Brody
I turn my head and let out a challenging growl. Come follow me, I dare them with my eyes. Then, I sprint deeper inside. My paws crunch against fallen leaves and branches. I know the forest and they know me. I’ve run in them since the guys and I were tiny wolf pups fumbling our way through.
It’s far from the full moon, but I’m in my element. I open my jaws, let out a howl and hear my boys answering my call. Their answering snarls fill my veins with adrenaline. The concerns of the human world fall away—insignificant and unimportant. All that matters is the hunt, although I’m not here for that. I’m here to give the crazy bear on Maiden’s Bluff a good scare, and then maybe the guys and I can take down a deer.
I find my way uphill and head for the cabin. Here, I can tell the trees are older. An uncanny silence settles around me. Maybe the place is haunted, but only humans believe in ghosts. The wolf meanwhile, believes in the physical world. I ignore the hand-painted ‘Keep Out. Private Property’ sign, and snort at the second ‘Intruders Will be Shot on Sight’ sign.
What a joker. I finally catch sight of the cabin up ahead. The lights are on, so I know someone’s living up here. Plus, my nose smells the scent of cooking meat. My stomach rumbles, and I wish I’d eaten a steak dinner back at the bar and grill. Never mind that. I need to focus.
I sense movement in the house.
A couple of steps fencing the property, I hear a deep and gruff voice. “Can’t you read the signs outside, fucker?”
I let out a defiant roar. The front door creaks open. Some light spills out, but the mysterious grump remains cloaked in shadows. Then, I spy the glinting barrel of a shotgun.
“Get the fuck out of here. This is my last warning.”
I don’t believe you, so go ahead and shoot, I silently willed. Except the gun roars and I’m too stunned to react. The bullet misses my spot by an inch. A warning shot. I’m so shocked I don’t hear the second one until it hits my front left leg, downing me instantly.
I howl in rage, wondering how far my mates were.
“Damn kids,” the shooter hisses. I hear his approaching footsteps. My vision blurs, but I struggle to remain awake. Then I feel a warm callused hand on my head a second later. I snap my jaws, but that’s all I can do against the agony streaking up my leg.
“Hush, you silly beast, I really thought you’d avoid that shot,” are the last words I hear before I fall unconscious.
* * * *
The next time I wake, I’m tucked in the blankets of an unfamiliar bed. A hunter’s room stares back at me. The furniture is minimalist and functional. The floors are lined with warm pelts, and trophies hang on the walls. I peel the blanket away. Underneath, I’m buck-naked, but someone has tended my arm. It’s in a cast, and I can tell from the healing wound the bullet used wasn’t silver. I sigh in relief, about to sink against the fluffy pillows again when I catch sight of the hulking figure sitting by the armchair facing the bed, again cloaked in shadows.
“Awake now, are you, pup?” a gruff voice asks.
“You shot me, you asshole,” I accuse. Besides, I’m twenty-one. I take serious offence at being called a pup.
“Can’t you read the damn signs?” He growls, and stands.
I finally see my shooter, the mysterious monster who lives on the hill, and who supposedly isn’t fit for human company.
I didn’t know what I was expecting to see—a grumpy old man, or a scarred and grotesque shifter who met with some unlucky accident and decided to isolate himself from the entire world, but not this. Not him. This gorgeous fucker.
Standing, the werebear must be at least six-foot tall. He’s huge, built like a fighter, but underneath his flannel shirt and faded jeans I spy hard muscle. Not the kind of muscle guys who work out at the gym get, but from hard physical labor. Dark-haired and black eyed, he’s handsome, in a rough kind of way. He must be only in his late-twenties, or early thirties.
Why would he choose to live this life of seclusion? Then again, don’t the books and movies keep telling us beautiful monsters are the most dangerous sort? Josh had been one. Turns out he was all rotten and ugly on the inside.
I swallow. As he draws near the bed, his scent hits me like a sledgehammer. He smells of pine, of the woods surrounding his cabin, and of fresh soap.
His alluring scent and proximity rouses my wolf from its slumber. Instead of baring teeth and asserting its dominance, the beast studies the approaching bear with alarming interest.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say. Great way to start a conversation, Brody.
“And why would you want to know my name, pup?” His voice sounds like gravel, and his gaze spears through me, like I’m good enough to eat.
“Don’t call me that. I have a name, you know. It’s Brody. What’s yours?”
“Knowing my name won’t help you. You’re clearly fine, so get the hell out. Your friends are waiting back in town.” The werebear turns, begins to head for the door, but I slip out of bed.
