The thought hurt her—terrified her—and she wished she had stayed with Cat, or with Hunter. Hunter would help her through his, he—
Her time was up. She knew it. With every fiber of her body she knew it.
She cut abruptly to the left, pulling the car off the road. Her high beams illuminated the bottoms of spruces; she ripped off her seatbelt and kicked open her door, leaving it open. She could hear the warning beep beep beep of the security system.
It was obvious what she had to do, somehow.
She pulled off Cat’s jacket, slung it back into the car. Rolled off her shirt and pulled down her jeans, kicked off her Bean boots. Headed for the woods.
The lights from the car slanted through the boles of the trees like searchlights. She could hear the wind in the pine needles and the creak of branches. Underfoot there was soft moss and cool earth.
Instinct brought her to her knees. Overhead, the black shapes of hemlocks and firs reached high into the dark blue sky. She put her hands, palm down, on the ground.
And changed.
***
Her eyes opened slowly.
It was morning. Waxwings, thrushes, and lark sparrows were singing and chittering in the tall, sun-drenched forest.
And she was lying on her stomach in the ferns, naked.
Slowly, stiffly, she sat up. Groaned, with drowsiness. Ran a hand over her arm, her neck.
She was filthy. Why was she filthy? Where were her clothes? Her hair was a mussy mess, and there was dirt under her fingernails, and her mouth tasted like… pesto, kind of, and it—
A bear.
The thought hit her like an electric charge. She cupped a hand over her mouth, her stomach tightening with nausea.
I was a bear.
It all came back to her. The night woods. Densely forested. Running with streams. Lit from above by the moon, and the salt trail of the Milky Way. Dark and quiet—quiet except for the pulses of other animals’—smaller animals’—heartbeats.
She had changed. She remembered now. It didn’t even hurt, it was so natural: one moment she was a girl, soft and human, and the next she was a bear. She had swelled and furred into a grizzly sow, black-nosed, round-eared.
She remembered wandering the woods. Remembered her big, padded feet with their wicked claws sinking into the mud by a river; remembered her bulk breaking through ferns and saplings. Remembered the size and the strength and the wildness of it all. Remembered snuffling in the undergrowth to dig out and eat pine nuts. Remembered the call of a nighthawk.
Her stomach seized. She threw up.
Pipits chittered while she emptied her tummy. When she was finally finished she spat, crawled over to where a clump of peaked-looking bittercress was growing, yanked some stems out, and chewed them raw. The peppery, mustardy taste was a relief.
Dane did this to me. He made me this… thing. This animal.
Oh, God. I’m like this for life. And I can’t handle this alone.
I can’t handle this alone! I don’t know what to do!
She spat out the chickweed, too, her mouth freshened. Then, slowly, she got to her feet. Soft, warm sunlight spangled her shoulder; the wind-weaving pines overhead kept the light shifting.
What she had to do was obvious.
It was easy to find her way back to her rental car. All she had to do was scent herself, and follow the olfactory trail: it was a queer mix of Bear Ginger—thick, musky fur and hot breath—and Human Ginger, who smelled like smooth white skin and vanilla.
Finally, she reached the forest’s edge. She was afraid that there would be a gaggle of highway patrolman around her car—left open and abandoned right by the border of the woods—but it was just after dawn, and there was no one. She hurried across to the driver’s side door.
The seats were damp with dew. Fuck! She used Cat’s shirt—already wet from being left on the ground—to wipe them down. Then, choicelessly, she pulled it on, shimmied into the jeans, popped on the Bean boots, and shrugged on the jacket. She got in and closed the car door.
Her face in the rearview mirror was dirty and grubby; her neck was grimy too. But she could finally see her eyes reflected back in daylight—her new eyes, her shifter eyes.
They were just like Hunter had said: hazel, with a ring of gold.
I’ll never forgive Dane for this.
She turned the key in the ignition, strapped in, and backed up onto the road. Sighing, she turned around.
