by T. S. Joyce
“He’s not your mate, Beautiful. Best you stop calling him that.”
“Do you think…” Skyler inhaled deeply and organized her thoughts, then tried again. “Do you think you’re my mate?”
“No! Because again, you didn’t choose me. I’m not taking you away from that prick so you can be some sort of sex slave for me, Skyler. I’m taking you so you can get a break from your life and see there is more out there than some asshole with a temper problem. You gotta job?”
“Not anymore.”
“Let me guess. He doesn’t want you to work because he claims he wants to take care of you.”
Bingo. Fuck, this strange-talking, sexy stranger was hitting the nail on the head at every turn. She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know so much about the psyche of a man like Roger?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
Kellen looked over at her once, twice, confusion pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if the thought of speaking about himself made him uncomfortable. “Roger doesn’t want you to work because he wants to keep you dependent. He cut off your money. The best remedy for that is to take your independence back.”
“I don’t even know what job I would do.”
“What did you do before Roger?”
“Don’t laugh, but I was a skydiving instructor.”
“Why would I laugh? That’s awesome.”
She waited for him to take it back or tell her he really thought it was stupid that she’d take such a risk at her job, like Roger had done, but Kellen didn’t.
Instead, he asked, “So, did you jump out of planes with your students?”
“Sometimes I did, and sometimes I instructed them before they went up with other teachers. I was part of a team. I loved—” Her voice caught suddenly, and she swallowed her heartbreak down. “I loved flying,” she said on a breath.
His startled eyes landed on her, then he directed his attention back to the road. “Did you have sex with him?”
The question was so inappropriate and unexpected, she gasped. “Kellen, you shouldn’t ask things like that.”
“We’re friends now, Skyler. I’m going to be your friend, and friends can talk about this stuff. Did you have sex?”
A flash of red anger blasted through her, and she clenched the strap of her purse to keep from verbally reaming him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’ve been putting him off. I told him I didn’t want to until the ceremony. That’s why… Fuck.”
“That’s why he pushed you?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Shame heated her cheeks as she remembered how hard he’d tried to get her to sleep with him before she’d screamed at him. That’s what got her the black eye. She had dared to tell him no, and she’d gone farther and yelled at him as she denied him. Men like Roger didn’t take rejection well.
“No ceremony. No sex. No mark. No mate. You’re a free woman, Skyler. You can pick whoever you want. You can sleep with whoever you want. You can work wherever you want.”
“Kellen,” she whispered, heart in her throat. “You make it sound so simple, but it isn’t for me.”
“Tell me the consequences of not being with that man. Make me understand.”
“I’ll be banished from my people. They won’t offer me protection, and I’ll be alone. It’s dangerous for people like me. We survive best in pairs and groups.”
“Why is it dangerous?”
“Humans finding out what I am, for one. And two, my people are at war. They always have been, I guess. If I don’t have the protection of my people, I’ll be picked off by our enemies. They’ll spit on my carcass and never think twice about my death.”
“That won’t happen.” Kellen’s hands had a strangle hold on the steering wheel. “It won’t because I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You don’t know how powerful my people are, and my bloodline is important to them.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders as if to ward away her misery. “Roger is a good fighter, and he was born a shifter, not Turned. He’s a legacy. He’s helped to win important battles, and that’s how he won the right to take me as a mate. I’m a breeder.”
“A breeder.”
“Yeah, it’s when—”
“I know what a fucking breeder is, Skyler. I’m just not buying that you actually believe that is all you are. Your people don’t deserve you.”
God, he didn’t understand at all. It was so easy for him to judge her, but he didn’t really know. This was how she’d been raised. She’d been born into a culture of people at odds with their own kind. Rules were in place to ensure the survival of her species. Apparently Kellen’s people, whatever and whoever they were, didn’t care about longevity.
“You want a baby with Roger?” he asked, his voice hard as steel. “You think he’d make a good father to your offspring?”
“No,” she said, voice trembling.
“How long do you think you’re going to be able to put him off? What was your plan? He’ll force the issue sooner or later, and you’ll be hurt. And any kid you have—” A long, low snarl came from him. Kellen slammed down on the brakes and doubled over.
The truck was still rolling slowly forward, foot by foot, but Kellen had his eyes closed and couldn’t see where to steer. And now, they were headed for the edge of the road that dropped off to a steep embankment. With a squeak of terror, Skyler slammed her hand against his knee until the brake hit the floorboard, then threw the gearshift into park.
“Kellen, not here.”
“I can’t—fuck.” His breath was ragged and red crept up his neck, up a scar that stretched across his face that she hadn’t noticed before. His shoulders heaved, and the air became heavy with something powerful, just above her senses.
Desperate not to die in the truck with whatever was tearing its way slowly out of Kellen right now, she reached over him and shoved his door open. Unbuckling him, she prayed he wouldn’t eat her. She’d never met another type of shifter before. She was in control of her thoughts when she Turned, but would he be?
She pushed him hard, and he hit the gravel road with a thud. Curled on his side, he grunted in pain.
