Predator's Claim (24 page)

Some shifter she was. Well, she’d make up for it tonight. She would not let him beat her.

Sensing he’d stopped running, she turned and saw him transform back to human form. He leaned against a maple tree, breathing heavily.

“This is pointless,” he called. “Clearly we’re both fast. How long are you going to keep this up?”

She shifted and moved behind a boulder to hide her nudity. “As long as it takes, fuckface.”

He laughed between pants. “You’re such a philistine, Charlotte. God knows what Reynolds sees in you.”

“I’ve never shown him anything other than what I am. With me, what you see is what you get. It’s how I’ve lived my life. But Dylan, cursing is one thing. Alcoholism is another. You need help. If you let me take you to the resort, I can get you that help.”

“Don’t patronize me. Because of you, all my work is meaningless. All these years, preparing for a role that no longer exists because
you
took it. People will laugh at me. I won’t put up with it.”

“And what makes you think you’ll just slide into the role after I’m gone? Dr. Reynolds might very well just hire someone else.”

Dylan glared at her, his top lip twisted in a snarl. Clearly, he hadn’t thought things through.

“You can still make things right, Dylan.”

“You know what? Now you’re just pissing me off.” And with that, he gave a shout and shifted back into animal form.

Charlotte didn’t waste time watching his quick metamorphosis. She shifted and turned, her eye on a jagged, rock-studded trail up ahead. However, as she turned, her foot still transforming from human to wolf paw, her big toe caught on a rock lodged in the ground next to her. Even as her wolf came to the fore, she tripped and landed face-down on the ground. Winded and bleeding, she lay still just for a nanosecond, but it was one split second too long. A heavy weight, one she knew well by now, battered her and pinned her to the cold forest floor. No doubt inflamed by the smell of her blood, Dylan let out a low growl and tore into the back of her shoulder.

Oh fuck, that hurts!

At least he hadn’t bitten the same shoulder that bore her mark from Bart. She couldn’t bear to think Bart’s mark might be marred by Dylan’s lacerations.

Unable to do more than wiggle below him, she tried desperately to dislodge him before he smacked his chops and went for her neck. As a searing pain traveled from her shoulder down to her waist, she spied the only thing within reach of her jaws. His front leg seemed close enough. She allowed her wolf’s anger to manifest and clamped her teeth down on the golden fur of his leg.

The mountain lion screeched and shrank back, giving her just enough room to move away. Despite the fact her shoulder felt about ready to fall off, she loped ahead. Her head spun with every step. Whatever he’d done to her shoulder, he’d done real damage. She could only imagine the sight she’d present to Bart.

Bart
. She had to stay strong for Bart. But where was he?
Please God, don’t let him be hurt. I can handle Dylan slicing me to ribbons, but I can’t handle Bart being hurt. We need to make lots of babies together
.

She tried to reach out to him with telepathy, but her mind was suddenly so foggy. Between her lost blood and worries about Bart, she couldn’t seem to unscramble her thought process enough to focus on him.

Please…

In her growing haze, she managed to turn her head to check out Dylan’s location. The great cat still loomed behind her and had stopped a moment to lick his bleeding paw. Good. She hoped it hurt like hell. He swiftly raised his head and turned his bright eyes upon her. As froth gathered at his lips, he broke into a sprint and chased her yet again, darting through the old oaks and silver birches as if his paw had merely been scratched. In several ominous seconds, he was upon her once more, nipping at her heels. Charlotte egged on her wheezing wolf, begging it to move, even though all it wanted was to lie down and let its shoulder begin the healing process. She led him around a cluster of trees, until she realized she needed to change tactics. Enough of this defensive bullshit.

As he whipped around a thick maple, Charlotte reversed her direction and met him head on, slamming into his big body. Dylan’s mountain lion flew backward, landing in a large boxwood shrub. The big cat, splayed almost comically with its arms and legs to the sides, belly up, just stared at the night sky for a moment. But in the seconds it took him to gather his wits, she gathered breath into her body. Her full-on attack had winded her too, and the brunt of the impact had landed on her wounded shoulder. Crouching low to the ground, her tail drooping, Charlotte felt sure she might die.

