Chapter 5
Holding maneuver: successful. At least for the moment.
Carl watched Becca swallow and force a smile.
Then she stepped forward to greet the core of the Gladwin shifters like a queen, no trace of fear anywhere.
Good for her. Especially since the room was the size of an average high school gymnasium and every person in there turned to look at her.
The man in him admired the way she faced them all without appearing to break a sweat.
His bear was so pleased, he puffed up as large as he could and silently proclaimed ownership of the woman.
Shifters weren’t psychic, so it was all in body language.
The way he stood beside her and met every man’s gaze.
And he held that position until they all deferred to him by a subtle sideways tilt of the head or downcast gaze.
Very Neanderthal of him, but some things couldn’t be stopped.
It was all about allowing his grizzly latitude without letting it take control.
And right now, his grizzly had decided on owning Becca, so Carl allowed it the belief while his mind went about trying to not think about her.
After all, he had a shifter clan to run.
So he pushed Becca toward Marty and the kitchen, then went for some food.
He never made it. Instead, what felt like every man, woman, and child came to talk to him.
He listened to their concerns, and did his best to not be aware of Becca.
He laughed as people reminisced about other springs, he diminished Nick Merkel’s poison by calling it the ranting of an old man, and he pretended not to notice when three different men in the food line flirted with Becca.
And if he was excruciatingly aware of every person’s reaction to her—mostly good, thank God—it was merely because his grizzly was uncomfortably obsessed with the woman.
And so it went for two long hours. The whole thing irritated his grizzly to no end.
It was a creature of simple action, but his mind knew that sometimes delaying tactics were the only way to go.
So he’d destroyed Nick’s field rather than challenge—and kill—a man nearly twice his age.
He’d made Tonya his beta and hoped another more palatable Maxima would appear.
Then he’d shoved Becca—the only woman to attract his brain and his bear—into a room full of shifters rather than tell her news that would likely sour her on his kind forever.
He wanted her to feel accepted in a new possible home here for her and Theo.
The last thing he wanted to reveal was that the shifter community was a delicate balance of constantly shifting loyalties between extremely dangerous people.
His closest friend today could be the man he had to kill tomorrow.
And speaking of best friends who might have gone bad, Carl finally snagged a bowl of stew while he scanned the crowd for Mark.
The guy might be slowly going feral, but no way would he miss a spring hunt for the new shifters.
First off, he excelled at smelling out the young.
Second, he was obsessively protective of all kids.
Probably had to do with growing up knowing he wouldn’t live to see his thirtieth birthday.
Mark had known since one fateful night when he was sixteen that he had too much shifter DNA.
That meant he was slowly going feral. Eventually the grizzly would take over and make the man dangerously crazy.
Given how much Carl struggled to control his own grizzly, he couldn’t even fathom how Mark fought day after day to stay sane.
But Carl was working night and day to solve that problem, too.
So when he didn’t see his best friend, Carl caught Alan’s eye and gestured him over.
“You seen Mark?” he asked when Alan joined him on the bench.
“He went in search as soon as we heard.” His brother’s voice was respectful, but his body language was tight and angry. Not surprising since he was probably still stinging from losing his position as beta, but Carl couldn’t let hurt feelings get in the way of business.
“That was hours ago,” Carl said, his grizzly making his voice snap. Alan deserved some time to nurse his wounds, but the alpha in Carl would not let even subliminal dissent pass. “He shouldn’t be alone. It’ll encourage him to the grizzly too much.”
Alan’s eyes narrowed at Carl’s tone. “Sometimes people just need space.”
“Mark isn’t just some person,” he retorted.
The longer Mark wandered around using his bear senses, the more likely the beast would take over and he’d go feral.
And once that happened, there was no hope for him.
Carl would have to kill him for everyone’s safety.
And that, of course, was Carl’s most critical delaying tactic.
His every spare moment was devoted to finding a way to keep the wilder members of the community from giving in to the beast inside.
Because when a shifter went feral, people died.
