Dare to Bear (Book 1 Trail Guardians Series) (14 page)

If only the protective survivalist in him would turn off that switch, and just enjoy the sensual moment. Instead of worrying about a noise he might have heard or a scent he might have caught.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but—”

“Shhh.” The sharp sound robbed her of speech. She’d never seen this anxious, alert side of him.

A snarl came from the woods.

Startled, she yelped. “Okay, I heard that.”

Cursing under his breath, he pulled up his shorts. “Grab the satellite phone out of my pack, the first small zippered pocket. Dial the last number on the phone. It goes directly to Tyce, should something happen to me.”

Fear scraped her nerve-endings like talons. “Mason, don’t go out there.”

“I have to. I vowed to protect you, and I will.”

Maybe it was a trick of light and shadow. Or a spike of fear-filled adrenaline, skewing her vision.

But she swore Mason’s appearance altered before her eyes.

His shoulders widened. His bare chest broadened and looked a bit fuzzier than before. A low rumble came from his heaving chest. And his face changed.
Changed
. His nose protruded and flattened at the tip. His eyes went totally black in their sockets. His cheeks narrowed. The orange firelight illuminated the flash of teeth behind snarling lips. His canines resembled a vampire’s.

What in the hell?

She clutched the sleeping bag under her chin and scooted away.

“Put out the fire,” he growled low. “Stay safe. Out of sight.”

Sitting in the darkness, unnerved—no, disturbed—she wondered if she needed to keep herself safe from an unseen threat in the night…or him?

9

Mason ducked out of the lean-to. Twenty paces away, he shed his shorts so he could return and put them on again, once he’d nullified the threat and transferred back to human form. As he shifted, his ribs snapped and popped as loud as the twigs beneath his lengthening paws. The pain during a shift had never bothered him. It had always come naturally, as it did now, and he hurtled over obstacles, racing deeper into the dark forest.

His bear responded to three primal calls: food, sex, and threats. He hadn’t eaten much except a small can of chili with corn. Sex with Steph had been interrupted. Now a threat loomed in the darkness.

A taste for blood and vengeance fueled his instincts, triggering an animalistic rage. He tracked the scent of wolf. But only one. Yet wolves traveled in packs. Although werewolves didn’t always.

Was he after another shifter like himself?

Bring it on
.

As the apex predator, he held the advantage. If the creature was an infected werewolf, he didn’t look forward to the confrontation, but he had no doubt as to who would walk away. Besides, Tyce might need a fresh specimen to help trace the virus’s mutations. If Mason obtained a sample of its blood before he killed it and it turned to ash, this could prove a worthwhile fight. As long as he didn’t contract the virus himself.

That thought pulled him up sharply. His human side warred with his bear instinct for annihilation of all threats. He reared onto his hind legs, sniffing the air, more cautious now. Infected, he’d be no good to anyone, and he’d leave his mate unprotected.

Ancients only knew what the disease might do to a werebear in the flesh. No telling what could happen, no matter how pure his bloodline ran.

The closer he came to the origination of the scent, the more confusion baited him. The scent trail didn’t follow the typical patterns that wolves and their dog brethren followed.

Something didn’t sit right, and his bear went on the alert. His expert nose followed the serpentine trail to a huge, centuries-old Oak tree. There it stopped.

What the…?

Had he been duped?

He bellowed the equivalent of a foul curse in bear language. His thick claws dragged bark off the tree, leaving deep, ragged grooves.

Someone was fucking with him. He wasn’t amused.

A swoosh of air careened past his head, ruffling his fur. Only one night bird possessed that mystical capability of silent flight.

Rage poured through his dilated veins. “Ollun,” he roared in bear.

“Hear me out before you curse me out,” Ollun said from the safety of a high branch.

Disgusted, Mason dug in his claws and lunged up the tree toward the man seated on the branch.

Swiftly, Ollun shifted back into a bird and flew to the adjacent tree. Mason sloughed a growl from his lungs.
The winged bastard
. He crawled down from the tree and shifted into human form. “What is your goddamn problem?” he snarled.

Ollun changed to human form, as well, and held up his hands. “You’re going to thank me.”

“You can bite my furry ass.”

It thoroughly irritated him that Ollun held some kind of magic enabling him to come into human form fully clothed. A potion like that, even if it was an illusion, would prove useful and strategic for his fellow werebears, especially when leading trail expeditions with human hikers.

Not that he expected the wily devil to share anything useful with him.

As if the man had read his thoughts, Ollun grinned craftily. “How did my love potion work for you, hmmm?”

“Screw you.”

“And did you? Screw?”

“No, asshole. I chased this idiotic scent you manufactured so I could protect my mate. I seriously hate you right now.”

Ollun shook his head and clucked his tongue. “After all I did for you. That love potion doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

“Owl soup does,” Mason retorted. “I could pluck you faster than a turkey on Thanksgiving and have you boiled in a hot minute

Ollun rolled his yellow eyes. “Save your hot minute for your mate.”

“And now you insult my sex drive. Fantastic.” Mason spread his arms. “What the hell do you want for the trouble you’ve caused me?”

“The Ollusian spy network has sent word to my flock. There’s a pack of infected werewolves heading your way. I assumed you’d want to know.”

Alarm flashed through Mason. “How reliable are these
spies
?”

Ollun sniffed. “The human Secret Service could only wish it had our skills and range. While you bears are guarding the Appalachian Trail, who do you think watches over the Trail Guardians, hmmm?”

