Bedded by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 6)

by Isadora Montrose

  The acrid aroma came like a blast of fury. A warning he had no intention of ignoring. He grabbed Zoë’s elbow and hustled her back to safety. “Nothing so pretty,” he muttered.

  She stumbled along beside him, until he realized she couldn’t keep up with his longer strides. He picked her up. She was just a little bit after all. Didn’t weigh much. And he wanted her out of here before the porcupines they had startled came after them, quills rattling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Howard and Emily Stickney~

  “Who are those rude people?” Emily Stickney demanded when her husband came in the back door.

  “Our new neighbors, I think,” Howard replied as calmly as he could, although he knew Emily could tell by his scent that he was as upset as she was. “Bears by the smell of ‘em.”

  “I don’t like it,” squeaked Emily in outrage. Her blonde hair was standing on end from anxiety. “First phoenixes and unicorns* and now bears. I don’t like trespassers.”

  “No more do I. But there is no reason to think they mean us any harm.” Howard tried to comfort Emily. However, she was in the last stages of pregnancy and more than usually twitchy.

  She pulled out of his embrace and confronted him. “Bears eat porcupines,” she reminded him fearfully.

  “Not usually. And never in the Old Forest.” There were strong no-hunting ordinances in effect both in Mystic Bay and in the Old Forest. It should be a comfort to know those bears would be prosecuted for eating him and his dear wife, but it wasn’t. Not a bit.

  “That we know of,” she said, hugging herself tightly.

  “The Old Ones would never stand for hunters eating people.” Howard put his arm around Emily’s round shoulders and squeezed gently. “You know that.”

  “This is our land,” she insisted. “They should stay off it.”

  “As soon as I sprayed, they left,” he pointed out dryly. “I’d say that they know that now.”

  “I suppose.” She looked around fondly at their cozy kitchen. He had made the cabinets, counters, and table and chairs himself. Emily had sewn the curtains and braided the rug. He was proud of their happy home. Their happy, isolated home.

  “This has been such a nice place to live for so many years,” Emily continued. “I don’t know why we suddenly have neighbors.” She said ‘neighbors’ as if it was a cuss word.

  She was genuinely upset. And with good cause. Porcupines were not sociable, and everyone knew it. Or found out the hard way. “I tell you what, Em,” Howard said. “As soon as it’s dark, I’ll take them a letter explaining where their property line is. And advising them to stay on their side.”

  He kissed her cheek tenderly. “After all, my sweet, we’re not exactly defenseless, are we?”

  “I should say not. But it’s the principle of the thing.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  *Fated for the Phoenix

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Zoë~

  “You’re not serious?” Zoë punched Mitchell lightly on the shoulder he had thrown her over. “Porcupine shifters? That’s beyond weird. Stop teasing me.”

  “Didn’t you smell him?” Mitchell picked up his pace. “We’re going straight back to the cabin.” He dodged tree branches.

  “I smelled something,” she admitted. She had. Something gross. Not skunk gross, but still pungent and unpleasant. “But what makes you think that smell came from a porcupine shifter?”

  Mitchell laughed so hard she bounced. “I’ve been hunting all my life. When porcupines want you to leave them be, they emit an odor to announce that you will get stuck if you stick around. That stink back there was unmistakably a combination of porcupine and human.”

  He hesitated. “I told you there were a lot of different kinds of shifters on West Haven, didn’t I?”

  “You did. But porcupines! Of course, I know a lot of bears,” she said slowly. “And cougar and a couple of wolves. But I have never, ever encountered a trembler. I always thought they were made up.”

  “Not so much, sweetheart,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise you to go around calling our neighbors tremblers.” He set her back on her feet. “I think we’re safe enough here.” But he continued to tug her along.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That porky meant business, but I don’t think he’ll follow us this far.”

  “I meant, what’s wrong with calling prey ‘tremblers’?” she clarified breathlessly. “That’s what they are.”

  “The politically correct term for prey is, I believe, ‘herbivorous shifters’.”

  “You think it’s likely to come up often?” she murmured doubtfully.

