Bite of the Moon: Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance Boxed Set (47 page)

When he reached the highway, he raced past the turnout on his way to the trailhead. The sugary scent of sun-warmed honeycomb brought him to a halt. He sniffed the air, salivating. Where did the honey come from? There had not been a bees’ nest near the turnout when he’d passed this way yesterday.

Following his nose, he headed toward the ravine. There were still scars dug into the ground where the heavy crane had been braced against the boulders to retrieve Andi’s wrecked SUV. Glancing over the side of the road, he saw a line of bear-shaped cookies set like sentinels around a boulder. A smoky scent greeted his nose as well. He climbed over the edge to investigate. His boots landed on a flat-topped rock. There he saw the group of offerings. He leaned closer to inspect a marching line of bears and saw wedged between the rocks a stack of dried meat set beside a box of glossy honeycomb. It looked delicious and he almost snatched it from its hiding place. The entire area had Andi’s distinctive scent all over it. She’d left gifts for the bear. Her affectionate gesture filled him with so much hope he wanted to shout for joy. Instead, he reverently broke a gingerbread bear in half and tucked the souvenir into his pocket.

Then the envelopes gained his attention. They were pale rice paper bundled together with jute. With care, he slid a single envelope from the stack and opened it. The handwriting was neat and feminine. Andi had beautiful penmanship. He scanned the page, at first confused by the content, but soon realized he was reading poetry directed at the bear. His gaze skimmed the lines that read like an abstract confession of lust and fear.

Conflicted, he froze. He had not been invited to read this personal glimpse into Andi’s thoughts, but he was grateful to know how she felt. Then an irrational touch of jealousy welled. She’d presented him with a bottle of good scotch and some pasta, which he loved, but she’d offered the bear her heart and soul. There were at least six envelopes in the stack. With misplaced envy bedeviling him, he reached for the poems, planning to open each envelope and read them all.

“No.” He didn’t feel good about snooping behind her back, and returned the envelopes to their sheltered niche. These were private sentiments between Andi and his bear. If she had something similar to say to him, he hoped she’d say it to his face, preferably while pressed against him and gazing into his eyes.

Rising, he stepped away from the spot made sacred by Andi’s loving presence. The ultimate prize awaited him farther up the trail. With evening coming, he couldn’t leave her on the mountain alone.

He climbed back onto the road and walked a quarter mile to the portal trail, which wound in zigzagging switchbacks toward the summit. The path was shaded by pines and clearly marked. Any hiker of moderate skill could make good time. A light drizzle the night before had left the clay path impressionable. A far daintier pair of boots than his had pressed a distinct hearts, clubs, and diamonds pattern into the damp ground.

Every now and then, he caught a faint whiff of her. Sometimes it was a mere hint of scent left on a branch she had brushed against, or on a patch of wild flowers she’d stopped to admire. He imagined what the trail must look like through her eyes. Was she enjoying the cloudless vistas, or wondering if she’d taken on more than she could handle? He had no idea. More relevant, when he caught up to her, would she be happy to see him or peeved at his intrusion? The farther he walked, the more apprehensive he got.

The trail grew steeper and made a sharp turn. On the west face, Mac had a clear view ahead. Moving fast and breathing hard, he gazed across a rugged gorge and miles of twisting trail. Andi remained nowhere in sight. He’d expected to see her immediately. Where was she? His keen gaze scanned the landscape. Thankfully, there were no bodies in plain sight, nor were there shrieking ravens circling above. He worried that by now she would be nearing exhaustion and barely trudging.

Then a speck of red on the distant horizon caught his eye. He paused to remove his binoculars from the top pocket of the pack. Squinting, he honed in on the moving object. On a sun-drenched slope on the farthest edge of the western face, he saw her. He was shocked to see how far she had traveled. She marched at a brisk clip, back straight, chin held high, and would soon be nearing the north face switchback where she would move beyond view.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He slipped the binoculars back into the pack, zipped it, and broke into a sprint. “I’m going to keep my eyes on you.” Grunting like an angry bear, he sped along the trail, but soon had to admit he was tiring. Andi had made good progress by anyone’s standards. It both impressed and worried him. Now faster and stronger, she’d gone she-bear on him. The closer he got, the weaker his willpower would get. He raced toward personal folly, and he’d doomed Andi. He’d been snared in the ultimate no-win situation.

If he maintained a runners’ pace, Mac might catch up to Andi within an hour. His lungs ached just thinking about it. Then again, Andi might stop to make camp. He prayed she would. It would give him a chance to ease up and get himself under control so he didn’t race up on her at nightfall, panting like a wild man.