***
The damp wood of the pier thumped underfoot as she followed it out. The boats tied up on either side of her bobbed gently in the harbor water; a few of them had men onboard, rolling up ropes.
Miss Grizzly was at the end of the dock.
That meant he was still here.
She knew he would be.
“Ginger.” Hunter appeared on the gillnetter’s deck, then stepped off onto the pier. He wasn’t surprised to see her, that much was clear.
“You were expecting me?” she asked, in a flat, frozen voice. The wind off the water blew her messy, wavy hair out of her coat collar.
He was staring at her—at her dirty, unhappy face. She knew it told him everything.
“Oh, Ginger. Baby.” His voice was soft. “Come here.”
She wanted to resist. She wanted to hold back, to show him she hated him, and Dane, and all bears. But she didn’t—couldn’t. She was in his arms before she knew it, clutching the back of his jacket. Tears stung her eyes.
“It’s alright,” he said, holding her close just like she needed. “It had to happen. It needed to happen. You’ll get through this, Ginger, I promise. I swear. You’ll get through this and I’ll help you.”
“I’m scared, Hunter. I don’t know myself anymore.” Her voice shook.
“You’re still you, Ginger, and I’ll show you that. I’ll show you everything you need to know. Come with me.”
He smelled so good—so masculine—and it felt so good to be held by him, so good to have him reassure her. She wanted to believe he could help her. She wanted him to help her.
“Take me away from here,” she whispered, drained and overwhelmed by Saltspring.
“I will, baby. Get on the boat. I’ll get us off this island.”
“You waited for me.”
“Shh, baby. Just get on. Let’s go.”
She squeezed him tighter, hot with gratitude, hot with relief—sick with anger, sick with love. It took a great effort of will to let go of him and his hard, warm body.
He guided her up onto Miss Grizzly’s deck, hand on hers.
“There’s a berth, Ginger. In the foc’sle.” He pointed. “Go and lay down. I’ll get us underway.”
She didn’t know where he was taking her—back to Storm Isle? Off to Nanaimo? All the way to Shanghai?—and she didn’t care. She did just what he said and dragged herself into the foc’sle, collapsing on the unmade, Hunter-smelling blankets.
Chapter 30
When she woke up, it was to the burr and judder and bump of the boat. The berth was wood-lined, and the bunk she’d slept on was a wood frame with drawers built into its foundation. All that timber creaked with the movement of the water.
She stared up at the low, rounded ceiling with its curved red-pine beams. This wasn’t as luxurious as Dane’s glossy yacht, but it was cozy. Damn cozy.
Fisting a hand on the warm, thick bedclothes, she traced the same beam with her eyes over and over. She felt filthy and sore and lost. At least she finally toed her boots off; they fell with clunks onto the wood-surfaced floor.
The roll and rhythm of the water felt good; it almost lulled her back to sleep. But the boat started to slow, and then it stopped. Her eyes ran over the berth’s ceiling, following Hunter’s muffled footsteps; she sensed he was anchoring the gillnetter. They weren’t tying up at a pier?
Eventually, she heard his feet coming down the stepladder to the foc’sle. He appeared, looking windswept, and smelling like cold brine and cold pines
. She squeezed her thighs together as a heat sprang up between them.
“Hey, Ginger. How’re you doing?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bunk and putting a hand on her hip.
She shrugged.
“You look miserable,” he said gently, eyes running over her.
“I guess I am.” Her voice was soft, exhausted.
“Kills me to see it.”
She gazed at his face—so handsome, so masculine: a strong jaw, strong cheekbones under a short growth of beard; hot, gold-ringed caramel eyes—and felt animal appetites warming between her hips. His broad shoulders—his strong neck—his big, hot hand on her body—she was getting dangerously wet.
“Where are we?” she managed, swallowing.
“I’m going to help you, Ginger.” He was serious. “I’m going to show you how to be one of us. I’ve anchored us off an empty island. There are caves there, and they’re easy to live in; you can see ’em from the water. We’ll spend as much time here as we need to.”
