“That wasn’t so bad,” Amy said.
“It’s over,” I replied, not so sure that I agreed. “Did you travel these paths when you went adventuring with your sisters when you were young?”
“Not until much later. But you have to use the thin paths to reach the blueberries,” she said.
“So not a fairy search?” I asked.
“Well, by the time Nora could shift, she had given up on finding fairies,” Amy said, with her big, brown eyes sparkling.
“But not blueberries?” I asked.
“No one’s ever too old to hunt for wild berries,” Amy said. “There’s this place, not too far from here, where rain pools into a pocket in the mountainside. Wildflowers grow all around the water’s edge in the spring. And blueberries grow on a single bush.”
“Are they worth the climb?” I asked.
“Best blueberries in the world,” Amy said. “Maybe it’s the climb, or the view, but I swear that there’s nothing better than—”
It hit me like a punch to the gut, the fur-raising smell of him. But the bear hit Amy harder, with a barreling tackle. Her breath caught; her sentence cut off. He came from nowhere, from the darkness too far ahead of me to catch in time. He pinned her down and my mind went numb. There was nothing but Amy. Her cries as the bear dug his claws into her snow-white fur. The red.
The beast growled so loud her screams sounded distant. Time stood still. There were no thoughts, no worry for what would happen to me. There was no waiting, no hesitation. Only Amy, as I raced at full speed into the grizzly that would not let her go. Into the bear. Over the edge of the cliff.
Chapter Twelve
Amy
Dark. Wet. Cold.
By the time I had registered the sound of him, the smell of him, I was on the ground. Crushing force held me still. Stabbing pain pierced my side, my shoulder, my hip. It could have been teeth or claws—I couldn’t say. There was just the coppery scent of my blood mixed with Harkins’s fear, and the stink of the grizzly.
Before I could think, or even try to move, I saw a flash of gray. The pressure of the bear’s weight lifted. And I watched in horror as Harkins knocked the bear over the steep edge.
“Harkins!” I cried as my mate crashed into the grizzly at full speed.
He flipped over the edge along with the bear.
Terror overwhelmed me; my thoughts raced. It couldn’t be over. He couldn’t be gone.
I shifted back to human form and scrambled toward the edge as the two tumbled over the cliff. “Harkins!”
I dove down to the ground by the edge of the path, head hanging over the side. Below was the blackness I had expected. Snowflakes fell down past me, consumed by the dark. Echoes carried across the valley—falling rocks, snarls, and the tumbling of a large mass against the slope. The event replayed in my mind—a flash of gray, Harkins slamming into the grizzly at full force. Then nothing. My cheeks were cold and wet as tears streamed down my face. My heart ached for my other half.
When I blinked, I saw a set of gray paws dug into the mountain side. Relief washed over me. He was alive. I couldn’t believe it—he was really alive. Harkins’s teeth were clenched down onto the root of a tree. Noise escaped his gritted teeth, a grunt in place of speech. His claws slid down the steep slope, carving their shape into the snowy dirt and rock. No. Not again. As fast I could move, I grabbed ahold of his legs and pulled with everything that I had.
Harkins’s back legs scraped for footing, and he released the root. His front paws reached the ledge, and I wrapped my arms behind his shoulders. Another big pull and he was on the ground beside me. His breathing was as labored as mine, while I lay naked on the snow-covered earth. I didn’t want to blink, didn’t want to take my eyes off of him.
“Thanks,” Harkins said, before shifting back to human form. I watched as he grew, snow gently falling all around him. And I breathed, slow and steady, knowing that he was really okay. Sensations of the world seeped back into notice—the frigid air and colder ground, the gooseflesh that covered every inch of me, and the pain in my side that seemed like nothing when I’d thought I’d lost Harkins.
His paws grew into strong, callused hands. His shoulders broadened and grew thick. His arms and legs took human form, covered in powerful muscles. And his muzzle shrunk into a human nose and mouth. But through it all, his scars and his dark, brown eyes remained the same. Full of fire, full of desire. Locked on me.