Meanwhile, Alan looked up, his expression shifting into wry amusement. “She looks like a woman on a mission.”
Carl didn’t need to look to know he was talking about Becca.
He’d been aware of exactly where she was all evening.
Worse, she’d tried to get his attention at least six times, but he’d managed to escape before she forced a discussion she wasn’t ready for.
He didn’t think she’d let him get away with it again.
Which meant it was time to bring out the big guns.
He pushed up from his seat, pitching his voice for her to hear. “Hey, would you like to meet Theo’s grandfather?”
His brother snorted. “Subtle…not.”
“Whatever works,” he said with a hard glare. There was a message in that for his brother. It said quite clearly that Carl would do whatever it took to maintain the safety of the clan. Even if it meant unfairly demoting his brother. Or refusing to talk to a determined Becca.
He saw the message land as his brother flushed red, his head tilted, and his body shifted into a submissive pose. Carl the man wanted to follow up with a brotherly comment. Something to soothe the sting, but he didn’t have time. Becca had arrived, her body tense, her eyes startled by his comment.
“Theo’s grandfather?” she said, her eyes panicked as she scanned the crowd.
“This way,” he said as he grabbed hold of her elbow and pulled her intimately close. That was his bear again, disrupting Carl’s calm by breathing her scent deep into his lungs while her body heated every part of him.
Hell, this was torture. He had to get away from her quickly, before he lost control.
So he was a little too rushed as he steered her to a corner, where Isaac was telling stories to a circle of shifter kids.
“I’m sure he’d love to get to know you better right after story time.
Besides,” he said when she turned back to him, “you can hear our version of the fairy tales.”
“I’d rather talk to you—” she began, but he cut her off.
“It’s important for you to hear our stories told our way.
” Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother was a feral werewolf, as was the huffing and puffing wolf from “The Three Little Pigs.” Grendel from Beowulf was a bear shifter, though obviously that wasn’t a happy tale.
More of an instructional lesson about not revealing yourself to ordinary people who then declared you a monster and decided to kill you.
“And, besides, I’ve got to talk to Alan.
” He dropped her off at the edge of the group, then ducked away.
He was being a rampant coward, but he needed to gain some space from the woman.
She stirred up things in him best ignored during the current crisis.
Hot, erotic things that had no place in the clan while children were wandering lost in the wild.
So he took the excuse and was grateful that those three tales bought him another hour to interact quietly with his clan.
Plus, Marty had added a great deal of brandy to dinner, so he got a little mellower after his third bowl of stew.
And right when Isaac was deep into the “Three Billy Goats Gruff”—ram shifters vs.
bear shifters—Carl slipped outside. It was time for his shift at the southern border of the park, and he was looking forward to some quiet time under the stars to think.
It took him ten minutes to gather the supplies he needed, and then he climbed into his truck.
He hadn’t even touched the ignition when she hopped into the cab.
He didn’t look at her—too distracting. Besides, he could smell her determination filling the cab. Right along with his sexual pheromones. Lord, he hated it when he smelled like a randy teenager, but apparently she ramped up his lust without even doing more than pointing that stubborn chin at him.
“Becca, you can’t come,” he said, already knowing it was futile to argue.
“You promised me answers.”
“It’s going to be a long, cold night of waiting. We can talk in the morning.”
“When another dozen people fight for your time? I know you were fobbing me off tonight, but you were also cornered by every adult there at one point or another. You’re their leader, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Every shifter group has an alpha. For us, we call that man Maximus.”
“Mr. Max.”
“The kids named me that and it kind of stuck. My father was Maxim. My uncle was Maximus Prime.”
She tilted her head at him. “How very Roman of him.”
“He enjoyed power.” And that was the understatement of the century.
She must have keyed in to his tone because she twisted to look at him. “There’s a story there.”
Dozens, more like. All of them brutal and bloody. His uncle was a perfect example of what happens when the grizzly rules and the man obeys.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Don’t talk. But I’m going to pester you all night long, Mr. Max. So either get used to getting harassed or start talking.”