into the pack.”
“Ronnie Marcus?” Ian scratched his beard. “Wasn’t he banned for killing another wolf?”
“By Charlie, yes. But Charlie’s dead now. And Marcus is doing whatever he wants.”
Ian had been prepared to deal with his brothers, but dealing with John Marcus and his murdering son made it worse. He glanced at Anna, glad he’d convinced her to put his shirt on. He’d have to g
ive her a weapon, too, just in case. It was rumored that Ronnie Marcus liked human women, even the ones who didn’t like him. “Okay, thanks for the warning,” he said to Wes. “I appreciate it.”
Wes nodded. “It’s crazy times right now, man. Dangerous to go out at night. The bears have been out of control—there aren’t many of them, but they’re big fuckers, and it turns out Charlie was keeping them under some kind of law and order. Now the bears just go bearshit whenever they want, especially when they’re drinking.”
“Chief Oliver doesn’t stop it?” Ian asked. Will Oliver was Shifter Falls’ police chief, a human man who had had the job forever.
“No way,” Wes said. “Chief Oliver was in Charlie’s pocket. Have you ever seen him do a damned thing?”
“No,” Ian had to admit. “I haven’t.”
Anna had been listening, but now she pushed back her chair and stood, walking slowly toward the front window of the sandwich shop, distracted by something. The few other people in the shop went quiet. Ian realized he could hear a noise from outside. A crashing sound.
“Anna?” Ian stood.
“What is…” Her voice was strained, quiet. “What is that sound?”
Ian could hear it. Another crash, coming from down the street. A splintering of wood. The groan of metal bending.
And then, a deafening roar.
He ran to the window, looking past her shoulder and down the street. From this angle, in the dark beneath the half-broken streetlights, he could see a massive shadow against the buildings across the street. And then a second one.
“Oh, fucking hell,” he said as another roar sounded and the guy behind the sandwich counter ducked for cover.
“Shit,” Wes said, standing at Ian’s other shoulder. “I told you, man. The bears. The bears should never drink.”
“What does that mean?” Anna asked, her voice trembling.
The shadows moved across the street, and with a shower of breaking glass, a car alarm went off, shrieking into the night.
“Fucking hell,” Ian said again. “It means we have a bear fight.”
7
“A bear fight?”
Anna couldn’t quite believe those words had come out of her mouth. But with the roaring coming closer down the street, it was hard to disbelieve.
The few people in the sandwich shop ran down the corridor to the shop’s back door.
She turned to see Wes looking nervous. “This is bad news,” he said. He glanced at Ian. “It sounds like a big one. You think we can do something?”
Ian ran a hand through his dark, soft hair. “Fuck,” he said. He turned and looked at Anna, his green eyes serious. “Just stay back,” he said. “Don’t come too close.” He walked to the shop’s front door and pushed it open, making the bell chime.
A blast of cold air came into the shop, followed by the sound of another crunch of breaking glass. Anna followed Ian’s broad back out onto the street, where the few people out at this hour were quickly running for cover.
Standing in the middle of the street, shaking its huge, furry head, was a grizzly bear. Its teeth were bared, its thick fur matted with blood and dirt. It lurched unsteadily, lowering its head and growling at its opponent—a second bear, even bigger, dark black. Behind the black grizzly, a parked car was overturned, its alarm blaring. The plate glass windows on the shops on either side of the street were shattered.
The bears lunged toward each other, wobbling, growling. The smaller bear reared on his hind legs and swiped with his huge paws, barely missing his enemy’s eyes. The larger bear roared in anger and rose to his own hind feet, slashing back.
Ian barely paused as he strode toward the grizzlies. He was wearing his navy wool pea coat, a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots. He was a big man, one of the biggest men Anna had ever seen, but as he got near the bears they dwarfed him. Still, he didn’t waver, his stride sure, his shoulders set.
Oh, my God, Anna thought, stumbling in her tracks. He’s going to get himself killed.
An arm touched her elbow, and she turned to see Wes pulling her to a stop. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Just watch.” The nervousness had left his expression, and now he watched Ian with admiration in his eyes, following his progress down the street.
“Hey,” Ian shouted at the bears. “Hey, you. Yes, you.”
The smaller bear stopped, turned at his voice, tripped on its wobbly legs, and fell on its ass, growling at Ian.
“It really is drunk,” Anna said.
“Yeah,” Wes answered her. “It takes a lot of alcohol to get a bear that drunk.”
The larger bear dropped to its front paws and lunged forward, seeing its opponent tripping to the ground. It bared its teeth and roared.
