Kodiak Moment: An Alpha Werebear Paranormal Shifter Romance (The Arcadia Knights Book 2) (2 page)

T
he Ural decided
to mysteriously die the next day ten miles off the main road.

Normally, this would involve a lot of cursing, kicking of tires, and generally ruin a day. However, the Northern gods seemed to have, aside from the Sidecar of Doom, smiled on Abby’s journey today. The sun was shining and blue skies dominated the horizon, a rare occurrence this far north, even in the midst of summer. The path she’d found was narrow but hard-pack dirt that was easy to ride over. It took her up alongside the foothills, and gave her a view that was to die for of the arctic valley below.

As breakdown spots went, it was definitely among the more righteous.

Abby pushed the rig off to the side of the road, setting a makeshift “parking break” by tying a bit of velcro around the front brake lever. Then she pulled her backpack from the sidecar, slung the Nikon around her neck, and started hiking down the road. The weather was also much less cold than it had been lately and, debating with herself for a moment (weather this far north tended to change at the drop of a hat), she left her riding jacket atop the rig but took the down liner. Stuffing two bottled waters into her pack and grabbing a few breakfast bars just in case, she started hiking up the road. She didn’t intend to go far, just a short scouting trip to find anything interesting, then back to set up camp and start troubleshooting the bike.

Bits of dirty white snow still lay in the lower areas beside the road, spots that didn’t get much light during the day. Despite the sun, the weather never really grew truly warm this far north. Certainly not as warm as the California town Abby had grown up in. She’d put up with hundred-plus day summers for years, so to have an August where temperatures rarely reached far above sixty degrees was heavenly.

She’d gotten in much better shape since starting her journey six months ago. Driving the sidecar rig definitely required more upper body strength, especially over these northern bumpy roads. Abby had also started walking more, exploring the various destinations she found on foot. Hiking had never been one of her hobbies, although Abby did it when she had to. She’d never really been motivated to climb mountains, or go down roads she couldn’t take with a car.

Funny how heartbreak had really changed her life in so many ways. She should thank James for that when she saw him next, right after she popped him in the mouth.

The extra weight and love handles hadn’t come off as readily as she’d hoped, but she no longer grew winded on long walks, or sweat as much as she used to do with any exercise. Her body still had more than its share of curves, and she was trying to eschew years of conditioning and love herself as is. On days like this, when she could walk and walk along the dirt trails, it was easy to feel pride in herself; she was doing things most people would never get a chance to do.

Like Brad and his little hipster group. Jack back in the Black Horse bar had been just like her ex in so many ways, which made Abby want to puke.

God, what had she ever seen in the boy. But thinking about him just made her want to punch something, so she pushed both men out of her mind and simply enjoyed the view.

As Abby got further down the road, she became convinced that Fate had caused her sidecar to break down. It narrowed down to a path, then even further to something more for hikers. There was no way she could get the sidecar through here, so it was just as well it had been left behind. She kept going however, too enthralled with the views to turn back now.

The path curved upwards, heading toward the hills. It was definitely man made, if not perfectly maintained. Parts of the trail were cut out of the hillside, leaving a flat wall face on one side and a sharp drop-off on the other. Heights didn’t rank well on Abby’s list of favorite things, but it was early yet so she kept going, interested to see where it led.

From here, she had a near one-eighty degree view of the valley below, and took a moment to snap a few pictures. Off in the distance, she could see dark shapes moving across the tundra, but couldn’t tell from this distance what kind of animals they were. So far on this trip she’d seen just about everything, from moose to grizzlies, although she hadn’t gotten any pictures of the latter. Maybe if she’d brought her telephoto lens she could see what it was, but for now it didn’t matter. There would be other opportunities.

There were hoof prints in the ground as well as dirtbike tire tracks, and Abby wondered if she was walking up someone’s driveway. That made her pause. Most folks she met who made a living this far north did so to keep away from other people. The last thing she’d want is for somebody to point a gun in her direction.

She clipped a larger rock with her toe, stumbling sideways. The shallow cliffs that she’d been trying to ignore most of the hike were suddenly far too close for comfort. She pinwheeled her arms, desperately striving for balance…And that’s when she saw it.