Putting one boot in front of the other, he pounded along at a steady gait. As the trail got even steeper, he slowed. Andi disappeared from view around a bend. The sun skimmed the ridgeline. The sky turned peach, and purple shadows were cast over the trail. He didn’t have time to stop and fully appreciate the panoramic beauty of a spring sunset on the Sierras. Choosing each step with care, he plodded forward.

Then, in a soft patch of dirt on the side of the trail, he saw them. Bear prints, big ones belonging to a bull. “Goddamn!”

The animal had clawed the ground to hoist its great bulk up the steep side of the canyon and traversed the trail at several points. The heavy scent of male musk hung in the air. Following the prints, he saw the bear had chosen to climb back down the canyon wall and take a shortcut along the western slope.

Obviously, the bear had caught Andi’s scent and now tracked her.

Mac braced for a disastrous game of beat-the-clock against another male bear. “Andi!” He burst into a sprint. All exhaustion fled as his heart jackhammered inside his ribs. “Andi!” He shouted her name even though he knew there was no way in hell his voice could carry the length of the gorge. At that moment, he hated himself for biting her and putting her in such danger. He’d been foolish to believe the she-bear in her would stay put in the city. He should have guessed she’d want to roam in the wild.

Halfway to the goal, his stamina faded. Slowing, he wished he could take a short break. Just below the trail, he heard a loud
snort
. He glanced over the edge to the canyon below. Upwind of him, a large black bear ambled across a debris field of slate and shrubbery. The bear paused to sniff the air and then climbed the grade and scrambled back onto the trail. For a moment, the bear looked his way and stared, as if it were assessing the competition. Perhaps sensing a threat, the bear turned its back to him and broke into a lope, headed in Andi’s direction.

“You bastard!” He took off running. The race was on. The bear disappeared around the bend.

Chapter Six

Andi arrived on the north face, took one look at the jagged, bald peak above, and called it a day. Here, the trail had widened just enough to lay down a sleeping bag. Even better, as the guidebook had promised, an icy waterfall of freshly melted snow trickled over the rocks. This would be a good place to make camp.

She slipped the pack from her aching shoulders and stretched. Surprised she had done so well today, she sighed with relief. Even Mr. CrossFit would have been impressed. The obsessive stair climbing she’d been doing daily had really paid off. After the longest hike of her life, miraculously she wasn’t sore; though she suspected that could change by morning. Overall, she was proud. She’d pushed beyond her comfort zone, done something new, and it felt great. The view of the world from atop the Sierras at sunset thrilled her.

Too bad Mac wasn’t with her to make the moment over-the-top fabulous.

The temperature dropped. She unzipped her pack, grabbed a second polar-fleece hoodie, and slipped it over her head.  Then she took out her water bottle with the built-in filter and patiently filled it at the waterfall. Priming the pump, she gave the plunger several energetic strokes. The water in the drinking container appeared crystal clear, but the filter guaranteed any unfriendly bugs wouldn’t be invited to the party in her lower GI tract.

Flipping the top of the bottle open, she brought it to her lips and took a long drink. The water was so cold it gave her a brain freeze, but so delicious after her challenging afternoon march that she luxuriated in the feeling.

Her stomach grumbled. She set her rolled sleeping bag on the ground and used it as a seat as she dug through the pack for the double-sealed food sack. Once it was located, she unzipped it and pulled out carefully rationed bags of shelled nuts, dried fruit, her favorite tiny round cheeses dipped in red wax, and, the star of the show, bacon jerky. She grabbed a piece of jerky first. The smoky flavor made her mouth water. Untrue to its name, this jerky wasn’t dry. The texture was soft, chewy, salty, and sweet at the same moment, and so rich it melted in her mouth.

“When I buy the Bluebell Motor Lodge, I’m going to put this in every welcome basket in every room.” As she chewed, she dreamed of quitting Five-Star and going independent. “I could do this. I could live like this.” She laughed at her mumblings. “Listen to that rant! What the hell has gotten into me?”

After finishing the jerky, she unzipped the wax jacket from a mini round of cheese. The gouda was creamy and had a slight bite to it. The snacks hit the spot. She checked to see that the Belgian chocolate bar she’d stashed in the pack had not melted; it hadn’t.

The sky turned a brilliant shade of ruby and bathed all the mountain ridges beneath with hot pink. Her mother came to mind. The breathtaking moment was so beautiful she stared, with warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She gave into a hard cry, complete with wet gurgling sounds. It occurred to her this was what her mother had always wished to share with her—nature, the splendor of the mountains, a drink of pure water—but she’d been too disinterested or busy striving to get her career established to ever make the outdoors her thing. She’d been such a fool.