The keys were dangling from the steering column, and her kidnapper was utterly helpless as he tried not to shift. She could leave. She could shut the door and drive back the way they came and go back to Roger before he noticed she was gone.
Skyler gripped the door handle, prepared to shut it and speed back to her life. Back to her crappy, hopeless, fear-riddled life.
“Trust me,” Kellen said in a ragged whisper.
She must’ve misheard him. “What?”
“Don’t leave. Just trust me. Ahh!” His neck snapped backward, and his eyes watered with anguish. The soft brown color had been replaced by an intense silver, and the thick muscles in his neck strained.
Hell. Kellen was going through hell trying not to shift.
She could go back to her horrid life, or she could take a chance with Kellen. She could stay and take a break from the suck. She slid from the truck and cradled his head. “One day, and you’ll take me back.”
“One day, and you’ll beg me not to.”
She drew up short. He seemed so confident. If he knew the people he was pissing off, he wouldn’t be so keen on keeping her near. “One day.”
His eyes never left hers as he nodded once.
“Let him out,” she whispered against his ear. “I won’t leave you—not yet. Let your animal out and stop the pain.”
An agonized groan left his lips and tapered into a growl. “Get in the truck.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. She scampered in, shut the door, then hit the automatic lock for good measure. And when she looked up, the back of a giant beast rose above the window line.
“Son of a biscuit,” she murmured in awe as she took in the full, furred, fanged expanse of Kellen Cade Brown.
He was a bear. And not one of those plump, tame
ones she had seen bumbling around in a circus once. He was one ton of toned, muscled, ferocious, scar-faced, pitch-black, snarling grizzly.
As he stood on his hind legs and shook his enormous block head, she gasped at his full height. He had to be twelve feet tall. Her heart pounded, threatening to eject from her chest cavity, and a scream lodged in her throat, making it impossible to breathe.
He could rip through this truck like it was a can of tuna if he wanted to.
He lowered himself to all fours, never taking his eyes from hers, and slowly, his animal retracted until he was human and utterly naked on his knees by the truck. So, bear shifters could go back and forth between their animal and human sides almost immediately. She couldn’t do that. She had to stay an animal for half an hour, at least.
His clothes lay in tatters on the ground around him. She searched frantically in the back seat for an extra set, but all she found was a folded pair of jeans on the floorboard. They smelled clean but had dark stains and tattered holes in the knees. Work pants.
She slipped from the truck when Kellen pumped his hands as if they ached. He stared down at his sharp nails, which were still retracting.
“Are you okay?” she asked, dropping to her knees in front of him. She held the jeans clutched to her chest.
“Hurts,” was all he said in a hoarse voice.
Looking around to make sure no one was barreling down the road to see this, she slid her hand across Kellen’s back. His muscles were tensed, but as she massaged the knots, he relaxed little by little.
“You’re a bear shifter,” she said low. Tracing faint, curved scars across his back, she said, “You fight grizzlies. No wonder you don’t fear my people.”
Kellen huffed a laugh, then leaned back on his heels, apparently unconcerned with his lack of clothing.
His eyes were brown again, the same color as his hair, which was short on the sides and longer on top. Tousled in that sexy I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-don’t-care look. It was the first time she’d really taken time to study him. She’d been working so hard to hide her face and those damned telling bruises, proof of her weakness, that she hadn’t really seen him. Smile lines bracketed full lips with a scar on one side, and his eyebrows were dark and animated. His neck was thick with muscle that led to perfectly defined pecs and tiny pert nipples that had drawn up against the stiff breeze. Bulging muscles flexed across his stomach with each ragged breath he drew. His shoulders were broad and defined, and his chest rippled as he dragged a hand through his chestnut colored hair, as if his scalp still tingled from the Change. Strips of muscle hooked over his hip bones and delved toward his thick, long, half-mast erection. Embarrassed at staring, she jerked her gaze from between his thighs and looked at his face again.
His eyes dropped to her outstretched hand, and she gasped and yanked it back. When had she started reaching out for him?
The corners of his eyes tightened as he dragged his gaze back to hers. “I don’t mind if you look at me, Skyler.”
She shouldn’t. She was promised to Roger, but crouching here, in the middle of nowhere, it was so tempting to do something she wanted to do instead of something she was told to do.
With her gaze, she traced his ribs, pressing against his skin with every breath. His strong arms and his long, lean legs folded under him. With a steadying breath, she allowed herself to look at his thick, hard erection standing rigid between his thighs. She released her breath slowly, then handed him his jeans.
“Thank you,” she said, shrugging off the embarrassment that blanketed her.
Kellen didn’t look uncomfortable at all. In fact, he seemed to be studying her reaction. “You touched me. My back. You rubbed my back. Does that mean you aren’t afraid of me anymore?”
“Why does it bother you so much whether I’m afraid or not?”
“Because I’d never hurt you. I’d never let anyone hurt you. I don’t want you to be afraid. Not ever. Why did you just thank me?”
