Shifters Forever The Boxed Set Books 1 - 6 (4 page)

G
rant rolled over
. Something had awakened him, and he was in a nasty mood at what being awakened had interrupted. He’d been having a hell of a dream. Chelsea was naked in his dream, spread-eagled on his bed while he—

There it went again.

He pushed himself to a sitting position. His cell. It was vibrating on the dresser. Naked, with a raging hard-on from hell, he padded to the phone.

“Mae.” She’d better have a good reason for interrupting his dream—um, sleep. Mae never called, hardly ever, anyway, so when she did... It probably wasn’t good news. “What’s up?”

“Chelsea’s missing.” She had a measure of panic in her voice.

His blood did the whole turning-into-ice thing. Not Chelsea. Not when they hadn’t even had a chance yet. “Slow down. Catch me up.”
Slow down
, he told his own heartbeat. She had to be okay. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman—ever.

No, he wouldn’t think like that. He couldn’t lose this precious, long-haired, curvy package with that pretty smile.

Mae gave him the information, cluing him in on Jeff’s attempts to bully Chelsea into going out with him and Chelsea’s decision to stay late at the salon—alone.

He bit back a reprimand at Mae for leaving her alone. Just because he was convinced that Jeff had a shady side didn’t mean that Mae had the instincts to do the same. She was human, after all, even if she’d been mated to a shifter. She had acquired some skills; the coupling bond did that. But it didn’t give her everything a born shifter had.

Mae was still talking while he sifted through the information. “And she never made it home. I called her cell. No answer. I was going to call the sheriff. But I thought...”

“You were right. There’s no reason to bother the sheriff.” He shoved his jeans on, wincing as they caged his semi-hard cock in their confines. His protective instinct was strong. As an alpha shifter, he felt the urge to protect more fiercely. He would drive into town, check on her. “You called the salon, right?”

“No answer. I’m coming too. Lots of snow expected.” She was still hyperventilating.

“Mae. Don’t. I don’t need to worry about both of you. Wait at home, and stay near the phone in case I need you.”

“I’m going to feel useless. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let her stay late without staying with her.” A half-sob escaped her before she could stop it. He heard her clamp down on the sorrowful sound before it could finish.

“You care about Chelsea,” he noted.

“I do. There’s something about her...”

He couldn’t argue with that. There was something about Chelsea that pulled at him and the bear inside him. “Mae. I’m going to hang up so I can get dressed and get out of here. Don’t fret.” Easy for him to say, but not so easy for him to do. Worry ate at his gut like acid.

He made the drive in record time—for him, the snow that had been threatening hadn’t really begun yet, though the temperature was already too low for comfort. Human comfort. He enjoyed it, though he’d rather sleep the whole winter through.

He saw Chelsea’s car, lonely in the dimly lit parking lot. One little streetlight at the other end. He would have to talk to Mae about this. And the town. This was ridiculous. There should be better lighting.

Pulling up near Chelsea’s car, he noted in the light snow blanket that there were tracks. Hers and a man’s. He breathed deep, sniffing, absorbing, letting his bear analyze the scents.

Jeff.
Those footprints belonged to Jeff. Grant followed them, his and her footprints. That was definitely Chelsea’s scent. The prints led to a set of tire tracks. It was clear she’d gotten into her car, and that Jeff followed her there.

A sneer crossed Grant’s rugged face. Jeff had probably put on a great front as a gentleman. But now there was no sign of Grant’s woman. Grant grimaced at himself. He was already calling her his woman. She hadn’t even really agreed to anything but a date—probably a casual date, though Grant didn’t really think it was just that, because the looks she gave him—they said there was fire behind that smoke. A furnace, in fact. Anger fueled Grant forward as he followed the tire tracks. They led to the road, and then vanished among countless other tracks. The only clue he had was that they veered to the right. He got in his truck and headed in that direction.

When he was sufficiently out of town, he pulled into an alcove made by the forest and a long-abandoned road and parked the truck. He shoved his cell phone and keys into the glove box. Getting out, he set the lock with the number pad under the door handle, and shifted. His clothes shifted with him, like always.

He roamed the forest for an hour at a quick lope, pausing every few moments hoping to catch her scent. Finally, he did. He increased his pace, ignoring the pain in his side from maintaining this speed for so long, going way too fast for even his powerful body to endure.

The last time he paused to catch her scent, he knew she wasn’t far. A grunt that was more like a moan of pain escaped his throat, because the other thing he smelled was blood. This was the moment it hit him—his feelings for this woman were much more powerful than he’d thought, and they were completely bound to his bear’s consuming love for her.

