by Woods, Jade
He didn’t need to see his wounds to know they were healing, and in some ways, the mending was as equally as painful. It would take them some time to fully heal, but by the time he faced his rival again, he hoped to be in tip-top shape. Of course, his chance of actually beating the stronger male was zip, but he had to do something, anything to keep his clan safe.
A leader is responsible for everyone. From the lowest ranking member, it will be your duty to ensure they are safe. A man that puts their best interests above his own… that is the mark of a true leader.
Relaxing as much as he could in his state, Garrett ran through the options—surrendering would be the surest way to guarantee their survival. Once he was out of the picture, they would likely be integrated into the challenger’s clan or run off. The later was bad, but the former worse.
I have no idea what I’m doing. At thirty-eight, he was still a kid in the shifter world.
Something touched him on the shoulder. Garrett snapped to attention, his claws slipping out of his fingers, and his fangs elongated. He didn’t have much left in him, but he would go out swinging.
A familiar feminine face twisted by worry, soothed him and he remembered where he was and who he was with. He reeled himself in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You startled me.”
“Never sneak up on wild animals… right. So, ah, we’re here,” Dahlia said, her throat shifting hard, and Garrett hated himself for scaring her more than she probably already was.
Her words sunk in, and he turned to look out the window. A quaint, wood and plaster cottage sat surrounded by several evergreens against a backdrop of suburban homes. It wasn’t so compact that nosy neighbors could see into the windows, but the place seemed to be situated on the edge of a bustling human settlement.
“Where are we?” he asked, scanning the trees and bushes for anything out of place. He took note of several escape routes and cubby holes that could provide ambush points.
“My house,” she said, her tone wavering as if she were reconsidering her decision.
Garrett regarded her, his hackles rising. “You brought me to your territory? Are you crazy? If they track my scent, it will bring them right to you!”
Her mouth worked for a moment. “You said somewhere far away with a lot of resources. You wouldn’t let me take you to the hospital or a veterinary clinic… what else was I supposed to do? Uproot my life and drive to New York?”
Frustrated, Garrett scrubbed his face—she had a point, but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud. “Fine. Hopefully the rubbing alcohol did the trick. Where exactly are we?”
“Barrington, one-hundred and forty miles from where I found you. With that, she pushed the driver side door open and got out.
The drive hadn’t seemed that long, but Garrett figured the distance would be enough to deter the rival clan from tracking him down. But he couldn’t stay here long. He needed to keep moving, and figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. Wincing, he got out of the car, his knees nearly giving out. He watched in impatience as Dahlia unloaded her luggage.
Her hands full, she bit her lip. “Are you sure you can make it to my door? Let me drop this off and I’ll help—”
The blow to his ego was absolute. Pushing against weariness with all his might, he stepped away from the Cherokee, and pegged her with an intense look. She seemed unaffected and rolled her eyes, muttering something impolite about the male gender. Too tired to correct her assumption of him, Garrett followed, his vision blurring with every step. Thankfully, it wasn’t that far to the front door.
When they were inside, he demanded, “Bathroom.”
She pointed in the general direction. “Don’t leave the toilet seat up.”
He stumbled toward a door and shoved it open, nearly ripping it off its hinges. He locked it behind him then rested his weight against the porcelain sink. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he realized he looked as bad as he felt. A sheen covered his skin, and he had smudges of dirt across his forehead and jaw, but the worse of it was contained to his torso. Several gashes cut across his abdomen, chest and shoulder, but the bleeding had stopped, and the wounds had dried out. Still hurts like a mother fucker, he mused.
For a moment, he thought he was looking at the face of his father. His nut colored hair was matted from blood and debris, and his strong cut jaw was heavily stubbled from days of neglect. His father would have known what to do in this situation… Garrett realized how much he missed the man. He felt like a weak little cub, clumsy and naïve. His parents had been taken from him far too soon.
His image blurred in front of him, and his muscles loosened so that he couldn’t hold himself up. He tried to remain conscious, but his body and mind was shutting down…
****
Dahlia blinked at the bathroom door as she pressed the phone to her ear.
“Girl!” Jessica said harshly. “What part of call me every few hours did you not understand?”
“Sorry,” she whispered, watching the ribbon of light underneath the door shift as her guest moved around inside. “Oh my God, Jess. You’re never going to believe what happened.”
“You’re not in the hospital, are you?”
“No, I met a man—” the sound of something heavy hitting the floor stole her words. “I’ll have to call you back.”
Dahlia ignored Jessica’s protests, and cut the connection then slowly inched toward the bathroom. She listened hard, then tentatively called out for the guy. When she didn’t get a response, she approached the door. Her hand shook as she griped the handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. He must have locked it.
“Hello?” she said, knocking. “You didn’t die, did you?”
Dead silence.
Biting her lip, she tried pulling on the knob again. Frustrated, she let out a big breath that sent her tangled mess of hair fluttering. Really? You brought this strange… creature into your home. What were you thinking? He was probably bleeding all over her bathroom floor. That thought gave her pause, and she started to panic. What if he were really dying?”
