Alphas of Storm Isle (Complete Boxed Set: Books 1-5): Werebear Shifter Menage Romance

by Sophie Chevalier

  “So, if I had landed here before he had any influence,” Ginger asked slowly, “what would have happened?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Not much. Someone might’ve brought a complaint to the elders, and there might even have been a formal council. But all that would’ve happened in the end would’ve been your removal. I’d probably sail you back to Salt Spring myself. Dane’s reputation would take a hit, for mixing with a human girl—a bad hit, maybe. But nothing worse.

  “Now, though—eat your salmon—now things are different. He’s got people believing that if only they adhere to the ancient laws, we can strengthen our clans and ourselves. Build our power. Maybe, in time, reveal ourselves to your kind… make you cower.”

  He snorted. “Insanity, of course. All the old laws do in this day and age is hold us back, eh? And endanger us, you want my opinion. What if we actually did put you to death, Ginger? You got family, right? Someone would look into your disappearance, wouldn’t they? Bet they would.”

  “Yeah. They would.” Laila, first of all, but her other friends in Seattle, too. “Where’s Ginger? Has anyone seen Ginger?” “Not since the fifteenth. When did you last see Ginger?” And her parents, back in Boston. Her brother in China. Aunt in Jacksonville. Lots of people. “Several dozen someones.”

  “Right… eat your salmon. That’s what I’m talking about.” He stared at her; for a second she was distracted, realizing again just how handsome he was. “Look, Ginger. I swear to God, I had no idea things would get this bad. I should’ve listened to Catríona—I should’ve. I underestimated how much Gunnar had built up support. I underestimated the shit he was gonna stir. And I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

  “Feel free to apologize to my mauled corpse if this goes too far,” Ginger said sweetly.

  He winced. “I won’t let it go that far! I swear to you, here and now. You’re right, this is partly my fault, Ginger, and I’m gonna protect you. It’s my responsibility. Okay?”

  She stared at him for a long, terse minute. Then she tried her first forkful of salmon. “This isn’t bad, you know?”

  He snorted. “You’re welcome.”

  ***

  “I’ll help you wash up,” she said when they were done. The sunlight spotlighting in through the wavy glass of the cabin windows had the marigold color of late afternoon. Dust motes swam in the beams.

  “Nah, it’s a pain. No running water. I’ll do it later.”

  “No running water?” She stared at him, horrified.

  He looked like he was trying not to laugh at her. “No. I mean… it’s a cabin. Look around, eh?”

  “How do you shower?” She drew back. “Do you shower?”

  “There’s a gravity shower down the hill. Cistern fed. You should try it sometime.” His mouth twitched.

  “Thanks, but Dane lives like he belongs to this century, so I think I’ll keep taking my showers at his place.”

  Hunter’s humor died immediately. “Yeah, I bet he does. Tell me, is it true his toilet paper’s made of money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Knew it.”

  “What’s your deal, anyway?” she asked, folding her arms.

  He gazed at her. “Get up. Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just come on. We can talk on the trail.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I don’t like being inside longer than I have to. Up, Ginj!”

  Chapter 5

  She followed him along a footpath, a narrow one walled in red huckleberry and bigleaf maple. Far overhead, white pine and western hemlock groaned in the wind.

  “Smell that?”

  “Smell what? The sea? Yeah.”

  “No. That campfire. Guess you can’t.”

  “Sorry I’m just human.”

  “Well, we can’t help our limitations.”

  “Tool.”

  “Are you afraid of dogs?” he asked, ignoring her.

  “Dogs? No…”

  “Good. Here come a few.”

  “What? Where—?”

  A couple of blond mutts burst out of the undergrowth, barking loudly and circling Ginger; the smaller one started jumping on her excitedly.

  “No, Kiva! Down, Kiva!” Hunter clapped; the dog backed off, panting. “Both of you leave Ginger alone!”

  “It’s okay. I like dogs. Can I pet them?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  A little cautiously, she patted Kiva on the head. “What’s the other one’s name?”

