Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Luna
The Rocky Mountain Roadhouse is packed tonight, a typical Friday in Estes Park when tourists and locals alike seek refuge from the mountain chill in alcohol and conversation.
Maren and I claim two stools at the far end of the bar, away from the worst of the noise but still within sight of the small dance floor where a few couples are already swaying to country music.
“To not getting eaten by bears!” Maren raises her tequila shot with a wicked grin.
I laugh and lift my own. “To having friends who know how to drug you and stitch you up afterward.”
We clink glasses and down the shots. The tequila burns a path down my throat, sending warmth through my limbs.
My shoulder still aches, but I’ve taken just enough pain medication to keep it manageable without interfering with the alcohol.
No more narcotics, only high-dose prescription NSAIDs.
One night of drinking with Maren won’t hurt me.
“God, I need this.” Maren signals the bartender for another round. “Do you know how long it’s been since we had a proper girls’ night?”
“Too long.” The tension in my shoulders starts to ease. Between the sanctuary’s constant demands and my wolf, social outings have fallen off my radar. Just thinking about him sends a flutter through my stomach, and I push the thought away. Not tonight. Tonight is about normalcy.
Maren studies my face with narrowed eyes. “There’s something different about you lately.”
I resist the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.
“Must be all those adrenaline rushes from nearly dying.” I accept my second shot from the bartender. “Nothing like a bear attack to put some color in your cheeks.”
Maren snorts. “Right. That’s definitely it.” She leans closer, lowering her voice. “I was hoping you’d say Mr. Sexy Superhero finally came over and fucked your brains out.”
I choke out a laugh. “I’ve barely been able to lift my arm in weeks, Mar. What makes you think I’m up for the horizontal tango with anyone?”
But I’ve been having plenty of sex since nine days after Huck, our huckleberry-loving black bear, attacked me.
My wolf went easy on me the first two weeks, using his mouth more than his cock while I healed.
Then, when we’d both reached our breaking point, he was careful with my shoulder and stitches.
He laid me on my back and spread my thighs with his hands as he plunged into me until my body gave him everything he demanded.
But yesterday my stitches came out, and last night, for the first time in weeks, he zip-tied my wrists behind my back and took me apart piece by piece.
The pleasure tore through me so hard I sobbed, relief and ecstasy tangled together.
I hadn’t known how much I’d been starving for his control until I had it back.
One orgasm was all I could handle before the pain broke through and my body protested. But it was enough to restore something between us. Thank God for prescription pain relievers.
Maren hands me another shot. “Getting mauled is the worst kind of cockblocking, isn’t it?” She lets out a dramatic sigh. “Shame, though. That man is walking sex.”
“He is hot,” I agree, because denying Damien’s attractiveness is futile at this point.
I flag the bartender down and ask for a glass of water. I need to stay hydrated so I don’t get too drunk.
“His loss.” Maren scans the room before looking back at me. “Seriously, Luna, I know I’ve said this a hundred times, but you need to hit that.” She’s grinning now, warming to her subject. “Any man who looks like that, carries himself like that, and has a package below the belt like his—“
I give her a pointed look, and she throws up her hands in mock surrender.
“I didn’t break the best friend code. I can’t help where my eyes go sometimes.
” She motions to the bartender for another shot, then leans closer again.
“But any man with all those attributes could fuck a woman until her head popped clean off.”
I burst out laughing; the absurdity of her statement is exactly what I need right now. “Now that’s an image.”
“I know, right?” She laughs with me. “But it would be a hell of a way to go.”
I don’t feel jealous when Maren jokes about Damien this way.
I don’t feel possessive or threatened because despite his good looks, obvious interest in me, and my undeniable attraction to him, Damien and I are nothing.
We’ve exchanged pleasantries and had a few conversations.
He asked me to dinner, which we have yet to be able to coordinate our schedules to have, and yeah, he defended me from Pearson, but that’s it.
I’m insanely attracted to him, but I have no claim on him.
But if Maren had made those comments about my wolf, I’d be furious. The realization hits hard. I’d be seething with jealousy and burning with possessiveness. Because he’s mine.
Mine.
The thought is so primitive, so unlike my rational, scientific self, that it takes my breath away.
But it’s true. Just as he whispers to me in the dark that I belong to him—that he’s claiming me, branding me, making me his—I’ve been doing the same.
In my mind, he’s mine. My body is his, but his pleasure is mine to give.