The brush on the hill was sparse, and there was no way she could have missed the giant bear if she hadn’t been avoiding looking straight down the embankment. It couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away, and seemed to be interested in something on the ground. Its back was facing Abby, but she froze in place at the sight, heart racing.

Ohhhh, boy.

She couldn’t see what it was focused on, and at that moment didn’t particularly care. Better its attention be diverted by something else than Abby herself. Taking a ragged breath, she took a careful step backwards, only to freeze again when the animal’s nose went into the air. The faintest of breezes touched her, but Abby couldn’t tell what direction it came from.

Then that huge head turned, and Abby was staring face to face with a giant Kodiak bear.

Before she’d left Portland, Abby had read up on all the wildlife she’d find up this direction. Some species were easy enough to identify, but there were many different types of deer, for example, that made their home in the frozen tundra. There were also quite a few predators, both large and small, including several types of bear. Polar bears were obvious; black bears were smaller with more streamlined heads; grizzlies had a more concave skull above the muzzle and that little white patch between their front legs.

And Kodiaks? Well, they were
huge.

That simple descriptor certainly fit the bear Abby was staring at. It was massive, even from this distance. When it turned, she finally got a glimpse of what it had been working on, and immediately identified a large moose antler sticking up off the ground.

Wonderful. She’d interrupted it while it was feeding.

Could her luck get any worse?

The bear cocked its head sideways, studying her. Despite the danger, Abby’s fingers itched to pick up the camera hanging around her neck. The only predators she’d managed to photograph on her northern travels had been one small Arctic fox when she’d been in Alaska. It hadn’t even turned out well since she’d had to use the telephoto lens in low light.

Of course, any picture she took now would probably turn out beautiful. Too bad she’d be too
dead
to appreciate it.

A breeze picked up, ruffling Abby’s hair and sending her scent straight toward the big creature. The bear hadn’t moved, still staring straight at her, but even from this distance she heard the big sniff it took.

Oh yeah. I’m so dead.

Somehow, realizing that fact made it easier to appreciate the moment. The animal really was gorgeous, with thick caramel fur and a lighter muzzle. Darkness tapered around its nose and eyes, accentuating its features. The ears seemed small amidst the mass of fur, and were pointed right toward Abby.

Center of attention for a giant wild bear. Woo.

The camera hanging around her neck felt heavy as Abby took one step back, then another. The Kodiak stayed in place, but tracked her movements with its giant head. On impulse, Abby lifted the camera a few inches off her chest and clicked a picture, not caring to try and line things up.

Cocking its head to the side again, the bear leaned to one side, shifting itself around to fully face Abby. She froze in place, then her eyes widened as it sat on its rump and raised one ginormous paw into the air, dark palm facing her. Clicking another picture of the strange sight, Abby paused for a moment then, hoping it didn’t hurt her chances of survival, lifted her own hand in similar greeting.

The bear danced from side to side, seemingly pleased with her response. It was cute watching him, until it stood up on four feet, shaking off the blood and grass that clung to his fur. Abby sucked in a breath, tensing to start running, no matter how fruitless that notion might be.

One serving of bear food, coming up.

It took one step in her direction then stopped, head whipping off to the side. Something had gotten its attention, but Abby wasn’t going to wait around any longer. Maybe it would forget her in favor of its new distraction.

Fat chance.

Before she could even take two steps back down the trail however, the bear launched itself in her direction. It went from standstill to a sprint within half a heartbeat, and with a squeak Abby turned tail and fled down the trail, listening to the giant creature tear after her.

It gave an odd grunt, roaring like it was in pain, but Abby didn’t turn to look around. A crack like a far away gunshot split the air as she rounded a corner…and promptly lost her balance on the downhill slope. With a small scream, Abby went down, her hands skidding along the dirt, then over the side of the steep hill. There was no stopping her momentum; she toppled sideways, rolling off the trail, her world spinning as the giant bear stared down after her.

T
he moose wasn't
the bear's kill, but that didn't stop him from claiming it anyway.

It hadn't been dead very long, and was delicious to the starving predator. The bear had been without food for too long, its meandering path taking it past uneaten reserves of food for days now. No matter that its body had fat stores enough for a very long winter's slumber; his stomach still begged for food, clenching when it went without for any length of time. Had the bear been any less hungry and thinking like its former self, he might have thought the carcass was too perfect, that it was either a trap or, perhaps, put in its way for a reason.

