Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance)

by Sophie Chevalier

  “Why should I?” she whispered, afraid he could smell her arousal and her fear. Couldn’t animals smell both of those things? —Or was that a myth? “You’re monsters.”

  She knew it was the wrong thing to say; his face closed and he crossed his arms. “We’re not. We just are what we are. Try and believe we can sort this, girl.”

  “That old man. Galangal. He hates me.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t lie to her. “But it’s just on principle. It’s got nothing to do with you personally. You understand me?”

  “That doesn’t help much.”

  He sighed. “Settle down.” There was a pause. “Trust me, Harper. I’m not a monster, and I’m not your enemy. I’ll get you home. I promise.”

  She gazed at him, wanting to believe him but knowing that would be foolish. So she didn’t say anything. And she squeezed her thighs tighter together.

  ***

  She was a lovely thing. Finally, a nap had taken her, and she was curled up on the worktable like a tabby cat, asleep.

  He wanted to touch her like nobody’s business. Even through the anaphrodisiac, the sweet urgency of the Season was pushing him to put his hands on her. He could get lost in all those curves, in all that soft, pale skin, especially the soft, pale skin of her inner thighs.

  Maddeningly, his cock hardened. The peachy smell of her was too much. The image of squeezing her bare breasts with his hands was too much. The idea of taking her, mating with her was too much.

  Her eyes opened suddenly, and she sat up.

  “Harper?” he asked, swallowing. He tried to will himself soft, glad he was sitting half in shadow.

  She blinked at him, guileless. “I need to pee.”

  ***

  He wasn’t a sadist. He would take her to the outhouse.

  Cautiously, slowly, he unlocked the shed door, gripping her arm hard so she couldn’t escape. The warmth of her skin bled through her jacket and heated his palm—and his manhood.

  “Stick close. Don’t try to throw off my hand.”

  “I won’t.”

  It was sunny out; the pines were whispering in the mountain breeze. He towed her across the yard toward the outhouse.

  “Are you planning on coming in with me?” she asked dryly.

  “Depends,” he grunted. But when they got there, he let her go in alone. “Don’t be long and don’t think you can get away.”

  “I won’t and I don’t,” she said seriously before banging the door closed. He stood there awkwardly, leaning on an old disused fence post. Chickens wandered around the yard, clucking near his feet, while butterflies beat colorfully over the garden. How long is she going to be?

  As he waited, Gentian came out of the back of the cabin, looking determined.

  “Chance!” she called.

  “Gentian?” he asked, surprised. “Where’s, uh… where’s Egan?”

  “I left him in our room,” she said smartly. “Season or no Season, that poor girl has got to eat, and I’ve made her lunch.” She breathed deeply, obviously readying herself to say something. “It’s set out on the table.”

  “The table? Oh, Gentian…” His expression twisted. “That means… you want me to bring her inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s against the Alpha’s orders.”

  Gentian hesitated.

  “Well, Chance,” she said finally, slowly, “I won’t tell him if you won’t. The girl needs a hot lunch. A hot lunch under a real roof,” she added.

  He couldn’t exactly argue with that. There was no one there but himself, Gentian, and the girl, a girl he was sure was innocent. Keeping her locked in the shed after all his maplecream-sweet dreams about her seemed so absurd it made him sick.

  “Please, Chance,” Gentian said quietly. “Treat her better than dirt. She’s sweet and she’s scared and she deserves to be fed like a human being—not in a shed in the dust and the dark. You know she’s no danger to us. Let her come in and sit a spell!”

  He sighed; she knew how to guilt him, and it was working. If it had been any other captive, any other girl, but it wasn’t, it was Harper, and he wanted Harper to be comfortable. The clan’s suspicions would just have to be damned. He knew they didn’t amount to anything anyway.

  “Alright,” he said resignedly. “Let’s go in.”

  “Go in where?” Harper asked, opening the outhouse door.

