Romance: Stranded With The Alpha Bear: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (Werebear, BBW, Bear Shifter Romance) (Sweet Shifters Book 1)

BOOK: Romance: Stranded With The Alpha Bear: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (Werebear, BBW, Bear Shifter Romance) (Sweet Shifters Book 1)
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STRANDED WITH THE ALPHA BEAR

ASHLEY HUNTER

 Copyright 2015 by Ashley Hunter

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced

in any way whatsoever, without written permission

from the author, except in case of brief

quotations embodied in critical reviews

and articles.

 

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

character, person, living or dead, events, place or

organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not

have any control over and does not assume any responsibility

for third party websites or their content.

 

First edition, 2015

 

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I.

 

The wind danced through the dim bar, licking the cheeks of the patrons with an eerie feeling of foreboding. The light of the full moon illuminated through the open window, guiding the wind around the room. Old Gus rose from his creaky bar stool to loudly slam the window before looking my direction and waving his hand.

“Another whiskey neat,” his hand gestured as if he were speaking. He didn’t need to say anything for me to know what he wanted. “After that, I’ll probably have a few more, though I really have no business having even this one.”

I smiled and walked toward him. “Another whiskey neat, Gus?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing for twenty-five years,” he answered with a boozy burp. “What do you think I want?”

“A martini?

He just looked at me with his weary, out of focus eyes. I took a deep breath, fake-smiled wider, and moved to the bar to make him his drink. I haven’t worked here for twenty-five years, so I wouldn’t know he’d ordered that for so long. I’m not even twenty-five myself - I’m only twenty-three.

“We want beers, Despo Virgin!” one of the overgrown man-boys in the corner yelled.

“Got it,” I yelled back, wanting to snap their necks.

We’d graduated from high school together, and they think it’s the funniest thing in the world to call me “Despo Virgin.” As that my name is Veronica, I would say it would be funnier to say “Veronica.”

“Are you thinking about how they should call you ‘Virgin Veronica’?” Stevie, the bartender, asked me quietly as I poured the ordered drinks.

“What I really should say is if men lived here instead of monkeys, maybe I wouldn’t be a virgin.”

“We do want people to come back, I think.”

“Where else are they gonna go?”

He shrugged. I shrugged back and sauntered back out from behind the bar. I traced the same steps I’ve stepped before, moved around the same customers in the same places, the same seats. I could guess all of their orders before I waited on them. Tourists preferred to go to the hipper Mystery Hunter bar in the nicer part of town. The local part of town with our bar is mostly left alone. I’ve heard they say the locals are vampires (or maybe zombies… some undead things), who bring bad luck to those that cross them.

The tourist dollars from the curse (as well as the mysterious woods full of werewolves and giant bears) keep our little town afloat. I think the rumor mill likes to make us seem like the villains here because if it didn’t, then everyone would know there are no werewolves, and the bears are big from eating trash. The only curse around here is this dead-end town itself. We may as well be the undead here - there sure isn’t any living going on.

“Hey Virgin Veronica,” one of the boys said as I brought their beers. “You should try to get a job at SeaWorld in the whale exhibit.”

“Oh, but then I can’t serve you beers so you can keep building up that gut,” I replied. “Anything else for you guys right now?”

“I’d love to take you out on a date.”

“I’d love to say no.”

“That’s why you’re still a virgin - you turn down perfectly suitable guys.”

“Or maybe I’d rather be alone than have to settle for the ‘perfectly suitable guys’ according to our town’s skewed barometer.”

He frowned, his friends drinking their beers and checking out of the conversation. I smiled and went about my business. My dad used to drink in the corner where the boys now crowded after my mom died. It didn’t really matter if the customers left - the next generation came in to take their spots.

Stevie and I closed the bar as we always did. It was almost like the whole thing was habitually ingrained in each of us - the closing process just came second nature now.

“I think if you lost weight, they might not tease you so much,” he said as he wiped the counter. “Not that you’re fat but…”


‘Fashion magazines
say you’re fat,’” I responded, taking a shot before cleaning the rest of the glasses. “‘Well, I ain’t down with that.’”

“I’m being serious here. Are you going to pay for that?”

“Take it out of my tips.”

“The $3?”

“$3? Jesus Christ. Those cheap drunks.”

“Well, you did tell one of our regulars that he had a beer gut.”

“He insinuated I was Shamu.”

“He’s a jerk, but it is your job to be nice. Our tips depend on it. I told you not to say anything to them.”

“I didn’t say they were monkeys. I was demurer.”

“I guess that’s true. I guess they would’ve deserved it if you did.”

“I’m curvy, Stevie. And I’m fine with that,” I smiled. “This is just the way my body’s built. I’m Norwegian, I’m tall, and I’m hippy. That’s what it is; no matter what anyone says. I’ve heard I’m very pretty.”

“That’s true. You have pretty blonde hair and blue eyes.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you’d like to come home with me tonight?”

“Maybe you’d like to be staked in the heart?”

He laughed, walking toward the door. “Maybe I would, maybe I would.”

We locked up and headed our separate ways. I feel freer than usual. I have a couple days off; I can just stay home and do nothing. Ahead of me, the overgrown man-boys stood outside in front of one of their parents’ garages, having a little party. I switched direction onto the shortcut in the woods.

Normally, I walked through the woods and felt fine, even at night. I know there isn’t anything bad out here (besides maybe the coyotes.) But still, every noise means a warning. For some reason, everything feels a little spookier.

A twig crunched somewhere near me. I walked faster. Another twig crunched somewhere closer. I started to jog. More twigs (not just one) cracked and splintered with heavy feet smashing against them. My own feet pounded toward the moonlit opening of the wooded shortcut.
So close.

