ROMANCE: SHAPESHIFTER ROMANCE: Dragon Baller's Bride (Dragon Shifter Alpha Male Romance) (Paranormal Romantic Suspense) (15 page)

Felix saw his wife was awake and moved to her side. “How are you feeling, my darling?”

“I’m better than perfect, Felix, but my hip does itch. It’s just to the back there, have I got a bug bite or something? Can you see it?” Angel turned over, pulling her nightgown up to let Felix look at the spot.

“Oh.” Felix let slip before he could stop himself.

“OH? What does oh mean?” Angel asked.

“Stay calm now. Breathe deep, yes, like that, now close your eyes. What do you notice?” Felix asked her. He watched as she looked confused at first but then wonder filled her face.

“What is that, Felix? It’s like two little sparks of light and a weird feeling, like an afterglow, of happiness.”

“That’s our babies, Angel. You’re seeing our babies and feeling their emotions. That emotion part will fade as they age but you’ll always be able to find that spark. If you’re looking for them you’ll even see lines sometimes. I remember hearing were-mothers talking about it, colored lines will guide you to both babies, no matter where they are.”

“Oh my, that is very cool! What a wonderful gift! Wait! The oh! Does that mean something then, this seeing my babies like this?”

“Yes, darling it does. That itchy feeling is the mark of the bear coming out on your hip. You must have been changed when you had the babies. This is wonderful! I can teach all three of you now! Are you alright with this darling? I guess it’s a little too late to ask now, but it is a big step.”

“Dearest husband of mine, it’s more than I could have ever asked. I have you, our babies, and a long life ahead of all of us. There was a time when I hoped a short life awaited me but not anymore. I’ll greedily take every single day I’m given. And I do mean greedily. Every day with you is a gift and I hope we have many more to come.”

Each parent took a baby then, both eager to hold their creations, and showed them the mark in the shape of a bear paw on their hips, a mark both of their parents wore.

“We’ll have plenty of days my darling, I promise. You’ve grown so much; you’ve become so confident, fierce, and brave. You’ve been brave your whole life but now, now you’re something different. I’m glad I’m the one you chose to share that with. A new life for us all, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. I love you babe.”

“I love you too, Felix. Now and always.”

W
hen her boyfriend
ran off with a nineteen-year-old nanny, Casey knew exactly what she should have done: go on with her life as normal. That’s what functional people did, right? Instead, she ran off to her family’s cabin upstate and decided to drown her troubles in a bottle of wine. Or two. Or maybe three. A raging thunderstorm seemed like the perfect backdrop for bitter wallowing.

What she didn’t realize was that her weekend was going to get a hell of a lot more exciting than that. Because first there was the bear that showed up in her house—the bear that seemed more intelligent than it really should be. And then there was a pack of wolves who weren’t afraid of humans, and a man stumbling out of the forest; injured. The hottest man Casey had ever laid eyes on, if truth be told.

But Nathaniel isn’t just a normal guy. And no matter the heat between them, there are some issues they’ll have to resolve first. Like the fact that he’s a shifter, and there are thirty wolves out for his blood.

T
he thunder crashed
and Casey snuggled down further on the couch. Her third glass of wine glinted red in the firelight. She had stopped drinking an hour ago, realizing just how drunk she was getting, but bitter reminiscing just seemed better with a glass of wine in her hand.

If she was being honest with herself, she was taking a certain satisfaction in knowing that she was approaching this entirely the wrong way. A productive adult would handle a break-up by going on with their life as normal. Maybe they would indulge in a set of new workout gear, or a few meals’ worth of Chinese food, or a haircut or something.

Casey, on the other hand, had spent two days in bed, bawling her eyes out while wearing an oversized T-shirt, and had then proceeded to pack a backpack—not even a suitcase—and run away to her family’s cabin upstate, where she was now drowning her sorrows in wine. Maybe, she thought; she should cap it all off by getting a tattoo. What tattoo said, “My boyfriend left me for his sister’s nanny?”

She took a gulp of wine and groaned. The nanny was…well, just what Casey had been once; young, gorgeous, and cheerful. And Casey was
That
Woman
, the one pushing thirty and finding grey hairs, who was—to top it all off—going to have a killer hangover tomorrow morning because she couldn’t drink like she used to. And she knew if she told anyone about this, they would roll their eyes and tell her how pretty she was and how thirty wasn’t old. So she hadn’t told anyone.

She wanted to wallow, dammit.

The thunder crashed again, and she jumped. She drained the glass of wine and reached for the bottle. One glass left. She should stop. But she should also be home in New York, already asleep because she had work tomorrow, and she wasn’t doing that either. She poured the last of the bottle out, and then tipped her head back on the arm of the couch and sighed.