But bears didn't believe in those kinds of things. They believed in what they saw, in what they smelled, and this kill was fresh and
his
. It would fight to the death to keep others from his meal, at least until it had eaten its fill.

The recent journey had been restless, filled with confusion and an odd yearning. The bear had been moving on instinct, unsure what it was following. Instinct had always been its guide, even now when it was outside its usual territory. Some instincts, however, had been pushed back, like preparation for the winter stores. It was not lean by any means, but it usually had more bulk this time of season.

Which the bear was remedying now with the moose, then it would continue the journey.

A breeze picked up, bringing with it a variety of smells. Chewing on a particularly delicious morsel, the bear lifted its head and sniffed the air, taking an accounting of what was nearby. The wind brought with it hints of far off threads, foodstuffs, and other interesting tidbits. It was good at reading the air and always knew its surroundings; that was how it navigated, how it lived. Even though the bear had little in the way of enemies, it liked to always know what was around.

The wind shifted, coming from behind him. A strong scent wafted across its nose, much closer than anticipated. The bear stopped eating, lifting its muzzle to taste the wind. That sweet, familiar scent, stronger than ever, graced its senses. He’d crossed the tundra to follow this smell, and…

It whuffed, dropping the large morsel in its hands. The moose leg rolled into the nearby bushes, disappearing into the underbrush, but the bear didn’t care. Lifting its nose again to taste the air, it looked around it before turning around.

A human female stood on the ledge above, staring down at him wide-eyed. She was small, even by human standards, dressed in that removable fur that humans wore and animal skins that protected their soft feet. Fear radiated off the female, but the bear didn’t care right then, too interested in examining her. She was soft, thicker than most of the other human females the bear had met; there were winter stores already beneath her skin, and the bear approved.

I like curves.

The bear snorted at the long forgotten voice in its head. It liked thicker females too, although for a different reason than the being in his head that was very slowly waking up.

Mine.

Ours. The bear didn’t like to share, but he had no use for a human female, no matter how sweet she smelled.

Greet her. Say hello.

Memories flooded in, ones that the bear had purposely forgotten because they were deemed unnecessary. The bear had watched humans before, seen their greeting rituals. Their sense of smell gave them limited ways of communication; everything had to be line of sight as far as it could tell.

Not quite.

The bear shook its head, whuffling softly. That voice was growing stronger, fighting for control the bear didn't feel like relinquishing.

Something clicked, a foreign, metallic sound that grabbed their attention. The female scent still tasted of fear, but there was curiosity too. A tiny box hanging from her neck made the clicking noise again, and the bear huffed.

Humans communicated with signs, yes? It leaned over, lifting one paw into the air, and was rewarded, after a pause, with a similar action by the human. Pleased with its own efforts at communication being rewarded, it danced in place, leaning back and forth in the thick grass.

Then that presence deep inside the creature, familiar and yet nearly forgotten, rose up again, pushing for dominance. The bear fought back, not willing to relinquish the control it had exercised for many summers.

She’s human, she fears the bear.

Indeed, the stench of fear spiked again as they stood up, engaging in an internal battle. The bear roared at its inner attacker, but the other presence was relentless, assuming control little by little from the unwilling creature.

The breeze kicked up again, coming from a new direction and carrying a new scent they both recognized. The fighting stopped, both tasting the wind. Metal, oil, and the subtle tang of sweat.

Hunters.

Protect her!

The bear couldn’t tell which half of it thought those words, but it didn’t matter since, right at that moment, they both wanted the same thing. They barely managed a single step however when a bullet tore into the bear’s shoulder, ripping through fat and muscle. It gave a grunt of pain as the sound of a gunshot rang from the valley. One or both of the sounds jarred the human female, however, who turned tail and began racing down the trail.

No!

The bear agreed, and took off after the female. Humans were so slow when it came to running; she had a head start, but wasn’t as fast as the bear.

Almost there…

Then the girl stumbled, falling sideways straight toward the ledge. Panic lit the bear’s heart, and it gave a roar of rage and helplessness as she toppled over the edge, disappearing off of the road.

