When Cade finds an endangered hiker on an isolated trail, he is enraged at having his paradise invaded. He really has no choice. His sense of honor demands he help her, and soon she is lying in his bed while he offers his home as a sanctuary to recover from her injuries.
How did that happen?
No worries, it’s temporary. A day or two, max and then she’s gone.
There’s only one problem. This woman stirs feelings in Cade that he hasn’t felt for a very long time. The way she tames his hot temper and soothes his beast is making it very difficult for Cade to say goodbye. Not to mention the fact that his wolf wants to keep her and claim her as his mate!
Chapter 1
“Honestly, Amanda, there's nothing wrong with getting out of the city every now and then, letting yourself enjoy the wonders of nature!”
Mira Jenkins pouted into her iPhone. Her brow was furrowed in annoyance as she paced the room. Even so, she knew her pleading was in vain, she was pretty sure she was going to lose the argument, but she had to at least give it a fair shot.
“Besides, you've been cooped up indoors so long, at work and at home, you'll go crazy without some fresh air!”
She placed a hand on her thick waist, drumming her index finger and waiting for a comment back from her best friend.
“I'm sorry, Mira, I just... Look, me and Randy haven't had much time together. Dealing with work and other obligations, we haven't had any couples time! C'mon, you've got to understand. Next time? I promise I'll go with you the next time you are ready to go hiking, okay?” Her friend's voice begged on the line.
Mira paced a bit more along the floor and let out an overly dramatic sigh. She tugged at the neck of her warm, black turtleneck that rested a little too snugly against her throat.
“Alright, Amanda, I'll stop bugging you. But, when we get ready to go next time, you bring the hot chocolate, 'kay? I'll be taking the Pear Lake Trail.”
Mira smiled as she heard her girlfriend’s squeal of delight at being let off the hook, her eyes lingering briefly on the second pack on her floor.
“Okay, I promise, Mira. Thanks for understanding, hon, it's reeeeeeally important for us tonight!” Mira laughed at her friend’s voice. She sounded like a joyous puppy able to jump in the snow for the first time.
“Promise to use protection,” Mira said in a light, singsong tone, then, she heard the line go dead silent, a grin spreading along her lips.
She knew Amanda was as red as an apple at her comment. A short laugh slipped out before she disconnected the call, shaking her head. She did love to torture her friend. Shy as heck, adorably so, and so naively innocent. So different from herself.
Mira stretched her arms above her head and wandered over to the window, letting out a calm, slow breath as she eyed the view of the Rocky Mountains looming ahead in the distance. She had been hiking many times before, and loved the quiet, the invigorating exercise and the refreshing bite of chilled mountain air. The best thing about it though, was how well it served to clear her head of traumatic memories. She had tried so many different things. Not too long ago, she was afraid she was going to permanently lose her mind. It was her therapist who suggested finding solace in nature. Sure enough, once she began taking regular hikes, she found them to be like a magic elixir. When she felt anxiety building, a long hike in the mountains was like hitting a reset button.
It had been a little over a year since the constant emotional and physical abuse from her ex-boyfriend Jeremy had escalated to a peak resulting in him holding a gun to her temple, and an hours-long police stand-off. She still struggled with the memories, and there were occasional panic attacks and night terrors. But her twice-monthly excursions into the mountains were her best defense against her anxiety. They kept the crazies at bay.
She didn’t exactly have a hiker’s body. Her thick, hourglass shape stood at 5’4”, but she still made commitments to herself. Each and every time she hiked those trails, she would find the marker she had set the time before, taking it further up the mountainside. It had become her chosen way of redirecting her anger and fear and, so far, it worked.
She tugged on her jacket and gloves, shouldered her pack, and straightened to look in the mirror. Bright blue eyes stared back, like pools of water, checking absently to see how she looked. She looked tired, that’s how she looked. Tired as usual, but prepared. She was prepared to face the day ahead of her, climb that trail, and cast her worries aside.
Mira checked her pack once more, mentally ticking off each item on the checklist she kept in her head. Flares, ice picks, a small shovel, some supplies of food and water, and a medical kit. Her fingers ran along the rope she brought, checking to be sure there were no frays in the material. The rope was perfect—like new. Of course, she always packed extra clothes too, just in case. She was always cautious, and that included taking a buddy with her. Unfortunately, Amanda had been her last resort, and now that she had bailed, it was either cancel the trip altogether or risk it alone.
The week at work had been rough, and she’d had more than a few nightmares. She totally needed to find her Zen. Cancelling, Mira felt, would be detrimental to her mental health right now. This time, just this time, she’d have to take the risk of a solo hike for the sake of putting her head back in order. It was worth it.
“That's everything, I think. Oof, this thing doesn't get any lighter.”
She let out a slight wince before straightening, and adjusting the pack onto her shoulders. With a partner, she could distribute some of the gear between the two of them. Alone, her pack was bordering on way too heavy. She absentmindedly grabbed her phone before realizing what she was doing. The phone was of no use out there. The towers didn't extend that far. That was another relief. Setting her voicemail message to explain she was out hiking and wouldn't be back for a day or two, she turned her phone off and dropped it on her bed.
