Chapter 1
Beau
Every morning, a half hour before sunrise, when the sky is still dim and dawn is an orange strip on the horizon, is the time when I rouse my ass from my bed. Let my animal do the things it was designed to, without fear of scaring the hell out of the human race.
I bound out of bed, having slept deeply as always.
The peaceful sleep of the untroubled mind, as I like to say.
I yank open the door of my motorhome and inhale.
The sweet morning breeze fills my lungs, wafting in a feeling of hopefulness with it.
Not that I need to hope for anything. I’ve got everything I need right here, in my little mobile lair.
The abandoned supermarket parking lot where I’ve been holed up for the past couple of weeks is still shrouded in darkness, and there’s not another soul around. Just the way I like it.
I flick on my coffee machine, so my home will be full of the rich scent of java when I return, and I charge out into the breaking day.
No need for clothes as I stride to the river that runs alongside the lot.
The grassy bank is soft and dewy beneath my bare feet.
There’s a good spot where I can plunge right in without cracking my head open, and I take advantage, hurling myself into a dive.
I slice clean through the water, slick as a fish, and the river receives me like one of its own.
I like to wash up first. I scrub myself all over, chasing away the shadows of the night. Beautiful freshwater rushes around me in this unassuming piece of paradise.
I’m a free spirit, living, travelling as the mood takes me. Looking for paradise wherever I find it.
Does it get lonely sometimes? people ask me.
Hell, yeah, it does. But I’ve seen its evil twin.
I’ve stared into the abyss of hostile fate, nursed the bitter seed of a broken heart, and it’s been enough for one lifetime.
I’m a lone wolf. It wasn’t the destiny I was raised for; I had blood of the alpha line running in my veins.
But I had to leave my pack, before my beast destroyed everyone I cared about.
Fifteen years alone, and I’m happy like this.
When I’m done getting clean, I take on my animal form.
My wolf springs out of me, fast and eager.
It’s more accustomed to running, of course.
And at dusk, I’ll ride my motorcycle to a forest a few miles away, run for an hour.
But while I’m staying by the river, I take advantage of this delicious, cool water, and I let my beast explore its amphibious side.
With long, fast strokes, I swim upstream, scattering shoals of silvery fish. From time to time, I snap one up in my jaws. Not my favorite cuisine, but they make a convenient breakfast. Perhaps I was a bear shifter in a previous life.
If I keep going, I’ll pass a bunch of bridges. I set myself a challenge; I’ll aim for the fifth one along, before I’ll turn and let the current carry me back home.
But when I pass the first one, something catches my eye.
A bunch of rags stuffed into the hollow between the underside of the bridge and the narrow river bank. Strange. That wasn’t there yesterday. I swim closer. No, not rags—a person. I can’t see a face though—it’s hidden by a hoodie and their folded arms.
I edge closer still, and my wolf’s nose twitches: female, young.
My ears tune in. I hear the regular breathing of deep sleep. She doesn’t seem to be hurt. Homeless? A runaway? Poor thing. I’ll leave her be, check on her on the home stretch, I tell myself. She seems comfortable where she is. No point disturbing her.
I turn to go—or at least, I try to, because my wolf is refusing to budge. Ears pricked up, gaze fixated. Every nerve focused on this snoozing bundle.
Then the bundle stirs.
A patch of dewy cheek emerges from the folds of fabric and a little whimper comes with it. A terrible expression of distress and loneliness. It slices right through me.
And I know there’s no way I’m going anywhere.
In a flash, I shift. My wolf fights me hard as I fold it back inside my human form. Its prickly fur pushes right up beneath my skin, paws scrabbling, panting in anticipation. Why the hell is it so riled up?
My feet find purchase on the slippery stones, and I start to wade toward her—
And then I remember that I’m buck naked. Humans freak out at shit like that. I’ll probably scare the heck out of her. Clothing definitely not optional.
I sprint flat out to my vehicle, and I’m back in less than minute, T-shirt and shorts clinging to my wet form like a second skin. Not a whole lot different from being naked, but at least I’m not about to get arrested for indecent exposure.
It’s hard to approach the girl, since there’s a ton of mud all around her, so I jump back in the river, wade up close again.
“Ma’am?” I call, making my voice human-gentle. “Ma’am, are you alright?”
The pile of fabric shifts around. More pale skin emerges.
And then a pair of eyes flash, blinding me like full-beam headlights.
I swear I almost fall back and go right under.
Not some teenage runaway, but an adult woman.