Balling her fist in frustration, she wanted to beat on the door. A lot of people said she was naïve, others reckless, but what Dahlia Pinski wasn’t, was helpless. Racing to the kitchen, she dug in the junk drawer and located a screw driver. She was at the bathroom door in a flash, and started working on the hinges. It took a few tries, but she got the first one off. The other was a lot easier. Putting all her strength into it, she forced the door open, the sound of cracking wood making her groan. She was so charging him for new siding.
Dahlia stilled, her hand going to her mouth in disbelief as she found Garrett. He had indeed passed out. Apparently, he had crumpled to his knees, his body falling forward to leave him in an uncomfortable kneeling position that revealed…
“Holy… crap,” she muttered as she got a good look at his well-shaped ass, his skin a creamy caramel throughout. Her cheeks flamed as his position revealed a large, potent nutsack and the tip of his beyond-well-endowed cock—Dahlia Ann Pinski! What is wrong with you ogling an injured man while he is unconscious?
She squeezed in, and tried to advert her eyes as she reached for the towel. Her fingers connected with the fabric and she spread it over his limp body, the super-plush towel doing little to cover his large frame. She poked him several times, and called his name, but he seemed to be out cold. His chest and shoulders moved up and down at a steady pace, letting her know he was still breathing.
“Boy,” she said, taking a seat on the commode. “If it weren’t for all the blood, and the fact you parade around as a bear, having a naked man in my bathroom would be really awesome.”
She watched him for a long moment, wondering if this was some bizarre dream. All her life she had wanted to find that creature that had saved her, but now that she was presented with evidence of another world, it didn’t seem real. Whatever Garrett was or wasn’t, the reality was that he was in bad shape. Shaking her head, she rose to her feet and disconnected the do
or. Setting it aside, she returned to the living room, and plucked the throw blanket from the couch then laid it on the bathroom floor behind Garrett.
Positioning herself in front of him, Dahlia took several deep breaths, then put her back into lifting his head and shoulders off the tile. The guy weighed a ton, his bulk falling against her like a sack of potatoes. She huffed and pushed. His weight shifted behind him, and he fell on his back against the blanket. His head made a whomp sound as it hit the floor, and she winced.
“Sorry,” Dahlia muttered then shifted around to the other side.
Getting a good grip on the ends of the blanket, she threw her weight behind her and pulled. Judging by the inch she managed to gain, she knew she was going to need a deep-tissue massage by the time she got him to the couch.
Chapter Four
Garrett came awake with a start, his body jerking in alert. The pain had subsided to an ache, his wounds itching rather than burning, and his head didn’t feel pressurized.
“You’re still alive. Thank God,” someone said, and the soft, feminine voice tugged at Garrett’s memory cords. Dahlia. Yeah, that was her name.
He blinked away the bleariness, and centered on her worried expression, her golden hair like springs around her pale face. His rosy lips parted, and Garrett felt the sudden desire to claim them. That lovely scent that was clearly her own, soaked deep into him, rousing the bear still slumbering inside. Closing his eyes, he pushed the drive away, reminding himself he had more important things to worry about than getting his rocks off.
When he opened his eyes again, her throat was shifting as she slowly lowered her ass onto the coffee table. She leaned forward, her significant breasts pressing against her tee shirt and he nearly groaned. He couldn’t ask for a more attractive woman to nurse him back to health.
He chuckled. “I’m guessing you have a lot of questions.”
“That’s an understatement and a half,” she said. “Are you okay then? I found you passed out in the bathroom, and deposited you on the couch. You wouldn’t wake up. I thought you might be dead, except you were breathing.”
“I was severely injured, and my body needed to heal. I was hibernating,” he said, looking around her modest place. It was so unlike the club style atmosphere of the clan’s residence that he felt out of place.
“Of course,” she said, amusement thick in her voice. “Why didn’t that occur to me?”
Garrett slowly relaxed against the pillow he had been propped up on. His gaze found the dislodged bathroom door lying against the wall. He arched a brow at her. “I didn’t do that, did I?”
She frowned. “No. You had locked it so I had to get in somehow. I guess, if you want to be technical about it, it’s your fault I had to take a screw driver to the hinges.”
He offered her a sheepish smile in apology then shifted, a spear of pain stabbing him in the side. Clutching the site of discomfort, he realized his wounds had been dressed. He snapped his attention to Dahlia. He had passed out in the bathroom… but he had awoken on the couch. “How did you get me here?”
She huffed. “With a lot of elbow grease. I think I burned off all those power bars dragging your butt across the floor. You owe me a new door lock, by the way. And if you want to thank me, you can fix the siding, too. The wood cracked.”
Garrett gaped, something deep inside of him filling with pleasure. This human female had gone out of her way to help him, had taken him into her home, and had cared enough about him to make sure he was comfortable while he healed. Other than his mother, no one had been so kind to him. The warmth spilling into his soul energized him, but he didn’t move, wondering what she might say or do next.
“I’m guessing you are hungry?” she inquired.
At the mention of eating, his stomach growled like a grizzly, and he grinned. “You are planning to feed me, too?”
