“Powerful? Meaning strong?”
“Sure, strong.” She never got tired of his fingers in her hair, or tracing the lines of her face. “But it can mean other things, too. Clever. Influential.”
“How is that any different from wild bears’ hierarchy? You know, actual human beings recognized a long time ago that men and women are equal and should be recognized as such…”
“In the wild, it’s always men in their prime at the top of the heap. Always. But we’ve got human minds… actual human minds… so we respect our elders—either gender—and our women, too. If a woman got big enough to fight for Alpha, there’s no law to stop her. They just usually don’t. And you better believe that weak men rank below single women.”
When the fire burned out, sometimes she could see shooting stars past the cave mouth, or through one of its stony oculi. She’d never seen a night sky so bright and so dusted with stars. It must look like this everywhere, but there’s too much light pollution to see it.
Not everything he had to tell her was pleasant. Men sometimes killed each other in bear-form fights, over women or territory. Shifters who didn’t work hard enough to manage their animal half could be violent, or become too purely wild—he told her once that a woman had killed her own cubs when she’d birthed them too early, the way a real sow might. And sometimes shifters were shot by normal humans, who thought they were nuisance bears—or trophy animals.
“Knew a guy who was killed, way up North,” Hunter said. “Near Prince-of-Wales. Shot by a bunch of tourists in a boat while he was wandering up the coast. See, you gotta be careful, Ginger. Anywhere people are—or might go—if it’s not a park, like Katmai or Yellowstone, then it’s not really safe to change forms. Sometimes even then it’s dangerous. Learn when the hunting seasons are, okay? I don’t want you to end up as someone’s rug.”
Those stories scared her. “You think I could ever lose control—or be shot?”
“I don’t know about being shot. But losing control… with you, Ginger, I can’t picture it.” He rubbed the rim of her ear affectionately. “A city girl like you? Nah. Fuck, never. You’re too much a part of the human world.”
“So you think I can go home—to Seattle? After all of this?”
“Yeah, I do. Did someone tell you otherwise? Hell, if MacAlister can live there, so can you.” He snorted just thinking of Dane. “Listen: I’m training you so you can live any way you want to, Ginger. Just drive out to Glacier on the weekends. Let the animal out sometimes and you’ll be fine.”
“I couldn’t stand Saltspring.” It was hard to admit that. “All the smells. All the people.”
“You’ll adjust.” He was serious. “You’re strong, Ginger, just like I’m always saying. If you wanna go home to Seattle, then go ahead and go home. You’ll make it work. You’ve lived in cities your whole life—any bear who told you it’s not possible wouldn’t even know! Most of ’em live in the wilds: Kootenay, Fairbanks, Haines… they could never tolerate a place like Vancouver, or Portland—or, hell, Seattle. But you can.”
“I thought you wanted me.” She bit the tip of his thumb, which had found its way to her mouth while he held her face. “But you live on the water—not in Seattle.”
“Seattle’s on a coast, isn’t it?”
“Hunter…”
“I’m serious. I’m not gonna make you live on the Pacific or in Prince Rupert if that’s not what you want. I work a long season, anyway—gone for months.” He kissed her deeply. “But once it’s over, Ginger… I can put in anywhere… Seattle, even…”
The thought made her flush.
She lost track of the days, of time. The sun went up, crested, and went down. She was getting used to her new body and her new senses—accepting them, almost. There were still evenings where she had brief, hard crying fits—full of anger and fear and frustration—but he would hold her and wait them out, soothing her when she was finished, stroking her hair.
“Don’t be bitter,” he’d whisper. “Everything will be fine, Ginger. I promise.”
Gradually, she started to believe him. Not only did her fear ebb, draining away bit by bit, but it was slowly being replaced with something else: wonder.
A new world was opening up to her, one where she could hear a moth’s wings flutter and a rabbit’s heart beating, where she could shift red cedar logs with a single shove, where she could smell the clams hidden in the tidal silt and the swamp-nettle before it opened. She had to admit it was a beautiful world. The wilderness bloomed for her like never before.
She felt tough and healthy and fierce. Lusty. Alive. Every day she felt more awake—and stronger—than ever before. If nothing else, the shift had made her powerful.
And she found she loved being with Hunter, loved falling asleep and waking up in his arms, loved spending the brisk, sunny days with him. Somehow—slowly—she’d come to trust him. Really trust him.
And maybe love him.
***
“I have to take us back, Ginger.”
She looked up from skipping stones. “Back? Where?”
“To Storm Isle.”
She stared at him, not sure she’d heard right. There were a few unused pebbles in her hand; she dropped them slowly into the water with a plunk, plunk, plunk. “There? Why?”
He got up from where he’d been sitting on a log. “It’s been two weeks. Did you know that?”
“No.” She gazed into the smooth, slow-running stream. “I wasn’t counting.”
“Listen, Ginger, it’s time to go back. You have to spend some time there.”
“No, I don’t. Why should I?”
He came toward her, put a hand on her arm. “Because they’re your family, Ginger. You have to know—”
She shook him off. “They’re not. I hated it there, Hunter—it scared me. I don’t want to go back.”