“You watch over us.” Mason’s tone dripped with doubt.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Olllun said with a secretive smile. “How do you think I knew where to find you in your triangle hut? When you and your brother went on your guardian trials, we were there, watching and safeguarding you. We all have our part to play in the trail hierarchy, time-honored alliances created by the Ancients, upheld by the Ancestors.”

From what Mason had heard through the trail vine, owl shifters never let the truth get in the way of a good story. But he couldn’t afford to ignore the owl’s warning. He figured they were kind of like the ninjas of the animal kingdom. Silent, calculating, and deadly.

“How far out are the werewolves?” he asked.

Ollun rubbed his lean chin. “Our estimation is about two days. It’s a pack of six. Taking into account they are shifters, they’re larger than typical wolves. So perhaps less than two days. They appear to be on a mission.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They stop for neither food nor rest. Think on it.” Ollun became less shrewd and more serious. “When a traditional animal acquires rabies, the virus infects its host and takes over brain and motor function. The sole aim of any living thing—including viruses—is to propagate the species.”

Mason folded his arms. “What are you getting at?”

“We’re still running tests on the tainted blood you’re taking to your brother’s town hospital. Nothing is certain yet. But every species is driven by nature to replicate. If the virus has mutated, and decides it wants to spread faster, the host will seek to infect others. Since this appears to be a shifter-specific strain, it needs more of our kind to speed its progress, and ensure its survival. Isn’t your brother the sheriff of an entire colony comprised of shifters?”

Mason’s blood ran cold. “They’re heading for Haventown?”

“You may draw your own conclusions. I’m merely the messenger. Though I suspect that is their final destination.”

Mason bellowed a string of curses. “I’ve got to warn them.”

Ollun yawned and stretched. “Yes, well, do as you must. It’ll be an early morning for you. Better get some sleep.”

The man blinked one eye, like a wink. Transforming, he flew soundlessly into the night.

Mason raked his hands through his hair. “What a damned mess.”

If Ollun was part of some spy network, like he claimed to be, why couldn’t he fly to Haventown and warn them himself? Weird, irritating, useless bird.

Then again, since the owls stayed to themselves, outliers in comparison to other shifters who often intermingled, Mason supposed Ollun showing up in the middle of the night bearing grave news would raise eyebrows. And suspicions.

In his backpack, Mason carried proof of dangerous virus. That, along with his word, would be enough to convince his brother the town needed to go on high alert, preparing themselves for the deadly wrath bearing down on them.

Thoughts swirling, he returned to the spot twenty yards from the lean-to, where he’d left his shorts before he’d shifted. He wasn’t prepared to reveal the truth to Steph before he sealed their mating by making love to her. Their mating would ensure her survival, even beyond his personal protection.

Instantly, he caught her scent. His mate, in the peak of her cycle—their equivalent of a female in heat—enflamed his desire and cemented his need to claim her. If he didn’t, she’d receive no protection from his clan. Not that he planned to go anywhere, anytime soon. It was just that non-mates weren’t given priority or safety in the event his soul crossed over into the Ancients’ High Realm. He wanted to offer Steph that safety net—no, he needed to, because his sense of duty and honor required nothing less than full commitment.

Sweat glistened on his bare chest from his exertions, he walked into the lean-to. Remnants of lit coals sent hushed light through the space. He fought to steady his breathing so he didn’t worry her, or give any hint of the harrowing news from Ollun. He was still dissecting the ramifications himself.

But with the wolf pack two days out, he had enough time to claim his mate tonight. He intended to make every second amazing for her. As incredible as it would be for him.

Except, when he faced her, he caught a flicker of fear in her eyes. He crawled in beside her, lacing his fingers through hers. “I checked it out, sweetheart. The coast is clear.”
For now
.

When she withdrew from him, and refused to meet his eyes, panic chased through him. “What’s wrong, baby? No, better question, what can I do to fix it?”

Her gaze lifted and wetness lined her lashes. “That’s a beautiful thing to say, Mason.”

He pressed a palm to the center of his chest. “I mean it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man as true and devoted as you.”

“What do you need, honey?”

“I need to talk about what I saw.”

“Did something scare you?”

Her hands fidgeted in her lap. “You did.”

Shit
. The blood drained from his face. He swallowed, a little guarded. “What did you see?”

“I’m not really sure.” She nibbled on her lower lip, eyes cast down again.

As she searched for the words, he took the opportunity to stoke the fire back into crackling brilliance. His nerves scraped raw while he waited, worried he might be screwed and have to cough up the truth.

She inched closer to him. “This might sound crazy.”

“But…”

“Mason, I saw your face change. Your body, too. You seemed to…
shift
. Right in front of me. I have no other way to describe it. It scared me.”

Facing her, he affected the most non-threatening pose possible. “That sounds like it might scare anyone, to think someone is something other than what you know.”

He held his breath, then let it out in a slow, resigned exhale. The time had come to reveal all of himself to her.

“The truth is, Steph, when I feel cornered, or something threatens someone I care about…I turn into a bear.”

Silence dropped like a curtain between them.

Stephanie blinked at Mason.

He looked so absurdly serious, like their friendship—or whatever this was between them—hinged on her response.

A zany sensation bubbled up inside her. Her eyes crinkled.

Then she burst out laughing.

She couldn’t help it. The strange look on his face made her erupt into uncontrollable giggles.

Wiping a tear from her eye, she regained her composure. “Yeah, well, when I’m scared I turn into a chicken.” She stuck out her elbows and flapped them. “Bwock.”

In the absence of his response, she snorted and cracked up again. She playfully slapped his arm, waiting for him to share her amusement.