“You are never, ever, going to do that to me again,” I said, with unshed tears welling in my eyes. “Promise me. I could have lost you.”
“Promise,” he said. In a heartbeat he was on top of me, on hands and knees. I rolled onto my back and smiled up at Harkins. The ground was hard, rough, and frigid. But he was with me, and that was all that mattered. So close, and entirely exposed, I needed to feel him. I reached my hands up to his face and touched the rough, brown hair of his beard, the soft skin of his scars. He turned his head and kissed my palm. His skin was warm, his muscles firm, his hair rough, as I slid my fingers down his chest. He was perfect. Sexy. Kind. And mine, or at least he would be soon. I’d never been more sure of anything, or wanted anyone more.
“You’re shivering,” he said, and scooped me up. He held me tight to his chest as he stood. I squealed in surprise. My body was warm in his embrace, my naked breasts pressed against his hard chest. The contact lit every nerve within me. His cock pressed up between us, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist.
Harkins walked, holding my thighs in his hands. Sand, saltwater, and oak—I nuzzled my face in his neck and breathed him in. James Harkins. Snowflakes landed in my hair, on my back, on my shoulders. But he kept me warm.
Pine needles tickled my head, as Harkins took us under the cover of a cluster of mature trees. It was just like the night before, Harkins taking care of me under the shelter of evergreens. This time I wasn’t drifting in and out of consciousness, though the whole experience felt like a strange dream. The mountainside blocked the wind, and the trees shielded us from the snow.
“That’s better,” Harkins said.
“Almost,” I replied, then brushed my lips over his.
He kissed me back. Hard. His tongue delved deep into my mouth, exploring, caressing, claiming. Heat radiated from our connection—from my lips, from every inch where our skin met. The hair on his chest was rough, his beard coarse. He was firm, strong, and everything that I needed.
My back pressed against the smooth but icy wall of rock, pinned in place. His beard tickled my exposed skin as he trailed kisses down my neck. By my collarbone he lingered, and I heard him inhale. I’d been waiting an eternity for this. For him. Too long. With a flex of my fingers, I dug my nails into Harkins’s shoulders. A deep, masculine sound escaped him. It rumbled through his chest, through me. He met my eyes with a dark intensity and lifted me just above his tip. The effect I had on him turned me on even more. I ached to be filled, to be one with him, to know him in every way, to feel his cock and bear his claim.
“You deserve gentle,” he said, holding me in place with one hand beneath my thigh, and his body pinning me to the rock face. His finger slid up between my legs and teased my clit. Everything became more intense—the need to have him inside, the warmth that he gave me, the tingle that reached up to my aching breasts and my lips.
We’d have years to take things slow, to savor each other, to spend our nights entwined beneath the sheets. I brought my head next to his, so my lips brushed his ear. He slid the tip of his finger into my opening, and I moaned with the pleasure of him inside of me.
“Make me yours,” I whispered into his ear, then nipped the soft tissue of his earlobe between my teeth.
It was a shock at first, though he gave me exactly what I had wanted. He held onto my breasts, and his cock filled me, stretched me, owned me. I gasped as he pressed inside, each stroke molding me to his shape. Each thrust shot pleasure through me, and every inch taken away was one I yearned to experience again. I’d never seen s
uch need in a man’s eyes. Not just lust, but more. I knew exactly what that look meant, because I knew the feeling, and I knew him. He longed to claim me just as I yearned to receive his mark.
The wind howled, but the cliff and trees blocked us from the gust and the snow. Harkins watched my expression, watched the effect he had on me. He circled my nipples with his thumbs and continued his thrusts, each harder and faster than the last. I leaned my head back and felt the heat rise. Pressure built and my breathing grew ragged.
And all at once the cold disappeared. The night disappeared. All that existed was Harkins and me, and the ecstasy that washed over my being.