With the clearest lake-green eyes I’ve ever seen.
Fresh apples, sun-dappled forests. Sweet garden of paradise.
But cut-glass sharp. Capable of slaying a man.
They’re fringed with thick lashes, and they peer out from beneath long, dark bangs.
As I watch, awestruck, a snub nose appears, scattered with freckles, and a pair of cherry-shaped, pink lips.
She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. And she smells like something sweet and soft. Something that hasn’t come into its own yet.
Then her eyes blaze double-strength and her lips draw back, showing sharp white teeth.
Feral.
Wolf.
The realization rocks me on my feet. Her scent is weak; that’s why I didn’t pick up on it right away. But it’s unmistakable. Her animal is there, somewhere inside of her.
My wolf inhales hard and her scent fills my lungs like a drug. Sweet euphoria blows in.
Intoxicating.
Then it utters the word I hoped I’d never hear again in my life:
Mine.
My body jerks, and just like that, I want to run. Get the hell away from this feral goddess.
My wolf howls and the sickness threatens.
All these years…
All these years I’ve spent avoiding females. Happy in my own company. Never mating. Not even one-nighters. Keeping my wolf calm. Denying its impulses. Trying to make it forget.
And now it comes and finds me, on this peaceful riverbank. A stab of fate. Bringing the whole sky down with it. Dragging me under.
I need to get away from her. She’s fine. Health glows from her pores. She looks like she’s capable of taking care of herself. I don’t need to make her my problem.
Time jolts forward. And I remember I’m not an asshole. I’ve scared this girl, and that was worse than not waking her at all. I can’t leave her like this.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. A dumb comment for sure, but my brain is too paralyzed for anything more nuanced.
Those bottle-green eyes fix on mine with hostility.
I swallow hard, clear my throat. “I was just going for my morning swim, like I do every day. And I saw you sleeping there. Thought you might be in trouble.”
She blinks, emotions clouding behind her eyes. But still she says nothing.
I work my jaw back and forth. Maybe she’s non-verbal. “You speak?”
“Yes.” She nods fiercely.
“You’re safe with me, little wolf.”
“Wolf? How did you know?” Her voice is surprisingly strong. There’s something in it, a kind of catch. Like a foreign accent, but not.
I gesture at my body, and her gaze follows the movement of my hands, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“You’re a wolf, too?” She wrinkles her nose and it’s kind of adorable.
“Yup. Beau Matherson. Investigator, sometime bounty hunter. Werewolf.” I tilt my head toward her in a mock bow, and a ghost of a smile tugs at her lips.
“Now, you gonna tell me what you were doing, sleeping down here in all this mud, like a river rat?”
This seems to bring her to her senses. She unfurls from her nest, then she clambers awkwardly to her feet, bracing her hands on anything that isn’t mud. I help her, advising her where to grab onto for support.
She draws herself up to her full height.
And my breath shudders in my throat. She’s filthy.
Absolutely caked in stinking river mud from head to toe.
She’s wearing some frumpy old clothes that look like she pulled them out of a thrift store’s reject bin, and her hair is matted, so coated in filth I can’t even tell what color it’s supposed to be.
But beneath all that is a knockout body. All lush, womanly curves.
Beauty glows from her, like a firefly in a storm.
My wolf whines its approval.
Fuck. She could annihilate me.
“I was walking, and I fell,” she says.
I wait, expectantly, but she stays silent.
“You have a home to go to?”
Her face freezes, then it starts to crumple. She sets her jaw and shakes her head fast.
“None at all?” I blow my cheeks out.
Well, shit.
“You are over eighteen?” I scan her face. Hard to guess her age with all that mud.
“Twenty-two,” she mumbles.
Good.
“How about we get you back to my place, get you cleaned up, then figure out what we’re going to do next?”
She gnaws on her pretty lower lip, and her eyes dart sideways, like what she wants to do right now is run.
“If you’re gonna bolt, best to do it in a clean set of clothes.” I point at my vehicle, barely a speck in the distance. “That’s my place.”
Her emerald eyes narrow as she takes it in. “You live in a…a bus?”
“Yup. Fully plumbed in. You can take a hot shower.”
She looks down at her clothes, and finally seems to absorb just how filthy she is.
“Okay, thanks,” she says, and flashes a little smile.
It goes all the way to her eyes, and I’m damned if it doesn’t light me up like a jack-o’-lantern. Next thing I know, I’m grinning like an idiot at the thought of having this little ragamuffin getting mud all over my bathroom.