***
Hunter had to anchor far off from Riona’s inlet. When they rowed ashore, he told her quietly that they were “going to hoof it now.”
This was a barer and rougher side of the island than she’d seen before: it was all steep, pitted rock faces, topped with windblown scrub and greeting a violent sea. She and Hunter had to shimmy between gaps and cracks in the lunar landscape of coastal rock, and she cut herself more than once on sharp edges of stone.
Finally they reached the inlet: it was walled in cliffs of rock, inaccessible except for the footpath they’d taken—its arms of stone only gaped out on the water, about fifteen meters from shore, and the waves were too rough to sail through that natural gate.
She followed Hunter along a curved beach of fawn-colored sand, one shadowed by the sea cliffs. Birds screamed overhead, disturbed by the inland fire.
“This is Riona’s?” she asked loudly, over the crash and hiss of the waves. “All this? This whole… cove?”
“Shh, Ginger. I don’t know if we…”
“Halt where you are!”
Ginger jumped and threw up her hands—automatically—at the sight of gun barrels. Hunter growled.
“It’s me, Dunahan, you fucking moron. I didn’t have any part in whatever wickedness was done here. Been gone for weeks. You seen me? No. You haven’t. Use that sad thing you call a brain.”
The couple of tired-looking men who’d popped out from behind the rocks slowly lowered their rifles.
“Hunter… shit, brother, we thought you were dead! We thought he’d killed you! But you were with this girl the whole time? Where? And why?”
“I have a name,” Ginger heard herself say loudly. “It’s not That Girl.”
Hunter reached behind him and gripped her wrist, dragging her forward. “Damn right she has a name. Remember, brothers, this girl’s one of us now.”
“Sorry, sister,” Dunahan said, and to Ginger’s surprise, he met her eyes and meant it. “What do they call you, again?”
“Ginger. Ginger Graham.”
“Alright, sister Ginger. Look, you two follow me.” His face was slack and exhausted—and Ginger saw a shadow of fear there, too. “Riona will want to talk to you.”
***
There were a series of caves in the center of the cove; the largest one was crowded with people, sleeping bags, camping generators, tents, tussling children, dogs, and iceboxes. Fishing gear was stacked by the mouth, along with a mess of boots; she could smell trout, bass, and bait on the air.
“This is bad,” Hunter murmured.
It certainly looked bad to her. The shifters in the cave seemed like refugees.
“Hunter! Ginger!”
Ginger would have recognized Cat’s voice anywhere. Sure enough, she exploded out of nowhere to clench Ginger in a bone-breaking hug. The strength of the brown bear was just below the surface of Cat’s soft, pale skin.
“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice more relieved—painfully relieved—than angry. “We had no idea. No one knew. Dane said you were with Hunter—you were with him, weren’t you?—but no one knew—I didn’t know—we thought you might be dead, Ginger, we were so scared—”
“You were?” Ginger gasped, trying to get Cat’s squeezing arms off her middle. It was like disengaging from a safety lock. “I’m sorry I scared you, Cat.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Cat sighed, her grip slackening; Ginger took a quick, deep breath. “I know you were confused… mixed up… I was just so worried. And then, with everything that’s happened—”
“Yeah, about that. What’s happened, exactly?” Hunter cut in, arms folded.
Cat shot him a sharp, startled look, like she’d only just noticed him. “Hunter.”
“Last I checked.”
Cat rolled her eyes. Ginger couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under them. “You’re a riot, Hunter. You should do Letterman.”
“Brothers, sisters, Riona’s waiting,” Dunahan put in, sounding exhausted. “Cat, you could come along, I bet. You’re close with the lady.”
“Yes, come, Cat,” Ginger said, closing a hand on Cat’s jacketed arm. “I want to hear from you what’s going on, too.”
“I—I don’t know,” Cat said slowly. “Eimhir’s alone with the cubs if I skive off. Because the men are all inland, looking for…” But she trailed off.
“Please?” Ginger pressed, squeezing her arm. “Just for a few minutes.”