  “The sheriff of Mystic Bay is a rabbit,” he told her totally straight-faced.

  She laughed again, even as she tripped on a tree root. “They elected a trembler sheriff? Pull the other one.”

  He laid a big hand over his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “I guess they don’t have a lot of crime out here in the boonies.”

  “They don’t. But Aunt Ursula says the Mystic Bay sheriff is hell on wheels with scofflaws.”

  “Sure.” In lieu of rolling her eyes, she smirked at him. “Scofflaws?”

  “Those folks who ignore the parking bylaws,” Mitch reported. “Aunt Ursula says Mystic Bay is infested with them. Apparently Sheriff Walter Babcock is a fearless ticket-writer who doesn’t give a dang if tourists with unpaid tickets miss their ferry.”

  “Small towns. Ya gotta love ‘em. But porcupine neighbors will take some getting used to.”

  “Just so you remember, eating the neighbors is wrong.”

  “Thank you for that reminder. My kindergarten teacher was clear on the subject! I think there was a song for the slow learners.”

  He let go of her hand as their cabin came in view. “Folks on the island have this deep-seated fear that all hunters are panting to eat the non-hunters. The Haverstocks were reputedly cannibals.”

  “Ew. Gross.”

  “I don’t know if that story was true,” he sat down on the porch steps and pulled her down beside him. “But Aunt Ursula says it’s widely believed. And all bears, not just grizzlies, are assumed to have a taste for humans.”

  “Ew. And you want to stay here on West Haven because?”

  He shrugged. “I like the vibe. I find it relaxing. I’m going to call Aunt Ursula. Let her know we got here and ask about our prickly neighbors.” He pulled out his cell phone.

  She listened to his exchange of pleasantries with Ursula. “Sure,” he said at last. “Here. Aunt Ursula wants to talk to you.”

  “How are you?” Ursula asked.

  “Okay. A bit taken aback to discover porcupines living on our land.”

  “Their land,” Ursula corrected. “The Stickneys are scrupulous about staying on their property.”

  “Oh. Is that why there’s no road access?” Her question came out as more of an accusation than she wanted it to.

  “Partly. The Stickneys wouldn’t want a road, for sure. But in fact, their land is part of the Old Forest, and the Mystic Bay town council doesn’t allow roads to be built in it. You can’t cut down any trees in the Old Forest,” Ursula said urgently. “Ever. I explained that to Mitchell. Bad things happen to folks who offend the Old Ones.”

  “Hmm.” The Old Ones. Right. “Who did we offend by trespassing on the Stickney’s land?”

  “Just the Stickneys. But as long as you stay away in future, unless they give you a direct invitation, they will keep themselves to themselves. Oh, and if you’re going into town, they like it if you haul back provisions so they don’t have to go as often.”

  Zoë laughed. “So we do their shopping and stay off their land. What do we get from this deal?” It was strangely lopsided.

  “Didn’t I say?” Aunt Ursula sounded surprised. “The Stickneys have always guarded our land. No one gets through to us without their goodwill.”

  “Guarded us from whom?” Zoë asked.

  “Trespassers. Thieves. Ba
d guys. You have to remember that our pact was made back after the Great Clearance. Lucky Reynolds was never convinced that all the Haverstocks were exterminated. He was afraid of a counterattack. The porcupines acted as sentries. We still owe them. And Reynoldses always pay their debts,” Ursula concluded severely.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You look after Mitchell, and say hello to Mayor Fairchild when you go into town.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now let me talk to Mitchell, please. I don’t have all day to chat. It’s almost time for cocktails and snacks in the lounge.”

  Wordlessly Zoë handed the phone back to Mitchell. His side of the conversation consisted mostly of “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am.” But eventually he turned off his phone.

  “We owe those porkies an apology. Aunt Ursula says we should write one and leave it on the property line. I pointed out that if we had been able to see a property line, we would not have trespassed. She says that by morning they will have scent-marked.”

  “Ew.” Thank you for that visual, Aunt Ursula.