“Harkins,” I cried, as he pushed through the tightening of my tunnel.
His muscles tensed, and I knew this was it. Sharp pain pierced my neck, his teeth leaving the mark that bound us as one, and I was filled with the heat of his release.
Mates for life. Knowing it was finally official filled me with happiness and contentment.
Harkins lowered my feet to the ground, in a gentle motion compared to the intensity he’d just shown. He held onto me, and I held onto him as I looked into his dark brown eyes and saw they were filled with unspoken promises and love.
Chapter Thirteen
Harkins
Across the dark valley, the outline of a tree-topped, rocky mountain peak came into focus. Silhouettes of tall evergreens appeared small in the distance, highlighted in the radiant glow of the rising sun.
I looked to Amy, the petite wolf curled up beside me. Her snow-white fur suited her angelic face, peaceful as she slept. We’d shifted back to wolf form before falling asleep to conserve heat. And I’d wanted to let her rest, but the sunrise beckoned me to wake her. It was a magical way to rise on Christmas morning.
As the sun ascended, it cast light over the mountains, into the valley, and sparkled over the fields of snow. I looked down at my mate and nuzzled her ear with my nose. Her ear twitched, and her eyelids squeezed further shut.
“Merry Christmas, Amy,” I said in wolf’s tongue.
“Merry Christmas,” she replied, peeking through one sleep-filled eye. “My mom’s going to be pissed that I wasn’t there for Christmas morning.”
I smiled inside. We’d nearly been killed by the elements and attacked by a grizzly, and she was worried about disappointing her mother.
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” I said.
“And I left all of the presents back in my car,” she said, turning her gaze toward the rising sun.
“We’ll bring ’em late,” I said. “I’m sure Santa delivered plenty for the morning.”
“But the keys are lost out somewhere in the snow,” Amy said. “Along with my clothes. And yours.” That brought out as near a grin as she could manage in wolf form, and her attention came back on me.
“That could be a problem,” I agreed. I wasn’t about to take her back the way we’d traveled.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to make it the rest of the way as wolves,” she said. “It looks like it’s finally stopped snowing.”
“Sometime in the night, I think,” I said.
We watched the sun turn the sky orange and give life and color to the earth below. Orange turned to blue, and a bright, cloudless sky. The sun was warm on my fur by the time we rose to our feet. I shook my fur, and snow from the night fell to the ground. White powder clung in drifts to the trunks of the pines, more still on the needled branches.
I walked by Amy’s side as she led the way around a wide mountain path. I found it difficult to keep my eyes off of my mate and the mark on her neck. It was too good to be true. And the best Christmas present I’d ever been given.
As we got closer to her family farm, Amy pointed out landmarks that held special meaning to her. Every step was a story, those she’d lived before we’d met, and those we’d made together.
“There it is,” Amy said as we passed a break in the rock face.
We paused in our tracks and looked over the small, frozen body of water. Snow mounded around the edges of the ice, too tall to tell where exactly the blueberry bush was.
“I’d like to see it again when it’s warm,” I said.
“It’s a date,” Amy replied.
We left the cliffs behind, for open fields of white powder and clusters of snow-dusted pines. I could hear a wren chirping, a robin singing. A paper-white rabbit bounded past us and hid beneath the cover of an evergreen sapling. Old wooden fences led us up a gentle slope.
“What’s under there?” I asked, pointing my muzzle to a familiar shape, blanketed in snow.
“I knew you’d spot that one,” she replied with a smile. “That was my grandfather’s truck. It was old when I was little, now it’s been parked for good.”
“Way out here with no one to fix it?” I asked.
“My Gran grows wildflowers in the bed,” she said. “It’s full of red and blue and yellow blooms in the spring.” She was more animated than usual when she spoke. Her eyes lit up and she was like sunshine. I’d have rather seen the classic model still on the road, but after being left to rust, it was nice to see the family give the old beauty a new purpose.