But Ian, incredibly, didn’t break stride. Ignoring the huge bear, he stepped to the smaller bear and grabbed its snout, hooking an arm over it. The bear shook its head, irritated, but didn’t shake him off.
Still holding the first bear, Ian turned to face the second bear. “Are you done?” he said.
The big, black grizzly paused. Its nostrils flared, and its bleary eyes—drunk, of course—stared at Ian for a long minute. Then it lowered its head, dropping its nose almost to the ground.
“What’s it doing?” Anna asked Wes.
“It recognizes him,” Wes explained. “Sight and smell. It took him a minute, but now he knows.”
“That bear knows who Ian is?”
“He’s not always a bear,” Wes reminded her. “And yes. Don’t you know who Ian is?”
“He’s the son of the last alpha,” Anna said, watching as Ian, his arm still over the first bear’s snout, said something to the larger bear. She couldn’t hear the words, but the bear drooped its head even lower.
“He’s Ian Donovan,” Wes said. “The Donovans are royalty here. Leaders. They’ve run this place for three hundred years. It doesn’t matter what Ian did, or that he was in jail. He and his brothers are the last of his bloodline—the only four Donovans left. So yeah, the bear knows who he is. No one disobeys a Donovan. He’s the big dog. It just isn’t done.”
“You guys have wrecked a bunch of shit,” Ian said, finally letting the first bear go. “Go sleep it off, both of you, and come see me in the morning.”
Both grizzlies obediently turned and walked away, their huge paws slapping the ground, the thick muscles moving beneath their matted fur. They ambled off in opposite directions, presumably to shift back into humans in private, and then go home to bed. Ian shoved his hands in his coat pockets, watching them go.
Royalty, Anna thought, watching Ian’s huge frame in silhouette, his ready fighter’s stance. A leader. She was starting to understand why he’d insisted she wear his shirt. It had seemed a crazy gesture at the time, not to mention egotistical. And sexy, but she didn’t want to think about that. Now she realized it could save her life.
This was Shifter Falls, after all. This wasn’t the human world. It wasn’t even close. And in this world, instead of being a lowly shifter, Ian had the blood of the leader.
As the bears disappeared in the distance, Anna started to understand.
8
Anna woke early. The day outside her window was crisp and cold, the snow that had come yesterday finished, a thin, dry layer of white on the ground. She rolled over in bed, remembering where she was, and what had happened yesterday. Remembering the man who was somewhere outside her bedroom door.
She looked down at herself. She was still wearing Ian’s shirt—it was big enough to wear as a nightshirt, ending halfway down her thighs. It was soft and worn, and though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to his face, it smelled like him. Even to her human senses, she could tell it was his. She liked it.
She couldn’t afford to think that way, though. She was here for business, and he’d agreed to get started this morning. She heard soft movement in the apartment outside her door, and she caught a faint whiff of the divine smell of coffee.
She got up, pulled on jeans, and zipped up a hoodie sweatsh
irt over the t-shirt. She tied her hair back in a ponytail and opened her door.
The apartment was quiet, peaceful in the morning light. Coffee brewed in the kitchen, and Anna spied a fresh loaf of bread, some fruit, some hard boiled eggs on a plate. The coffeemaker rumbled as it did its thing.
“You’re up.”
She turned to see Ian sitting on the sill of the big window in the living room. He had been looking out of it, down over the street, but now he was looking at her. He wore a black t-shirt and a black pair of cotton drawstring pants. His feet were bare, and one long, muscled leg was propped up on the sill, his muscled arm slung over the knee. She could see the edge of his wolf tattoo emerging from the sleeve of the shirt. His hair was mussed, and the scruff on his jaw was a dark shadow, the short beard framing his mouth. His green eyes looked steadily at her, unreadable. He was relaxed and tousled and so utterly gorgeous she couldn’t say anything for a minute.
I saw him naked yesterday, she thought, the memory of what he’d looked like coming unbidden into her mind. I watched him turn into a wolf.
She swallowed. “I see coffee brewing.”
“Help yourself.”
“Do werewolves drink coffee?”
That made him smile, the picture heart-stopping. “Sometimes. This morning, we do. When we’ve just gotten out of prison.”
Right. She’d actually forgotten that for a minute. “How was your first night?”
“In my own bed? In my own place? Without a hundred other guys shouting and smelling the place up?” He smiled again. “Pretty good.”
“I’m glad,” she said. She walked to the kitchen and pulled out two mugs, since he wasn’t holding one. “It looks like Nolan’s wife made good on her promise and stocked your kitchen.”
