Clawed: Wild Things, Book 3 (3 page)

A second later he assumed the position he had before, and she forgot her questions. She wouldn’t have thought it possible for anything to be more alluring than his body, but she was wrong. If she’d believed in mythology, she would’ve sworn a god from Mount Olympus had chiseled his face from stone. And then, upon completion, the deity had placed eyes in his face so piercing that she could see the intensity in them from yards away. A smile lifted the corners of his lips, softening his face. Instead of making him seem less manly, the expression only served to increase the power in his face. Here was nature personified in human form. If she could draw him and show his vitality, his magnetism, his raw essence, she would be capturing rugged beauty itself. She retrieved her pencil and started sketching again.

Her pencil flew over the pad. The fear that either the man would stalk away or she’d realize it was all a mirage that would vanish into thin air propelled her urgency. First his face formed on her paper—albeit hardly doing justice to the masculinity of his features—then she glanced up, ready to take in the rest of him.

His chest, tanned and smooth, was broad and barreled, reminding her of a professional wrestler. His dark nipples were brown boulders set on top of a mountainside. Strong ribs called for her to skim her fingers along them, then move on to ridge after ridge of his glorious abdomen. She studied his body like the artwork it was, examining the angles, the curves, the complex structures combining to become the simplicity of his form. She tucked her head again and drew.

Praying that the vision hadn’t disappeared, she dared to lift her gaze. Once again, she started from his head and traveled downward, revising her sketch as she went along until, at last, she gasped at the width and length of him. Like every other part of his body, his cock was impossibly strong-looking and long.

If that’s how he looks without an erection… Oh, my.
She shook away the torrid thought, intent on making him come alive on paper. He was superb, a marvel of wilderness and mankind rolled into one incredible form, and she couldn’t let herself get sidelined with sex-filled fantasies. But damn, what amazing fantasies they would be!

All at once his image blurred, and she cursed her overindulgence of alcohol. She rubbed her eyes, then looked again and squinted. The man’s image grew blurrier and his body appeared to change, covering the hardness of bone and flesh, and adding
…
fur? Her jaw dropped and her hand skidded the pencil across the page, scoring a black mark from one end to the other.

The man before her was changing into something else. Something even larger than he was, wider, bulkier, with brown fur spreading over his body to replace flesh and hair. She gawked, unable to believe her eyes, unable to look away. His face was gone and instead a large snout sprouted with a black nose at the end and long, ferocious fangs extended from his mouth. His long, muscular arms changed, growing shorter, while his hands widened and produced sharp claws.

“Oh, my God!”

Still standing on two legs, the grizzly bear jerked his head up, stared straight at her and roared, the sound sending small animals scurrying through the woods. The huge bear dropped to all fours, splashing water high into the air as he lumbered onto the shore. Chloe yelped, stumbled backward, and landed on her bottom. Her breath hitched in her throat and her stomach turned over in fear. Precious seconds ticked by as she stared at the massive creature, both terrified and awestruck by his ferocious splendor. At last, adrenaline flashed alive. Discarding her art, she scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as she could.

Chloe pushed through low-hanging tree branches and bushes, her heart caught in her throat, ready to feel giant claws raking down her back. She didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare stop, but raced on, her mind repeating one word over and over.
Run!

Sticking to the path leading back to the campsite, she no longer had breath to shout for help. Her pulse pounded in her ears and a stitch stuck her in the side, making her whimper, but she pushed on. The ground shook beneath her like a tornado thundering behind her, telling her of the monster’s proximity, and as though her mind had detached itself from her body, she wondered why he hadn’t already taken her down. Her calves tightened from the exertion, and scratches covered her legs and arms, but she ignored the stings of pain.

Then she tripped and fell.

She hit the ground, her hands keeping her from landing face-first in the dirt. She sprawled, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Dirt billowed up to coat her face and fill her nostrils. Stifling a cry, she curled into a fetal position, covered her head with her arms and closed her eyes.

Please don’t hurt me.

