A Taste of Honey (5 page)

She’d be more at home outdoors. Here, his scent permeated everything, intoxicating and too strong to be masked by even freshly-brewed coffee. If she was going to make it through their second date – that was what it was, wasn’t it? – she needed to get some fresh air while she had the chance. She made her way to the backdoor, leaving a freshly-brewed pot of coffee behind. Maybe she’d have a cup when she got back, after she’d relaxed a little.

The forest was only a few steps from the stoop. It was colorful and aromatic – just what she needed. Half-bare deciduous trees, beautifully full pines and their shadows enveloped her as she stepped into the woods, fallen leaves crunching beneath her feet as she trod lightly. The Great Smoky Mountains were so gorgeous that she’d already begun to grow used to them, but as she wandered deeper into the forest, her heartbeat slowing as she was immersed in the quiet calm of the wilderness, it was impossible to forget that she’d left Half Moon territory behind and now walked in bear country.

* * * * *

“You never forget to fill out paperwork.” Hargrove, a familiar sight in his ranger’s uniform, pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose as Ronnie walked through the door.

Leaving the cool autumn breeze behind in exchange for the overly-warm interior of the ranger station was an unwelcome change. The absence of the fresh autumn air was like the absence of Violet’s presence – he craved the outdoors and freedom like he craved her smiles and the sound of her voice. Most of all, he craved the afternoon he’d planned for them both – hours spent under the forest canopy together. Alone.

Maybe the worms had been a bad idea, but the drive through the mountains had convinced him that the scenery would be romantic enough and the air just cool enough to justify keeping her warm as he’d longed to the night before. All he had to do was dot a few i’s and cross a few t’s first.

“Well, I’m here to finish it now.” Ronnie held out a hand and Hargrove relinquished his grip on a small stack of forms, bound at the corner with a silver paperclip.

“What’s up?” Hargrove prodded as Ronnie dug a pen out of his pocket and began to write, his hand flying over the page in a barely-tidy scrawl. Five minutes and he’d be on his way back to Violet.

“Day off,” Ronnie grunted, as if Hargrove didn’t already know. “Gonna do some fishing.”

“No, I mean what’s up with the paperwork?” Hargrove said, leaning across the desk and casting a shadow across the report Ronnie was signing. “Were you in some kinda hurry to get out of here on Friday evening – got a girlfriend or somethin’?”

Ronnie spared Hargrove a glance and was greeted by the sight of a mile-wide grin. “Maybe.” His own lips threatened to betray him by returning the expression. He carefully smoothed his features. Violet wasn’t his girlfriend, but she just might be destined to be much more, and if he was wrong about that, Hargrove’s opinion would be the least of his worries.

Hargrove leaned back in his chair, rolling several inches backward, and howled. Actually howled, loudly and crazily enough that Ronnie just might have mistaken him for a member of the Half Moon Pack if he’d been outdoors.

A couple heads turned in Ronnie and Hargrove’s direction, but no remarks were made. There were a few other personnel inside the station, and Ronnie could practically read the thought going through their minds –
Hargrove
. One word that explained everything. Hargrove seemed to only possess an ‘outside voice’, and howling wasn’t exactly out of character.

“Well, I hope you’ve been gettin’ some action at home,” Hargrove said, still grinning, “’cuz you missed all the action here this morning.”

“What happened?” Ronnie asked, only half listening as he jotted a final signature down on the last form. Knowing Hargrove, a pretty tourist had probably wandered into the ranger station asking for directions, or something like that.

“Someone killed a bear inside the park. Shot it three times and left the body by the edge of a hiking trail up on the mountain.” Hargrove hiked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing vaguely to the north. “Several dozen people heard the gunshots and some tourists stumbled upon the body as they were comin’ down the trail.”

Ronnie’s heart leapt and sped, beginning a war-rhythm and beating it out against his ribs like his bones were drums.
Bear down
. The crackle of paper and a burst of moisture against his palm told him that he’d gripped his handful of paperwork too tightly. Lowering his gaze, he discovered that he’d snapped his pen right in half. The weak plastic had broken, spilling black ink all over his hand.
Code orange
.

“Jesus, Sweetwater, your hands are like bear paws.”

Ink trickled down his fingertips and dripped onto the desk. “Shot to death?” he asked, working hard to temper his voice so that his question didn’t come out half-growl.

“Yeah. With a .45. Three bullets – one of them hit the heart and another punctured a lung. The other wasn’t as serious – hit the shoulder or something.”

“And the bear is dead?”

“As a doornail. It was a sow, but there aren’t any signs that she was nursing cubs. Nobody knows what happened yet.”

Jesus
. Hargrove’s profanity echoed inside Ronnie’s mind. He had to get back to the mountain – to his people, his bears, his tribe. And Violet. “Call me as soon as you’ve got an update.” He dropped his paperwork on the desk. The forms had been stained by spilled ink, but he didn’t have time to check if they were still legible.

Hargrove’s voice was loud enough that Ronnie heard it, even over the sound of the door slamming shut behind him. “Don’t break your new girlfriend with those paws of yours, Sweetwater.”

Chapter 3

The stream was so clear that the rocks at the bottom were easily visible, rounded by years of submersion, some plain and some speckled. Could this be where Ronnie planned for them to fish?

Violet scanned the water’s crystalline depths for anything larger than a minnow as she settled on the edge of a rock that jutted out over the bank. For a while, there was nothing. Then a shadow moved beneath the surface, much too quickly to have been caused by a swaying branch overhead. Something was in the stream, lurking under the edge of the rock. A trout, maybe? She lowered herself onto her belly and gripped the edge of the rock, peering straight down and straining to see underneath.