Situations changed. It wasn’t too late. Digging to the bottom of the pack, she retrieved a small box that contained a portion of her mother’s ashes. Looking into the scarlet sunset, she knew the perfect moment had arrived.

She stood and walked to the edge of the chasm. Opening the lid, she shook the ashes into the air. They shifted on the breeze like a foggy veil before sinking. “I love you, Mom. You’ll always be with me. Especially today.”

A grunt caught her attention. She turned. A bear lumbered along the path, headed toward her pack. With its head raised, the creature sniffed the air. It
snorted
as drool poured from its mouth.

She froze in overwhelmed awe. “Oh, God,” she muttered. “What do I do?” Standing on the widest part of the trail, at no point did she have more than five yards between a chasm and a cliff. Short of outrunning a bear, which she doubted she could do, she was trapped. With her pulse pounding, she slowly backed against an outcropping.

The bear ignored her and stuck its head inside her pack to root around. It gobbled food, plastic bags and all.

With great restraint, she stopped herself from shouting at the bear, and instead allowed it to plunder her pack. Folding her arms across her chest to make herself look small, she remained still. Could this be her bear, the one that had saved her? Perhaps she had nothing to fear. As majestic as this creature was, she remembered “her” bear as being bigger, browner, and far more dignified, almost human in its behavior. This bear made slurping sounds as it shamelessly chowed down on her trail mix. Grunting, it tore into a foil packet.

“Not the bacon jerky!” She had finally reached her limit. “Leave me something.”

Snarling, the bear turned on her with rubbery lips drawn and fangs bared. The bloodcurdling sight made her quail.

It took hold of her pack, shook it hard, and then flung the pack into the chasm.

“No!” she screamed as the pack arced high into the air and then plummeted from view.  Everything she needed to survive the night disappeared over the edge. “Why?”  Despair washed over her.

The bear focused its attention on her. Its nostrils dilated and sniffed in her direction. Something about the intense gleam in its eyes added to her worries that the bear’s interest wasn’t only in the contents of her pack. In a display of dominance, it reared onto its hind legs and released an ominous bellow. When its front paws smacked the dirt, it charged toward her with the explosive power of a speeding freight train.

“Oh, shit!” She stumbled a few faltering steps then ran, but trying to outrun a bear was like racing a lightning bolt. In several bounds, the creature caught up with her and pawed her ankles. She tripped and hit the ground hard.  In an instant, the bear stooped over her with its moist breath bathing her face. Drawing her limbs close, she curled into a ball.

With a clumsy step, the bear straddled her and snuffled its wet muzzle against her clothing. Locked between its forepaws, she whimpered and waited for the worst to happen. She tried to mutter a prayer, but instead, ended up holding her breath.

A booming growl warned her that a second bear had joined the first. It loped around the bend and paused to survey the scene.

Numb with terror, she noticed this bear was the size of a grizzly, shaggier than the black bear, with a broader head. Fiery menace glowed in its eyes. It snarled at the sleeker black bear, showing curved canines and switchblade-length claws.

The thought of being torn to ribbons between two warring bears made her gut lurch. She rolled out of the way to avoid being crushed by the quarreling giants.

Standing on its hind legs, the grizzly roared so loudly the canyon rang.

With a submissive whimper, the black bear stepped away from her with its muzzle lowered and its ears flattened against its skull.

The grizzly dropped to all fours, making the ground tremble. Swinging its wrecking ball of a head, it stormed forward and pounced, becoming airborne. With ease, the titan overtook its opponent, landing on the black bear’s haunches. The helpless smaller animal was shoved onto its side.

With a threatening growl and fangs flashing, the grizzly clung to the scruff of its enemy while forcing it to submit.

The whites of the black bear’s eyes showed. A pathetic high-pitched squeal whistled through its muzzle.

In a move that surprised her, the grizzly released its captive.

The black bear hobbled onto all fours, coat matted and stumpy tail tucked. With its shoulders hunched, it cowered. Whimpering softly, it scooted backward.

Subdued sounds of power, like the rumble of a diesel engine, rose from deep in the grizzly’s chest. A dismissive snort sent the vanquished one fleeing. The smaller bear scampered down the trail, continually glancing over its shoulder with frightened eyes.

The grizzly turned to face her.

In the fading light, it appeared to be a hulking silhouette against a red sky. With her back to a boulder, she lifted her hands. “Don’t,” she pleaded.

