Remy.
Closing her eyes, her mind’s eye—or, more accurately, her bear—instantly pulled up an image of the rugged, tanned, sandy-haired, muscle-bound Southern man. She’d pleasured herself countless times over the last four years to that image.
Probably because she knew firsthand just how spectacular he was in bed.
They’d shared a hotel in Detroit for a single afternoon, where they’d mostly slept, courtesy of the harrowing experiences of the prior days. But after a few hours, in those moments between sound sleep and full waking, they’d touched, gently, hesitantly at first.
Like a spark catching on a dried chunk of kindling, a fire had consumed them. They’d made love, and she’d fallen so far, so fast into him, she’d had no choice but to bolt the moment they surfaced from drowsy, post-coital bliss.
She hadn’t been ready, not for what Remy had been offering. Even now, after almost four long years of constantly wondering if she should have taken a chance, the idea still sent her heart stuttering in her chest.
Just when she began to think she’d never be ready for a real relationship, her bear had abruptly knocked around on the inside of her head and told her she was an idiot.
Do something about it, her bear had insisted.Do what you need to do to get your life back.
The damned bear hadn’t provided any sort of ideas as to what “do what you need to do” might entail.
Yes, she’d considered going to Louisiana, looking up Remy, see if he was still as interested as he’d been four years ago. But she hesitated. Was losing herself in a man really what her bear meant by “get your life back”?
Didn’t seem likely.
The only other thing she could possibly imagine significant enough to “get your life back” was exactly the last thing she ever wanted to do.
Go back to her pack.
Somehow, despite her hesitation, her very real fear, she was here in a hotel room in Duluth. It would take only thirty minutes by car to get to pack land. Such a short distance, considering most shifters tended to keep their distance from humans, even though most humans didn’t know they existed. But, like pretty much all of Minnesota—with the exception of Minneapolis—once you were outside the city limits, you were immediately surrounded by nature and more nature. And of course there were bears out in all that wilderness.
This coffee wasn’t getting any better, and neither was the churning in her gut. “Let’s go, Mallory. Shower, breakfast, more caffeine, and then let’s figure out how we can get our life back.”
Her bear gave a roar of approval in her head. With a sigh, she headed for the bathroom, and less than an hour later, she was packed up and stalking down the hall toward the lobby, dragging her roller bag behind her.
She stalled a little longer, sitting in the hotel’s restaurant, pushing around the scrambled eggs on her plate while plying herself with coffee.
Finally, the lobby restaurant had cleared out and the staff was cleaning up around her, so she took the hint, paid her bill, and left.
The drive was uneventful. Pretty much a straight shot out of town then a cruise through the rural, mostly frozen countryside. The closer she drew to the lake, the more frequently she passed signs of human life: gas stations, boat storage, directions to the boat launch.
While humans had populated the south side of the lake, the pack lived on the north side. It was private property, and the guards at the checkpoints surrounding pack land were aggressive as all get-out, so humans had learned to stay away.
There were only two narrow dirt roads in and out, which, of course, was on purpose, another ploy to keep humans away. She was coming up on one of those security checkpoints, would have to make her presence known to whoever was on guard duty.
If she stayed in her vehicle.
If, however, she shifted into her bear and made her way cross-country, there was a good chance she could get pretty damn close before anyone noticed her.
It was the humans they wanted to deter, not other bears.
She hadn’t left under the most desirable circumstances. She had no idea if the pack leader or his brother had mentioned the inciting incident—leaving out their own guilt, of course—to anyone else in the pack. She had no idea if they’d tried to track her down or if there was a directive that she not ever be allowed back on pack land.
She had no idea what she was walking into.
Hell, she wasn’t even sure what she was going to say or do when she confronted her pack leader.
More than fifteen years ago, his brother had molested her when she was still too young to have any real experience with the opposite sex.
Experience aside, she was a big fan of no means no.
She’d gone to the pack leader, told him what happened, and his brother gave her a wide berth after that.