She had really thought Eric was the one. Never hitting on her friends, always respectful, and a career on track for spectacular things. And now all that was left was a hurried, “I think we made a mistake,” and some bitter words about wasting three years, and he was off with a nineteen-year-old while Casey drank herself stupid, alone, in a cabin. One of them was clearly getting the better end of the deal, and it wasn’t her.

Another crash sounded, and this time it wasn’t thunder. Casey sat up, her heart pounding. It was nothing. It was the wind. It was her sister here to check on her. Casey would have groaned at the thought of Jenna’s lecture, only she was suddenly very, very certain that it wasn’t any of those things. She put the wine on the table and crawled, staying low, to look out the sliding doors at the end of the kitchen…

And screamed.

The bear was dragging itself slowly up the lawn, the shattered remains of the picnic table lying on the storm-soaked grass, and its eyes were fixed on the cabin. It was coming for food. It was coming now. It did not wander, sniffing as an animal should. It was taking a straight path, and it was coming for her.

Casey scrambled back, upsetting the coffee table and hearing the glass shatter on the hearth. She paused, stupidly, thinking she should get a sponge and—

Bear.
There was a bear. She ran for the coat closet, fumbling through layers of winter coats and snowshoes until the heavy shotgun case emerged. She hauled it out, fumbled at the latches. Locked.

Dammit.

She dragged it with her as she crouched and ran back to the kitchen. Ammo in the bottom drawer, keys in the top drawer. She hid behind the counter as she pulled the drawers open carefully and extracted what she needed. A quick glance around the counter showed the bear still limping its way up the lawn. It was almost at the porch.

Oh God.
Her fingers were sluggish because of the wine, and shaking with adrenaline. Casey fumbled with the locks, checking to see if the barrel of the gun was clean before loading the ammo.

There was a sound behind her that made her nearly leap out of her skin, and the sound of the storm swirled into the kitchen. The door was open. Casey clapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to scream. She could run…but she wouldn’t make it ten feet. Never run from a bear, her father used to say.

She was going to have to be brave. Casey took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what she was going to see. If she didn’t stand up now—right now—the bear was going to find her and she wasn’t going to have time to get the shot out.

Stand up, Casey. Stand up.
She stood, aimed, and yelled at the top of her lungs. The bear, halfway through the door, stopped dead in its tracks.

“Get out of my house!”
Real smart, Casey. Because bears understand English.
“Get! Get out! Go!” She forced her trembling legs to advance.

It took a step back, swinging its head side to side. Almost, she would have said, it was pleading with her. When it looked up, its eyes fixed on hers, and they were nothing like the cold black her sister had mentioned once. She’d fled out of the woods at a dead run with their dog barking so hard they all thought he’d been dragged off, and Jenna kept gasping that the bear had the cruelest, coldest eyes she’d ever seen. She said it was going to kill her, and Casey wondered why that was such a surprise, and now here they were. If she got out of this alive, she was going to tell Jenna that bears’ eyes looked just like human eyes.

It took a low, shuffling step towards her, hanging its head. Blood was pooling on the floor around her feet.

“Go!” Casey took another step, and another.

The bear backed away, little sounds of distress escaping from its snout. What, was it afraid of the storm? Casey almost laughed, and bit her lip. She was barely holding it together as things stood now. She forced the bear out onto the porch, screaming like a drill sergeant, and stopped when the creature was back on the lawn. Her hands were so slippery with sweat that she wasn’t sure she could hold onto the gun much longer.

It tried once more, slinking towards the porch stairs like some sort of overgrown dog, and she screamed—really screamed. She aimed, feeling tears on her cheeks, and pulled the trigger—

Thank God her father had taught her to shoot. The bottom step exploded into woodchips and the bear scrambled away, roaring.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Casey screamed. She chambered another round, shaking so hard she could hardly stand, and aimed again. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered again.

It stared at her for a long moment, and she almost lowered the gun, the eyes were so sad. When a howl sounded from the rain swept forest, it turned and ran, its uneven gait carrying it over the lawn and into the trees at a limping run.

Casey leaned against the doorframe. She was making a sound she couldn’t quite put a name on, somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a sob, and she really needed to put the gun away before it went off. Wolves. There was a bear, and there were wolves, and the bear had…it had…

It had opened the door.

Her blood went ice cold and she whirled, slamming the door shut. She needed to call Jenna, and their parents, and the police, and—anyone. Anyone at all. And then she needed to get the hell out of here, or maybe put all the furniture on the stairs and sleep in the attic. She laid the gun on the counter, no longer sure she wanted to unload it after all, and went for the phone.

A loud cracking sound came next, lightning flaring and the lights in the cabin flickered and died. Casey looked out in time to see the light pole nearby tip into the trees, yanking the power lines down with it. At any other time, she might have screamed. Now, she had no more energy than to watch it fall and whisper a heartfelt expletive.