  “Jackal. They belong to a family I know. Part of the Churchill River clan.”

  “Hey, baby. Hey, baby. Ooh, baby, hi hi!” Ginger babytalked, scratching both smiling, tongue-lolling dogs behind their ears. “Hi, babies. Hi hi. Hi, babieeeess.”

  “Animal lover, huh?” he said, watching her approvingly.

  “Completely. Not soft on werebears, though.”

  He smiled; it was a crooked smile, but sexier because of it. “Well, hell, I won’t try to change your mind.” He snapped, getting the dogs’ attention. “Kiva! Jackal! Go home!”

  They recognized the command and bounded away, breaking through the lady fern and vine maple.

  She watched him closely; he was gazing in the direction the dogs had gone with an unreadable expression. “Where’s your family, Beaumont?”

  “Family?” he grunted. “Why d’you ask? Come on. Follow me.”

  “Okay, let’s try this question.” She trailed him down the track; the smell of salt was getting stronger and stronger. “Where’s your clan?”

  “Watch these roots.”

  She didn’t, and stumbled. He caught her.

  “Ugh! Why did you guys choose this island?” she asked, pulling away and being more careful.

  “No native bears.”

  “Really? But there’s bears on Vancouver Island…”

  “Yeah, but this isn’t the main island. It’s missing lots of animals that’re on the mainland and the big island. Hey, Ginger, up here. There’s a view.” The track steepened, almost verticalized, and roughened with big rocks; he offered her his hand. Deciding to forego pride, she gripped it.

  They got up on the crest. And she had to gasp.

  Below them was a steep, rocky sandstone cliff, its bottom full of wave-cut pockets; the rush and pull of surf was wonderful to hear. Across a turbulent, sun-glittering strait, she could see a handful of other islands that looked just like Storm Isle; Sitka spruce and Pacific silver fir weaved on their cliffs in the wind. Mew’s gulls and black oystercatchers wheeled over the choppy, cold-looking water.

  Ginger crouched down into some deer fern and sat. Hunter hesitated, then sat too, beside her.

  “Really beautiful,” she admitted.

  “It is. Thought you’d like it.”

  “You did?” she asked, surprised. Did he… bring us here to show me this?

  “Uh huh,” he said, a little evasively. “So. Ginger. How’re you and Dane planning to fight this thing?”

  “What? The… like… bear-law charges? I don’t know. He hasn’t told me exactly what he’s doing. Talking to people, I guess.”

  “Hmm.” He stared out over the water, toward the rocky coastlines of the other islands. “Well, MacAlister has a lot of pull. People respect him. Fear him, even.”

  “Fear him?”

  “Sure. Word is, you saw him as a bear. True?” She nodded. “Right. That means you should understand, Ginger. The size of him… the raw power… who wouldn’t be afraid of that? Bulk and might… ferocity… those are things we admire.” He shifted, to lean back on his palms. “But it’s not just his sheer strength. He’s smart, too. Smart and wealthy. He makes his way out in the thick of the human world—none of us do that. Add to that that he comes from nothing.” He snorted. “He’s impressive, even I’ll give him that. And he’s got the elders’ ears. Everyone listens to him.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” he asked, glancing at her. She was struck again by how handsome he wa
s. Tall, powerfully made, broad-shouldered. Big, worn hands. Strong-jawed, with strong cheekbones, and piercingly bright eyes. A short growth of beard. Chocolate-brown hair, tousled. Tanned skin.

  She had a sudden wild urge to nip a line of muscle on his unshaven neck; to kiss his jawline, bite his ear. It embarrassed her.

  “I heard you threw in to be Alpha, too.”

  He barked a laugh. “Someone had to challenge him, Ginger! Someone who wasn’t that little worm Gunnar. Why does MacAlister think he can lead us?” His eyes flashed; her stomach flipped at the flicker of pure gold. “He spends his life in cities, living and working with humans. What does he think about besides human money, human laws, human problems? What room is there in his brain for our issues? Does he even understand his own people? How we live? It’s not like he spends any time with us outside the Gathering season.