  “Inside the house,” Chance said shortly, gripping her wrist. “It’s your lunchtime, honey.”

  ***

  “Here, dear. Lunch.” It was a chicken salad, made with garden greens and sliced-up, hardboiled eggs.

  “Thank you,” Harper said, grateful for the spread. “Oh—aren’t you eating?”

  “No, dear,” said Gentian, with a smile that was almost girlish. “It’s our Season. I’m going back to my room and my mate now.”

  “Season?” Harper repeated, her eyes widening, but Gentian was already leaving, patting Harper’s shoulder as she went.

  “Mating season,” Chance said shortly, once they were alone. “She means it’s mating season.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Damn serious.” He turned his bright, uncanny gaze to her. “It’s springtime, ain’t it?”

  “You are serious,” she said faintly. “Wow.”

  “Wow,” he repeated, slightly teasingly.

  What was it about him? She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, it was like he was her magnetic north, drawing her eyes like a compass’s point. He was a gorgeous, gorgeous man. But he was an animal.

  Her hand tightened on the lunch knife, part of her wishing it was sharp enough to use on him. Then maybe she could make a break for…

  No. She already knew how that would turn out: not well. It was just an escape fantasy. Besides, she wasn’t honestly sure she could hurt this man—for any reason. He was handsome and reassuring and he felt like someone she had known for a long time.

  “Eat up.” Chance glanced at her untouched meal.

  “You’re not going to eat yours?” she flicked her eyes down toward his loaded plate.

  “I might.” Noncommital.

  “It looks really good.” She forked in some chicken. “Mm-mm. Best food ever. Definitely the best bear-made food I’ve ever had!”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Seriously, other bears don’t know how to make it like this. I had some chicken salad in Yellowstone once that was completely inferior. Those morons don’t know anything about true bear cuisine, you dig? I think they’re getting lazy from eating all that tourist trash.”

  “Just eat your lunch, girl.” But he cracked a smile.

  “Okay. Touchy. That’s fine.”

  She put it away at top speed, polishing off her chicken salad and glass of milk in record time.

  “Oh, I inspired you, huh?” she asked when he finally lifted a fork. “Good. ‘Course, I’m done now, but I can wait for you.”

  “You sure can, hon.”

  She turned her cup around, watching sunlight cut through the glass while he ate. They didn’t speak. Eventually, she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

  “Why are you disobeying your Alpha for me?” she asked, sitting up and gazing at him. Trying to figure him out was a challenge, more so than it had ever been with Logan. “Why did you let me come inside?”

  “You deserve to eat.”

  “I could have eaten in the shed.”

  He hesitated. “You’re not a dog. You deserve a table.”

  That touched her in a strange way. “Well, thank you.”

  He sighed, looking at her. She’d never been looked at that way. She wasn’t even sure what way it was.

  “What?” she asked, very conscious of his eyes on her.

  “D’you wanna walk off lunch?”

  “What?” she asked again, blankly. “Isn’t it against your orders to—”

  “Hell, Harper. I already broke the law,” he interrupted. His gaze was h
ot, conflicted. “It’s not good for you to be locked up all the time. You gotta stretch your legs. Breathe the air. I can take you out, if you promise to stick close.”

  “I promise,” she said surprised. I mean, I guess I promise.

  “Alright.” He took her hand this time, not her wrist or her arm; she liked the intimacy of it. “Come on. We’ll go right now, then come right back. I know a place where no one’ll see you.”

  Chapter Ten

  They cut through the forest, sidetracking off the footpaths to force their way through the trees. She knew she should be worried, being led into the wilderness by this stranger of a man, but she wasn’t. She trusted him. He wasn’t going to hurt her.

  “It’s up ahead, not far now. There’s a nice clearing just a bit on.”

  “Okay,” she answered, half bemused, half winded. It was cool under the shade of the pines, but she was still sweating heavily as they trekked uphill.

  “It’s right here!”