A giant shadow fell over her, blocking out the sunlight filtering through the forest. Warm breath floated over her as the animal placed his muzzle next to her skin, traveling in a slow move from her ankles to her back. He snorted once, then placed his nose against the nape of her neck. Chloe gritted her teeth against the scream wanting to break free, scrunched her eyes tighter and waited, certain that death was near.

Her cry did break out, however, when the beast laid a paw the size of a catcher’s mitt against her bare leg. He could have torn her to shreds, but he merely rested the paw on her leg—then shook her as gently as a mother would shake a sleeping child.

She held her breath, pretended to be dead and hoped he would believe her. Maybe if she was lucky, he’d already slaked his hunger with fish. If not… She shoved the horrifying outcome away, deliberately ridding her mind of any thought save her plea not to be hurt.

“Rrraar.”

She released her breath, startled by the sound even though the noise hadn’t sounded dangerous. Instead, the rising inflection at the end had made it sound almost like a question. She dared to look, peeking past the bend of her arm covering her face. Even with fear closing out everything else, she couldn’t help but admire him.

He was even bigger than she’d thought; an incredible hulk of an animal. The hump on his back identified him as a grizzly bear. Although his brown coat could have passed him for the local brown bear, there was no mistaking the large hump.

He moved, graceful for such a large creature, and placed his head near hers. Strange, amber eyes stared at her and she gasped, the shock of those intense eyes forcing her to react. Unable to tear her gaze from his, she looked into his eyes. She could see the intelligence in those golden depths and something more. Something that reminded her of…compassion.

Then he lowered his head, sniffed her again and nudged her with his nose. She remained as still as she could. A growl rolled deep in his throat, and with a shake of his head, he whirled around to race down the path toward the stream.

Chloe remained hunkered on the ground, her arms covering her head for several minutes. At last, the reemergence of the birds chirping in the trees gave her courage to sit up and look around. Other than the huge tracks covering the ground, she could see no sign of the bear.

She stayed where she was, almost afraid to move lest the beast returned. Gradually, however, her heartbeat slowed and she could breathe easier. She had a number of scratches on her body, and her palms were dirty and scraped, but although her skin was slashed with bright red streaks, the bleeding was minimal. Sighing, she closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks.

Conan, goose bumps prickling his bare skin, knelt beside the sketchpad and studied the drawing. The beautiful woman who had surprised him was a fine artist, capturing his likeness with a skill that brought the image to life. But her skill didn’t make the picture any less troubling.

“Damn stupid.”

She’d seen him shift and he’d recognized her expression of disbelief. A disbelief that had abruptly changed to alarm. He’d known she would run from him, but he hadn’t anticipated her blind terror, flinging herself through the woods with no regard for her safety, and he’d worried she’d injure herself. Seeing no alternative, he’d chased after her, knowing he increased her panic but unwilling to let her flee without making sure she reached her destination unharmed. Only after she’d fallen could he keep her there, huddled in fear, but giving her time to regain her senses.

However, the problem remained. She’d seen him change and he didn’t like it, especially since she could draw what she’d seen. He supposed he should be relieved that she hadn’t had a camera. But how could he handle this? Like most were-bears, he preferred to have little contact with humans. He could count on one hand the times a human had seen him shift and now, because he’d let his guard down, another one had.

His thoughts drifted and he remembered her scent. He lifted his hand to his nose and sniffed, extracting the aroma still lingering on his skin. Unable to resist, he’d pressed his nose against her and had taken a deep breath, forever committing her fragrance to memory. She smelled like a human, but her scent was different, more alluring…special.

And her skin. Her skin was softer than any female he’d ever touched. Oh, how he wished he could’ve slid his hand, instead of the rough pad of his paw, over her flesh. Her leg was firm, yet supple. She had a runner’s legs, not the soft fleshy legs some females had. He closed his eyes and could almost feel his paw sliding over the swell of her hips and along her side again. If he could have touched her breasts… But he hadn’t let himself go that far.

