Shifters Forever The Boxed Set Books 1 - 6 (5 page)

G
rant let
her rest for a while, allowing her to warm up before he packed her up, wrapped in the sleeping bag, and hiked to the cabin. He made his way easily through the darkness; even in human form his bear’s vision helped him to take the safest path to warmth and safety.

He slipped the chain off the padlock and kneed the cabin door open. The air inside was only a hair warmer than the air outside, but at least there was no wind to drop the temperature even lower. He eyed the firewood stock. More than enough. This cabin hadn’t been set up for electricity yet. He put that on a mental list to have his foreman handle. On all the cabins—just in case, because now he knew that he could never anticipate which one he’d need.

He wrapped Chelsea in the sleeping bag he’d brought with him from the cave. She’d rested in the cave, after... A smile crossed his face as he set her on the couch. He used his bear senses and night vision to find the hurricane lamp and matches.

As soon as there was enough light to keep Chelsea from being afraid when she awakened, he started the fire in the fireplace. The one-room cabin took very little time to heat up, and within a few minutes, it was toasty. He grabbed a bottled water, took a washcloth and dampened it. Drawing it over Chelsea’s face, he was careful not to put too much pressure on her wound.

Though she was unconscious, she grimaced. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused. He leaned in close to see if he could still smell the chemical on her. It was much fainter, almost completely gone.

“Grant?” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

It occurred to him she would be weirded out by what he was doing. “Don’t worry. Just checking on you.”

She rubbed her forehead, wincing when she touched the bump and jerking her hand back.

“You hit your head. Remember how?”

She paused, a painful expression passing over her features. Biting her lip, she rubbed the other side of her forehead in confusion. “I—no. Not really.”

“What
do
you remember?”

She shook her head, a confused look on her face.

He ran the washcloth over her face again, then brought the bottled water to her lips. He was mesmerized, watching her lips as the shell-pink softness wrapped around the mouth of the water bottle. He knew he shouldn’t have thoughts like this crossing his mind, not now, during a time like this, but he wondered what it would be like to have those lips wrapped around his cock.

As if beckoned by a higher power, his cock twitched and strained against his jeans, begging for release in more than one way.

He forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand, Chelsea and her wellbeing. “You need medical help.”

Again she shook her head, this time vigorously, then winced, raising her hand to her throbbing head.

“Want to tell me why I can’t take you to the hospital?”

“No.”

“I saved your life and you don’t trust me?”

“I trust you to save my life,” she began.

B
ut I don’t trust
you not to break my heart. Or not to bring in the police, even if it’s by accident.
But she couldn’t say that.

Chelsea felt bad about lying to Grant when she’d said she didn’t remember. She remembered being in Jeff’s car. But if she told Grant, then he might want to call the cops. She couldn’t have that.

She looked around. They were in a cabin of some sort. A one-room, rustic cabin with a fireplace and hurricane lamps. She studied the contents of the room. Old-looking furniture. Walls that indicated the cabin was constructed of logs.

“Where are we?”

“On my land. One of the cabins. I found you crumpled against a tree.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest, drawing attention to his muscles. “Chelsea.” His tone was stern. “A hospital—”

“No. No hospital.”

“This is ridiculous.” His rugged, handsome face was set, his jaw clenched. “What if I have my own doctor see to you? You don’t even have to give him your name.” His eyes closed in a slight squint, as if he was appraising her for an answer.

She licked her lips, thought of what he’d done—thought of what they’d done in the cave, because she had to take an equal part in the blame. She reached for the water on the coffee table.

He picked it up and brought it to her mouth, studying her while she drank.

Her stomach fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. Perhaps it was anger with her at her reluctance to go to the hospital. No, it was something else... If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought it was lust. The flutter in her stomach traveled lower, between her legs, then rose as if led by an electric current, stopping at her nipples, making them harden into tight pebbles in her bra.

“Yes. I’ll see your doctor.” She prayed that wouldn’t lead to disaster, but she had to trust someone, sometime.

“I don’t want to take you out in the cold again. And my truck is relatively far. Without knowing what happened to you, I hate leaving you alone.” He raked his fingers through his thick hair, stood, began to pace back and forth in front of the rough-hewn, scarred coffee table that was as long as the couch she lay on.

What if he left her and Jeff found her? “Please don’t leave me alone.”

He stopped pacing, sat on the corner of the sturdy coffee table, took her chin in his long fingers. “What are you so afraid of? Did you remember something? How did you end up in the middle of nowhere?”

Chelsea shook her head. He pounded his fist into his palm. She jumped back, caught off-guard by the sound.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I can’t be alone.”

“I need to get you some help.”

“Can we go in the morning? I promise I don’t think it’s that big a bump. I think the cold bothered me more than my head did.”

“It
is
morning.”

“But it’s dark outside.”

“Yeah, for now.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure that this is a good idea.”

“Please. A few hours until daylight is here won’t hurt.”

“Maybe you’re right.” His tone was reluctant. He touched her cheek. “You’re flushed.”