Cat nodded slowly. “Okay. But Ginger, first, promise me—you’re really alright?”
“I’m fine.” More than fine. She’d finally learned to control her new self…well, mostly. Thanks to Hunter. “Let’s go.”
***
Riona had a small cave for her own, close to the tideline of the surf. A driftwood-and-sea-charcoal fire was burning inside, throwing hot light on the rock walls.
Some of the people seated around it were old, cloaked, and sinewy—elders, Ginger guessed. Others were strong and muscular, smack in their prime. It looked like the little group had been going over maps and sea charts.
Dunahan didn’t even need to announce them. Riona saw the little party approaching, and she stood, glided away from the fire, and came to them at the cave mouth. A grizzled man, elderly but powerful, limped out behind her leaning on a staff. Dunahan melted away.
“Hunter,” Riona said placidly. “You have been away.”
“I’m sorry,” he said seriously. Ginger glanced at him.
“Don’t apologize.” Riona waved his words off. “This changeling you love had need of you.”
“Hardly a changeling anymore,” Hunter said, with a hint of pride. “She’s a real bear now.”
“Hmm.” The old, strong-looking man at Riona’s shoulder grunted, then stroked his beard. “We’ll see. The girl still smells fresh—and human.”
Did she? What did it even mean to smell human? The humans she’d smelt on Saltspring had smelled like their soaps and their polyester clothes and their hair creams. Did she smell like that?
“Peace, Torin,” Riona said calmly. “If Hunter says she’s a sow, she’s a sow.”
“What happened here, Riona?” Hunter asked, one of his hands settling on Ginger’s shoulder. She liked the strength of it. Liked the heat of it, even through the suede of her coat.
“Can’t you guess, boy?” Torin growled. “It’s that damn dog-hearted mischief-maker. Gunnar.”
“He did this?” Ginger asked, as shocked as she was unsurprised. “Why would he burn this island? It’s a bear island.”
“It’s not quite like that—like he planned to burn everything,” Cat said quietly, glancing at the two elders as she spoke. “He fired Dane’s cabin first.”
“What?” Ginger asked, sharp as cut glass. “Where’s Dane? Where’s—”
“He lives,” Torin interrupted briskly. “Mostly whole.”
“Mostly?” Ginger was horrified.
“What Gunnar started here will quickly become a war that will engulf the clans,” Riona said, her cool voice silencing them all. “He has convinced his people that those of us who do not share their values or their view of the future weaken our race. They think we must be converted by force—or purged.”
“What values?” Ginger asked, bristling. “What future?”
“You know what values, and what future,” Hunter said, and she heard the animal in his voice. “They hate humans and they hate the human world. They hate shifters who won’t fall in line with their fantasy of domination over humans.” He snorted; Ginger saw his eyes flash gold. “It’s all just a platform for Gunnar, that’s what it is. A means for him to raise himself up as some kind of—shit, I don’t know, visionary king.”
“He’s too weak to win a traditional contest for Alpha,” Cat explained quickly. “So he poisoned peoples’ minds and got them to believe that we need the old laws and the old ways to be strong. You know what the old laws are like, Ginger.”
“Sure,”
she said tightly. “They almost killed me.”
“They did,” Riona agreed evenly. “He would like to finish the job.”
“You embarrassed him, Ginger,” Cat said quietly. She gripped the elbow of Ginger’s coat. “His rivals protected you and he couldn’t get to you. Then he wanted you and you rejected him. Then he lied that you were dead and then you showed up at that clanmeet, alive. And you’re a symbol.”
“A symbol? Of what?” she asked, taken aback. Of Snuggies? Of always getting whipped cream on your coffee? Of losing all your hairbands?