“But you don’t hate spending time with me? You’re not scared of me?”
“No, I love spending time with you, but you’re different. The bears in that place… I just don’t like them.”
“You like Cat and her kin.”
“They’re different too.”
He hesitated. “You liked Dane.”
She stiffened. Dane. “I don’t want to go back.”
“Ginger, you didn’t spend any real time with the shifters at the Gathering, and you know what? You need to. I’m serious—they’re your family now. You need to know them. You need to come back with me, on Miss Grizzly.”
“Why do I need to know them?” she snapped, tossing her hair.
“It’s not like it was before, when you were human. Now you’re one of us. They want to know you, Ginj. They’ll take care of you. No one will try to hurt you!”
“I’m not interested in getting to know people who were ready to kill me two weeks ago.”
“Gunnar’s messed with their heads,” he sighed. “Given them weird, bad ideas. But those ideas can’t touch you now. You’re a bear just like any other bear.”
“I’m not interested,” she repeated.
“I’m trying to help you,” he insisted, gripping her arm, pulling her around to face him. “Have I steered you wrong yet? No, huh? Well, this is good advice, too: Get to know your own people. You need them, Ginger!”
“I don’t! I have you!”
Something softened in his face. “Yeah, you have me. But…”
She rose up to nuzzle his neck; he let her, then leaned away.
“Stop it, Ginj. Don’t try to distract me. I have to take you back to the Gathering.”
“You don’t have to! You want to!”
“I do have to! For your sake! I can’t be the only bear you know, girl.” The gold in his eyes flamed. He meant everything he was saying. “You need to know the world you’re part of now. It’ll help keep you safe—and keep you from being lonely. You need to meet more bears… more bear women, Ginger! Make friends! Learn the names of the people who are ready to love you, to accept
you!”
I. Don’t. Want. To.
Her mouth flattened, stubbornly. She wanted to tell him that his love was enough, that she didn’t need theirs—but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She wasn’t supposed to love him, or want him, or need him. She couldn’t admit any of it was true.
“Ginger,” he said, and his voice gentled, “they’re your family. I’m serious. They want to take care of you.”
“How can I trust people who wanted to murder me, Hunter?”
“Some of them are limited, it’s true… but not all of them.” He gripped her shoulders. “Catríona’s kin were good to you. There are others just as decent as they are. You can’t run away from us, Ginger—you’re a part of us. Let me take you back to your people. I’ve taught you everything I can alone. You need others now, women—”
She squirmed away. “I can’t. I won’t. My people are in Boston! I don’t want to go back to Storm Isle!”
Although, a small, wheedling voice whispered, Dane’s there.
The thought made her tense as concrete. Some deep, resilient part of her still wanted to see him. It was a part that she’d tried to stamp out, like the stubborn embers of an old fire, but it never truly died.
She’d tried to hate him, and for awhile she almost had, but now… Now sometimes, at night, she dreamed about him… Dreams she tried hard to forget in the morning… Anyway, how could she want him when a man—a good man—was right here? How did that make sense?
Hunter sighed, put his hands on her waist, and drew her close, into his body heat. It brought her back to the present—and back to him. “It’s the best thing for you, girl. I swear it is.” His voice was a low, rough burr. “What are you gonna do during fishing season, when I’m gone for months and no one who knows what you are—who understands—is there to help you? To guide you? Or just to talk to you?”
The warmth of him—the strength of him—the pressure of his arms on her back—It was softening her like butter.
“I’m scared,” she murmured, eyes flickering closed. His chest was hot and hair-prickly against her cheek. It felt good. “The first time you took me there, bad things happened to me. I don’t want to go back.”
His arms tightened on her. “Sweet Ginger. You know I’m sorry for that. I always will be.” He spoke into her hair; he knew that always melted her. “But this is different. This is now, not then. We gotta do what’s best for you now.”
“Promise I can stay with you,” she demanded, clutching his muscled arm.
“Ginger, you—”
“Hunter. Promise.”
His voice changed; lightened.
“Nah, girl. I don’t want you around.”
“Hunter.”
“Of course you can stay with me, Ginger! Shit, if I had my way, I’d tie you to my side—that’s how bad I want you around.” The way he was holding her felt so, so ridiculously good. Men had never made her feel the way Hunter—and Dane—had.
Forget Dane, Self! Fuck Dane! He’s the reason you’re like this!
But he only did it to save you. Because you jumped.
I had no choice! Where was he when Gunnar was stalking me, anyway? I did what I had to, to get away. I was ready to die to get away. He should have lived with it if I had. I’d rather be dead than what I am now.
Is that true, Self? Is it really all bad?
Yes!
Is it, though? Don’t you like the new strength—the new senses—the new orgasms?
Stop!
Face it, Ginger! Face that you’re starting to accept—
“We should go today. Just go back to the cave, get cleaned up, dress, and go.”
“I don’t wanna leave our island,” she whined, very softly.
“‘Our island.’ I like the sound of that, baby.” He turned her around in his arms, so her back was to his hot, powerful chest. “It’s a beautiful place, no question.”
