instincts point to the Grizzly motorcycle club. That might be because
their leader, Bear, is the strong, silent shifter type: warm brown
eyes and more muscle and alpha male than any woman can ignore. Which
makes Tessa’s plan to seduce and betray him all the more dangerous…
injuries that sap his strength. And since he can’t stop thinking of
her lush body and teasing smile, her plan to mate him to reclaim her
own power is highly tempting. Just one problem. Once a desire this
wild is loose, no one will ever control it…
Somebody was in his cabin. Beauregard McDunphy lumbered around the side of the modest wood structure, his fur rippling in the wind, his big paws leaving tracks in the wet dirt. At one point, not too long ago, he’d been bigger than any bear in the area—shifter or animal. Now he was merely normal size. Yet he could still take a human trespasser without much effort. He lifted his snout, and the fur rose down his broad back.
He was a loner, and he liked his privacy, so anybody who even remotely knew him understood to stay the hell out of his space. What was that smell?
Irish roses and something . . . female. The scent of woman.
He growled, the sound hollow.Who the hell was in his cabin? He stalked toward the front door, which remained open. Oh, he was going to scare this interloper. He sucked in air to snarl, rolling his neck so he could fully flash his canines.
A woman came into view, turning around, skirt rustling. “There you are.”
He paused and studied her. Thick black hair piled on her head, violet-blue eyes, smooth features. Delicate. Something stirred inside him, and he shook his head, trying to focus. Why wasn’t she screaming? Most people freaked out when faced with a grizzly bear. Wait a minute. He knew her. Didn’t he know her?
She pressed her hands to her hips. Her green houndstooth designer suit looked like something out of the fifties. Somehow, it worked on her. “Do you mind shifting back to human form? We need ta talk.”
The brogue. Irish brogue. Pretty eyes. Small stature. Sparks of power all around her.
It hit him then. A witch. There was a witch in his home. He growled again and set his bones to transforming into his human shape. The process took longer than it should have, considering he’d mainly been in bear form for nearly three months. Three useless months that hadn’t changed a damn thing about his failing health.
Pain lanced down his spine and through his arms. His bones broke and reformed, hurting much more than they should. The fur receded on his arms and then the rest of his body. Agony flared through his face, reshaping it, nearly making him black out. Finally, he straightened, his body elongating. He kept his expression stoic and tried to banish the ache.
“That looked painful,” she whispered, her gaze soft on his face.
“It was,” he responded before he could think. Then reality crashedback. “Why is there a Coven Nine witch in my fucking cabin?” His safe cabin in the Seattle wilderness where witches and the Coven Nine couldn’t get to him. What was her name? He couldn’t place it. Everything was cloudy. Yet he remembered seeing her in Ireland at witch headquarters—she was a council member. When was that? Months ago.
She hummed and looked around, her gaze high and a light pink dusting her cheekbones.He settled his stance. His human brain kicked back in. “As a member of the Coven Nine, what are you doing here?” She was on the ruling council of witches, and she should have security all around her. His back stiffened, and he turned to scan for threats.
“I’m alone,” she said.
That was impossible. Yet even with his senses returning, he couldn’t find any other people near, much less any witches. “Why?” he barked. His voice was rough and hoarse from disuse.
She blew out air, her pretty lips pursing. Her gaze rose nearly to the rough wooden ceiling. If she craned her neck up any more, she might fall backward.
Bear frowned. “What the hell?”
She cleared her throat. “Do you, ah, do you mind?” Her hand swept out, even the small movement graceful.
“Mind what?” he snapped, glancing over his shoulder again. Trees and silence met his gaze. Thunder ripped above, and an angry autumn rain began to slap the ground. Summer had given up the fight, and the oncoming winter scented the breeze. He stepped inside the cabin.
She backed up so quickly her butt hit the ancient stove, and she gave a startled eep. “Please, Mr. McDunphy.
”What in the world was wrong with the woman? “Please, what?” Was this some kind of trap?
“Put some clothes on,” she said through pearly-white teeth.
He started and looked down at his naked body. “Oh.” Clothes were such a damn annoyance. “Uh, okay.” A small dresser sat by the bed, on the north wall. He moved past the raggedy sofa and modest fireplace to yank out a pair of faded jeans. He struggled into them, wincing as he engaged the zipper.
Life was so much easier as a bear.
an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing
examiner – only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha males and
the women who claim them. She writes contemporary romances, dark
paranormal romances, and romantic suspense novels.
Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave
into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband,
children, and extended family who inspire her every day—or at the
very least give her plenty of characters to write about.
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