  “It’s kind of charming, once you think about it. Imagine an alliance that has been honored for over a century.” He was entirely earnest.

  “You like the idea that someone is guarding our backs, don’t you?”

  “Well, sure. How could I not?”

  “But no one has seen those cannibalistic Haverstocks in over a century. Right?” she asked.

  “Right.”

  “So who are the Stickneys guarding us from?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can’t ever have too many eyes watching. This cabin is miles from anywhere. But no one has ever robbed it.”

  She felt she had to give him a mild reality check. “Well, it is isolated at the top of a cliff.”

  He nodded. “Impregnable.”

  “There’s no hot water in the bathroom.”

  “What?”

  “It’s dark and drafty and the neighbors are porcupines.”

  “Yeah.”

  She sighed. She was so not getting through to him. He was infatuated with this primitive place. Surely she could endure it for a few weeks?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Mitchell~

  The faint, scratching noise brought him out of a deep sleep, heart racing, ears stretched. The room was pitch dark. It was always a shock to realize how dark night was when there were no electric lights and no light pollution. The scratching changed to scuttling.

  Sappers. They fucking had sappers digging at their foundations.

  Not bothering to dress, he left Zoë sleeping and grabbed both his flashlight and revolver. He didn’t turn on the light. He wanted to be invisible to the intruders and preserve his own night vision. Shift. What he fricking needed were night goggles. Moving stealthily and silently, he made it to the front door by memory.

  By the time he went out onto the porch, he was no longer expecting enemy soldiers to be undermining the foundations. He wasn’t in Syria but in the good old USA.

  He shone his flashlight at the source of the noise. The largest porcupine he had ever seen was crouched over the broom handle which was laid across the porch steps. It bristled at him and blinked small red eyes in annoyance.

  Mitchell snapped off the light. He sat down in one of the two rockers. “That you, Stickney?” he asked.

  There was a rustling sound. Firm footsteps marched up the steps and across the porch. The other rocker creaked gently. “Yeah, I’m Howard Stickney.” The voice was gruff. “You want to put that gun away?”

  Mitchell flicked the safety back on and set the revolver on his lap. “I thought we had trouble,” he explained.

  Stickney sighed. “I was leaving you a message, neighbor.”

  “About that. Aunt Ursula tells me we owe you and your family an apology for trespassing on your land. My wife and I had no idea we had strayed off Reynolds’ land.”

  “Boundaries are where they’ve always been,” Stickney said grumpily.

  “That’s what Aunt Ursula said. She told me to consult the map she gave me.”

  “Well, I’ve refreshed the olfactory fence,” Stickney said sternly. “See you stay on your side of it. And just so you know, we don’t have trouble up here on Bear Lookout.”

  “Good to know.” Mitchell translated the porky’s prim terminology and realized that Stickney had been scent marking their property line. Fair enough. “I don’t like trespassers myself. Zoë and I will stay off your land. Aunt Ursula tells me your family has been watching our flank since the Great Clearance.”

  “That’s right. You going to tell me your name, neighbor?”

  “Mitchell Reynolds,” he responded. “Aunt Ursula has transferred this property to me.”

  Stickney snorted. “Not yet she hasn’t. How is she doing these days? I hear you people stuck her in some sort of home,” he accused.

  Mitchell laughed. “Aunt Ursula has moved herself into an assisted living facility in close proximity to the clan. We’re still dancing to her tune.” Witness the speed with which he had proposed to Zoë as soon as Ursula suggested it. “The transfer hasn’t been registered yet, but I’m told it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Hmph. Glad to know Miss Ursula is doing good. Your nerves settled down yet?”

  “Pretty much,” Mitchell admitted. “I’m still sleeping with one ear cocked. I woke up sure we had raiders.”

  Stickney’s rocker creaked. “Still?”

  “Until last month, I was on active service.”

  “Veteran, eh?”

  “Uh huh. You?”

  Stickney’s voice warmed. “I did a stint in the Coast Guard after high school.”

  “Marine Corps,” Mitchell said.