It was still morning—coldly smoky—and sun was shafting through the conifer forest beside the stream, spangling the running water. Dawn fog and dust motes danced and drifted in the spotlights. She toed the muddy, pebbly ground underfoot, loving how wet and frigid and wild it was.
“But this is just a dream, baby. A beautiful dream,” he murmured by her ear. “We can’t stay here our whole lives. We gotta go.”
“I like it here. With you.”
“Good. I like to hear you say so. But today we’re leaving.”
She’d always known she’d have to leave sometime, if she survived the transition from human to shifter. And she had.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Hunter… thank you. For this time. For your help.”
“Don’t thank me.” He bit her ear. “Just stay with me.”
Would it be so horrible to be with him? To let him be my man, for real?
But what about Dane? another voice asked, quietly, insistently. You have feelings for him, too. Real feelings. Strong feelings. Maybe you should forgive him.
How can I forgive him after what’s happened? And when I think about what might happen next? There’s still the leadership of the clans to be decided. What if Dane becomes Alpha, and not Hunter? What if he kills Hunter to do it? Or—what if Hunter kills him? I couldn’t—handle it, I couldn’t—and there’s still Gunnar—I know he wants me—I can’t—
“Come on, then,” she said, breaking away from him. It was better for her dignity if she made the first move back to the cave—and better for her health if she cut these unwelcome thoughts off.
She splashed across the icy, shallow stream, dropping to all fours and bear-changing on the opposite bank. Breaking into a lumbering run, she disappeared into the trees—goading him to chase her.
***
She was staring back at their island, wearing one of the sweaters Hunter had bought for her in Saltspring.
It was salmon-pink and soft cable knit, very pretty. He’d picked well.
He was starting the gillnetter’s engines. She crossed one booted ankle behind the other and gripped the deck rail. Catríona’s jacket was warm against her neck.
The boat juddered to life; the roar was loud and scattered crazy, shallow vibrations on the surface of the sea. She wished she had some gloves.
“Ginger!” he called from the wheelhouse. “Ready?”
Ready? Nope. But there’s no choice. They hadn’t packed up all their gear and all their clothes for nothing.
“Yeah. Gun it!” she shouted back, over the engine and the wind.
Miss Grizzly turned, slowly, in the water; Ginger got a long, lingering view of the stony, driftwood-choked coastline of their island. Then, suddenly, the boat found its speed and cut away through the wave caps, bringing her back to the place on Earth she least wanted to be—and closer to the man she thought she least wanted to see.
Storm Isle.
And Dane.
Taming Two Bears
(Alphas of Storm Isle: Part 5)
By Sophie Chevalier
Chapter 33
She knew something was wrong as soon as Storm Isle came into view.
There was smoke.
And there was fire.
The coastline was burning.
Hot tongues of flame shot up behind black pines, sloughing thick smoke into the air. A smoking spruce toppled crashingly into the waters of the strait. She was so shocked that for a long, sweaty moment, all she could do was grip Miss Grizzly’s railing and stare.
Storm Isle is on fire.
“Hunter!” she yelled up finally, toward the wheelhouse.
“Ginger, get up here!” he shouted back from where he was piloting the gillnetter. His voice was tight, tense—angry.
She ran across the deck and swung up into the wheelhouse. Crushing herself right up against the skipper’s chair, she gripped its tatty, peeled-leather back and put a hand on his shoulder—being close to him calmed her down, a little.
As the boat came around the island’s side, they could see mor
e fire: red, fast, hungry fire, eating through the islet’s forest. The outlines of cabins were burning close to the shoreline, sending up showers of sparks.
“Oh my God. Hunter, what’s happening? What’s—”
“I dunno, baby.” His jaw was tight. “I have no idea.”
She stared out the windows, watching the way the island was smoking and flaming. It made her think of a big, burning pie pan.
“Damn,” he muttered. They were sailing by the pier now. It was on fire, its timbers dropping like black matchsticks into the steaming water.
“Why didn’t we see the smoke before? On our island?” Ginger asked, shocked deep. Was Cat still alive to take her jacket back? Was Dane still alive to see her? Was he alive, or was he dead?
Dead.
“The wind,” he said, trying to watch both his instruments and the coast. “It’s been southerly for days. It blew all this smoke away from us… so we never saw it…”
“What’s happening?” she pressed. “It’s winter. It’s damp. This can’t be natural.”
“No. It’s not. Flash fires don’t …ah, shit. There’s my fucking cabin.” He gestured resignedly toward a plot of land engulfed completely in flame. “Could be worse, I guess. I could’ve been in there.”
“Maybe someone started it? Accidentally?” The sight of hemlocks and firs standing tall and dark against red sheets of flame chilled her to the core, stiffened her with fear. She felt like her stomach was full of ice.
“Or on purpose,” he said darkly. “Hang tight, baby. I’m gonna take us to Riona’s inlet.”
“Her inlet? Where is that? What is that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I’ve got a gut feeling this was no act of nature, and if it’s what I think, then Riona’s inlet is right where we should be.”
She had the same feeling—that this wasn’t natural, that it was intentional. It made her sick.
What if Dane’s dead, and he died thinking I hate him?
She thought she might have to go and throw up over the side of the boat.
Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) Page 35
