Kin Selection (A Shifter’s Claim Book 1)

by L. B. Gilbert

  A low-grade buzzing like static rose in volume until she was having a problem processing other sounds. Denise swayed on her feet and blinked, holding onto Oliver a little tighter to get her bearings.

  Yogi didn’t notice her reaction to his show of inhuman strength—one done in the buff! He opened the back and started pulling clothes out of a black duffel bag. He was fully clothed in less than a minute.

  She was still standing there like an idiot when he turned to her, a narrow strip of plastic in his hands. Before she could blink, he had snatched Oliver and set him on the ground. He had the strip around her wrists, holding them fast together, in seconds.

  Denise found her tongue then. “What the flying fuck?”

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a cynical twist. “You didn’t think I was just going to let you go, did you? You know what we are now…”

  Without further ceremony, he hauled her off her feet, dumping her in the back of the Jeep before whipping out a second tie for her ankles. He picked up Oliver and lowered the flap, fastening it into place.

  Outraged, Denise twisted, trying to sit up. “You can’t do this,” she yelled at him as he moved around to the driver’s seat.

  For the first time, he laughed. Denise ignored the thrill that ran through her at the deep rumbling sound. “I’m serious. Hell, I saved him,” she protested.

  Yogi settled Oliver on the floor of the cab. “And I’m grateful. Doesn’t change the fact you have to come with us now.” There was a shuffle up front. “C’mon, kid, cut that out.”

  There was the sound of a scuffle, and Yogi swore.

  “Bite him, Oliver. Bite him hard!”

  Denise found the silence that followed unnerving. What if Yogi did something to punish the cub?

  “You better not be hurting him, you piece of shit,” she yelled. “I swear I’ll kick your ass into next week if you’ve hurt a hair on his head…or, you know, the fur on his head.”

  There was a long, drawn-out sight from the front of the vehicle. “Will you shut up back there? You’re making it worse. And I’m serious, kid. Nip me one more time and you’re riding in the back with her.”

  The engine started, and then they were moving.

  Holy freaking crap. She had been kidnapped by a werewolf. She was on her way to God knew where, literally like a lamb to slaughter.

  Well, technically, Yogi hadn’t said anything about killing her, but what other conclusion could she draw from his ominous ‘You know what we are now’?

  Baby Oliver was going to have to manage on his own. He was returning to his people. Her obligation to him didn’t extend to being hogtied and stuffed in the back of a moving vehicle.

  And you just stood there and let him do it! Granted, she’d been a little shell-shocked, but still… She had to get away.

  Denise shuddered, thinking fast. How did she get Yogi to stop this vehicle?

  “He’s not going to stay a cub, is he? I mean, he’s too young to stop himself from changing back in his sleep or whenever else he wants.”

  Silence.

  “He’s going to need the car seat I left in my truck,” she called, experimentally testing her bonds.

  Yogi probably would have ignored her had it not been for Oliver.

  There was more rustling, and then Denise swore she heard tiny jaws biting down on flesh. The long stream of blasphemy that followed almost made her smile. Instead, she braced herself as the Jeep made a sudden sharp right turn.

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Yogi had taken the bait. She had to be ready.

  7

  God, he hated when he was wrong.

  By the time he pulled onto the highway, he knew he wasn’t going to make it all the way back to Colorado with Oliver riding shotgun. The little cub hadn’t stopped trying to bite him since he’d hogtied his guardian angel and tossed her in the rear storage space.

  The little sucker knew where the vulnerable bits were too, not that Yogi had many…

  As soon as the girl—Denise—mentioned the car seat, a plan formed in his mind.

  If there was any way to get a cub that age to change back to his two-legged form, it was with food. Preferably full-sized doughnuts or candy bars, something that required human hands to hold properly. He would get the chair, then he’d stop somewhere and load up on the necessary bribes.

  And somewhere along the way, he was going to find some duct tape for that woman’s mouth. He didn’t need to hear ‘I told you so’ for the next five hours, or however long it would take to get to the Avery homestead.