There was no calling anyone now. Her cell phone had zero reception out here—it was one of the major benefits of coming; she couldn’t text Eric—and the landline was now completely gone. Also, she was going to be subsisting on cereal and untoasted bread until she left, but that wasn’t so bad. She was going to leave as soon as it was light out. In fact, she was chewing her nail and considering leaving now, with the gun in the car just for safety, when movement at the edge of the forest caught her eye.

You have got to be kidding me.
She didn’t think she could take another round of the bear. She squinted, stepping closer…

“Oh, my god.” She dropped the gun and ran, barefoot. It was a man; blood staining his jeans as he staggered up the grass. And Lord alone knew what was going to come out of the forest behind him—because how had he gotten injured in the first place?

Maybe she should have brought the gun.

He looked up as she approached, and Casey felt her eyes go wide. This was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life; dark eyes, dark hair, skin the color of caramel, a jaw that could cut glass…and he was
ripped.
The rain had pressed his black T-shirt against his chest in a very appealing way, and his lips were full and—

And he was going to die if she couldn’t get him inside.

“Come on,” Casey gasped, looping his arm over her shoulders and pulling him towards the house. “There’s a bear.”

“I know.”

“And wolves.”

“I know.”

His weary acceptance evaporated when a howl sounded from behind them. They both broke into a run, pounding up the stairs and into the house, and Casey yanked the glass door shut as the man fainted on the floor of the kitchen.

C
asey’s plans
of lifting the man and carrying him to the fire proved impossible. The man was heavier than she had imagined, and lifting him was beyond her capabilities, drunk or sober. She settled for hooking her hands under his arms and dragging him backwards across the floor, leaving a bloody smear on the kitchen floor.

Great.

By the fire, she remembered the shattered wine glass. She hesitated, then checked the man’s pulse. It was slow and steady, and the wound on his leg did not seem to be bleeding heavily any longer. Casey felt her way up the stairs, trying to swear softly as she collided with various corners, and then felt through the linen closet for towels. Some clothes from her parents’ room—please, let there not be any embarrassing T-shirts—and some Band-Aids and antiseptic later, she was feeling her way back down the stairs and praying not to wind up on her face at the bottom.

She was just scraping up the last pieces of glass when he asked; “I don’t suppose I could use one of those towels.”

Casey jumped and swore, then turned to look at him. He was even more gorgeous by firelight, dammit, all tousled and dark, with a rakish smile despite what must be blinding pain in his leg, and he was looking over her with frank appreciation that made her blush.

He might like what he saw, but she was having serious regrets about packing her most oversized flannel. If she’d been made up, she wouldn’t be feeling quite like such a slob right now. Hell, she’d even be happy with some lip gloss, or a hair-tie for the strawberry blonde waves that could never seem to settle on either being curly or straight. Her eyes were glinting green in the firelight, but they’d look a lot better with mascara, and her long legs—her best feature, in her opinion—really looked better in heels. She choked back a laugh at the mental image of her misbuttoned plaid shirt and old shorts with heels.

And he was staring at her as if he was wondering if she could speak English.

“Towels. Right. Yeah, they’re for you. You probably guessed that.” Casey shut her mouth by force of will and sighed. “Oh. Also, I should look at your leg. I brought down antiseptic. It’s not much, but it’ll do until we get you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“You need stitches. You left a
lot
of blood on the floor. And probably the rug.” Her parents were not going to be pleased.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Look—uh, I don’t know your name.”

“Nathaniel.”

“Okay. Look, Nathaniel—you’ve lost some blood, and you’re going to get hypothermia unless you get out of those clothes.” Casey looked away as he stripped off his shirt. Muscles
and
tattoos. Oh, wow. “Yeah. Like that. The thing is, I don’t want you to die on the floor.”

“Who else is here?”

“No one’s here, it’s just my family’s cabin.”

“Do you normally guard it with a shotgun?”

“No, I…” Casey tried to decide where to begin with the story, and then shook her head. “Not important.”

“Are you sure?” He paused, midway through toweling his torso off. “Hey—I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“Not your fault.” Casey sighed and rubbed at her forehead. The wine was hitting hard and she was beginning to remember why she didn’t like drinking her troubles away; they tended to get worse, not better. Hardly fair, that.

“Look.” The man called Nathaniel unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off, revealing black briefs that highlighted some very impressive assets; Casey looked away, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she hadn’t seen. She was getting some very inappropriate ideas right about now. “It was really nice of you to come out and get me. And I would like some of that antiseptic. And Band-Aids.”

Casey snorted. “I don’t think Band-Aids are going to be enough.”

“Whatever. The point is, I’m grateful for your help—but you don’t need to feel responsible for me.”