  They broke out into the sunshine. There was a beautiful meadow in front of them, full of fireweed, wildgrass, and flashing insects. A mellow breeze flowed over the stalks.

  “Nice, huh?” he asked. “God, but it smells like fireweed, though.”

  The germ of an idea came to her. “Does it?”

  “Yeah powerfully strong.” He looked at her. “Come on, now. There’s a good place for sitting and taking the weather.” His strong hand closed on hers, and he guided her through the lush grasses.

  He was right about there being a nice place to sit: a broken stone, half sunken into the ground, formed a natural bench. He let her sit first before he sat next to her. Fox sparrows were singing in the trees.

  “This is nice,” she admitted, enjoying the slight spring wind and the birdsong. “Much nicer than a toolshed.”

  “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout the shed. Not my call.”

  “It was your call to take me out and bring me here,” she tried slowly. “So why can’t you just let me—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence. You’re staying in clan hands as long as the Alpha says, even if I’m lenient with you. Got it?”

  “Yes,” she said, knowing he meant it.

  For a while they were quiet, letting the forest fill the silence. She thought she heard a mountain bluebird somewhere in the rustling trees.

  “It’s beautiful up here. In the range, I mean,” she said finally, gazing at the pines’ green, brushy tops swaying slowly against the sky. “I can see why you people love living here.”

  “We do love it. It’s a good life.” He glanced sideways at her. “What’s a Chicago life like?”

  She laughed. “Does that actually interest you?”

  “Everything about you interests me.” He said it so honestly that she had to blush.

  “Chicago is—is a big city,” she stammered, turning pink. “Lots of culture. Lots of commerce. Lots of good food. I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s totally different from here. Crowded and busy and fun and—well, a little bit grey. Dirty. But that’s a city for you.”

  “Do you like it?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I prefer the great outdoors, but it’s hard to make a living outside of a city, so...”

  “I don’t think a city life would be for me.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think there are many bears on our census.”

  He chuckled, a deep, low sound. “What’s your family like, Harper?”

  “What’s yours like?” she asked, tossing it back to him. Maybe he was trying a good cop interrogation on her, relative to Galangal’s screaming invective. She wouldn’t let it work. She wouldn’t tell him anything too personal.

  “None to speak of, besides the clan itself. Jason has been near a father to me, but I got no close blood kin left. Roundworm infections took ‘em years ago, during a hard winter when we all ate cold meat. Healer said their hearts swelled up.” He was staring at her intently. “Your turn.”

  “I don’t… want to talk about it,” she said, looking away. The sunshine was hot on her shoulders. She focused on a bee crawling over a fireweed bloom.

  “Alright. Sorry, honey.” He backed off, and she appreciated it. “Tell me about your work then. Or what you do for fun. I don’t know—tell me about anything.”

  She looked back at him. His expression was sincere.

  “You really do want to know about me?” Not just for tactical bullshit reasons?

  “I do. I can tell you about me, if you want a trade.” The gold ring in his eyes was catching the sunshine in a brassy, hypnotizing way. “ Or if you really don’t want to talk, that’s alright. We can just sit here and smell the fireweed and watch the clouds change. That’d be fine, too.”

  She hesitated. She probably shouldn’t tell him anything—he was her jailer—but that deep, inexplicable instinct to trust him won out. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to be close to him. Why? I don’t understand. I just want him near me.

  “I work in finance. It’s not that exciting.” She paused. “For fun, I like to cook. And I like to run. And, ironically, considering where it got me, I like to be outside. Last year I was really into gauche painting, until I had to admit to myself that I had no talent for it. And I like to watch TV while eating takeout, but that’s not really a hobby.” She trailed off. “What about you people? What do shifters do for fun out here?”

  He grinned. “For fun? Hell… we spend time together. Hunt. Play music. Whittle… brew liquor… embroider. Couple.” She raised an eyebrow, but he went on. “Riding horses. There’s a lot of great trails for—”

  “You’ve got horses?”