Mira paused before the door, smiling as she looked at a picture frame hanging on the adjacent wall. A lovely woman, looking like a far more mature version of herself was sitting in a rocking chair, holding a child in her arms.
“Take care of the place, Mom. I'll be back soon, okay?” she whispered.
It was a half-hour drive to the foot of the mountains and the sun was rising. She would have to hurry to get to the checkpoint by nightfall.
As she slid into her car, starting it and giving the engine a rev, she gripped the wheel tightly. Her jaw set, and she glared out of the windshield, her heart racing. There was a man walking on the side of the road. Was it…? He looked like…. It can’t be Jeremy. She held her breath and grasped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white just to keep her hands from trembling. She was almost on top of the guy before she realized that while there was a slight resemblance, the man was definitely not Jeremy. He’s in prison, you idiot, she chastised herself. She really needed to stop seeing apparitions of him all over the city. Just one more confirmation of how badly she needed to get out of here today and spend some time in the mountains.
The six months she had suffered gradually escalating mental and physical torment at the hands of Jeremy Mathers was bad enough to leave deep emotional scars, but that horrible afternoon that stretched into evening left her with bouts of fear and anxiety that slammed her at completely unexpected moments. PTSD was the diagnosis, but the label didn’t explain the bone deep horror that Mira experienced at times.
She didn’t like to remember that particular event, but her therapist had insisted that she go over what she could remember again and again. She remembered his face contorted with rage. She remembered being bound to a chair, a rag stuffed in her mouth. She remembered being struck repeatedly in the head with the butt of his gun. She remembered fading in and out of consciousness, and her own warm, sticky blood pouring down her face and dripping onto her lap.
She also remembered the trial and the day that Jeremy was led away in handcuffs after the final verdict of guilty. She had sworn that day that never again would she allow herself to be
used like that. No way in hell.
Chapter 2
The wind howled along the wooded area. The sky above was bright blue without a cloud in sight. Purple flowers peeked out from the snow, eager to take in the sunlight and push through the cold from the recent snowfall.
A figure slowly stalked along a trail, careful to be silent in approach, a bow and arrow in hand. A primitive tool fashioned by hand, though in the hands of its owner, a deadly weapon that would not miss its mark. A semi-long bow, the tension was tight at the moment, a feathered arrow drawn back against the man's cheek.
His hazel eyes peered down the shaft of the arrow. His form was thickly muscled and yet moved easily and swiftly as a fox hunting a mouse. His body crouched to avoid detection. Cade Donovan focused on the hunt in front of him, so in tune with his efforts that everything seemed to move in slow motion. His inner beast struggled to be free of the mental and physical restraints he had put in place to do his hunting. His wolf longed to feel the blood and flesh under its claws and teeth, but he refused it. He needed his human side to be in control for this kill. It was an important exercise in maintaining his sanity.
Releasing his arrow with a steady breath, it let out a sharp, resounding thwack as it hit its target. An elderly doe collapsed without so much as a cry of pain. Lowering his bow and breathing out a sigh of relief, he approached the doe and found the arrow embedded within its heart. An instant kill. His food reserves were running low at home and he preferred to hunt his own fresh meat rather than worrying about going into town and being gawked at and gossiped about.
No, he wasn't too fond of humans. Not at all. Not after seeing what they had done to this land, to the animals, and even to their own kind. Cade was a wolf shifter, his reclusiveness honed over many years. When he did go into town, he seemed to attract more female attention than he cared to. He couldn’t help the fact that women were drawn to him. His broad shoulders, muscular physique, curt but polite mannerisms, and the unmistakable dominance he held over other males were like an aphrodisiac to the female population.
As a member of an elite military special forces squadron, Cade had seen too much war and devastation wrought by humans against humans. He spent years hardening himself against the atrocities that he was regularly exposed to, or at least he thought he was hardening himself. Apparently, though, the effects of the horrors he witnessed had been simply building, one by one. Then came the final straw—an attack on a small village that he and his team were just moments too late to stop. Villagers had been raped, tortured, beaten and slaughtered, leaving none behind.
Seeing the bodies, particularly those of women and children mangled senselessly, was too much for him to bear. It was then that he’d felt something inside himself crack. It had taken several days to dig all those graves. He could still feel the weight of the lifeless bodies on his shoulders. He retired from the military shortly thereafter, and began his slow but steady journey into seclusion and isolation.
Cade's eyes blinked rapidly, snapping him out of his memories. His breathing was rough and stilted, his bow bent and nearly snapped from his firm grip. He took a breath and stood straight, tilting his head back and taking in the scents around him, calming him once more.
“I thank you this day, for giving me the strength and focus, for granting me sustenance. May this creature’s soul rest in your arms,” he prayed to the Earth.
His words were a low, soft growl. Hazel eyes opened once again as he glanced down at his prize, removed the arrow, and used it to nick his hand. Sparing a few drops of blood on the snow, he formed a small mound of it to pay homage to the doe in thanks for giving its life to provide him with food for the days ahead.
It was an old ritual, shedding blood in thanks, as old as the tradition of hunting for one’s own food. Both had been taught him by his father, who had been taught by his father before.