“You’re on our property,” Casey pointed out. “But really, it’s no trouble. I…don’t have anywhere to be.” Sadly true. Her throat closed up at the memory of asking Eric to come up here a few months ago. He was always too busy.

Had he been cheating on her this whole damned time?

“Now you look mad.”

“I am mad,” Casey snapped. “My boyfriend ran off with some nineteen-year-old nanny, and I came up here and wound up with a bear in the kitchen. The electric is out, there are wolves in the forest, and…and…” All the anger went out of her in a rush and she felt tears pricking at her eyes. She hung her head, sniffing. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just…not having a very good week.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. Hey.” He reached out, putting his hand on her knee. The jolt of energy was undeniable, and he pulled his hand back quickly, but still craned to look into her eyes. “Your ex-boyfriend is an idiot. Forget him.”

“Believe me, I’m trying.” Casey nudged at the empty wine bottle with her foot. “And before you say anything, I know this is about the worst thing I could be doing for myself.”

“At least you’re taking care of it on your own,” he said pragmatically. “Not throwing yourself at someone else.”

“Right.” Thoughts of straddling him right here on the floor evaporated and Casey bit her lip. “I should take a look at your leg. And you should, you know, put on a shirt.”

“Sure.” It sounded like he was laughing at her. He pulled a tank top and flannel shirt out of the stack and put them on. It was really very unfair how he could go from looking like a J. Crew model to looking like a lumberjack and still be hot, so Casey busied herself with the supplies.

“You’ll need to, uh…turn over.”

He complied with a nod, showing off an ass that made her bite her lip and mutter things about life being unfair, and she set to work, trying to clean the wound as painlessly as she could.

“Huh,” she said after a few minutes.

“What?” His voice was muffled.

“It’s…really not as bad as I thought. I guess it just bled a lot.” Casey poked at it gingerly. Maybe Band-Aids really were going to fix it.

“Yeah.” But he sounded evasive.

“Well, one sec.” She layered the Band-Aids over it and rolled a strip of athletic tape around his calf to keep it all in place. “Uh. There you go, I guess.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll heal quickly.”

“Me, too.” She was really, really sure the wound had to have been bigger than it was. “I’m going to go clean the kitchen floor.”

“I’ll do it.” He reached out to take the towels.

“You need to sleep.” She took them back. “The couch is actually really comfortable. The beds…aren’t so much. And your leg won’t like the stairs.”

“Thanks.” He watched her over the back of the couch as she scrubbed. “Looks like the storm is quieting down.”

“Shame. I like thunderstorms. Better with whiskey than wine, but…it was actually kind of nice for a while. Until the bear.”

There was a silence. Casey turned and looked at him.

“Don’t you even want to
know
?”

“Right. Sorry. You said there was a bear, though.”

“I thought that was how you got hurt. I guess I just assumed.” But he had said, she remembered, that he knew about the bear. And the wolves.

“I heard there were bears around here,” he said hastily, noticing her expression. “But I didn’t see any. I just…fell.”

“Sure. On your calf.”

“Yeah.”

“In two places on your calf.”

“Yeah.”

“And nowhere else got hurt.”

“That’s lucky, huh?”

Lucky, and a whole bucket of lies. But he didn’t look like one of the idiots who would come up here to try to fight bears, or whatever the fad was with rich guys this week. He looked, in fact, like a man who had nothing to prove.

“You’re not going to tell me why you were out there, huh.”

“…Nope.” He had the grace, at least, to look ashamed.

“Look, is anyone looking for you? Going to come find you…with guns…?”

“No,” he said decisively. “We’re safe here.”

“Good.” Somehow, however, she found it precisely the opposite of reassuring. “Look, you should get some rest. I’ll be staying up for a bit.”

“Looking out the window with the shotgun?” He guessed, and Casey shrugged.

“I’ve already gotten a bear and a guy coming out of the forest tonight. I think I’ll just make sure there’s nothing else coming.”

“There isn’t.” But he yawned. “I
am
tired, though. I…”

“Nathaniel?” Casey went to peer over the back of the couch. Between one breath and the next, he seemed to have fallen asleep.

“You never said what your name was,” he murmured, trying to open his eyes.

“Casey.”

“Casey. Nice to meet you.”

“And you. Get some sleep.”

She hopped up on the counter to watch the forest. Without the lightning, the back yard wasn’t much more than a mass of black, the occasional tree shining in the moonlight as storm clouds scudded across the moon. Branches were still lashing to and fro in the wind, and occasionally she saw a piece of the ruined picnic table blow across the grass.

A strange night. A
very
strange night. A wrath-of-God storm, a bear, and a hot man sleeping on her couch. Casey risked a glance over at Nathaniel, now deeply asleep with one well-muscled arm thrown up over his head. Tomorrow, she decided, she was going to find out some answers.