Happy Howlidays: Shifters in Love Romance Collection (Shifter in Love Book 1)

by V. Vaughn

  "Oh, I’m Max. Max Johnson.”

  She pointed at herself and began to write her name in the sand.

  “Stephanie? Your name is Stephanie?”

  She nodded. He sounded almost reverent when he said her name. He gazed at her with brooding intensity. His teeth clenched so hard, his jaw flexed.

  "I'm sorry. This might sound strange,” he started. She widened her eyes, waiting for him to ask the question. "Oh, never mind. It's crazy." She pursed her lips, disappointed.

  "I assume you were on the cruise ship. I was too."

  She looked all around the camp, pointing at his gear.

  "I'm a survivalist, you see. Always prepared."

  She wondered if he was the guy that the women from the singles’ group had been talking about, the one who’d boarded in the Bahamas.

  "I have more food. I opened a few coconuts. Here, you can drink the milk from this one." He handed her a coconut with a hole in the bottom.

  She placed it on her mouth and tipped it back, drinking the rich, sweet juice inside. It filled her body with nutrients and hydration. She let out a satisfied sigh after drinking the whole thing. Then Max handed her chunks of coconut meat, which she munched on happily in between bites of grilled fish.

  She wanted to ask him how he had found all these things and how he'd gotten to the island before her. But most of all, she wanted to ask him if he was really her mate.

  The longer they sat there together and the more her head cleared from the food and water, the more Stephanie realized she wasn't dreaming at all. This was real. Nevertheless, her inner mountain lion could be confused. She had just been through a massive trauma. It was possible that her inner beast was attaching to the strong male who'd saved her and was projecting her needs onto him. She'd heard of that kind of thing happening before. Temporary insanity. In the past, shifters had thought their rescuers were actually their mates when in fact they weren't. If she could just speak, she could ask him. He was a shifter, too, and if they were mates, he would feel the same thing. Every time she saw that strange look in his eyes, she wanted to believe that was what it was. But maybe she was just seeing things. It was possible it was just wishful thinking.

  "If you'd like to go back to sleep, you can have the tent," he said.

  She shook her head, not wanting to put him out. He’d already been so kind.

  "I insist." He gestured to the tent. “I'll be fine out here. You need to be out of the elements and get your rest.”

  She looked at him and let out a long sigh. She couldn't argue, and sleeping in the bed was much more attractive than sleeping out on the sand. Finally, she relented and climbed back into the tent. Sleep came quickly and easily, and she dreamed about Max slipping into the bed beside her, kissing her cheek gently, and wrapping his arms around her.

  When she woke, she almost expected him to be there beside her. But he wasn't. When he was nowhere to be seen, she sat up quickly with a sharp intake of air, terrified that he had disappeared. She tumbled out of the tent, looking all around for him. Panic filled her chest as she thought that maybe it all really had been a dream and her dream man was gone.

  But then she spotted him down the beach in nothing but his underwear, holding another makeshift spear as he stood in the tide pools, hunting fish. He thrust the spear into the water, his taut muscles working as he speared a fish. A second later, he pulled it up into the air, its body wriggling on the end of the lance.

  She covered her mouth as she gasped in astonishment. He turned to her, raised his hand, and waved. She waved back, smiling and happy. She jogged across the sand to him. He carefully padded back across the tide pool toward her.

  "Breakfast," he said.

  Max was at least six foot five and two hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle. Stephanie had never seen a man so well-built in all her life, including the shifters of Fate Valley. From Max’s behavior on the island, she had the feeling he was some kind of soldier. The whole situation reminded her of the book she'd been reading before the attack on the cruise ship, and she told herself not to let her romantic fantasies get away from her. There had to be some rational explanation for why he was there. He’d told her he was a survivalist. She should just take his word at face value instead of assuming he was some kind of special operations military man.

  When he stepped off the rocks surrounding the tide pools and came toward her, she nearly lost her footing as her heart raced in her chest. He thrust the end of the spear into the ground as the fish still wiggled on the sharp end. Beads of seawater rolled down his muscled form, running in rivulets over his tanned skin. Her legs began to buckle, but he caught her before she crashed into the sand, his strong arms encircling her. He picked her up, cradling her against him, and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

  "You have low blood pressure. You shouldn't be running like that until you fully recover."

  She nodded and let him carry her back to the tent, where he placed her on the log that had become her chair. He handed her the canteen and told her to drink before he headed back for his fish. When he returned a few moments later, he placed the gutted fish over the fire and gave her another coconut to drink.

  "You’re still dehydrated. You need to take it easy and drink as much water as you can.”

  She nodded.

  "How is your voice?"

  "I don't know," she tried to say. But it came out as a garbled mess.

  "Your vocal cords will repair in time just like your water balance. Best thing is to rest and recuperate until rescue comes.”

  She looked at him quizzically, wondering how he could be so sure the rescue was coming.

  As the fish roasted over the fire, she watched him go through his box of gear. He began putting together some kind of technical device. As the day stretched on and she tried to recuperate, she became aware that he was building something. She wanted to ask what it was, but her throat was still scratchy, and her voice hadn’t returned yet. She pointed at the device.