  Yogi was determinedly blocking out what would happen when he took Oliver to Jessup Avery.

  His father had blasted the Averys every couple of years like clockwork for the past few decades. If it hadn’t been for Douglas Maitland’s intervention, blood would have been spilled. Now his father was gone, but Yogi had no idea if the feud was still alive and well.

  Don’t be stupid. Of course the feud was still on. Werewolves didn’t forgive or forget. The only karma they believed in was the kind that involved blood—drawing it from your enemies. Preferably in copious amounts.

  Ritual battles to the death were a thing of the past—unless rogues were involved. Thanks to Douglas Maitland, Yogi was still a member of the Colorado Basin Pack, just like the Averys. Yogi could expect to make it in and out of Avery territory with all his limbs intact.

  Probably.

  And what about the girl? What was her deal? Her cabin had been filled with PETA literature and not much else. That meant she was one of those do-gooder types. But Denise had managed to cause him a lot of grief in a very short amount of time…and based on how quickly she’d hot-wired his car, he suspected frustration and regret was a normal reaction to meeting her.

  Girl may as well have trouble tattooed to her forehead.

  Of course, his misfortune was Oliver’s stroke of luck. Saving an orphan cub in the woods had to be going above and beyond, even for an animal lover. How many other human women would have gone out of their way to do that?

  Alternating formula and steak had been pretty smart. No wonder Oliver was so attached to her. The little cub was going to have a tough time without his mother and father. Denise finding him was probably the last break he was going to get for a while.

  Although if things went as expected, Oliver might end up keeping her around for the foreseeable future…

  What he’d told Denise was true. They couldn’t let her go now that she knew about them. If she went running to the cops or the press, they’d dismiss her as just another crazy person making noise. But there were always a handful of true believers who needed to investigate every crackpot’s claims. The pack couldn’t afford that kind of attention—not in this technological age.

  That reminded him of something. Yogi fished Denise’s cell phone out of his pocket. He’d confiscated it when he put her in the back. He scanned the latest texts and photo roll for videos of Oliver. If videos of him shifting were now in the cloud, there would be hell to pay.

  Well, he had gotten lucky there. There’s wasn’t any evidence Denise had photographed Oliver at all. But it seemed she had a boyfriend. Yogi eyed the skinny white guy and sniffed. The pair seemed mismatched. He didn’t think such a wimp could handle the spitfire in the back.

  Speak of the devil. The woman had been entirely too quiet for the last few minutes. It was probably too much to hope she’d accepted her fate and was going to go quietly with him to Colorado.

  He got the answer to that a few minutes later in the form of a boot to the face.

  Yogi grunted and dropped the car seat he was holding. In the minute he’d been away from the car, Denise had somehow removed the zip ties and squirmed into the backseat. When he opened the passenger door to set up the car seat, her leg flew out, a tiny hiking boot connecting with his nose.

  “Fuck!”

  She flashed past him, running at full speed for a human. Swearing under his breath, Yogi shut the door so Oliver couldn’t follow her. And th
e little guy would. Despite the fact Denise was a different species, Oliver had grown very attached to her in a short amount of time.

  It’s the boobs, Yogi thought with a sigh as he started jogging after her. If he’d been a female, he wouldn’t have these problems right now. Oliver’s mother had taken him away from the pack shortly after her mate’s death. The boy clearly wasn’t used to males of his own kind anymore.

  Poor Sheri had probably avoided the few she’d run into after leaving the pack. Yogi didn’t really blame her for that. There were dangerous rogues out there. And pups Oliver’s age were highly attuned to the emotions of their parents. They took their cues from them. If a parent was happy, the cubs were generally happy. The opposite was also true. If Sheri had crossed paths with an unfamiliar Were, she probably would have been afraid. Oliver would have sensed that fear and absorbed it.

  This is going to be more complicated than I thought.