  “But I do. And I live in the wild. I understand us. I know what it means to be an animal, which he’s forgotten, if he ever knew. And I know the problems facing us.” His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t seen me, Ginger. But believe me when I tell you I’m just as strong as he is, and just as big. If it came to a fight—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Is it supposed to? Is that how an Alpha’s decided?”

  He shrugged. “If the people and the elders can’t choose.”

  “You’d fight Dane?”

  He laughed again, but this time it was humorless. “To the death.”

  She stared at him, horrified. The squawking of some gulls reached them, carried by the wind.

  “See, Ginger… you’re human. You don’t understand. And I don’t think Dane understands anymore, either.”

  “You’re wrong.” And he was, she was sure of it. “Dane’s an animal, too.”

  He smiled, tickled. “Are you defending him?”

  “I’m… just saying.”

  “Yeah? Fess up, Ginj… d’you belong to him? You can tell me. Seriously.”

  “No!” Her voice was so loud that some white-fronted geese that had set down on the edge of their overlook took off again with irritated honks.

  Hunter laughed, a real laugh, deep and pleasant; it made her pulse speed up. “Okay, alright. I believe you. I wouldn’t want to be his woman, either.”

  She rolled her eyes. In silence, they watched the water rolling in the strait.

  “Hey, Hunter, why don’t you have a problem with me? You and Catríona? It seems like almost everyone else on this island does.”

  His look was soft. “Why would I have a problem with you, Ginger? I’m not a fucking monster. You’re just an innocent girl.”

  The sun was truly westering now; it cast some pale bronze light on the greying sea. She swallowed. “I should get back.”

  “Back to Dane?” His eyes were sharp.

  “Yeah, back to Dane.”

  “Okay.” Hunter stood. “I’ll take you to the edge of his territory.”

  ***

  Dane still wasn’t back when she was, at dusk; to burn off the nervous energy, she made dinner. When he did arrive, around seven, it was ready.

  “You cooked?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. I hope you didn’t already eat.”

  “What is it?” He slung his fleece off on one of the island bar stools.

  “Mushroom-and-salmon omelets.” She licked a finger. “Okay?”

  “Excellent.” But his gold gaze was too intent, too fixed. “You went out today, Ginger.”

  “Who told you? Everyone?”

  “Ginger… it’s not that you’re a prisoner. I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “I know.” She did believe that. “But I can’t just—sit in your bedroom, waiting to hear what happens.”

  He sighed. Came up behind her, where she stood by the stove. And—her heart shot into her throat—put his hands on her slender waist. Squeezed.

  “You smell like the sea. And the woods.” His voice was low. “And—Beaumont. What did he have to say for himself?”

  “Not… not much.” It was hard to talk; being this close to him was dizzying. He’d never, ever touched her like this, and she’d always, always wanted him to. Now that he finally was, she wanted more of it. Why couldn’t he slide his hands up… just a little higher… and cup her breasts? Her nipples hardened.

  Or maybe he could slide his hands down… along the curve of her hips… and one could slip in front and—

  “He’s dangerous, Ginger.”

  “How?” She was wet. Could he smell that? Her face burned.

  “He’s feral.”

  Maybe that was true. Hadn’t Hunter said something like that himself? I live in the wilderness. I’m an animal. But he hadn’t hurt her. All he’d done was bring her out to look at the sea, and talk to her. He’d been—kind. “You’re all feral.”

  “I’m not.” His breath was hot on her ear. “Not like the others, at least.”

  She was swallowing gasps; his touch, his nearness, the rich, cedar-y smell of him… “I’ll—I’ll try to stay inside.”

  “Someone could do something to you, Ginger.”

  “Would they, though? Would they dare?” Her voice was a thin whisper.

  “They might. Gunnar broke the laws he claims to love once already. It’s forbidden to start fights at the Gathering, or for one man to cross into another man’s territory uninvited. Did he care?”

  That was true. “No,” she admitted.