  “Sure. How else would we get to town? We need to sometimes.”

  “I like horses.”

  “I don’t have one,” he laughed. “Not since I lost mine a few years back. But we all borrow from each other, so no one’s ever short a ride.”

  Harper shifted, watching him. The way the sunshine turned his eyes to a mix of honeyed colors was hypnotizing. “What are other clans like? Are they like this?”

  “A lot are. Some aren’t.”

  “That’s a little bit vague.”

  “I know. And my answer’s gonna stay vague. Why would you wanna know more about people you’re fixin’ to run from?”

  “Curiosity,” she said honestly, quietly.

  “A lot of clans live in the mountains, or just the wilderness somewhere,” he said slowly. “Their lifestyle is really similar. They’ve got goats an’ gardens, they’ve got horses, they’ve got hunting bows and maybe a snowmobile or two. We keep things basic. We have to.”

  “That’s kinda nice,” she admitted. “Living a simple life, I mean.”

  He gazed at her. Slowly, his eyes moved from her eyes down over her nose to her mouth—then, reluctantly, up again. “It is nice.”

  “Do you ever see other clans? Visit them?” She waved a bug away.

  “Sometimes. We have this annual festival called the Gathering. That’s when—”

  He stood abruptly. Startled, she gripped his wrist.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “Bear,” he said lowly. “Wild bear. With babies.”

  She followed his look: there, at the fringe of the meadow, was a rangy-looking grizzly sow and her two fuzz-furred cubs. The babies were running clumsily around their mother, excited by the open space of the field.

  “Stay here, honey. She’s a danger to you. I’m gonna talk to her.”

  “What?”

  “Well, not really talk, talk. I just mean I’m gonna… you know what, forget it. Wait here, okay?”

  He moved off from her, hands up. When he’d gone twenty, twenty-five feet, she edged up off the rock. When he was fortyish feet away, communicating with the bear mother, she stood up completely and made a break for the trees.

  Let her distract him! Let her keep him busy!

  She rushed through the pine and spruce trees, sunlight flashing through their brushy arms. She
ran as fast as she possibly could, her chest tight, her breath coming in raw gasps. She ran and ran and ran, losing tracks of direction, losing track of time. She just ran. Until—

  A grizzly cut her off, a huge one, easily as large as Hud’s bear form was. She screamed and went down hard on her side, the ground sliding out from under her.

  Then it was Chance again, pulling her up to her feet.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to run?” he asked, exasperated.

  She stared at him, trying to catch her breath.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” he repeated, but he sounded frustrated more than angry. She couldn’t help noticing, almost subconsciously, what a beautifully-made man he was: naked, it was easy to see just how strongly muscled he was… and how well endowed.

  “You did tell me,” she finally managed to say, her heart starting to slow down.

  “So? Why did you do it anyway?”

  She shrugged. “That bear distracted you. I saw an opportunity so I took it. I thought maybe the fireweed would hide my scent and you wouldn’t know which way I went.”

  He sighed, but there was something in his eyes that seemed like respect.

  “Well, you’re a clever thing, I’ll give you that. Come on. I left my clothes back at the meadow.” He started towing her that way. “Let’s get back, get presentable, and get back to Gentian’s.”

  “You’re not going to… punish me?” she asked slowly, being pulled through the afternoon-gold woods.

  “Punish you?” He gave her a look like she was insane. “You’ve got a lot to learn about me.”

  No, I don’t, said some inner voice. I know you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. It’s why I dared to run.

  “I’m sorry,” she heard herself say.

  “Don’t be sorry. I understand completely, girl. You’re scared.” He folded her a little closer to him; she liked the heat of him, the size of him, she had to admit. “But you don’t have to be scared of me. Just… work with me. Trust me a little.”

  “I’ll try,” she said lowly, pressing herself even closer to him. Unconsciously, she put a hand on his muscle-cobbled middle. “I will.”