The stone was so hard against her that it pushed the air out of her lungs and flattened her breasts. She breathed a little harder, her fingers curled around its edge as she waited for the shadow to reappear.

 Meanwhile, it was impossible not to think of how it might feel to lie against Ronnie, to feel his chest against hers, as hard as stone but warmer. For one fleeting moment, she almost thought she caught his scent in the air, a spicy sweetness that complemented the duller smells of autumn. Her nipples pricked against her clothing, against the rock, and her breasts ached. In fact, she ached from head to toe. For him – the bear whose scent screamed that he was meant for a wolf, for her. Could it really be so?

Willing her whirling mind to slow down, she tried to absorb the coolness of the rock, hoping that it might chill her from the inside. She was getting ahead of herself – taking too much for granted. She and Ronnie might not be meant for each other. There was still the possibility that all of this might come to nothing. After all, so far ‘this’ was really just a handful of meetings, one impromptu date, a hundred pangs of longing and one persistent scent that she just couldn’t resist.

He was a bear and they didn’t work the same way as wolves – not exactly. And the things she’d heard about how they identified their mates were blush-inducing, to say the least. Could Ronnie be thinking about them, about her in that way?

Though the thought made her cheeks burn, it made her heart speed, too. There was no way around it – she’d just have to conquer her inhibitions and be ready to discover the truth, however, exactly, she and Ronnie might go about doing that. After all, he wouldn’t have invited her to spend the day alone with him if he didn’t feel at least a spark of attraction, of possibility, would he?

And there was the distinct possibility that they
were
meant for each other, for an autumn afternoon like this, and that was enough of an incentive for her to put on a brave face, even if she did feel a little lost when it came to doing anything more than smiling in his direction.

* * * * *

“Code orange.” The words might sound like something out of a cheesy action movie, but Ronnie spoke them with complete sincerity, gripping his cell phone so tightly that he barely remembered to stop squeezing it in time to avoid breaking it like he had the pen. He’d developed a color-coded chart of threat-levels years ago and had made sure that everyone in the Roaring Water Tribe had memorized it. It was his responsibility to keep them safe and the code made it possible to convey something very specific with just two words. Code orange meant a suspected threat with a confirmed act of violence. There were only two more severe designations – red and black.

The tribe had seen red a few weeks ago when shifter hunters had victimized the nearby Half Moon Pack. Black … just once, but that had been long before he’d developed the code.

“Okay.” His grandmother’s voice echoed through the connection, a little distorted by the questionable reception the mountains caused, but steady enough and all-business as Ronnie gave the agreed-upon signal. “I’ll tell your grandfather right away.”

“Call me as soon as you find out whether everyone is accounted for. I’ll answer if I can. If not, leave a message on my cell and my home phone. I may have to go out into the woods – I left Violet alone at my cabin and she said something about going for a walk.” His voice came out cool enough, but inside he was burning with the urge to find her, to know she was safe and to keep her that way. He’d already called her cell and his home phone and she hadn’t answered either one.

He rounded a familiar corner and his heart leapt at the thought of home, the place where he’d left Violet. “I’m almost to my cabin. I’ll give you another call and fill you in as soon as I know she’s safe.”

His heart kept time, marking each passing second with ferocious beats as he guided his truck off the road and into his driveway. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, making them tingle and causing his throat to ache as he exited the cab and firmly closed its door. Maybe it was nothing – it was probably nothing – but it was his job to act as if it might be something and past experience had primed him for this moment, for any moment when it seemed danger might be threatening his tribe.

Or his mate. He was too intent on his current mission to eschew the thought completely. Violet might not be his mate, but clearly his heart was convinced otherwise. Each heavy beat urged him to find her, to protect her and the longed-for possibility that she embodied. It was impossible to guard his heart or his hopes when he feared for her safety. Twisting the knob and walking through the unlocked front door, he called her name.

No response.

He strode quickly into the cabin and checked every room, even his bedroom. It was easy to imagine her there, but she was nowhere to be found. Upon returning to the kitchen, he found a full pot of coffee waiting, untouched. A quick glance afforded him a glimpse of the worm container, still tucked behind the coffeemaker. Had he really been worried about it? If Violet felt anything like what he felt for her – if they were really meant to be mated – it would take a lot more than a container of earthworms to drive her away.

He had to find her. The backdoor beckoned. He opened it, imagining her small hand closing around the knob after he’d left. She must have gone for a walk, like she’d mentioned. Why had he left her alone? He should’ve taken her along for the ride to the station, even if it would’ve meant her having to suffer through a meeting with Hargrove.

Remaining a man was out of the question. He needed to be fast, strong and able to rely on his senses when they were at their best. Without sparing a thought for his clothing, he shifted. His flannel, t-shirt and jeans fluttered to the ground like soft confetti as he assumed his bear form. This way, he could find her quickly and defend her if necessary.

It probably wouldn’t be necessary – a fact he kept reminding himself of as he entered the red, brown and gold shadowland of the forest and charged through, his heavy paws crushing small branches underfoot and compressing the dense carpet of fallen leaves that had accumulated over the past several months. He inhaled deeply as he ran, scenting the air for any trace of Violet. He’d grown accustomed to her clean, sweet fragrance and his heart leapt when it drifted to him on a breeze.

He was huge, but his bulk didn’t slow him down. He wasn’t slow in his human form either, but never would’ve been able to race through the forest this way, dodging only the largest of obstacles and flattening all others in his path. Was this what it felt like to race to protect one’s mate? He’d done a lot of defending in the past but the urgency had never felt quite this potent, not even when he’d helped Jack and the rest of the Half Moon pack rescue Mandy when she’d been kidnapped.