Her cheeks were on fire, and she dropped her chin so her hair covered her face. “For letting me look at you and not making me feel bad about it. Roger isn’t my type…” She squeezed her eyes tightly closed at her misstep. “I mean—”
“No, say what you want to say.” Kellen lifted her chin and smoothed her hair away from her face, then brushed the lightest touch over her bruised cheek. “I like it best if people just say what they mean. I get confused by games.”
“Okay.” She believed him. He spoke differently, more honestly, so she could see how it would be confusing for someone like him if she only offered half-truths. “I don’t like the way Roger treats me. His meanness has made me dislike everything about him. The way his hair gets greasy when he doesn’t wash it and the way he smells like cigarettes and onions. The way he looks at me, like I’m the dirt he stomps off his boots and onto the floors. You have been nice to me. You gave me a flower and a soda, and you look at me like I’m somebody special. And I…” She closed her eyes so she could find her bravery. “I like the way you look. If any of this had been my choice, I would’ve picked someone who acts and looks like you.”
“So, I’m your type?”
Opening her eyes, she looked at him as sadness washed through her. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter.”
Nodding slowly, he conceded, “Maybe not.”
Unfolding the jeans, he stood and slipped them on, then looked at her with a slight frown.
“What?” she asked.
He pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her around the truck, then helped her in. Reaching over her lap to fasten the buckle, he looked up and said, “If I was built for a mate, I would’ve picked someone like you, too.”
Chapter Three
The dilapidated sign above the hood of the truck read Asheland Mobile Park. Kellen’s truck was one of those white, monster-looking trucks with fat tires and a lift kit that didn’t have the best suspension anymore. Skyler lurched back and forth as he seemed to hit every pothole in this ratty trailer park.
The yards were mowed, and there wasn’t a single plastic pink flamingo in sight, but she’d heard horror stories about people living in these little communes so far out in the woods. Probably making moonshine. Or even worse—maybe this was some kind of meth lab community.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’m a lumberjack. So are the rest of the Ashe crew. We’ve got two crews clearing the dead, beetle-infested wood from this area, us and the Gray Backs. The Boarlanders do the cutting for us before we start on a new job site.”
“Lumberjacks?” She hid a grin. “So, you must like pancakes then.”
“What?”
The relief at him not being a criminal—an illegal substance criminal, at least—had her giggling like a lunatic. “Never mind. It’s a Paul Bunyan joke.”
A slow smile took his lips as he pulled in front of a trailer that read 1010 on the door frame. “I like the way you laugh.”
“I laugh like a hyena,” she muttered.
“I think it’s cute.”
Skyler frowned and stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but he didn’t offer one. Instead, he hopped out of the truck. She did the same and studied the trailer he was headed for. The tiny home was painted a light cream color with dark green shutters and a rusty red door. It was small, a singlewide, and ancient.
“It looks drafty,” she observed, fidgeting.
“It is. And it has a resident mouse you’ll do best to ignore. We keep taking him out, but he just comes right back in. He’s a part of this place. Denison named him Nards, on account of his giant—”
“Testicles,” she finished. “How charming. So Denison lives here?”
“No, Ten-ten is yours. Brooke used to live here, but when she gets back from the city, she’ll be moving in over there.” Kellen pointed to a trailer across the dirt road from where they stood.
A pang of something unsavory slashed through her. She’d forgotten about Brooke, but now guilt bombarded her. She sh
ouldn’t have looked at Kellen naked. He was taken, and Skyler wasn’t interested in stepping on another woman’s territory. She got what he was saying. When Brooke returned from wherever it was she’d been visiting, she’d be moving in with Kellen. An image flashed across her imagination of Brooke and Kellen making love tonight. The walls of 1010 looked paper thin, and no doubt she’d be able to hear them. A nauseous, unexplainable feeling punched her gut as she followed Kellen inside. Why shouldn’t he want to have sex with his mate? She’d been away from him, and he had every right to enjoy himself with his woman. It shouldn’t make any difference to Skyler.
But it did.
She resented Brooke for catching such a good man. Sure, he was a too-honest-for-his-own-good kidnapper, but he probably treated Brooke like a queen. How had Skyler been so unlucky to garner the attention of master-manipulator Roger, who’d probably never said a kind word to a woman in all of his life? And now she’d been stolen away by this sexy-as-hell woodcutter werebear who was utterly unavailable. The unfairness of it all stacked up like brick walls around her heavy heart.
Kellen should’ve just left her back at Roger’s house. She’d accepted her life, and now, it wasn’t good enough anymore. Tomorrow, she’d go back to Roger, and it would hurt ten times worse to absorb the awful things he said to her and the insulting names he called her. She’d resent him even more for what he’d done to ruin her life. Her crappy fate would’ve been easier to bear if she’d been allowed to continue to guard her heart and not wish for more.
The turmoil swimming inside of her now was all Kellen’s fault.
“You want the tour?” he asked.
“No. I think I can find my way around a singlewide trailer home without your help.” Her voice snapped like a rubber band, and she hated how it sounded. She was polite and non-confrontational by nature, but this was all too much. Roger was probably losing his shit by now wondering where she was, and by the time she went back tomorrow, he’d be furious. A black eye was going to be the least of her worries.