In the dimness, his bear eyes caught sight of her much sooner than his human eyes would have. He roared at the sight of her prone body, crumpled up against the tree, curled around it as if it were a lover who would offer solace.

He increased his pace, shifting in the last few strides, becoming a man again. He paused next to her, panting, his chest heaving from ninety minutes of running and scouting for her. He touched her neck where her pulse would be. There it was—faint, but present. In his chest, his bear could feel her heartbeat.

She was shivering, shaking violently from the cold, but the shaking didn’t wake her up. Grant took his jacket off, leaned close to her, bundled her and picked her up. He nuzzled her neck, relishing in her life. Leaning against the tree, he braced himself and pushed her hair out of her face so he could examine the source of the blood. A knot, seeping blood slowly at the very corner of her forehead. A gash embellished the knot, the blood beginning to clot in its outer edges.

He shifted to his bear form, knowing he had to get her to safety. Right now the nearest and safest place was a cave a few hundred yards away. He could make it there, build a fire and keep her warm against his bear form. His bear released another roar of anguish, this one softer so as not to disturb her.

A set of headlights shone brightly on him. His head snapped up. The headlights slowed. He recognized Jeff’s car.

Returning to the scene. He snorted. If Jeff got out to help her...

The car was still, then peeled out, swerving and fishtailing in the snow and light ice.

Coward.
Jeff had to have seen her with a bear and was doing nothing at all to help her.

Grant shifted to human and made his way through the thick undergrowth, the trees, and the bushes. Shortly, he was in front of the cave he’d used since he was a young boy, before this was even his own land, when it had belonged to his grandfather and the Native American woman he’d taken as his mate. A smile of reminiscence at the fond memories of his grandfather and grandmother crossed his face. This was Grant’s private getaway. He’d never told anyone about it. Not even his trusted foreman, Joe. When Grant wanted complete privacy, this was where he’d find it.

Entering the deep cave, he found the set-up he always left in the alcove near the entrance—fixings for a fire, a sleeping bag that was protected from the elements and wild creatures in an oversized plastic trash bag, and the hay he’d lain on.

Gently, he placed Chelsea on the hay, fighting off the memories he had from long ago, the first time his grandfather had brought him here.

Grant started a fire, unwrapped the sleeping bag, and swathed it around Chelsea. He shifted to his bear form and lay next to her to keep her warm. He’d have to get her to his truck, but right now, warmth was more important. The jagged gash had stopped bleeding, but her shaking had not abated. He inhaled her scent, relishing it, angered by what he was certain was Jeff’s role in this. He’d seek retribution, but not yet. First he had to make sure she was well.

He paused. Sniffed. Inhaled again. That smell. A chemical smell. On her breath, coming from her pores, mixed with the scent of nervous sweat. He drew closer. Chocolate, mixed with the smell. Drugged? Had she been drugged? Her pulse getting stronger was a good sign that her head injury wasn’t as bad as he’d originally feared. But still, that bastard Jeff had left her to die.

He bit back a roar of fury that threatened to overtake him. He shook from anger, his bear claws flexing. In his chest a burning anger wanted to rear its mighty head and hunt for Jeff. To rip him apart, barehanded.

He was torn between taking care of Chelsea’s head injury or treating the hypothermia he was sure had begun to set in before he’d arrived. As soon as she warmed enough, he’d take her to his truck. He’d get her to a hospital to be sure she didn’t have a concussion.

She moaned and moved slightly. Her color was returning. Her lips were no longer blue. Her eyes fluttered, and she gasped for a breath.

Grant shifted to his human form as quickly as he could, praying she hadn’t noticed, been alert enough, awake enough...

“G-gr—” Her eyes focused on his face. Recognition obvious. Relief even more obvious. She sputtered, as if she was trying to say his name but couldn’t.

Probably still drugged up.

He couldn’t help the kiss he planted on her temple, near the bump and dried blood, but not near enough to create more pain for her. “Shhh.” He shushed her. “You don’t need to talk.” He tightened his embrace around her. “As soon as your body gets warm, I’ll get you to a doctor.”

“No.” The word was ripped from her lungs. She began to flail, flopping, trying to free herself from his embrace.

“No?” He studied her face. “Calm down. Easy, now. No what? No doctor?”

She shook her head.

“And if you have a concussion?” He didn’t think she did, but he wanted a doctor’s opinion.

She shook her head again, vehemently.

