It’s a grizzly bear, high on its haunches, paws raised, claws out. I stifle a scream, knowing terror has no place here. Right now, what I really need is to get the fuck away.
Tightly holding onto the fork, I push my way through the tent as the bear paws the thin fabric. If I can make it into the trees, maybe I can climb one… or else I will just keep running, all night. Forever. I just don’t want to die before my life has really begun.
I make a break for it, flashlight in hand, wishing as I run that I’d grabbed my backpack—or at least the fucking garlic bread. Right now, it’s just the fork and me against the world. It’s not looking good. I’m cornered within seconds, my back against a tree.
The bear faces me, the full moon dancing across his eyes, shining bright and beautiful— but I don’t fall for smoke and mirrors. He may be stunning in his absolute strength, but he is a wild beast and I am the prey.
I snarl at him as he approaches, knowing I can’t outrun this beast. He moves closer, his dark coat gleaming in the moonlight. My fists are tight, my chest constricting—this can’t be the end. I raise the fucking fork in the air and try to dart past him. But of course, it’s no use. He reaches out but I swing my fist hard against his outstretched paw.
Again, my fist is more powerful than I remember. When my knuckles graze the bear it backs away quickly, staring me down with intensity, as if shocked I touched him at all.
But this bear knows nothing about me, about what I’m capable of. I hold the fork, foolish and full of fire and desperate for some way out. The bear bellows, his angry claws swiping across my shoulder.
I grab hold of my shoulder and from the corner of my eye I see three wolves emerge from behind the bear. Their coats are silver and their eyes black and their intentions clear. They jump toward the bear. One wolf lands on his back, the other nipping at the bear’s heels, and the third on his throat. Their howls pierce the night, and as the wolves attempt to stop the bear, I dive toward the tent, grabbing my backpack, desperate to get away.
But the bear crashes down on the top of the tent before I’m able to grab my things. The animals roll aggressively, and the bear must sense the wolves are out to get him, because he moves quickly from the ground, running back to the forest. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.
The bear retreats, looking over his shoulder, my blood thick as our eyes meet. But I don’t want to look at him. I scream, the ground shaking, and the bear pauses for a moment not breaking eye contact with me. But the earth’s floor rumbles low and the bear turns away, running fast.
I press my hand to my chest, scared and alone with three wolves. I step back gingerly, not wanting to call attention to myself. Thinking, naively, that maybe they’ll just leave. Of course, instead, they come closer.
Covering my face, I can see the writing on the wall. The police will find my body tomorrow, ripped to shreds, my tent disturbed and an empty container of Tupperware and know that Ray’s killer is dead.
A bear attack wasn’t my biggest worry. Three wolves with intense eyes, hungry and on the prowl—that’s what will be the end of me.
“Please, stop,” I scream, my face still covered, unable to watch as these beasts jump toward me. My words are meaningless to these wild animals, but my voice is desperate, wanting so badly to make it out of this night alive.
The forest seems to still, my words hanging heavy in the night air. I look through my fingers, and as I do, my breath catching, my throat suddenly dry.
There are no wolves here.
Only men.
Three of them. Eyes dark and faces turned toward the moon, letting it lead them.
They’re dressed in low-slung jeans and boots, shirtless and dripping with sweat, men so ruggedly sexy it’s as if they just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.
They walk closer, close enough that I can see one’s chiseled jaw, and one’s thick beard and the other’s day old stubble. They move toward me as a pack, as if I’m the only woman they’ve ever seen. They want me, that I am certain. The look in their eyes is full of hunger and longing.
I exhale, truth is, I’ve been starved for days.
I have no freaking clue what is happening, but I find myself lowering my hands.
I’m no longer terrified, suddenly I’m mesmerized.
Chapter 4
Callum
This woman is the one we’ve been looking for. Dreaming of. Desperate to find.
We’d been on the fringe of our pack for the last few years. It started with standing up against the way the men in the pack treated women. Then when we refused to marry our chosen mates, it really pissed some members off.
Decades ago, before our current pack leader, Maxon, was in charge, our pack used to be comprised of females sharing several males. Then Maxon came into leadership and forbade us to build families this way.
We couldn’t put our finger on it—why all three of us, best friends since forever, didn’t want to listen to the pack leader—but we didn’t. We wanted to do things old school.
Because we knew we were meant for something more.
Someone more.
And within the span of one night, we know. The more we’ve been waiting for is standing in front of us.
“What the hell is happening?” she asks, moving backwards, but her eyes rake us over—intrigued. Damn, she’s gorgeous. Thick blood red hair, haunting eyes, and a mouth made to be devoured.
“Seriously, what the fuck are you? Where did you come from?” Her words are sharp, and her fire causes my lip to curl. She’s furious, all worked up. “Don’t smile at me,” she hisses. “What are you? Some sort of…” She pushes a hand through her hair, the other hand wrapped around a fork. Feet apart and ready to fight. Okay, also she isn’t some timid creature. She is a wild beast.
“We’re here to help. You look hurt,” I tell her, stepping a foot closer to her. And for a moment, she looks at me, as if she realizes the sincerity in my words. Like she wants to hold on to them but she doesn’t know how.
“No, like, a minute ago you were…” She shakes her head, the words are too ridiculous to say.
“I get the fear,” I tell her gently. “It’s not every day you see a wolf shift to man.”
“I’m not scared of anything,” she says, crossing her arms, a scowl written across her face. But I’m no fool and I think she knows it. That bear was ready to tear her apart. She was there, she felt the bear's claws rip at her skin, she looked down the tunnel and knew what was before her: death. I’m a predator and I know the look a creature gets in its eyes when it recognizes death, accepts it.
I don’t look at her with pity, but hell, there is a lot this woman doesn’t seem to understand.
“Oh, yeah? That bear, she didn’t terrify you?” River asks. “Being scared isn’t a crime you know.”