Padding to the edge of the trail, the grizzly gazed down. A moment later, it descended into the chasm and disappeared from view. The sounds of claws striking slate and shifting gravel echoed.

Astonished by the events, she remained immobile with shaking limbs. Now what? A hollow, cold feeling made her fingertips tingle and provided early warning she was slipping into shock. She considered gathering a few scattered items from the ground and attempting to hike back to the highway in the dark, but she didn’t trust her legs to remain solid beneath her. The thought of spending an entire night exposed to the elements and vulnerable to another bear attack brought dread. Lucky animal spirit or not, a double bear encounter was too much.

Another loud grunt alerted her that the bear had returned. Marshaling the last of her strength, she leaped to her feet, ready to kick, punch, and claw—anything but go down without a fight.

The grizzly’s massive snout was the first thing to peer over the side of the trail. What amazed her was the sight of her pack held gingerly in its jaws. It grasped the pack with care, as if aware the objects inside were precious. Using its claws, it hoisted its bulk onto the trail, strolled toward her, and dropped the pack at her feet. Then the beast stepped back and looked at her with bright eyes.

“Thank you,” she blurted.

The bear nodded and dipped low on bended forepaws to bow.

The gesture was so gallant and unexpected. “No way. You do not understand English.”

A bellowing snort cut through the air. The bear nodded again.

She gasped. “You do understand English?”

The bear offered a curt nod.

“If you understand my question, raise your right forepaw.”

One big paw, as wide as a dinner plate, lifted.

“Well, hell! What a clever creature. Be honest, am I going to end up grizzly poop?”

With an enthusiastic shake of its head, the bear denied it.

“Are you sure you’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”

Another dismissive huff burst free of the bear.

“A talking bear?” Placing her hands on her head, she groaned. “I think I’m finally riding the crazy train.”

A rude wet sound sputtered past the bear’s lips.

“Does that reaction mean you don’t think this is crazy?”

The bear shook its head with a growl.

“Of course you don’t see anything odd about this situation because you’re a freaking bear.”

With a shrug of its massive shoulders, the grizzly then turned and wandered over to the trickling waterfall and lapped a drink with its long tongue.

Watching from a few yards away, she realized she didn’t feel the least bit threatened. “You’ve got to be the same bear that saved me from the car wreck.”

A juicy
snort
crossed the thirsty animal’s lips.

“I’m in your territory, right?”

The bear’s muzzle went up and down so fast it flicked droplets of water all over her.

“Watch what you’re doing! You’re worse than a wet dog shaking after a bath.”

Turning its back to her, the grizzly continued to drink.

While the creature seemed distracted, she knelt and dug her hand deep into the pack. A sealed foil packet of bacon jerky that the black bear had missed came to hand. She opened it, releasing a delicious whiff of smoky fragrance. “Every guidebook and every sign in every national park warns hikers not to feed the bears. So why am I doing something so stupid?”

The grizzly swung its head to the side and looked over its shoulder with nostrils pumping.

“That’s right.” She sprinkled the jerky on the ground and backed away. “You’ve saved me twice. This is a reward. Thank you.”

Taking slow steps, the bear padded toward her and nibbled the treats off the ground, making happy sounds as it gobbled. Once it finished, the grizzly lifted its head and looked at her with an eerily frank expression. Something about the set of the eyes or the direct gaze reminded her of Mac.

The bear made grumbly sounds and the set of its mobile lips could almost be described as a smile.

She thought it odd that California reportedly had no grizzlies and questioned if this bear might be someone’s released-into-the-wild ex-pet. That would explain the creature’s ease with humans. No doubt there was a mystery here. “You liked the bacon jerky, didn’t you?”

Releasing a whistling
snort
, the bear nodded. This time, with its lips pulled back, it definitely appeared to be smiling.

“Of course you liked it. It’s safe to say all omnivores like bacon.” Reaching forward, she did the unthinkable. With her hand trembling, she stroked the thick fur beneath the powerful jaws. “Hello, friendly, huge, towering bear with daggerlike fangs.”

The bear wiggled its ears as if encouraging her to give its coat a firm scratch.

“I know you’re dangerous as shit, but you’re adorable when you do that.”

With the sun sinking, the temperature dropped. She patted her arms. Two layers of polar fleece wasn’t going to be enough now that night had arrived. “I don’t suppose you’d consider being on your way so I can make camp?” The thought of unfurling her sleeping bag, making a lot of noise, and then climbing inside and presenting herself to the grizzly as a human burrito didn’t seem wise. “I don’t suppose you’d allow me to light a camp stove, would you?”