Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“She’s in the blue room,” I tell him, noticing Evan sitting tucked in the corner, one leg resting across his knee and a bottle of beer in his hand.
Not wanting to be left out, I cross the room, pour myself a drink, and flop next to Hunter.
We’re silent for what feels like an eternity. It’s unusual because even when Hunter’s in his strong-silent-type mood, Evan fills the space with humorous chatter. In the end, it’s Hunter who speaks first.
“I used to dream about her, you know.” He wobbles the glass in his hand, swirling the whiskey.
I take a gulp of mine, relishing the spreading heat and anticipating the way it will soften the hard edges of the current situation.
“Of Goldie?” Evan asks.
“Of our mate. She was always faceless. It would frustrate the hell out of me.”
“Did she look like Goldie?” I ask, wondering if he’d had a kind of vague premonition.
“She had golden hair, but that was about all I can remember. I used to wake up with this feeling of peace, like the morning after snowfall where everything is clean and quiet.”
“And it’s not like that,” I muse.
“No. It’s not like that.” The disappointment in his voice cuts through my annoyance at him. Hunter is a complex man, but he’s good to the core. I just hope that Goldie will see through his tough outer shell and find a way to love him as he deserves.
“It’ll happen,” Evan says confidently. “When you get close to her, you’ll feel it.”
Hunter scowls, his face twisting in a way that’s so much like his bear, I want to laugh.
“And when we claim her—” Evan trails off because we know what it’ll be like then. A mental, physical, and emotional connection that’s so strong, humans can only dream about it.
“The wolves won’t wait for us to convince our mate that we’re worthy,” Hunter says bitterly. “They’re getting closer, and the threats are all directly aimed at her.”
“They want to take her out before we claim her?”
“Of course.” Hunter rubs his hand over his face, his beard rasping against his palm. He sighs, long and low, and it turns into a growl. “We need to strike.”
I agree, even though I wish I didn’t have to. My bear is restless. He’s been gnawing at me since I cleaned Goldie’s cuts and had her in my bed tucked up against me. Protect mate, he growls. Avenge mate. My fingers itch like they want to shift and slash whoever is responsible for hurting Goldie.
“Now,” I say, surprised at my eagerness.
“Now,” Hunter agrees.
We knock back the last of the liquor in our glasses and lumber to the front door, stripping and tossing our clothes into the basket in the hallway. We shift quickly, the ache of bones morphing and stretching, the pain of skin breaking open into our fur-covered skin, familiar and welcome. I shake my head from side to side and arch my back, growling in the deep rumble I miss when I’m human. The earth is damp and ripe beneath my paws, and I curl my toes into the coolness. I turn to find my brothers shifting, too. Hunter’s larger head rises to sniff the air. I catch the whiff. Wolf. Too close to the house for comfort. He growls and gnashes his teeth, saliva dripping from his jaw. Evan rumbles his agreement.
“They’re too close.” Hunter’s bear voice communicates in my mind. The connection is so clear, it's like my thoughts but louder.
“They’re becoming reckless,” Evan’s voice hums.
“Desperate,” I agree, growling. The wolf scent is growing closer, as though they’re closing in around us, a perimeter of mangy gray fur and rabid snarling. We should have called the wider clan from Goldie’s store. When they moved further north, Hunter didn’t want to follow. Leaving our ancestral home would have been like cutting the connection to our parents and past. Now we’re left potentially exposed.
“Don’t hold back,” Hunter’s voice commands. As the alpha, he has two modes: normal communication and compulsion. This is an order; one Evan and I can’t ignore. Hunter’s the first to break for the trees, his gait furious and determined. The snarling and chomping of his jaw echoes around us as Evan and I follow, scenting the wolves and moving in closer with every stride.
Protect mate, Hunter’s voice instructs. Protect Goldie.
He’s as overcome with the visceral urge to keep our woman safe as I am. Only twenty meters from our property, where the air is thick with the stink of wolves, we come face to face with the first snarling male. Teeth bared, and head lowered, he growls, dripping saliva through his pointed yellow teeth. His slobbering tongue drops out, and he licks his fangs as his fur bristles and widens over his bunched shoulders. Behind, two other wolves move slowly forward, emerging from the bushes, growling to match their leader. This isn’t the first time we’ve faced off against this mangy pack. They’ve been encroaching on our territory, and we’ve been pushing back. Sometimes wolves and bears can live side by side, but these wolves see us as a threat, so we’re forced to treat them the same.