Conan tracked his fingers through his hair and groaned. He’d fought against the urge to stroke her lustrous hair, and somehow he’d denied the urge, knowing he would have frightened her more. Even in the filtered light of the woods, her brunette locks had shown their coppery highlights with glistening strands of blonde peeking through to tempt him. He clenched his fist, imagined taking the soft strands in his grasp, then letting them slip from between his fingers in a silky waterfall.

He blinked, his gaze falling to the drawing, and let out an exasperated sigh. One last look, then he would tear the page from her book, shredding it and scattering the pieces to the wind. Yes, she was good. Too good. But at least she hadn’t sketched his transformation from man to beast. He destroyed the image, placed the pencil on the sketchpad, and set it on top of a nearby rock next to the flask of liquor she’d left.

“Hmm. Now there’s something you don’t see very often. A naked guy with a sketchbook.” Billy Tyler, a were-coyote and Conan’s best friend, grinned at him and handed him his clothes. “I figured once I found your clothes, you couldn’t be far away.”

“Looks like you figured right.”

“Are you planning on inviting a lady friend back to the cave to see your sketches? Or have you enrolled in art classes in your spare time?”

Conan arched an eyebrow and looked down at his friend, his narrowed eyes pointedly staring at the smattering of freckles across his nose. Billy hated it when anyone stared at his freckles. He frowned and rubbed his nose.

“You aren’t as funny as you think you are.” Just to irritate him more, Conan ruffled Billy’s sandy hair and watched the irritation flare in his eyes.

Nonetheless, Billy was never far from another grin. “Tell me, man, where’d you get the drawing materials? It’s not as though we have an art store out here.” He cast him a sly smirk. “Conan, did you have a run-in with a human?”

“Never mind.”

Billy’s excitement was almost palpable. “You did, didn’t you? This after you told me a bullshit story about wanting to get away from both humans and your kind. You, my friend, answer the question everyone asks. Does a bear shit in the woods? Answer? Yeah, you sure do because you’re full of it.”

“Your mouth’s going to be full of my fist if you don’t shut up.” Conan growled, a warning that didn’t faze Billy.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on. Seriously, man, keep your pants
on
.” He chuckled at Conan’s menacing expression, then took in the pieces of paper scattered on the ground. “I guess you didn’t like the picture? What was wrong with it? Did he give you a four-pack instead of a six-pack?”

He knew he shouldn’t, but somehow he always ended up telling Billy the truth. “A woman dropped the pad.”

“A woman dropped it, huh? Like out of an airplane? Or did she just happen to walk by and thought this was a great place to leave her things?” Billy’s blue eyes zeroed in on him. “Or let me guess. She saw you fishing and took off, leaving everything to run screaming into the forest. Am I right? Shit. Did she catch you with your drawers off and your fur on?”

His friend was intelligent if nothing else. “I didn’t know she was there.” Conan strode away, making the shorter man take two steps to his one to keep up.

“Aw, hell. She did, didn’t she? So she saw you change, didn’t she? Why didn’t you check before you shifted?”

Billy was right, of course, but having it thrown back in his face wasn’t helping his mood. “I forgot, okay? I was fishing, enjoying my time alone, and I shifted.”

“So you just did it? Without making sure no one saw you? Tell me. How many times have you warned me against doing that exact same thing?”

Digging in his heels, Conan pivoted, catching Billy before he had a chance to escape. He grabbed him under the arms and lifted him, bringing Billy’s face close to his. “Yeah, I get it. I screwed up. But what’s done is done, so let it go.”

Thanks to a determination not to be as scrawny as most were-coyotes, Billy worked out, building up his physique. He broke Conan’s hold on him and dropped to the ground. “Relax. No harm, no foul.”

Conan grunted, scooped up the fish he’d left on the shore and stalked into the water to stride to the other side of the stream. No harm, no foul was right. Or at least he hoped so.

“So, man, what did she look like?” Billy followed him, squeezing the water from his shirt once they’d reached the shore, then danced around him, keeping up with Conan’s quick stride. “Was she hot?”

Conan shot him a look that would’ve deterred anyone else from asking questions, but not Billy. Although he had a temper, Conan would never harm anyone unless he was in danger. A fact Billy knew well.