  Up ahead, Denise managed to clear a rise. He could no longer see her, but he could hear the racket she was making as she ran from him, her footsteps pounding, leaves crunching under her weight.

  Yogi stopped to take off his jeans and shirt.

  His sister Sal might have had a point. Wolves needed breakaway pants. He’d always shunned them on principal. With his build, there were already too many Magic Mike comparisons. Wearing breakaway pants would simply enforce that stripper image. But it would make chases like these far more convenient.

  He threw himself down, shifting to his second form with a big sneeze. After shaking his fur out, he loped ahead in a wide semicircle, cutting in front of Denise as she stumbled next to a large oak tree.

  Had it not been for the expression of abject terror on her face, he would have laughed. Instead, he shifted back and grabbed her arm, dragging her behind him—her feet kicking up a cloud of dirt as she cussed a blue streak.

  He whistled when she finally stopped to take a breath. “I know soldiers and sailors who swear less than you,” he informed her, trying not to smile.

  Oliver’s savior had a filthy and diverse vocabulary. Yogi admired that about her. In fact, he was almost starting to like the annoying little termagant—despite the boot to face. Maybe because of it.

  “I’m. Not. Going. With. You,” she bit out, trying to pull away from him.

  “Of course you are,” he said cheerfully, tugging her left so he could pick up the jeans and T-shirt he’d discarded.

  She muttered something under her breath that he wouldn’t repeat in front of Oliver, then she lunged. Yogi turned, his eyes flashing fire when she bit down on the fleshy part of his hand.

  Denise was clamping down hard enough to draw blood, but he refused to wince. Forcing the corner of his mouth to kick up, he drawled, “You know, biting is foreplay among my people.”

  She immediately opened her mouth and spit out his hand. Laughing, he swiped a bit of his own blood from off her mouth. He bent down so their eyes were level.

  Staring into her hazel eyes was surprisingly…arresting. But he had to make sure she couldn’t escape again. Moving very slowly, he ran his hands over her hips and around to her lusciously curved ass.

  Denise gasped and slapped at his hands when he reached into her back pocket. But he withdrew quickly, tossing aside the small pocketknife hidden there. It landed far away, deep in the brush.

  “You won’t be needing that again,” he said before swinging her over his shoulder.

  8

  Her self-defense training meant absolute shit. No matter how hard she struggled, Denise couldn’t break the werewolf’s grip. After one last desperate wrench to free herself, her hair tie promptly gave up in protest, snapping and letting a torrent of whiskey-colored locks loose. It spread everywhere, partially obscuring her view…but she could still see what was directly in front of her.

  “Hey!”

  “Yes?” The word was an exasperated sigh.

  “You’re naked.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m staring straight at your bare butt!”

  He stopped walking for a second before she felt him shrug—a move that nearly dislodged her from his shoulder.

  “I hope you’re enjoying the view.”

  Denise sputtered, too incensed to admit she was awkwardly bobbing up and down over what was undoubtedly the finest rear end on God’s green earth.

  Yogi kept her balanced on his shoulder when he stooped to pick up his discarded clothes, his arms like steel bands. Soon, they were back at the Jeep. Her captor put her down, but he kept one hand on her wrist, a hold she couldn’t break, while he tugged on his pants. He shoved her into the backseat, corralling Oliver at the same time.

  “Damn it, kid, go easy on the leather,” he muttered, picking the pup up and dumping him in her lap.

  Denise was distracted by the move, giving Yogi the opportunity he needed to tie one of her wrists to the pipe frame cage of the Jeep.

  Furious, she tugged at the zip tie, but only succeeded in hurting herself. “Don’t manhandle Oliver like that.” she gritted out between her teeth.

  Yogi scoffed. “Trust me, that was nothing to one of our kind.”

  “But he’s just a baby.”

  “No, he’s a Were cub. We grow up climbing all over each other and fighting—even with our friends. Trust me, Oliver is fine.”