His groans of satisfaction are mine to elicit. His obsession is mine to cultivate.
“Earth to Luna.” Maren waves a hand in front of my face. “Hello? Where’d you go just now?”
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring into space, trapped in my own forbidden thoughts. “Sorry. Just thinking about the sanctuary.”
“Liar,” she says, but there’s no heat in it. “But fine, keep your secrets. For now.”
Two men sidle up to our corner of the bar. They’re both in their early thirties, handsome in that outdoorsy Colorado way, with well-groomed stubble and expensive North Face jackets over jeans. The taller one has intelligent eyes that crinkle at the corners.
“Ladies.” His voice comes out deep, confident without tipping into arrogance. “Can we interest you in another round?”
Maren’s eyes light up with mischief. She loves this game, even though we both know how it ends.
“Depends.” She turns to face them. “Are you guys rescue workers? Because my friend here just survived a bear attack.”
Their eyes widen as they both turn to me.
“No shit?” The shorter one leans against the bar beside me. His voice has a slight East Coast accent. “That sounds like a story worth hearing.”
“She’s a wildlife vet. Has her own sanctuary.” Maren loves bragging about me and what we do. “Saves wild animals for a living and occasionally gets mauled for her trouble.”
“That’s impressive.” The taller one slides onto the empty stool beside Maren. “I’m Brian, by the way. This is Mark.”
We introduce ourselves as Mark grins at me. “I suddenly feel like my corporate job is painfully mundane.”
“What do you do?”
“Environmental law. Less exciting than wrestling bears, but we occasionally take on some big, bad corporations.”
“That’s important work. The sanctuary deals with the consequences of environmental degradation every day.”
Brian nods to the bartender. “Four of whatever these ladies are having, please.”
Mark’s attention stays on me. “So, the bear… did you have to fight it off single-handedly?”
I laugh, shaking my head. It’s been a long time since I’ve engaged in this kind of casual flirtation.
“Not exactly. He was sedated for surgery but woke up too soon. Calculating anesthesia for a four-hundred-pound bear can be challenging when you don’t know how long it will take to remove the shotgun pellets in his flank. ”
“She got these heroic battle scars, though.” Maren gives my shoulder a gentle tap. “Ten stitches. I helped by shooting her up with the good drugs while Ethan stitched her up.”
The bartender delivers four tequila shots. Mark raises his glass. “To the badass woman who survives bear attacks.”
“And her dealer.” Brian nods toward Maren.
We all laugh and chug our shots. My pleasant buzz intensifies.
It’s nice being here, being normal, being admired by these attractive men who see only what I show them.
The brave veterinarian with an interesting story.
If they knew what awaits me in the darkness of my bedroom, what I let a killer do to me, what I beg him to do, would they still look at me with that admiration?
“So, you both work with animals?” Brian asks, his body language subtly angled toward Maren.
“I’m just a humble vet tech.” Maren twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “Luna owns the whole sanctuary.”
“That takes serious dedication.” Mark’s eyes study me with interest. “How many animals do you care for?”
“Currently? Twenty-seven. Mostly native wildlife. Wolves, raccoons, foxes, a few birds of prey, a mountain lion, and a one-eyed opossum. We also have some horses, a goat, and a few domesticated animals. Cats and such. All rehab cases.”
“By rehab, she means animals too injured to return to the wild or too broken to be adopted out,” Maren adds. “She gives them a forever home.”
“Nice,” Mark says. “My sister works for an animal conservation organization in Seattle. She’d love what you’re doing.”
“I’d be happy to have you over sometime. The sanctuary, I mean. We’re always looking for supporters.”
“I’d like that.” Mark’s smile is easy and open. “Maybe we can grab dinner after?”
This conversation is speeding into territory I can’t navigate. “I’m kind of involved with someone.”
Maren’s gaze whips to me, and she narrows her eyes. She hates it when I turn down opportunities to get laid, especially when she knows I’m not dating anyone. And I’m not. Dating is not what my wolf and I do.
Mark looks disappointed. “Lucky guy.”
“What about you?” Brian asks Maren, smoothly pivoting. “Seeing anyone?”
Maren holds up her phone, displaying her lock screen. A picture of her wrapped in the arms of a broad-shouldered man with a beard. “Two years and counting. He’s on the road right now, though.”
“Long-haul trucker?” Brian guesses.