There was another whistle through the air nearby, and a crack rang out across the range once more. Someone was still shooting at him, but the bear…

Logan. Its name was Logan.

But Logan ignored the bullets, diving over the edge and following the girl down into the ravine. The bullet was still inside his body, but it was a minor irritation. Perhaps if it had been silver, there may have been a problem, but the small lead bullet barely registered, and his body would push it out eventually. The entrance wound was already healing, but, right at that moment, Logan didn’t care about the hole in his shoulder. He needed to get to the human girl, she was his only priority.

Mate.

The thought was accompanied with a desperate moan. He needed to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and fix her if she was.

The bear skidded down the embankment, gravel and rocks sliding under its feet. He sat back on his haunches, controlling the slide, until he was near the girl. Almost immediately, he began to whine, because he knew all was not well.

One arm was obviously broken, the bone pressing jaggedly against the inside of the skin. The side of her head was bloodied, and one leg was twisted the wrong way. Carefully climbing over her, Logan-the-bear leaned in close to her face to feel for breath, to hear a heartbeat.

Nothing.

Panic immediately set in, the bear desperate to help but not knowing what to do. Its mate was hurt, possibly dying. A savage roar shook him, voicing every regret and failure to keep her safe.

Let me out. I can help.

It was a command, but the bear could hear the truth echoed in the words. The voice was an old friend, one the bear remembered but couldn’t quite recognize. Right then, however, it didn’t matter; if it said it could help, and the bear knew that to be truth, he’d let it have control.

The Shift felt strange, a skill it had forgotten they possessed. Fur receded, skin paling and body shrinking as legs and arms elongated. It wasn’t painless, and yet the familiarity seemed to solidify that bond once more. Then a human male was standing on its legs, naked in the chilly arctic wind.

Logan looked around, blinking his eyes and readjusting to the new sensations. His fur was gone, as were his claws. The only covering he had was on his face, head, and genital area. As tempted as he was to assess everything, the body at his feet’s scent immediately drew his attention.

Save her.

The bear’s voice, unique in its own right, echoed through Logan’s head before receding again. He knelt down, picking up her arm and checking one last time for a pulse. Then he allowed his teeth to elongate and sharpen, bent over, and bit into the skin of her forearm.

The woman didn’t move, made no indication she felt the pain. Her eyes were closed, and Logan hoped she was merely unconscious and not… His brain balked at the idea, and with a quick lick to the wound he’d made, he picked up her other arm and repeated the gesture. Then once again near her collarbone, above one breast. Her blood flowed, sluggish but moving, and Logan dared to hope.

The woman’s breath came with a shuddering gasp, her eyes opening wide. She scrabbled at him feebly for a moment, the pain and confusion in her gaze tearing at Logan’s heart. Then her eyes rolled back once again and she slumped back to the ground unconscious.

Logan leaned his ear against her chest, pressing between her breasts to listen. Her heart beat hard once, paused, then started into a steady staccato that made his shoulders sag with relief.

She’d live.

He gathered her into his arms, quickly assessing the damage. Her bad arm was already swelling, the broken area limp and pliant in a way limbs weren’t meant to be. Grabbing each side of the break, he pulled them apart then set them where they were supposed to meet, and looked for materials to use as a splint. A bush nearby had thick branches, but he held her arm in place for another moment before letting go. The bone had already begun to knit by then, but he still held them secure with one hand as he broke off branches with the other.

Her slight overcoat was used as wrapping for the splint, tying the arms together to keep it from unraveling. Her leg was less problematic, merely a dislocated hip that moved easily back into its socket with a meaty pop; he was glad she was unconscious for this part. Only when she was situated did he finally sit back to assess their situation.

They needed shelter, preferably a place to stay that didn’t have hunters. The bear’s meandering path, on reflection, didn’t seem so random; Logan recognized this area, and knew where they might get help.

Provided, of course, that help still lived there. Not everybody lasted out on the Arctic tundra for the long haul.

Carefully picking the girl up, Logan climbed the steep embankment easily back to the road. He didn’t feel like showing his new self to the hunters who’d shot him, so crossed the narrow path and entered the brush on that side, making a beeline toward the cabin at the end of the world.