  His hands tightened even more on her middle, and she couldn’t help making a soft, sharp little sound of pleasure. Then, abruptly, as if remembering where they were—and who they were—he let go. “Let’s eat, Ginger. That smells delicious.”

  “Dane. What were you doing all day?” she managed to ask, over the racehorse gallop of her heart.

  His look softened, but he gave nothing away. “Arguing our case. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Let’s have those omelets now.”

  ***

  Dane had given her his bed again, while he slept on one of the couches out in the living room. She’d dozed for awhile, but now she was awake. It was the middle of the night, and the moon had waxed so full—it was almost whole—that white, glowing shafts of moonlight paned in through the windows.

  She was tense. So tense. And what had always worked for tension?

  She slipped a hand into her underwear, and lightly, teasingly ran her fingers over her soft lips. When they started to swell, she pressed her pointer finger onto her clit.

  Dane. Bear or not, monster or not, she wanted him. Just thinking of his hands on her waist was enough to make her clit harden, and it did, firming under her finger. But she needed more than just his hands on her waist…

  It was easy to imagine the room door opening; easy to imagine him sliding into bed with her. Easy to imagine him naked, because she had seen it—his height, his muscle, the size of his manhood. Her hips bucked, greedily.

  Easy to imagine his dense, firm weight on her… the scratch of his chest hair… his hand in her hair. Easy to imagine how she’d kiss him—with open-mouthed abandon, biting his tongue, gasping into his mouth.

  She’d spread her legs unresistingly. The head of his cock would press against her drenched, puffy folds, and then he’d sink deeply, easily inside her, the way she needed him to so badly—

  She bit back a moan, rubbing herself roughly as she imagined the urgency and power of his thrusts. Imagined the way he’d fill her—the hot, girthy size of him—Imagined the rough, masculine sounds he’d make—

  She pressed two fingers inside herself—

  The fantasy changed. In the thick of her arousal, a slave to her coming orgasm, she accepted the alteration.

  But when she climaxed, pulsing on her sticky fingers, she gasped in horror as much as in pleasure.

  Because she’d finished by imagining Hunter on top of her, taking her, instead of Dane.

  Chapter 6

  When she woke up, Dane was already on the front porch with Riona and an old man in a shag cloak she didn’t recognize. Another elder, obviously.


  “Dane?” she asked, peeping around the jamb of the open front door. The stranger cast a stony look at her.

  “Stay inside, Ginger.” Dane gestured her back in. “I have to go. I’ll be back.”

  “Go where?” She took a disobedient step onto the porch, and he physically—although gently—forced her back, hands tight on her arms.

  “Ginger. Stay inside. Please.”

  “Where are you going? Why? Why right now?” She recognized that she was begging, but couldn’t stop. It scared her that he’d leave her again without explaining anything.

  “Please. Just stay. I have to go.”

  “Why? For what?” She held his gold-and-hickory eyes desperately.

  “To have a conversation. Wait for me.”

  “Dane—”

  “Ginger,” he whispered insistently. “It’s for your sake. Wait for me. Please.”

  He was already dressed. All he had to do was shut the door on her and leave her standing there in her pajamas.

  She bit her nails. Padded into the kitchen and had an apple. Watched the wall clock tick off an hour.

  And knew she couldn’t spend the whole day alone and ignorant. It would drive her insane.

  ***

  Hunter opened his door on the second knock. To call his expression shocked would have been an understatement.

  “Hi,” Ginger said unapologetically. “Will you take me out?”

  “Out?” he repeated, bewildered. It looked like he hadn’t been up that long, or at least, had just gotten dressed—his flannel shirt was undone halfway down the front. She tried not to let her eyes linger on the hair-shaded muscle she could see.

  “Yeah. Just… take me with you.” The morning birds were chorusing in the tall, wind-stirred trees around his cabin. “To whatever you’re doing today.”

  He stared at her. She saw in his face the awareness that he should send her away—send her back to Dane. He sighed, and she braced herself for rejection.