Suddenly, an animal, a wolf, jumped on my back to knock me down. Another wolf grabbed my sweater to drag me across the forest floor. I closed my eyes, trying to fight my way towards that swiftly disappearing, brightly lit asphalt just ahead. I wasn’t sure if I was screaming or if my throat had frozen in fear.

I immediately regret my decision to take a shortcut.

 

 

 

 

II.

 

More wolves appeared to continue dragging me deeper and deeper into the woods I used to run in as a child. As I kept fighting, wondering if I should hit one of them in the nose like with a shark, I imagined myself torn apart like my childhood cat, Gerald.

When I was eleven, Gerald hadn’t come home. My older brother, Kevin, went for a walk, and found little Gerald’s head in our back yard. I imagine someone I know will be walking out here to smoke a joint or do some kind of nefarious deed (like take a normal jog or dog walk), and find my little head. How lonely my poor little head would be, just like Gerald’s was.

The wolves stopped in a clearing where my friends and I used to underage drink. I took a deep breath and prepared for the painful experience of my skin being ripped from my bones and my limbs being torn from my body. I thought of Kevin watching his life flash before his eyes after injecting a fatal overdose, of my mother wishing she had more time as the cancer beat her, and of my father drunkenly passing out in the snow and freezing to death only last winter.

Someone up there wants the whole family dead, so why not just accept it?

I waited for them to start ripping into me, but they seemed to be having some kind of grunting wolf conversation. I opened my eyes and peeked at them. They looked remarkably larger than I imagined a wild wolf would look. And, for whatever reason, they looked more human than canine. When I imagined a werewolf, I saw those creatures in
Underworld
that were terrifying - leathery, human-looking, terrifying monsters with no sense of humanity in their eyes.

These wolves could pass as fully canine, but their eyes looked human and spoke human emotions. Plus, their snouts weren’t as long, and they looked strong enough to walk on just two feet if they wanted to. One looked at me with eyes reminiscent of the drunk overgrown manboys. I felt more like a sorority girl locked in a room with a group of frat boys than a cat about to be reduced down to just a head.

I realized they weren’t looking to rip me apart. They were looking for something, something weirder and bestial. And absolutely frightening in a different way than I initially expected.

I took another deep breath, prepared myself, and sprang up, racing toward the direction I thought the exit was. I felt a bit confused from the shot(s) and wasn’t exactly sure where to go, but I kept running. My throat awoke into vibrant, tremulous screams as I kept running, knowing the wolf men could run (even walk) much faster than I could. But I couldn’t give up - I had to at least try. Even if I’m weeping and screaming and completely out of breath. (Maybe Stevie was right about the losing weight thing.)

I looked behind me for them, but it was too dark. I’d run deeper into the woods instead of out of them. I looked ahead just in time to slam into a tall, muscular, solid man. He seemed unfazed, but I felt a bit dizzy.

“They’re after me,” I cried manically.

“I can hear you,” he responded. “You don’t have to scream.”

“They’re trying to take my virginity!”

“That’s a little too much information. Who’s after you?”

“They’re…. I think they’re werewolves.”

Even in the dark, I could see him raise an eyebrow. “All right.”

“I need help!”

“Again, you don’t need to yell. I can hear you.”

“I was on my way home, and these wolves came out of the woods and attacked me.”

“You seem surprisingly unharmed to be attacked by wolves.”

“I just told you that they wanted to assault me. They don’t want to eat me.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to help me?”

He sighed, “I’m busy right now.”

“Seriously?”

“I like to keep to myself. Mind my own business.”

“Then get out of my way, jerk.”

I picked up some heavy rocks and continued running. At this point, I’d lost my momentum, and it became harder to run for my life. My heart and lungs felt on fire - every breath hurting. I tried to change direction, heading toward (again) where I thought the road was. Or at least some of the homes out there in the woods. The hermits out here usually are drunks or stoners, but they probably at least have a cell phone. I mean, I assume.

I realized that I too have a cell phone in my pocket. I tried to continue running as I searched for my cell phone in my pocket. At my back, the foreboding sound of snapping twigs and quick movement tormented me. I couldn’t find my phone. I realized I might have put it in my backpack instead, which I’d lost along the way. I cursed loudly as I pushed myself to keep going.

The adrenaline, though, couldn’t help my years of inactivity. I took a moment to catch my breath by leaning on a tree, but quickly was toppled again. The rocks flew out of my hands. This time, two of the wolves held me down as they communicated with the rest of the group. I kept fighting, but resistance seemed futile.

Suddenly, a rock flew through the air and hit one of the wolves not holding me down. The animal went down, putting the others at alert. The man I’d literally run into appeared out of the shadows after another wolf dropped to the ground from a flying rock. The wolves on top of me looked at each other, unsure of what to do as the other wolves went after the man. He got down on all fours as they ran toward him, and transformed into the largest bear I’d ever seen.

The wolves holding me down and I took a collective shocked breath. I thought to scream as the others started to fight, my captors unsure of what to do, but I couldn’t catch my breath. Everything started to get too much. The world around me started to spin as the bear and the wolves battled with each other. It was like the scene in
The Lion King
when Scar and Simba fight each other in an epic lion battle but with a bear and several werewolves. They jumped at each other as if they were in slow motion and had an epic soundtrack behind them.

I started to hyperventilate. I couldn’t keep anything in focus. Before I knew it, my body just gave up, and the world went completely dark. For a moment, I thought I felt myself picked up and carried by a strong figure. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming the feeling, but I somehow felt safe.

 

BOOK: Romance: Stranded With The Alpha Bear: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (Werebear, BBW, Bear Shifter Romance) (Sweet Shifters Book 1)
8.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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