“It’s toasty in here.” She gave him a smile of appreciation. “Much better than it was out there.”

He reached for her coat.

Images of Jeff doing that came to her mind. She flinched.

“I won’t hurt you. Since when...” He cocked his head, studying her. “You’ve never acted that way with me.”

She shook her head. She knew she’d have to tell him about Jeff sometime. She shrugged out of her coat. He took it from her, folded it in half and turned around to lay it on the other side of the coffee table.

A clatter sounded, something hitting the wooden floor. He reached down, showed her what had made the noise.

“My cell phone!” She’d forgotten she’d put it in her pocket when she left the shop. It was a burner phone, and she never used it, but one small payment a month guaranteed her she’d have access to help if she needed it.
Didn’t do me any good tonight.

Grant flipped it open, punched a couple of numbers in.

She put her hand over the phone. “What are you doing?”

He closed it but kept it palmed. “Calling my foreman. He’ll come get us and take us to my house. Then I’ll call the doctor over.”

“No cops, Grant.”

“No cops.” He shook his head in agreement. “But you have to tell me what the deal is with you and cops.”

“One day.”

G
rant had
to let it go with her ‘one day’ statement. He had his own secrets. He couldn’t expect her to reveal hers if he wasn’t willing to do the same, and he couldn’t do that yet. Because when he made his move to make her his, he had to be certain. The existence of his bear and how it could affect their relationship wasn’t to be taken lightly.

He’d agreed not to leave her to go get help and not to take her to find help right away because his bear had told him she wasn’t too badly hurt.
Too badly.

Grant was certain that he and his bear might disagree heartily on what each of them considered
too bad.
And though the bear in him had never led him wrong...

Grant scratched his head, perplexed. This was worse than arguing with himself. He wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with a cell phone that would guarantee him a way to get her to safety.

He tapped ten digits into the buttons. Moments later, Joe picked up the line.

“I’m in the cabin in the furthest northwest corner. Get the four-wheeler and come out. I have an injured person with me.” He barked it out without niceties and formalities. He and Joe had worked together for a long time. Joe was capable and no-nonsense. A former manager at a rodeo, he got the job done.

Grant turned to Chelsea. “He’ll be here shortly.” He took her hand in his. “Trust me, okay?”

She nodded.

“One more call. No, two.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “First, I’m calling my doctor to meet me at my place. He’s trustworthy, believe me. Then I’m calling Mae because she’s worried. I wouldn’t have been out looking for you if she hadn’t called me to say you hadn’t come home yet.”

“Mae called you?” Chelsea’s head tilted to the side.

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugged.

His instincts told him different, but he wasn’t going to press the issue. He rose, walked away from the couch and made his calls, then turned back to Chelsea.

“Doc Evans will meet us at the house. Mae said she’s coming too.” He looked at the stunning woman with the creamy complexion and tried not to think of ravaging her. How he wished they’d been trapped here under different circumstances.

“Grant?” Her eyes looked sleepy.

“Yeah?” He stoked the fireplace. He’d send Joe back to put out the fire later. Right now that was nowhere near as important as Chelsea.

“Tell me about the bear.”

His head snapped in her direction. Did she know? How could she? “What do you mean?”

“The bear that was carrying me. I know that wasn’t a hallucination. And then...” She rubbed her eyes. “I sound crazy, don’t I?”

“Nah, you don’t. You sound like someone who hit her head.” And had been drugged. Probably by that asshole Jeff. As soon as Chelsea was better, he’d settle that score.

Then he could tell her. He needed to tell her the truth, about him, about his feelings for her, about what being with him meant.

C
helsea snuggled
against Grant in the four-wheeler while Joe, a Stetson-and-boot-wearing cowboy, was up front driving. When they pulled into an asphalt-covered driveway that seemed at least a mile long, she began to wonder about Grant Waters.

When the four-wheeler pulled alongside a house that on size alone could have been called a mansion, her suspicions were confirmed. Grant was not a poor man, not by a long shot. She gave him a sideways glance. What was he doing asking a vagabond, wandering, nomadic girl like her out?

The oversized house was built of stone, like a fortress, impenetrable. It reminded her of the pictures she’d seen of the fortresses and castles in Europe.

“This place is huge. It’s so...”

“It’s my grandfather’s. It was. He built it in a time when there were threats. Not that there aren’t any now...”

“I can’t imagine the heating bill.” She laughed. The amount Grant spent heating this place would sustain her for a year, she’d wager.

Joe parked. She stood to get out, only to find herself swept into Grant’s arms. “You think this is necessary?”

“Humor me. I’ll feel better knowing you don’t have a concussion.”

He took the steps two at a time, without jostling her. Joe beat them to the door and opened it, and a warmth embraced her as Grant stepped into a grand hallway. A sweeping staircase was in front of them. To the left and the right there were sets of double doors.

As rustic and hardy as the outside may have seemed, the inside was geared toward comfort and attractiveness. Definitely had a woman’s touch. She bit back a taste of jealousy as she imagined that someone had decorated it for Grant.