“I didn’t know you liked flowers so much,” I said.
“Not bouquets or anything,” Amy said. “But there’s something magical about a beautiful garden.”
“What about that pond?” I asked, looking over at the ice-coated circle. “Do you have any stories about that?”
I wanted to know all of the events that defined her. I wanted to learn everything about Amy. Every memory shared was a gift, a chance to know more about her. And I could never know enough.
“We used to swim in there,” Amy said. “Me and my sisters.”
“What are they like?” I asked.
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” she said with a smile.
A two-story cabin came into view, up ahead. Snow clung to the tin roof, melting in the warm morning sun. Light reflected off the metal, brighter than it did off of the snow. The shutters and siding were all constructed of wood, all aged with the decades that had passed since the home had been built, and all well-maintained. The front door was painted as red as the barn, the building standing behind the house, at the end of the expansive yard.
As we approached, the red door swung open, and a blond-headed crowd gathered by the door, tall to small, all watching us. With each step closer, I grew more nervous. I could handle bears and snow, but Christmas dinner with family? That was a new and terrifying adventure. My muscles grew tense as I looked over the women, men, and children that piled onto the porch.
There was an older woman in a red and green sweater, hunched over and holding tightly to her cane. Her short, curly hair was more white than blond, and she smiled wide. There was a woman that looked much like my mate, with white streaks in her long golden hair. She wore a long, loose fitting white dress, and wrinkles by her eyes. There were young women, Amy’s sisters, and men standing by them. Blond children ran in every direction. My pace slowed.
“They won’t bite,” Amy said, leaning her furry, white shoulder into mine. “I promise.”
Chapter Fourteen
Amy
“We were so worried.” My mother bent down on the front porch, wrapped her arms around my neck, through my fur, and squeezed. She looked as beautiful as she always did in her red lipstick and soft, white dress. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She looked me over, and her eyes stopped on the mark on my neck. Then they flicked to Harkins. He stilled under her gaze.
“I’m okay, Mom,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”
“Meery Chrissmiss,” Nessa pushed through the sea of legs, wrapped her arm around her mother’s knee, and waved at me. She was a tiny version of my sister Nora, with the same straight, blond hair, the same bright blue eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Nessa,” I said with a smile.
“Introduce us,” my sister Joy said. The tallest of the women, Joy held her mate’s hand, and her pregnant belly.
; Everyone was looking at Harkins, the fierce gray wolf standing a few feet from the door.
“And where’s your car?” my mother asked.
“Long story,” I replied. “Can we come inside? I’ll tell you all about it.” Well, most of it. “And this is Harkins.”
“Hi, Harkins,” Joy said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Joy.”
“I’m Nessa,” Nessa said.
Voices carried from the doorway as everyone tried to talk to him at once.
“Is Harkins a first name or a last name?” Gran asked.
“No one knows, Gran,” I said with a grin. “It’s a secret.”
“No clothes and just one name, huh? Well come on in, Just Harkins,” Gran said with a smile that said she liked him already. “Everyone’s going to want to hear all about you.”
“Thanks,” Harkins said, voice taut.
The crowd made way and we went inside. My dad stood just inside the door, waiting for us. He had the darkest features of the Anderson pack—black hair, tan skin. He was the one I got my brown eyes from.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I said.
“Merry Christmas, Amy,” he said, in a warm, gentle tone. “I’m glad you made it here in one piece.” Then he turned his attention to my mate. “Harkins?” he asked, looking over the big, gray wolf.
“Yes, sir,” my mate replied.
“Can I offer you something to wear?” Dad lifted his hand, gesturing up the staircase, and his brows lifted, showing his kind, brown eyes.
“Please,” Harkins said.
“Welcome to the family,” my dad said, as he led Harkins, still in wolf form, up the tall, wooden staircase. The two looked stiff, but I knew my mate was in good hands.
Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set Page 49