  "I'm going to use this satellite to call my survivalist buddies. They'll be able to get us out of here."

  She nodded, trying to believe his story, but it just didn't add up. She saw the gun in the holster under his shoulder but didn’t know how he could have gotten a gun on the cruise ship. There was something else going on. While Stephanie no longer believed she was dreaming, she still had a lot of unanswered questions.

  Who was Max Johnson? Was he really a survivalist? And most importantly, was he really her mate?

  6

  Max knew Stephanie was his mate with every fiber of his being. His Little Puma. Did she feel the same?

  He couldn’t think about it. His main concern was getting her healthy and strong… and getting them off the island. His job in the Caribbean had been compromised. No one had suspected an attack on the cruise ship. He’d had a perfect cover, allowing him to get close to the sea witch and her gang. But things had gone wrong, and that was where his training had come into play. The last thing he had ever counted on was finding his mate.

  He lay awake into the night, staring at her through the tent door. His grizzly howled relentlessly inside his mind for him to take her, claim her, and make her his forever. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound of his angry inner beast.

  He couldn’t tell her the truth. He was not fit to be her mate. He would only ever hurt her and destroy them both. He’d seen too many things and had been called to make decisions that no man should ever have to make. His experiences had deeply scarred his heart and mind. He would never be the same. He could never ask the beautiful little lioness to accept the monster he’d become.

  When he slept, he dreamt of the worst moments of his life. He was deep behind enemy lines on a black ops mission, the bodies of a dead family strewn at his feet. He hadn't called for the drone strike. He’d just given his superiors the information. But no matter how many times he told himself he wasn't responsible for the deaths of the women and children in that compound, he could
never forget the image that burned the backs of his eyes and relentlessly haunted his nightmares.

  He woke with a start, gasping. His heart raced, and sweat trickled down his brow. When he opened his eyes, he found Stephanie staring at him, a questioning expression on her face. He blinked several times, sitting up in the sand. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and a spark of awareness radiated between them. Her touch was gentle and nurturing. He wanted more than anything to reach up and cup her cheek, take her in his arms, and hold her. He didn't know if he would protect her from the darkness or if it was the other way around. He needed her so badly, and it scared him.

  He sat up. "I'm fine. How long have you been awake?"

  She put up two fingers.

  “About two hours?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He saw that she had retrieved the crab from the nets he’d set out the night before and was cooking them over the fire. The water filter was full and dripping into the retrieval basin. She was learning fast. Smart, beautiful, and so kind. How is it possible she’s mine?

  “You did well," he said.

  His inner grizzly roared. It pained him to hold back and not tell her the truth. He wanted to ask her the question that was on his lips and on his mind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She looked at him questioningly when he opened his eyes again. Does she know it too? He wanted to ask her so much, but he couldn't bring himself to form the words.

  "I'm almost finished with the satellite. I'll be able to call my friends to come pick us up by the end of the day," he said, standing. He turned back to his work as she finished cooking the crab.

  As they silently engaged in their separate projects, he felt a sense of kinship that he thought must be like having a family. The emotion was so sharp and poignant that it nearly struck him dumb. It was too much to bear. He’d felt a bond of brotherhood with his former crew and with his new team on the Justice Squad. But he had never felt it with a woman, not since his mother so long ago.

  But those days were long gone. His parents had both passed away, leaving him an orphan just out of high school. That was when he’d joined the military and was quickly recruited into Special Forces. Nothing had ever been the same after that. His lack of attachment to other people had made him a perfect candidate for the kinds of missions he'd been sent on. Those missions had shaped him into a person who would never fit into society and who could never again have normal human attachments.

  Instead of letting it twist him inside out, he fell back on what he knew. He had to focus on the mission. If he just didn't tell Stephanie she was his mate, maybe they could get out of this and go their separate ways without anyone getting hurt. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do.

  She’d been on mate.com for six years, waiting all that time for her one and only true love. Him. Fate had dealt her a terrible blow, and he felt as if it were unforgivable. She didn’t deserve that. Neither of them deserved the pain they’d been dealt by the hands of fate.

  He continued to work on the satellite, interrupted briefly by an oncoming torrential storm. He had to bring his technical equipment into the tiny tent, where they huddled together in the only dry space available. Their bodies were smashed together with his satellite dish under their legs. The smell of her body filled his lungs and made his inner grizzly mad with desire.

  She took a deep breath, inhaling so deeply that her breasts lifted. She wore a strapless maxi dress that showed her soft shoulders and the rise of her generous bosoms. The smell of her and the sight of her alluring curves almost did him in. How could he sit next to her in such a confined space when he wanted her and needed her so badly?

  "I'm going to do some reconnaissance while it's raining." He crawled over the equipment and out of the tent. He glanced back at her before he closed the screen door. She looked confused and concerned but was unable to voice her feelings.

  "I'll be right back. I can’t finish the satellite while it's raining. I might as well get a better lay of the land.”

  She mouthed what looked like “Be careful.”