The sensation of impending doom only heightened when she saw Dylan once again force himself to his feet.

She couldn’t move a muscle. All her energy, spent.

Bart, I can’t do it anymore…I’m sorry
.

She closed her eyes. But before her lashes closed over her hazy wolf’s eyes, she picked up a new scent. Energized, she forced her eyes open.

Bart’s brown wolf raced into the clearing, its formidable gaze locked on Dylan’s frozen form. Bart glanced at her and she heard his comforting voice cut across her pain.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, my mate. And you don’t have to do another thing
.

She let out a pathetic little bark and Bart moved to her, his gaze always on their adversary across the clearing. He took a moment to bump heads with her, reassuring her of his presence. He then turned and stared at Dylan, his lips quivering in rage.

Dylan paled, even in his animal fur. And rightly so. He might have been able to combat a wounded, exhausted she-wolf, but as tired as he was, he was no match for Bart’s Alpha.

Charlotte let her gaze rake over her mate. He seemed different tonight. His wolf, always a proud creature, seemed somehow larger and bulkier. He couldn’t have grown, and she wondered if he simply carried himself with more assurance. He must have already taken down one enemy tonight. Like warriors of old, he seemed to have absorbed Fletcher’s soul and appeared more badass because of it. He had defended his pack and was ready to defend his woman now. She doubted anything could take him down, not with the amber vengeance burning in his eyes.

Ten Dylans couldn’t have defeated him.

As much as she wanted to close her eyes, she couldn’t. With her wolf sensing he was near, it summoned its last bit of tenacity and stood, ready to back him up.

Bart noticed. He glanced at her.
Rest, sweetheart. This won’t take long
.

Fuck that shit, you gorgeous doggy
. She wobbled, but remained on her feet.

Bart and Dylan circled each other, each one breathing heavily. In a surprise move, Bart shifted back to human form, but looked no less intimidating. With fists clenched, shoulders tensed into tight balls of muscle, and angry lines on his face, she could easily see this man throttling a mountain lion with his bare hands.

Actually, the image was weirdly hot to her frazzled brain. She shook it from her head, deciding she didn’t need those sorts of distractions right now.

“You went after the wrong woman,” Bart drawled, ever circling.

For whatever reason, Dylan shifted as well. No doubt, so he could get some digs in. “Look, friend. This doesn’t have to be your fight. Think about it. Is she really worth it?”

“Tell me I didn’t just hear those words. She’s worth a dozen of you,” he spat. “More.”

“She stole my job.”

“Sounds to me as if you were never in the running.”

Dylan rolled his shoulders back in a stretch, but his face remained pinched at the slight. “And what would you know, you fucking hillbilly?”

The almost imperceptible grin that graced Bart’s face would have made a regular man shit his pants in terror. Dylan, however, was more idiotic than regular men. He just glared at Bart, thinking he had the upper hand.

“You really wanna play that game with me, city boy? Because we hillbillies stick together.”

And just like that, numerous wolf howls sounded in the forest, as if coming from every direction. Charlotte focused her sense of hearing and heard multiple paws and claws scraping over the rocks and patches of ice. And within seconds, it seemed the entire company from the Ursa Fishing Lodge and Resort and the Cairo family had surrounded them. Almost everyone she knew. Bart’s parents and siblings, many of his cousins, all in wolf form. And backing them up, her friends from the resort in their various animal guises. Bear Ryland stood with his mate Lia. Connor’s mountain lion stood with Lloyd’s bear. Lex Dawson, another wolf, flanked him on the other side. Even her lady friends from Housekeeping were there. Attired only in their fox and wolf shapes, they glared at Dylan as if ready to string him up. There were waiters from the pub and staff from reception. She saw jaguars and lynx and eagles. Everywhere she looked, there was fur and feathers and eyes which blazed animal hunger and human emotion.

Hell, even Marv and Jay from Facilities were there, waving shyly at her in burly, bear form.

Many tears sprang to her eyes as she considered their huge circle of friends. No, family. These people were family.

And Bart stood before them all, tall and confident and radiating power. Her Alpha.

“Now,” he continued, walking slowly toward Dylan. He motioned toward a couple of rather large wolves to his left. “See those two wolves? They’re my pals Drew and Nick from the mainland police force. They’ve offered to take you back to the station. Of course, if you decide you’d rather not go with them, well, you can always take your chances with me.”

