I’d been moving steadily westward since shifting, but not as fast as I would have liked. The few snacks in my go bag were long-since gone, so I had to forage along the way. A few times I slept.
It took all of the first day before my nerves unwound and I started to feel safe. Being among trees again calmed me. The wind soughed through the branches in rhythm with my breaths. The most disturbing sound was the scratch of claws on bark as squirrels chased each other around the trunks and along branches.
That peaceful period lasted for a second day.
Then a brief shift in the wind alerted me. My bear quivered with intense interest as a scent carried from the east before the wind changed direction again.
I’d never smelled that scent before. It was bold and masculine, and shifter.
And it belonged to the voice on my phone.
I was absolutely certain. I felt the knowledge in the pit of my being. That voice and that scent belonged to my mate.
Whatever that meant.
All I knew of shifters was what I’d learned from trial and error, and my bear’s instincts. The human part of me knew that killing was wrong. I might be sad when I had to leap on a frightened bunny to round out my diet, but my bear had no feelings except triumph. It had taken years of work to gentle my bear. She didn’t care about killing the man in Canada, and she would have been happy to take a few swipes at that jerk Mark if I hadn’t kept her under control.
That Rutkell shifter was a predator, and his animal was so close to the surface it was scary. He didn’t belong around humans. The way his beast called to mine had been alarming. I’d instantly known I couldn’t risk her becoming more feral under his influence.
The pull toward this unknown shifter was a hundred times stronger, and I knew nothing about him. He could be more vicious than Rutkell.
Worse, out here in the wild there weren’t any humans to put a brake on his instincts. It was only our human surroundings that had kept Rutkell from shifting and doing whatever it was he intended for me. I didn’t know what mating entailed, and I didn’t want to be forced to find out.
I stepped up my pace. I needed to find the closest town before this new shifter caught up to me.
Easier said than done. I’d gotten us right in the middle of a wilderness area, and apparently there was no civilization for several miles. At every ridge I crossed, I stopped to sniff the air for a sign of human developments. None nearby ahead.
But I couldn’t go back.
I masked my trail as best I could by traveling in water and leaping narrow chasms. The itching in my back said it was all for nothing: he was behind me, and gaining.
My bear didn’t care. She complained that we were going the wrong direction. Her whine of Mate! was so piteous that I nearly gave in.
Almost. The memory of killing that man in Canada stiffened my resolve. My bear didn’t know any better. I had to keep her from any situation where she could do wrong. I couldn’t trust that whoever was following me had his animal under control.
I ran, growing more careless and hasty with lack of sleep and food. I smelled the human habitation ahead, but the smells weren’t recent. My attention focused behind me, I missed the signs that should have alerted me. I didn’t notice the pile of dirt and the smell of iron and concrete until after springing the trap.
The soil caved under me. I fell ten feet down, landing on a concrete pad barely cushioned with more dirt and moldy leaves. A metal grate clanged shut over my head.
The wind blew her scent toward me. The emergency stimulants in my carry bag went unopened, unneeded. I couldn’t sleep when my mate was so close. Not my mate, the shifter I was tracking. The likely rogue bear.
Our mate, my bear insisted. I didn’t waste energy arguing with him. After catching up with her would be soon enough. For the time being, we were united in the goal of simply finding her.
Her tracks grew fresher. The tang of her scent reinvigorated me. She tried to hide her trail by crossing through water and across rocky terrain, but her fur caught in bushes along the way. Even when she left no visible trace, her scent marked her passage.
I traveled nonstop, and I found myself traveling faster as the hours passed, not slower. I could taste her nearness.
Then from a distance I heard the panicked bellows of a bear in distress. Not any bear, my mate.
I ran.
My bear went crazy when the grate closed over us. She lunged at the bars overhead. They were set firmly in place, but she shoved and butted and clawed. Her roars thundered against the concrete sides of our cage.
She would hurt herself—us—if I couldn’t calm her. Projecting happy thoughts with abandon, I mentally hummed the My Little Pony theme song. It’s okay, I told her. We’ll get out of here. When she was distracted enough, I shifted into human form.
That set off an internal struggle for control. She wanted so badly to fling herself against the grate until it broke, or gouge the concrete until it cracked open. Maybe we’d have to do that, but not like this, not like a panicked wild animal.
I told her that, and I hummed, and I calmed my thoughts until she finally stopped fighting me.
She was still trembling, and I was too. I was afraid to admit, even to myself, that I was scared to death we’d never get out. But first I had to take care of my bear, and after she was stable we’d rip open that fucking grate.
The roars and the thudding of a heavy body against iron bars stopped. Slowing, all senses on alert, I continued in the direction where the sounds had come from, and came across a faint path between the trees. I picked up her scent and followed it along the path.