  He gave her one sharp nod before charging off down the beach. This was insanity. The whole situation was unacceptable. He hadn’t signed up for any of it. He found a break in the dense jungle and began to storm up the hill. The rain battered his head and shoulders, drenching him to the core. His clothes and shoes were soaked within minutes as he trudged through the thick forest. He breathed deeply, his lungs expanding and contracting as his leg muscles worked and his arms pumped.

  The forest was dark and overgrown, blocking out the sunlight as the rain drove down. He grabbed on to a tree limb as he tried to pull himself up a sharp ledge. His foot caught in some slick mud, and he slipped. The hand grasping the branch held tight, but the branch snapped, and he slid down the hill in a torrent of mud. He stopped moving at the bottom of the hill, falling into a thick, deep puddle. He groaned at his stupidity and pulled himself out of the mud. He would have to find a better way to the top of the hill.

  The rain hadn't relented, and neither would he. Instead of taking the same path up the hill, he chose a gentler slope, not letting up for even a moment. Eventually, he made his way to the top of the hill, where he had a 360-degree view of the tiny island and the ocean surrounding it. It would be a good place to put the satellite once it was ready. There was reasonable clearance for a helicopter to land. They were as good as rescued.

  As Max was turning to make his way back down the hill, the rain finally stopped, and the storm clouds parted, revealing a blue sky. The darkness lifted on the horizon, and Max saw a tiny dot heading toward the island. He pulled out his binoculars and stared through the lenses. It was a ship, but he didn’t know if it was friend or foe. It wasn’t flying a flag, and there were no distinct markings on the vessel that he could make out. All he knew was that he needed to get back to Stephanie as quickly as possible.

  Max charged down the mountain. His lungs burned, and his heart pounded in his chest. He sprinted the last hundred yards to the campsite, but when he got there, Stephanie was gone. Dread swirled in his gut. He lifted his binoculars and looked out onto the horizon. He’d lost sight of the boat while running through the forest. If anything had happened to Stephanie, he would never forgive himself.

  Then he looked inside the tent to inspect his satellite. It was broken to bits. His mind reeled with confusion. He stood back up, considering what to do. Then he heard a terrible gut-wrenching scream echo across the beach.

  7

  “Hello,” said a singsong voice that Stephanie didn't recognize.

  She gasped and looked up, hoping that Max was having an uncharacteristic moment of playfulness. Instead, her worst fears were realized. She didn't recognize the man before her. He wore army fatigues and had curly dark hair that reached his shoulders, a scraggly black beard, and tanned skin. He was flanked by two others, including a massive redheaded soldier who was freckled and sunburned. His body size rivaled Max’s. A wiry Asian man with a long braid and a clean-shaven face completed the trio.

  She pointed to her throat, indicating she couldn’t talk.

  "We’ve come to save you," the curly haired man said. “We'll get you back to the mainland in no time, and you can join the rest of the cruise guests.”

  Her mind raced. How did they know about the cruise? These men did not look like official military or Coast Guard personnel. They looked like militia or guerrilla fighters. No. It was worse than that. They looked like pirates.

  She stood, and the redhead with the huge shoulders gripped her bicep harder than a friendly savior ever would. As he pulled her away from the tent, the other two stomped Max’s satellite. She grunted, trying to tug away from the redhead.

  "It's for safety reasons. Whoever made this is working with the pirates," the curly haired man said.

  "Cut the crap, Carlos," the redhead said. “It's not like we can’t overpower the little minx."

  "You know how I like to work on my role-playing, Sam," Carlos said.

>   "It gets awfully boring really quick," Sam said.

  "You and Wang Li need to learn some subtlety and subterfuge," Carlos said.

  "Like she was going to believe we were really her rescuers." Sam looked directly at her. “She’s not stupid. Are you stupid?"

  She glared at him and tried to yank her arms away. But he laughed and pulled both her hands behind her back then tied her up with a scratchy rope. She let out a low guttural moan. It was the only sound that would come from her damaged vocal cords.

  "Come on, darlin'," Sam said. “We're going to put you with the rest of the hostages. I hope you have someone who will pay your ransom.”

  "A girl that cute has to have people back home who will pay to get her back," Wang Li said.

  Sam snorted. "And if she doesn't, all the better for us."

  They were taking her toward a raft at the end of the beach. She knew that if she went with them and got on that boat, she would be in a very dangerous situation. Her best chance was for Max to find her. He could save her. She knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn't just a survivalist. He had to be military. He had a gun, and he was big, bigger than any of the pirates. He would save her. She just knew he would.

  She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the beach for any sign of Max. Then she spotted him approaching the tent. He looked around with confusion then spotted their footprints in the sand. That was when their eyes met. Stephanie dropped to the ground, taking her captor off guard.

  "If you're not gonna walk, then I can carry you,” Sam said.

  "Stop right there!" Max drew his gun and charged down the beach. But the other men were faster, drawing their weapons and pointing them all at Stephanie as she lay prone on the sand.

  "Not a step closer," Sam said. "We’re taking the hostage back to our camp, and you're not going to stop us."