In a couple of steps I reach him. Without thinking, I grab his arm. He breathes hard, and I know the tension between us isn’t imagined. Sparks leap from his skin to mine. He turns, mouth a thin line of disapproval.
“Your name,” I demand, letting him hear the pleading in my voice.
“Jim.”
Until then, I didn’t know one syllable—hell, one name, could make a world of difference. Knowing Jim’s name elevated him from stranger to something else. Something I can’t put a name to yet, because once I do, I’m afraid of starting on a path that could only lead to one way. All of us shifters come with an in-built radar telling us when a potential mate is nearby. Right now, it’s ringing pretty hard, but I refuse to believe this werebear is the one I’ve been searching for all my life.
It couldn’t be this easy.
“Jim, wait.” I take deep breaths, aware I’m standing completely naked in front of a stranger. “Tell me. Do you really want me out of here? If I leave, I won’t come back.”
Jim snarls, making me aware of the huge difference between our body shape. A man of his size can easily snap me in half without breaking a sweat. Logic tells me to leave, but if I leave without knowing where this door led, I have a feeling I’ll always come to regret it.
“What the fuck? First you can’t read, and then you refuse to leave? Don’t make me toss you over my shoulder and kick you out.”
“For a big guy, you can be such a pussy,” I snap without thinking.
I do my best not to flinch or show fear as he lumbers towards me and looks down at me, teeth bared.
“What the fuck did you call me, pup? No one ever taught you manners?”
“Don’t call me pup. It’s Brody, and I’m just stating a fact. Can’t you feel the tension between our beasts? At least your bear and my wolf are honest.”
Jim’s eyes narrow, and his pupils begin swallowing his entire irises, making him seem outwardly and inhuman. Grizzlies I’m told, are one of the animal groups we werewolves are taught never to underestimate, much less pick a fight with. Although we’re faster and smaller, we’re severely outclassed in terms of size and strength, and Jim looks like the kind of shifter who’d seen his share of fights.
And me? I avoid fights like a plague, because I’m more of a lover.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I throw back defiantly.
“Cross this line and you’ll regret it.”
“Look, Jim. I came back home, hoping to nurse a broken heart with a hook-up.” I nod towards the bulge straining against Jim’s jeans. “You clearly want to do the down and dirty too. It doesn’t have to mean a thing.”
A ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “Now, pup. Which one of us is lying?”
I flinch at those words. Maybe Jim’s right. Need and desperation is pushing me to think the impossible, but I don’t think these feelings can be manufactured. They’re too raw and real. So I decide to take the gamble and eliminate the remaining distance between us.
I press a hand against the visible bulge in his jeans, a bold move I’d never do in a different situation, but desperate times call for such measures. There’s that one moment in every person’s life they decide to do the one crazy thing that might make them seem like utter idiots, or it might pay off.
“Okay, I’m lying. Tell me this though, will you regret telling me to get the hell out without finding out if there’s anything between us?”
Jim closes his large fingers over mine. My heart starts to hammers, but judging by his expression, my mind warns me to steer myself for a rejection.
His expression goes soft, but only for a fraction of a second. If I wasn’t looking, I wouldn’t catch the vulnerability in his gaze. “I’ve already lost my mate once. I’m not letting myself go through hell again.”
That explains why he’d choose to live the existence of a hermit. Despite my misgivings, I ask, “What happened?”
“He’s buried out back.” At my look, he frowns. “He died of cancer. Did you think I murdered him?”
“Of course not. I know you aren’t capable of that. You act all hard on the outside, but deep down you’re a decent guy.”
I grow still as he leans in close to whisper against my ear. “You don’t know me well enough to judge me, Brody.”
“Try me. I’m a good judge of character.”
There’s a definite smile on his lips this time, but his words contain more barbs. “Clearly, you’re not.”
The reminder of my ex-boyfriend isn’t winning Jim points, but if he thinks that’s enough to send me running, then he’s severely underestimated my resolve.
“Let’s test the theory then.” I touch him again.
This time, he doesn’t stop me. I decide to take one step at a time and begin unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the hard planes and dips of his body. Jesus. Jim is seriously ripped. He doesn’t fight me when I take off his shirt, or raise my hand to palm his hard pectorals and trace the brick work of his six-pack abs. When I reach the button of his jeans, Jim grips my wrist and my pulse races.
“Take this step and you might regret it,” Jim growls.
“I don’t think I will, because I’m ready to take this ride. Are you?” Jim lets go of my hand. Allows me to unbutton his jeans, unzip his fly and yank down his pants. Jim steps out of it and I boldly stare down at his massive erection. He’s thick and long, larger than any cock I’ve taken.