From up ahead came humming. It sounded oddly familiar, but weird after the earlier panic. I slowed further, wondering for the first time whether Sarah was mentally stable. I’d let my lust interfere with my thinking; of course she was unstable if she was going around killing humans.
The path led to an old oak. Beneath the oak was a concrete hole in the ground covered with an iron grate. A limb stretched several feet above the grate, and on it hung an old rope, its ends frayed, directly above the grate.
I didn’t like the looks of that at all. There had been a man a few years back who was known for building torture chambers somewhat like this. He’d died in prison, but new crazies were always coming out. I sniffed. The only fresh scent was the bear shifter in the cage.
Sarah.
I shifted. I could think more clearly in my human form.
The humming had stopped. She knew I was there, of course. Although I was suddenly reluctant to face her despite the long pursuit, I couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d killed humans, I reminded myself, and stepped forward until I could see through the grate.
Someone was outside. Down in the hole, I was cut off from outside scents and had to rely on my hearing. For an instant I considered calling for help, but my cry died in my throat. It could be anyone out there—the person who set the trap, an innocent hiker, or my pursuer. Crouching against the wall, I waited for whoever it was to show.
A human head appeared on the other side of the grate. He was backlit by the sun, his indistinct face framed with tufts of longish black hair. He took a sharp breath, and his scent rolled toward me.
I clung to the wall, suddenly dizzy. That scent felt like a missing part of me, returned to make me whole. The final piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
“Sarah.” His deep voice echoed in my bones, making my traitorous pussy quiver.
It was the voice from the phone call, the man who called me at Stacey’s number and asked for Sarah. He was going to take me back to Canada.
My bear’s calm evaporated. Oblivious of anything but him, she yammered Mate, mate, mate at me.
I ignored her as best I could. This person wasn’t going to want to leave me in the hole, not after tracking me all that distance. I wouldn’t go back with him, but I would accept his help.
“Get me out of here,” I said.
And after I was free I would escape again.
She was beautiful.
My bear growled at me.
He was right. Instead of gawking at her I should be opening the grate and pulling her out of the hole, but my eyes couldn’t get their fill of my mate.
Her long brown hair flowed around the plump curves of her bare shoulders. Her ripe breasts were tipped with huge pink nipples. The downy fur beneath her pillowy belly had the same golden highlights as her hair. An intense desire came over me to bury my face between her thighs and taste the sweet honey whose fragrance wafted up to my nose.
My cock felt hard enough to smash through the iron grate before plunging into her dripping wet cunt. At the thought I gave an involuntary thrust.
“Get me out of here,” she whispered.
Shit. It was a good thing she could only see my head and shoulders. I finally thought to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Please,” she said. Her eyes burned into me.
Clumsy with embarrassment at my inappropriate behavior, I grabbed my pants out of the carry bag and hurriedly dragged them on. All the while her voice echoed in my head, stroking gently down my spine.
She was still naked when I bent over the grate again. The twigs in her hair didn’t make her any less lovely. Looking at her from the corner of my eye to avoid getting sucked back into lust, I noticed she had a carry bag too and wondered why she hadn’t put on any clothes. Although I wanted to think she was overcome with desire for me, my best guess was that she planned to shift and run as soon as she got out of there. It would be my job to make sure that didn’t happen.
“I’m looking for the latch,” I told her, and suited action to words.
I found a lever covered with layers of dirt and leaves, and pulled it into the upright position. That released the pins that held the grate closed. Swinging the grate up on its hinges, I propped it against a ragged bush—probably the way it had been before she fell in the hole. There had to be—yes, there it was, at the bottom of the hole now. A camouflage net hooked to the grate. Step on the net and fall into the hole, pulling the grate after you.
Opening the grate didn’t solve the entire problem. She was still stuck in a ten-foot hole.
“Throw me the net,” I commanded.
Her eyes flashed at that, but she obeyed in silence. My mouth went dry when she bent to retrieve it, her heavy breasts swinging forward and her ass in the air. I was going to go crazy if I didn’t fuck her.
Her first toss sent the net right in my arms. Of course, she was a shifter.
“Grab your bag,” I said. “Hold onto the net and I’ll pull you up.”
Holding tight to one corner of the net, I let the rest fall over the side. It was just long enough to dangle within the reach of her outstretched hands. I braced myself against the lip of the hole. “Ready.”
The net tightened in my hands. Her weight trembled at the other end. Slowly I raised her, lifting the net hand over hand and not pausing until her shoulders cleared the hole. Freeing one hand, I reached for her arm and pulled her onto solid ground.
At the touch of my bare flesh against hers, a connection flared between us. Without thought I pulled her into my arms and kissed her.