“Okay. Look. I don’t want you to get worse, but fine. Fine, okay? Call me a damned fool for agreeing. No doctor.” He hoped he could keep the promise. He tried to calculate how far he might be from his truck, and decided one of the cabins on his property would be closer than the truck. They were old, from the time his grandfather had run the property.

Most of them had electricity and other modern conveniences, but he wasn’t sure if the nearest one did. It didn’t matter. He could get it warmed up in no time. They were always stocked with firewood and other supplies—just in case, a habit he’d learned from his grandfather.

He touched her cheek, his fingers dark against her fair skin. He planted another kiss on her temple, letting his lips linger, closing his eyes, absorbing the feel of her skin, the scent of her body.

She snuggled closer, a tiny whimper of a sound escaping from her mouth.

A new scent infiltrated his nostrils, one that stirred a desire in him. She was aroused. The scent of it was strong, permeating his pores, his nerves—every cell of him was tuned in to every part of her.

G
rant fought
the desire to mate with her. His bear wanted to do the coupling, to claim her for life—forever.
Too early
, he cautioned himself. They didn’t have an understanding; she had not agreed to become his mate. But that didn’t stop the bear and the man in him from wanting to take her. To sink his cock deep within her channel, to be housed in her slickness and tightness, to love her curves, to claim every inch of her. To leave his scent on her, permanently marking her as his. A low, deep growl built in his chest, raging to come out in a roar.

He moved his hand beneath the fabric of her coat, pushing aside her top and moving her bra down. One full breast popped out, free of the confines of its lace pattern. He thumbed her nipple, making circles, pressing on it, flicking it.

In his warm embrace, Chelsea squirmed, a moan announcing her approval. Her slow, rhythmic wiggling and squirming massaged the hardness of his cock through the fabric of his jeans, making him throb with a need that was primeval.

He dropped his hand over her belly, down to her crotch. He cupped her mound, applying pressure on her clit as she raised her hips and ground into his hand. With a swift motion, he unbuttoned and unzipped her pants and slid them down.

Chelsea raised her ass to help with the pants. Her explicit response made his cock harder in his pants, throbbing with a need to enter her body. His self-restraint was being tested greatly.

With her pants down, and then off, and her lower body unclad, he spread her legs, pushing them apart, releasing her scent. In the flickering lamplight he saw her glistening moisture, just below her neatly trimmed pussy. He licked his lips in anticipation, his taste buds ready to match her flavor to her scent. Watching her face, he lowered his head until his lips were just above the moisture. The heat of her rose, greeting his face. Grant paused, inhaled a deep breath, taking the essence of her scent deep within him, allowing it to permeate his spirit.

Chelsea bit down on her lower lip. He could hear her heart, beating a pulse that matched his own. She held her breath. Now her pulse pounded in his ears.

Grant lowered his head a fraction of an inch and blew a gust of warm air on her lips, teasing them. Her legs quivered, her folds moving with her shiver. He put the tip of his tongue at the top of her slit, then, burrowing in, he sought out her button, ready to give his full attention to her clit.

Spreading her legs open further with his fingertips, he licked her clit, then sucked it in, alternately flicking and sucking while the nub swelled beneath his attention. Another quiver ran through her lower body.

He cupped her entrance with his mouth, sucking one lip in then another, releasing them with a loud pop. She gasped. Her hands tangled in his hair as she shoved her hips upward in a violent thrust.

Restraint be damned. Slipping his hands beneath her rounded ass, he pushed her upward, shoving his tongue deep within her, plunging it in and out.

Chelsea arched her back, screamed his name, and tightened her thighs around his head.

He kept his mouth pinned to her pussy, his tongue spearing her channel while she came into his mouth, on his face.

C
helsea’s muscles spazzed
. Her legs quivered. Grant raised his head, his face and mouth wet and shiny with her moisture, the product of their shared passion. His gaze was penetrating, looking straight into her core. She turned her head, unable to hold up under the intensity of the smoldering behind his eyes.

She felt him moving over her, his body covering hers. He pressed his lips to hers in a light kiss. Parting her lips, she tasted herself on his tongue, tasted the pleasure he’d given her.

Grant rose up a fraction. “I knew you’d be delicious.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re everything I thought you’d be.”

Drowsy, maybe a little bit from whatever Jeff had given her, she nuzzled against him, tucking her head against his neck.
Safe
. This was a new emotion for her, a very unfamiliar one, but at the same time, it felt like she had finally come home. Only one thought plagued her mind—Mae. What would she do about Mae and Grant? Was there a Mae and Grant?