A thousand considerations occurred to her. “But—I only have one outfit—and the food—we need supplies—”
“What did you think I packed in that bag before we left? What do you think I have on this ship? I’ve got everything we’ll need. And”—his voice roughened a little, with embarrassment—“I bought you some more clothes on Saltspring. While you were gone.”
She had to bite back a smile. “You—what?”
“From the Salvation Army.” He glanced away from her, then back. “Just… sweaters, and things.” His voice gruffened even more. “So you’d be comfortable.”
She was touched. Sitting up, she kissed his unshaven cheek. He grunted.
“Thanks, Hunter.”
“Don’t think about it. Hope it all fits you.” Unconsciously, his hand strayed to where she’d kissed him. “Listen, Ginj. You’ve got a lot to learn, but I know you can handle it. All I need you to do is trust me, and we’ll come up roses.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can trust any—”
“Just enough that you’ll listen to what I have to teach you,” he cut in.
“Alright,” she said slowly, feeling how the gold in her eyes brightened. “I can do that.”
“Okay. Good.” His hand slid up her hip, onto the inward curve of her waist. The heat of his palm bled through the shirt and warmed her skin; she felt goose bumps breaking out. “We can row to shore and pick a cave. Get set up.”
“Are you sure we’re alone here?”
The gold in his eyes brightened, too. “Completely.”
She wriggled slightly, just enough to encourage him to run his hand higher; it worked, and he did. “What am I going to learn?”
“How often you need to change. How to hunt. How to fish. How to fight. How to suppress your—urges.” But he was barely suppressing his: his hand slid high enough that he cupped her breast. It felt so, so good: her nipple warmed and sharpened receptively. “And how to fulfill them. When they need to be fulfilled.”
She bit her bottom lip, soaked between the legs. Nothing sounded better than stripping down, spreading her thighs, and letting him fill her with his thick, insistent cock. Her underwear virtually overflowed with the thought…
“Hunter,” she whispered, almost a whine.
He drew back his hand, with an effort. “Ginger, I won’t lie to you: I want you, and I know you want me too.” His voice was raw—hungry. She wanted to pull him on top of her and let him have his way, but he went on: “I want to help you more than anything in the world, but if we land here—we’re going to couple. More than once.” He paused, then admitted, “Over and over. And if that’s not something you—can handle, or really want, then I can’t help you… because I can’t control myself, and neither can you. We’re going to fuck. Often.”
“Good,” she said, before she could stop herself.
“Are you sure? I mean—you must be—confused, overwhelmed… scared…”
She was. Part of her still wanted to bolt, make for Vancouver, buy a plane ticket to Siberia and never come back. But the other half of her knew that was impossible. She was where she had to be, and she was desperate for his guidance—and for the therapeutic pleasure of untamed, uninhibited sex. The animal in her—and the woman in her—wanted it equally. And she wanted it with Hunter.
“Take me onshore,” she said quietly. “And teach me how to be like you. I have to learn.”
His eyes were hot—pure melted gold. “I will. I’ll show you how to live with this. I swear.” He leaned in and kissed her: a rough, possessive kiss, one that swelled her clit. She kissed back just as hard, just as desperately.
Maybe I can trust him more than Dane. Maybe I can go ahead and—love him.
He nipped her jaw, then leaned back. “Alright, Ginj. Let’s go.”
***
“Like it?” Hunter asked, throwing down his duffel bag. “Think it’ll do?”
Ginger was looking up at the rocks that formed the rocky, architectonic roof of their cave. They were full of colors: reds, browns, yellows, fawns.
“It’s beautiful here,” she admitted, putting a hand on a steep moss-furred wall. “I like the sea sounds.”
The cave opened up onto a pebbly beach, one that eventually softened into a run of grey sand. Through the big, craggy cave mouth she could see the water, and see spruce and hemlock weaving in the wind downcoast on top of a low, shallow sea cliff.
“At high tide the mouth’ll get wet,” he said, dropping a backpack with the rest of their supplies. “But we’ll be dry back in here.”