“A new world,” Hunter said shortly. “You were human—a condemned human—and now you’re a shifter. Dane made you, and he’s as integrated into human society as a bear can get, isn’t he? You represent coexistence.” Briefly, his hand found its way to the curve of her hip; he squeezed. “You’re everything that’s threatening to Gunnar, Ginj. You’re an example of how we can live alongside the wider world, rather than fighting it—and of how we can choose to move past our stale old laws. We didn’t execute you. A bear loved you and he saved you and now you’re one of us. He didn’t choose violence and he didn’t follow Draconian rules about ‘trespass’ or ‘purity in coupling.’ Why should he have, and why should we? It’s not like we’re going to take over the world by murdering girls from Seattle.”
“And you’re a symbol of his humiliation,” Cat said cannily. “He talked about how you should die, but he wanted to mate you. You fought him off and you chose his rival. His pride’s hurt.”
“I don’t think I like being a symbol,” Ginger said stiffly. “And I haven’t chosen anyone, just for your informa—”
“Gunnar’s made war here,” Riona cut in. “That’s why our island burns. He attacked Dane first, but his people woke other fires and started other fights.”
“We need to extinguish this spark, here and now, before it catches the wind and chars the continent,” Torin said darkly. “Gunnar must die. We elders have decided.”
“What about his people?” Hunter asked, frowning.
“Use your judgment,” Torin growled, his eyes narrowing. “But I won’t shed a tear if they share his fate. Spare them if you think they merit it, but look around you, boy. They lit the woods on fire.”
“Our cabin’s gone,” Cat whispered to Ginger. “Most cabins are. At least it wasn’t really our home.”
“Still,” Ginger murmured back. “It was yours.” And now it’s gone.
“What can I do?” Hunter asked darkly. Ginger could sense a kind of heat coming off him. A powerful, controlled male anger.
“Kill him,” Torin said bluntly.
“Come inside,” Riona said, more civilly, “and we’ll discuss where the fighting has been.” Her eyes strayed briefly to Ginger and Cat. “Daughters, go and rest.”
“What? But I—”
Cat was tugging her away already, silencing Ginger.
“I don’t need to rest,” Ginger protested. “I want to know what’s happening, I—Hunter—”
“I’ll come and find you soon, baby,” he said, sounding distracted, although the look he shot her was soft. “Wait for me.”
“But—”
Catríona yanked her, hard, and dragged her down the beach, back toward the crowded caves at the center of the inlet. Ginger protested the whole way.
“What the hell, Cat? Why didn’t I get to hear that conversation?” Cold waves were breaking close by, just feet away from them. “I want to know what’s happening! I need to know what’s happening! I’m involved!”
“Hunter could be Alpha,” Cat said curtly. “He’s a bull, and a serious contender for leadership. The elders like him and he’s powerful in a fight.” They arrived back at the public cave. Ginger heard children crying. “He’s got a right to the kind of conversation they’re having back there. You and me? Not so much. We’re not even going to be heading out and fighting, Ginger.”
“Why don’t I have a right to hear it? Why aren’t we fighting?” I’m a bear, aren’t I? “This is bullcrap! Everyone was just saying I’m important to—”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Ginger. Not like usual. You need to stay in camp,” Cat interrupted, exasperated. “Just stay and rest.”
“I’m not going to do anything stupid! I just want to know what’s happening!”
And where Dane is. And how he is. Please! I need to know how he is!
“Maybe if you hadn’t said Hunter’s not actually your man, you could have held a seat at their discussion…”
“What? I—well,” Ginger stammered, face flushing, “I mean—he’s not. He’s not my man.”
“Hmm.” Cat sounded unconvinced.
“Oh, you don’t believe me?” Ginger bristled. “Fine. Tell me where Dane is.”
Cat flushed. “Where Dane is? Ginger—”
“I want him!” Ginger burst out with, knowing it was too blunt. “I want to see him. Where is he? I know you know, Cat. Where’s Dane?”
Eimhir was coming toward them, a finger-sucking baby in her arms. Ginger didn’t want to talk to her, or to any other bears in the caves here.
I just need to find Dane.
She could feel her eyes burning hot, hot gold.
“Alright,” Cat said quietly. “But Ginger, I don’t know exactly where he is—no one does. He said he was going to try to get to Gunnar by way of the island’s east side, where the forest is thickest. Gunnar’s denned over there, he—”
“Good enough, thanks,” Ginger said, shrugging off her jacket. “Here. This is really yours. I kept it as nice as I could.”