“Daunted?” Jim asks, sounding amused.
“Try me.” I let out a squeak when he bands a muscled arm around my waist and tugs me close until there is no air between our bodies. My breaths quicken as our bare bodies touch—chest, stomach and groin, creating sparks.
Then Jim does the unexpected and makes the first move. He clasps a hand behind the back of my neck and I’m unable to react but take the press of his lips. Jim doesn’t do nice or slow. He takes my lips rough and eager. I yield to him, aware of our erections grinding against each other.
Jim nudges his tongue between my lips and I open up so he could deepen the kiss. Heat and the taste of him floods down my throat. Christ. The things this werebear does to me. I don’t understand the way my body’s reacting. It’s never reacted this way with Josh or my other boyfriends. Hell, all of those encounters seem like child’s play compared to this.
Suddenly, I’m no longer sure of myself. What if Jim’s right and I’m not ready for this?
Thinking becomes irrelevant when Jim releases my lips. I don’t know what he sees on my face, but whatever it is, he seems satisfied. Jim pushes me against the wall and the hard wooden surface digs deliciously into my back. I moan as he pins my hands above my head.
“You like a little bite to your pleasure, little wolf?” Jim asks, his gaze turning dark.
“Yeah I do,” I admit, because I’ve always known I was submissive in the bedroom. I like my lovers taking over and wielding the power to deny or reward me.
“Good, because I like being in control,” Jim whispers against my ear.
His grip on my wrists feels as secure as any restraint and it excites me. I’m helpless to take anything he wants to give me. Jim takes my lips again, but this time he doesn’t linger. He pelts kisses on my jaw and the side of my neck. Jim fixates on a particular spot, where my shoulder connects to my neck and my heart stops for a second, because that’s where a shifter places his mark on his mate.
As if Jim knows what I’m thinking, he moves on. His hold on my wrists relaxes and he takes my left nipple in his mouth and seals it with heat. I moan and thread my fingers into his hair. Jim doesn’t complain. He bites down on my bud and I groan louder.
My balls tighten against my body and I feel his fingers curling around my length a second later. He flicks the pre-cum gathered at the tip. I whimper. Jim moves to mark my right nipple, while he begins to work my member with his hand. Up and down, slow and fast, Jim leaves me panting and wanting more.
“Beg me,” Jim says, nipping at my ear.
“What?” I have trouble focusing on his words, especially when his hand movements gain momentum.
“I want to hear the magic words.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jim isn’t. He teases me to my limits, before pulling back just when I’m about to explode.
I growl in frustration and eventually say, “please.”
Visible pleasure glints in his eyes. Jim works my member, gaze watching me all the while. It’s damn fucking erotic, having your lover watch your every reaction like that.
“Jim, please,” I finally utter. “I can’t hold it any longer.”
“Come all over my fingers. Do it,” Jim commands.
He pinches my tip and that’s enough to send me over the moon. I explode, and strings of my cum coat his fingers and stomach. I shudder. My mind reels and waves of pleasure assault my body. It occurs to me Jim’s only given me a simple hand job, yet I’ve never felt anything this intense with anyone else. Tonight’s apparently the first of many.
Recovering, I reach for Jim’s member. I flash him a lazy smile. “Let me return you the favor.”
I’m scared Jim’s going to change his mind, but he says, “On your knees.”
“Happy to comply, big guy.” I fall soundlessly to my knees. Eyeing his semi-erect prick, I lick my lips.
“You better not be all talk, little wolf.” Jim nudges his member against my lips. Eager to please, I lick the pre-cum gathered on his tip. Using it as a lubricant, I swipe it across his veined length. Using one hand, I apply slight pressure to his balls and anticipate his reaction. Hearing his satisfied rumble, I continue my work.
After lapping at his length up and down, Jim spears his fingers into my hair and tugs hard. “Don’t tease me, pup. I don’t have much patience.”
Conceding, I take Jim between my lips and put my blowjob skills to work. I’ve had plenty of practice with Josh, but never have I wanted to impress someone as much as Jim. I gag on my first try, but easily accommodate him. I apply suction with every inch, pleased by the groans rumbling from the big werebear’s throat. After his tip reaches the back of my throat, I pull out for air, and then dive in again.
Eventually, I feel Jim gripping my hair again. Knowing what he wants, I concede and let him take over. Jim fucks my mouth, but he does it carefully, making sure I’m used to him. When he’s on the verge of coming, he pulls out, panting.
“I want to finish in you,” he says.
“Then come ride me. How do you want me?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too enthusiastic.
Jim’s eyes gleam with eager relish. “On fours, baby.”