  Yogi climbed into the driver seat and started the engine. They were back on the highway in a matter of minutes.

  As the adrenaline wore off, Denise’s anger began to chill. Feeling queasy, she shivered as her head started to pound.

  Absently stroking Oliver’s fur, she decided to pull the last trick she had out of her bag. “Look, I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

  Yogi glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “No offense, but I can get a piece of ass whenever I want. Granted, it’s been a while, and most of those assess have not been as fine as yours, but I’m going to have to pass.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what was more shocking—that he thought she was offering to sleep with him, or that he found her ass fine.

  “I was offering you money, not sex.”

  “Oh.” He paused. “Well, I’m still going to have to say no.”

  The pounding in her head was starting to get worse. “Don’t say that until I tell you how much I’m willing to pay.”

  “Sorry, doll. There isn’t enough money in the world.”

  “One hundred thousand in cash.”

  The car swerved slightly. Yogi coughed. “And just where would you get that kind of money?” he asked, glancing back at her.

  “My trust fund.”

  Yogi snorted.

  “Two hundred thousand.”

  “Look—”

  “Three,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Up front, Yogi sighed. “Denise, it’s not up to me. As children, we take an oath to do whatever we can to maintain the secret of our existence. Oliver’s still too young, but when he’s old enough to understand, he’ll make the same promise.”

  Her lip trembled. “That makes it okay to drag me to your people so they can kill me?”

  Yogi scoffed. “Lady, nobody’s going to kill you. You’re just going to be their guest for a while…”

  A little knot deep in her belly began to loosen, but only slightly. “For how long?”

  He was quiet a little too long.

  “C’mon, tell me. I deserve the truth.”

  His massive shoulders rolled. “Until they know they can trust you.”

  She did not like the sound of that. “How long is that going to take?”

  “I imagine that will be up to you.”

  Denise frowned. Some of her tension dissipated, but her headache lingered.

  Shit. She didn’t have her medication. She’d driven thirty or so miles out of her way to fill the prescription before her heist, but the pharmacy hadn’t carried her meds. They’d had to order it. She was supposed to pick it up yesterday. With the recent insanity, she’d forgotten.

&nbs
p; The headache was the least of her problems…

  “Why do you keep saying they like that?” she asked. “Aren’t you part of they?”

  His deep inhalation was not comforting. “I’m just dropping you and the kid off. I’ll need to check in with the chief and my brother and sister, but after that, I won’t be sticking around.”

  The knot of tension behind her temples tightened a notch. Why was the fact he wasn’t going to be there so unnerving? If she could get out of this car, she’d be happy to never see Yogi or his glorious ass again.

  “And where are you going to be?”

  He shrugged. “I have things to do.”

  Yogi was going to take her to werewolf country and just dump her there?

  Denise was going to be prisoner for God only knew how long—provided he was telling the truth—and this guy wasn’t even going to be one her jailers.

  She wanted to question him further, but the pounding in her head was starting to get worse. Nauseated, she focused on breathing in and out, closing her eyes against the weak sunlight.

  In her lap, Oliver squirmed and whined, adjusting until her hand was positioned on top of his head. She patted him, wondering if he could sense her pain. Dogs were often sensitive that way. Perhaps wolf cubs were too?

  The Jeep hit a rut in the road, making her grit her teeth, a move she immediately regretted because it made the migraine pain flare.

  The cub licked her hand in a clear show of sympathy.

  Sensitivity must be something werewolves outgrow, she thought, opening her eyes a crack to glare at the back of Yogi’s head. He continued to drive, ignoring her and Oliver.

  Whether Yogi was going to be with her didn’t matter. There were too many unknowns waiting for her at the end of this little road trip.

  Denise was going to get the hell out of this car even if it killed her—just as soon as her head stopped trying to do it for her.

  9

  Yogi glanced in the rearview mirror again. Denise had closed her eyes a while ago, but the way she was slumped over didn’t indicate sleep.