Standing tall at 6'4”, Cade’s body was rippled with muscles, his normal physical training kept him fit, but shifters also tended to have fit and heavily-muscled physiques by nature anyway. He pushed some of his jet-black hair back from his eyes, instantly pausing his movements as a gunshot cut through the air.
A low growl of an uttered curse emerged from him. He grabbed the deer, tossing it over his shoulder. He moved quickly through the snow, scouting the area, his eyes narrowed. Gunshots out here near the border of his property were not too unusual, but it wasn't hunting season. Plus, this was his land. The animals in it and those that passed through were his charges.
Reaching a clearing in the forest, he blinked once to adjust his eyes to the vivid sunlight sparkling off the snow, and noticed spatters of crimson dotting it. Three men were cheering over a large moose felled before them, the moose calling out weakly in pain before being savagely bludgeoned over and over in the head in a half-hearted attempt to end its suffering.
A sharp, vivid ache bore through Cade’s skull. Dropping his load onto the ground, a feral howl emerged from his throat. They came to poach a moose on his land and cheer and congratulate themselves over their ‘victory’. It looked as though they were about to take a picture, too.
Anger raged through Cade's body, his flesh rippled and bones re-formed as black fur exploded through his skin. Another howl left his maw, as he succumbed to the painful pleasure of the transformation, that thick thirst for blood nearly overpowering him. For these creeps, he couldn’t care less. He would gladly cast them out of the world to bring peace amid the animals, to bring order once again. They should have listened to the warning howls of the wolves in the area, because now they were about to meet the greatest canine threat of all. These fools were about to learn who was really at the top of the food chain.
He felt a very slight twinge of guilt, but it was quickly overcome by the conviction that he wouldn’t allow man to harm his forest, his sanctuary, on his mountain.
No, his land would not become a senseless slaughtering ground.
Chapter 3
At the sight of the mountains and the pure snow that blanketed them, Mira smiled and inhaled deeply. The crisp fresh air pulsed through her lungs before she exhaled in a puff of white. Goodness, she missed this—this chill, the freshly fallen snow that crunched beneath her footsteps, but most of all the stillness surrounding her. She was enveloped in a feeling of utter peace and joy. It was such a relief coming out here. She was glad that Amanda's choice did not hamper her own return to these graceful slopes.
“What kind of treasures do you hold for me today?” she whispered aloud, a soft question to the mountains that stretched on forever. Her heart beat stronger. Beyond calming her and bringing her mind to focus, the mountains seemed to call to her whispering in response to her question, that she belonged here, truly belonged, more so than anywhere else.
Unfortunately, what with needing to have some money in her bank account, she had to live close enough to the city to commute daily. Besides, the few homes that dotted the mountainside were valued in the tens of millions, a price that was vastly out of her budget.
Bracing herself against the cold wind, she started ahead. Her bright blue eyes were the only thing that could be seen above the scarf tied snugly over the lower half of her face. She had the furred hood of her parka pulled down over her brows. The first few steps were always the hardest, until her momentum got going. She forced herself forward, taking silent delight in the crunching beneath her boots.
Her foot raised and crunched down again, one after the other, setting a good pace and feeling her heart rate increase bit by bit. Mira always waited for the feeling of sore legs before she took the time to rest, that pain something of a solvent for her anger and fear. Today was a little different because, without a hiking buddy, she could set her own pace and she pushed herself harder than usual, driving herself on to her destination. The last stop had been two miles ago. She aimed, this time, for the next marker and semi-exhaustion before resting.
A few miles up the trail, there was a cave that she often ducked into, after first carefully makin
g sure that there were no wild animals taking refuge. It was a perfect spot to warm herself back up and snack on a power bar if necessary. That might be her resting place tonight, depending on how she felt when she got there. On second thought, no, she wouldn't stop there. This time she would see how far she could push herself.
After some time had passed, Mira heard a howl. She jerked her head up, her hand absently grasping for the ice pick at her side. Wolves were known to frequent the mountains, although they posed little threat as they tended to stay far away from humans. Of all the times that she had trekked through this trail, she hadn't had any issues with them. She did spot them a couple times in the far-off distance, though they fled as soon as their eyes had met hers.
Only once before had she heard a howl, but this one was different. Pain, agony, and rage were poured into that one sound, a fury unbridled. Maybe it was her imagination. How could she have interpreted all that from a wolf howl? She didn’t speak wolf. She almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it, until she heard a second howl. The second howl sent chills down her spine and the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickled in warning. The sound was unmistakably rage.
Mira’s stomach dropped. “Damn, what's going on?” She stared off in the direction of the sound, her limbs trembling.
A split second later, all she could see was red. Red along her hands, on the ice picks she pulled out to defend herself, even the snow before her was stained with red. Reeling back a step, she blinked rapidly, and the image faded. Mira cursed under her breath and looked around frantically. Her pulse in her ears was a deafening throb. No, no, she couldn’t have a panic attack. Not here. Not now. But, as hard as she tried to fight it, the image returned—crimson everywhere as if the only thing she could see was blood.
Claimed by the New Alpha Page 24