Shrugging, Dahlia got to her feet. “You can tell me all about you over dinner. And you will tell me everything. I’ve been looking for you my entire life. As payment for my services, I demand information.”
Garrett’s jaw hung open as she left. I’ve been looking for you my entire life. The words filled him more completely than anything before, and he didn’t understand why. But questions zipped through his greymatter—why had she been searching for him? Maybe he’d misunderstood. As he listened to her move around in the kitchen, he grew impatient. He wanted her to come back so he could look at her. Now that the fog was clearing, and his head didn’t hurt, he wanted to fully drown in her charm.
Every second she was away was excruciating, but Dahlia returned ten minutes later with a tray. She set it on the table, a wisp of steam curling out of the bowl of soup. The scent of clam, cream and various spices invaded his senses, further enticing his hunger.
“It’s seafood… kind of. I didn’t have any salmon or trout, and clam chowder is the next best thing. It’s not can, and it’s fresh from a restaurant,” she said, taking a seat on a barcalounger. In his opinion, the three feet separating them was too much.
The idea that she cared enough about what might please his taste buds further enticed his animal nature. He reminded himself she had no idea what her actions and words were doing to him, and that she was just trying to be nice. Or manipulative, he mused, remembering there was a price for her help.
He sat up and positioned the tray across his lap. He was so hungry, he could just pour the soup down his throat, but he didn’t want to come off as a slob in front of her. He lifted the spoon and dipped it into the thick concoction. The moment the soup hit his tongue, he sighed, and closed his eyes. She watched with curious fascination as he ate, the bowl quickly draining. He refrained from licking it clean, and set the spoon down.
“That was delicious. Thank you,” he said, pushing away the urge to beg for more food.
“You want some more?” she asked, taking the bowl before he could respond. “I’ll get you some more. I know you didn’t get that size on single course meals.”
She was gone in an instant, and Garrett wondered if he had given himself away somehow… one bowl of soup wasn’t going to satisfy his monstrous appetite, especially coming off an injury induced hibernation. She returned quickly, and set the refilled bowl on the tray. He passed her an appreciative smile then dug in.
“So,” she started, and Garrett didn’t miss the hesitation in her voice. Her body tensed, too. “What exactly are you?”
He swallowed his food then took a sip of the water provided. “A shape-shifter. We don’t really have a designation, we just are.”
She digested that nugget for a moment then frowned. “And you can become a bear? Can you take other shapes?”
“No. I am bear, but there are a few that can shift into multiple forms. It’s a rare skill,” he said, running his eyes all over her face. His hunger bled into a need of a different sort.
She nodded slowly, her gaze growing distant. “And that other bear… why was he trying to kill you?”
Garrett knew she’d have questions about that, but he was sore about the whole thing, and admitting to her he was the loser in that show of strength went right to his pride—but he owed her an explanation. Setting the tray on the coffee table, he sighed. “That bear is called Lazaran, the leader of a rival clan. His clan ran mine out of our home, and he tracked me down. I guess he was dead set on making an example by killing me rather than chasing me off. Either that, or he was bored.”
“That’s… barbaric,” she said, her voice cracking.
“I agree. It’s not uncommon for a clan’s territory to be taken over by a challenger, but the event rarely ends in death. I’ve heard of Lazaran’s cruelty before, but I guess I never thought he’d come this far south, and challenge me.”
Her lip went between her teeth and her emerald gaze slid to his. “Are you going to fight to get your home back?”
Garrett looked away, a show of submission if there ever was one. After a long moment, he admitted, “I don’t know. Lazaran has the backing of a mating-bond
, and I don’t. I’m not as strong as he is without it.”
He didn’t need to see her expression to know all sorts of questions were zipping through her mind. What is a mating-bond? And why don’t you have it? Along with a whole other host of details. Her silence was welcomed as he didn’t want to broach the subject with her right now – he was still too sore about being beat by the other bear.
Unfortunately, she was a curious little kitten. “By mating bond, I assume you mean a wife?”
His voice was hoarse as he spoke, and his chest suddenly grew tight. “If that is the word you want to use. But there is a long and complicated story behind the whole thing.”
Dahlia did that thing with her lip again, and Garrett knew he wasn’t going to be able to say no if she insisted. “Will you tell me?”
Grinding his molars, Garrett moved the tray to the coffee table, and lay back down, his energy levels still way too low. He hated thinking about the mating-bond and what it meant. He could remember his parents being so happy, but the single moment of tragedy, and the slow death of his father afterward seemed to have overshadowed all those years of joy. As much as he hated to admit it, he was in this predicament because his father couldn’t handle his mother’s death. If she had been alive then Dad would have continued to be clan-leader, and Lazaran would have likely avoided challenging him. The Stone Claws had once been a mighty clan, large and holding a vast territory.
Her resigned sigh drew his attention. He hated the disappointment that crossed her face. “Sore subject, I see. It’s okay, I know how that feels.”
His brows furrowed as she got up, and she took the tray back to the kitchen. What exactly did that mean? He wanted to know but didn’t want to pry. He reminded himself it was none of his business, but the fierce need to know nipped at him. She was back in an instant, a pile of clothes in her arms.