Grant opened one of the double doors to the right, then turned to Joe. “I can take it from here. Doc Evans will be here in a few. Thanks, Joe. You’re a lifesaver.” His voice was somber.

The double doors opened onto a library with a roaring fireplace that took up almost half a wall.

Ceiling-to-floor shelving housed books that looked old. Across from the massive fireplace, a dark wood desk dominated the room. Two dark leather sofas flanked the huge desk. Grant set her on one of the sofas and reached for a plaid blanket. The softness caressed her cheek as he tucked it around her.

“This is definitely a man’s room, isn’t it?” There was so much she wanted to know about this man. She hoped he’d take the question as an invitation to tell her about himself.

“It was my grandfather’s room. My grandmother decorated almost every other room, but this was his domain. She wasn’t allowed here. Not to decorate, anyway.” Grant’s eyes twinkled at the memory of his grandparents.

Something worried her, stuck in the back of her mind. “What makes you so sure your doctor won’t feel the need to report my injuries?”

“For starters, he knows my secrets, my deepest, darkest, most damning ones—”

She wished she knew his secrets. Wished she knew more about him.

He’s never betrayed me. He knew my grandfather.” He dissected her with a piercing gaze. “Want to tell me what you’re hiding? Or maybe whom you’re hiding from?”

G
rant watched
Chelsea bite her lip, worrying it with perfect white teeth, giving him visions of her nipping him, those teeth scraping along the flesh of his chest while she lowered her head.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He needed to derail that lust train right now.

“How about we both share?” she offered.

He fought back the smile that threatened to erupt at her bargaining methods. Didn’t she know he was the last one who would ever hurt her with knowledge? “Leverage? Is that what you’re looking for?”

Her expression broadcast the internal battle she was struggling with. She was clearly torn between telling him and not telling him.

“I’m staying away from an ex-boyfriend.”

He nodded, a pensive look on his face. “You’re going to extremes to do it.”

She shrugged. “He’s not a nice guy.” A shudder ran through her body. She pulled her legs up, tucking her knees under her chin to keep from showing her fear.

“There’s more,” Grant said. “Isn’t there?”

Chelsea sighed. Tears glittered in her eyes, catching and reflecting the fire’s flames.

“He used to hit me.”

Grant closed his eyes to mask the anger that was forming deep within. He had no sympathy for men who hurt women.

“So you ran away?” Surely the law could have helped her?

“Yes, but... it was self-defense.” The words came slowly. She closed her eyes as if she was reliving it. She was quiet for so long that he wondered if she’d fallen asleep or lost consciousness.

He reached for her. When his fingers touched her cheek, she flinched.

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were okay. You’re fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He wrapped an arm around her. She nuzzled her head into his neck. Tiny sounds of comfort that only his bear could have heard came from her.

“I stabbed him.” A sob ripped from her throat. “I wouldn’t—I’m not—I don’t do that kind of thing.” Another sob.

He tightened his hold on her, made low, soothing, humming sounds and murmured words of comfort.

“He was going to kill me. So I picked up a knife. And held it out. And it—I—I stabbed him.”

“He died?” He tipped her head back to study her pain-filled dark eyes.

“No.”

Surely she realized that was self-defense. “You should have called the cops. Immediately.”

“He is a cop. In a small town.”

Dread smashed into anger deep within him. He knew how small-town law enforcement could be. He knew all about ranks closing.

“So now you’re living under the radar. Because of him.”

“I know he’ll kill me if he finds me. He’s got a scar on his cheek from that night. The knife slipped.”

Her next sigh was more like a ragged breath struggling and rattling within her body. He felt that struggle as she lay against his chest. She raised her head, her eyes on his, then her gaze traveled lower, to his lips, his chin, back to his lips.

“If you keep that up, I’ll do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he whispered.

C
helsea held
her breath as Grant lowered his head. She closed her eyes so she could savor the sensation she knew was coming. His lips touched hers softly, pressing their fullness into her own full lips. A soft moan, unexpected, started in her chest, surrendering into his mouth.

She felt like she’d come home, in a sacred, spiritual way she wouldn’t be able to put words to if she were asked. His tongue parted her lips, demanding entrance, taking no prisoners, save one—her heart.

Yielding to the commands his mouth made on hers, her hands rose, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him closer, punishing her lips with his. She was his prey, his salvation, retribution, and redemption.

He slipped his hand under the blanket and cupped her breast through her bra. Her nipple was hard, a crest-tipped button begging to be touched. He ran his thumb over it and even with the bra’s fabric between them, her responses were uninhibited. His bear smelled the scent of her arousal, making his cock twitch and engorge, pressing against her hip.

He raised his head.

A deep breath escaped her. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was a whisper. “Is it me? You don’t—”

“You? The only thing you are is perfection. But someone’s approaching.” His bear was at attention, but not completely worried. He’d identified the approaching heartbeat.

“How do you know? I didn’t hear anything.” She studied him, as if she doubted how perfect he thought she was.

“Good hearing.”

“You still owe me,” she said. “A secret.”

“It’s no secret I want you.”