  “We didn’t see much action in the Guard,” admitted Stickney. “Mostly we rescued idiots.”

  Mitchell laughed hollowly. “While my company saw altogether too much action.”

  “Did some disaster relief,” Stickney said levelly. “Saw some stuff I don’t like to think about too much.”

  “Man’s inhumanity to man.”

  “Say that again, Reynolds. Comes back in my dreams. But you have to remind yourself that those things aren’t happening right now. Today. Up here on Bear Lookout. When you wake up in a cold sweat, you gotta tell yourself that you’re in a safe place. And then you can go see for yourself, just to make sure.”

  “Huh?”

  “What your nerves need is a tonic,” Stickney advised. He paused. “It’s thirsty work defending your home.”

  A tonic was exactly what his overwrought senses needed. “Beer?” Mitchell asked.

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  The two shifters sat on the porch, drinking their beer in the darkness. Mitchell turned his flashlight on just long enough to see that Howard Stickney was a stocky, well-muscled man with a shock of brown hair.

  As naked as Mitchell himself, of course, since he had shifted from porcupine and Mitchell hadn’t bothered dressing. Stickney could have been any age from thirty to fifty. His eyes were full of hard-won wisdom.

  “Aunt Ursula says we’re supposed to pick up stuff for you when we go into town. Zoë and I should be heading into Mystic Bay tomorrow. Is there anything you need?”

  “You going to a supermarket?”

  “Probably.”

  Stickney cleared his throat. “Could you pick up a couple jars of olives? Those stuffed green ones. The kind with red peppers inside. My wife is expecting, and she surely has a fancy for them.”

  “Be glad to. My Zoë’s pregnant too.”

  “For a fact?”

  “Yup.”

  “You need to fix this place up a mite, Reynolds, if you plan to overwinter here with a new bride.”

  “I won’t ask how you know Zoë and I are newlyweds.”

  “Nearly weds by what I hear, Reynolds,” Stickney corrected him sharply. “Shacking up with your pregnant girlfriend don’t do you or the Corps any credit. It’s not what we expect of bears on West Haven.”


  “Not that it’s anybody’s business but our own,” Mitchell said levelly.

  Stickney snorted. “Plain as day, you ain’t lived in a small town.”

  Which wasn’t so. It was just that in Luck Harbor summer residents’ doings were of no interest to the locals. “We’re working on it,” Mitchell said peaceably. “In fact, we’re getting a license tomorrow.”

  “Hmph. What about the cabin?”

  “For a start, it needs insulating. It’s drafty as all get-out.”

  “For a start, it needs electricity,” Stickney informed him.

  “I’m thinking of putting in a generator and wiring the place.”

  “And run it off what?” Stickney asked.

  “Diesel. Gasoline.”

  “You’d need a heck of a lot of either. How are you going to get it up the cliff?” Stickney countered.

  “Haven’t figured that out yet. Some kind of elevator seems best, but I’ll need the generator in place to run it first. Kind of a catch twenty-two.”

  “Sure enough. What you need is renewable energy. A windmill, and some solar panels,” Stickney said kindly. “And an array of batteries.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given this some thought,” Mitchell responded.

  “We’ve got us a pretty snug house,” Stickney said complacently.

  “I didn’t see a windmill anywhere around your place,” Mitchell said. “Where is it?”

  “There’s a natural clearing where we’ve set one up on top of a stump. About 200 yards from the house. You guys should put yours at the edge of the cliff. Catch the ocean breezes.”

  “Huh.” Mitchell drained his beer. “We’d still need an elevator to haul the materials up.”

  “Crane. Mounted on a ship.”

  Mitchell thought about that for a bit. “Be expensive.”

  Stickney chortled. “You Reynoldses used to be made of money.”

  “We still do okay.”

  Stickney chortled again. “I’d be happy to give you a hand with the setup.”

  “I’d appreciate it, Stickney. Another beer?”

  “Nah. I better get my ass home. These days, Emily gets nervous on her own.”

  “You tell her Zoë and I will stay on our land in future. And if you need anything besides olives, you let us know.”