“Oh, Ginger, sweets,” Cat said, sighing. “I don’t need it back. It’s yours.”
“Catr—”
“Take it from your sister, with love,” Cat said firmly, her mouth pressed in a stubborn line.
Ginger colored, touched. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m going.”
“Be careful. People are dying. And Ginger—what do I tell Hunter?”
“Tell him?” Ginger asked, hesitating. “I don’t know. Tell him the truth.”
Cat nodded, and then Ginger turned and hurried across the cool sand, back in the direction she’d entered the inlet from.
Chapter 34
The woods smelled smoky, and they were filled with a thin, bitter haze from the fires on the island’s other side. Ginger pushed through a stand of yellow cedar, listening for birdsong and hearing none. All the birds had flown away.
She could smell more than fire on the wind: there was the sour tang of death. Cat must be right. People must be dying, somewhere.
I only hope Dane’s not one of them. I need him to be alive.
What if he wasn’t? What if she never saw him again? What if she never spoke to him again, never touched him again, never—
But she couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t. I just can’t.
He has to be alive. He has to be.
She was going quietly, aware that Gunnar’s people must be out in the forest. Hunter had taught her how to fight, but she knew she would lose against a full-grown male grizzly, if any of them happened to be one. Caution was her byword.
But it was getting harder and harder to be cautious. It had been hours since she left the beach, and the acrid stillness of the woods made her tense as steel. The shirt she wore was sweat-damp; her hair was wet against her neck. It was hard to stand.
I can’t believe it’s come to this.
All this violence. All this destruction. I can’t—
A nearby shallow-throated roar made her jump. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she knew it was a bear, and she knew the bear was in distress. The smoke in the woods made it hard to tell from what direction the sound was coming; she darted one way, then another—there was a second voice roaring, a third; it was clear she was hearing a fight—
She tried to find where, but the sounds died away before she did.
Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe I didn’t want to find whatever just happe
ned.
But what if it involved Dane? Where is Dane? I just want to find him—I need to see him, I—
There was a loud rustle, and she ducked under the cover of some Pacific silver fir, crouching in the dry-feeling deer fern.
A bear broke from the forest, an immense, hump-shouldered grizzly bull. A gasp came out of her. She knew who it was.
She broke from the brush, scrambling forward.
“Dane!”
The bear turned its huge head in her direction, its black nostrils widening, its ears flattening. But when it saw her, the gold of its eyes softened to brown, and it shifted back into a man. He was naked and glorious: tall, muscular, and proud.
She had no self-control. She rushed him and threw herself into his arms, relieved beyond belief, almost laughing with giddiness. He held her tight—nearly too tight—but that was what she needed. It proved he was real.
“Ginger,” he breathed into her hair. It was so good to smell him again, to feel his hot, firm skin and his power against her. “You came back.”
“I didn’t want to,” she admitted, her arms locked around his neck.
“I don’t blame you,” he whispered. “I understand. I thought you had left us for good. Gone home.” He paused. “I thought you had left me for him.”
“For Hunter?” She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into his rough, hot neck. His smoked-wood scent was mixed with more savage smells: smoke, blood, fur. He’s been fighting. “It was Hunter who made me come back.”
“He’s a fair man,” Dane said quietly. “I suppose I owe him this moment.”
“Dane, I was so, so afraid for you,” she confessed, her voice low and soft. “When we came back and we saw the fire, I thought… I thought maybe… that you… and I would never have told you…”
“Told me what?” One of his hands had found its way into her full, wavy hair. She could feel herself melting against him.
“Oh, Dane,” she murmured, biting back tears. “You’re alive. Just—thank God. Thank God.”
“You smell so good, Ginger. You feel exquisite in my arms,” he whispered, his voice unbearably masculine, unbearably deep. “But I almost wish you had gone, so you’d be safe from all this.”
Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) Page 36