She toed the cold, gravelly cave bottom. “Is this okay to sleep on?”
“Sure. I brought a couple of mattress pads, and some sleeping bags. And if you sleep in sow form… hell, that’s just as good as sleeping on a mattress pad. You won’t feel the rocks at all like that.”
“What about keeping warm?”
“I’ll dig out a fire pit. We’ll be fine.”
“A fire pit?” She turned back to look at him. “Will you show me how you make one?”
“Okay. Sure. That can be lesson one.”
The sound of rushing water filled the cave, a kind of calming echo of the surf outside. She wandered over to him, suddenly wanting to be closer; when she reached him, he put his hands on her waist.
“You know you don’t have to do this, Hunter,” she said quietly.
“I want to.”
She cuddled close to him, putting her arms under his jacket and around his middle, nuzzling his neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I need you.”
He put a hand on the back of her neck, stroking the soft, delicate skin there lightly with his calloused fingers. “You can trust me, Ginger. I’ll train you.” He hesitated; her chest buzzed, and instinctively, she knew what he was about to say. “You know how I feel you about you. I—”
She rose on her tiptoes to silence him with a kiss. She wasn’t ready to hear that.
“Mm.” He liked it. “God, Ginj, if you don’t have the sweetest mouth…”
The bear in her was coming awake, getting hot—frisky. Its appetites were strong, feral… demanding. She kissed him more—deeper, hungrier kisses… needier kisses.
“Ginger…”
“Hunter.” Her voice was low. “I want to suck you.”
“You—what?” He sounded surprised, but she could feel him start hardening against her. “Now?”
“Please,” she whined, pressing her hips against his, against his big, trapped cock. “I really want—”
“You don’t have to beg,” he cut in; his voice had gone husky. “I’m yours. If you want to suck me, then suck me, Ginj.” He held her closer. “I’d fucking love to feel your mouth on me.”
She kissed him again, unsnapping the buttons of his jeans with her nimble fingers. His hands went to her breasts, kneading and squeezing them, and her nipples stiffened gratefully. When he gripped the base of her sweater and pulled it up�
�up over the plump, pert flesh of her breasts—and exposed her braless chest to the cool, salty air of the cave, she moaned into their kisses.
“You’re gorgeous, Ginger,” he murmured. “These are so flawless.” He rubbed one of her nipples with his thumb; the rough, calloused skin was exquisite on her pink, cream-soft nub. It hardened like it had never hardened before.
She finally got his cock out, through his fly. Had she ever taken the time to properly admire it? It was girthy, chased with veins, hard as an iron bar. It made her dumb; made her breath hitch; made her pussy sopping wet. She lightly ran her nails down its hot, blood-flushed sides; he shuddered.
“That’s good, Ginger. Fuck.”
She did it again, and he growled. Her inner thighs were wet.
But she was out of patience to tease him—she wanted him in her mouth, now. Sinking to her knees, she had to bite her bottom lip: his cock was right there, thick, heavy, gorgeous. Irresistible.
Her mouth filled with spit. She had to taste it.
She gripped the big base of his shaft—he sighed—and licked the fat, spongy head. He tasted salty, and utterly male. She loved it.
A few more licks, cat-delicate, and then she couldn’t resist: she swallowed as much of his length as she could. His head rolled back, and he groaned.
For a few luxuriant moments she just sucked—the sounds he was making had her pussy drooling—and then she started to slide her mouth up and down his cock, in a slow, obscene rhythm.
Her eyes closed in enjoyment. There was a primal delight in having his big, throbbing cock in her mouth; in having his hand fisted in her hair; in the pebbly bottom of the cave floor biting into her knees. She could hear the rush of the sea.
She was jerking the length she couldn’t suck, swallowing the pre-come he was leaking, humming with real pleasure—this was such dirty bliss. His hand tightened in her hair, pulled; the roughness of it turned her on, and she moaned around the dick in her mouth.
“Good girl, Ginger,” Hunter growled. “Suck my cock. Fuck, you love it, don’t you?”
Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) Page 32