Dylan let out a huff. “You mean, you and your army? Afraid to face me alone, dog?”

Bart grinned in true amusement. “Not in the slightest. And if we go down that road, I know my friends will step aside. You see, they understand honor between men. What we have a bit of trouble with is big dudes picking fights with women. Now I know my mate can hold her own, but when you compare her size to yours, well, it just doesn’t seem like a fair fight. I know it might be a bit old-fashioned, but we
hillbillies
prefer to put our women on a pedestal and treat them right. So if you and I fight, my friends will leave us alone. But make no mistake, pretty boy, I will kill you.”

And as Dylan scanned the gathered crowd, so feral and hostile in appearance, it was clear he knew he’d lost. He looked Bart up and down one more time, shook his head, and wandered over to Drew and Nick. The two officers, backed up by several others in the crowd, led Dylan away.

Only then did Charlotte’s body finally give out. The last thing she saw as her eyes closed was Bart running over to catch her. As she collapsed, her wolf decided it was a good time to take a nap, and she shifted into human shape once again. Right before she hit the ground, Bart slid his strong hands under her and picked her up, holding her to his chest. His movements caused her eyelids to flutter, and she gazed at him. “See?” she said in a weak voice. “I said you’d make a good Alpha.”

He smiled against her forehead, brushing his warm lips over her cold skin. “Right now I need to make a good first-aider. How’s that shoulder?”

“It hurts, but I suspect I’ll live.”

He turned her gently toward him and inspected the wound, a frown on his face. As his eye twitched with renewed anger, he offered one last glare at Dylan. “I take back what I said. I’m gonna kill that fucker.”

“No, Bart,” she whispered against the soft hairs on his chest. “No more. Just take me home, please.”

He gazed at her and his expression softened. The frown didn’t disappear, but it was tempered by the adoration in his eyes. “You scared me, woman. Didn’t I tell you to stay in the cabin?”

Despite the pain wracking her body, Charlotte arched a brow and grinned at him. “You are correct, my Alpha. I think it’s about time I finally get some of that discipline, don’t you?”

Desire claimed his features, making his lips spread in a randy grin, his cheeks redden, and causing his eyes to burn with longing. “And I’m just the Alpha to give it to you.” He kissed her brow, licking at her hot skin. “When you feel better.”

Chapter 15

Eight months later. University of Toronto.

Bart sat at the back of the lecture hall as the religious studies freshmen filed out with their laptops and various devices. Sheesh, last time he was in school, he used pencil and paper. Still preferred the old methods, truth be told.

About two hundred kids had gathered for Charlotte’s first lecture, an introduction to Christianity. She’d been worried they’d be bored stiff. He watched their faces as they exited. No one looked remotely bored. In fact, most appeared absolutely transported by her discussion. She’d talked for an hour about Christ and the Christian martyrs in Rome, peppering her lecture with gory tales of torture and death. Abandoning her podium, she’d grabbed her wireless microphone and had wandered into the aisles. He’d smiled upon seeing her so animated, waving her arms about, her eyes flashing. She couldn’t have looked happier if Hildegard of Bingen had risen from the dead and high-fived her.

A few students passed him as he stood and prepared to meet her at the front of the hall.

“Like, oh my God, where did they find Miss Moffatt? She’s, like, so much better than all the old men who teach in this department. Finally, someone with energy,” said one female student.

“It’s true,” agreed her male counterpart. “And she’s hotter than Selena Gomez. I am so going to ask for extra help during office hours.” The young man chuckled.

Bart bit his lip and stepped away so he wouldn’t trip the dude. Grinning, shaking his head at his possessive inclinations, he ignored the students and continued toward his hot fiancée. He took in her lecture attire: a trim blazer that highlighted her waist, a frilly blouse, brand-new jeans, and her favorite granny boots. Only the wild fall of hair gave any hint at the animal under her skin. As he approached, her scent greeted him. Sweet softness rising from the light dusting of talc on her belly and arms.

Oh, man. As thrilling as it was to witness her kickass first lecture, he really couldn’t wait to get her alone.