Fast-forward to four years ago, and out of the blue, the brother started hitting on her, as if, now that she was an adult, she’d suddenly develop an interest in the man who had taken liberties without her permission when she’d been far too young.
She shut him down. He wasn’t pleased. And then one night, the pack leader and his brother showed up at her door, so drunk they were swaying on their feet, and the brother insisted he had a right to take what was his.
And the fucking pack leader was going to give her to him. Like she was some kind of reward for a job well done.
That was the night she’d kicked the brother in the balls and punched the pack leader and took off without a backward glance.
Pulling the car over into a clearing on the side of the narrow road, she shoved the key fob under the mat and grabbed her small leather backpack, which had straps long enough to loop around her neck when she was in bear form. Convenient, since she had to strip naked in order to shift and would need clothing again whenever it was time to return to her human form.
Swinging the pack over her shoulder, she headed into the undergrowth. She’d shift eventually, but first, she wanted to make sure the chances of anyone stumbling upon her were as small as possible.
And maybe she just wanted to take a stroll through the woods. Because, yeah, despite how things had gone down, her reasons for leaving her pack, she did have a handful of positive memories tied to this place.
The area was currently stark and brown, the tree branches leafless, the ground still frozen, with plenty of snow covering the sodden, dead leaves that had dropped last fall. And yet there was beauty here.
Clusters of drooping white flowers, appropriately called snowdrops, and the pointed leaves of purple hyacinth pushing through the snow were determined to bloom despite the chill. The sun was out. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily across an azure sky, lending the impression that it was much nicer, much warmer than it really was.
Since it was March and Mallory had lived in the northern US for her entire life, she knew damn well they’d get more snow, more cold, probably ice, too, before spring finally won the battle and eased them into summer.
A summer that was always too short. She’d never been to Louisiana, but she knew it was far enough south that they did not have to deal with cold as hell winter and volatile springs each year.
She’d like to experience a snowless winter.
Especially if Remy came with the deal.
Rolling her shoulders, she pushed those thoughts away. First, figure out how todo what she needed to do to get her life back.
Then take the time to struggle with whether to reach out to Remy. One stressor at a time, please and thank you.
The crack of a branch made her fling around, scan her surroundings, her heart rate flittering like a damn hummingbird. Memories of hanging out in the UP, just being a bear bombarded her. Of being shot with a tranquilizer, of being carted down to Detroit and tossed into a cage.
But the people behind those kidnappings were either in prison or dead. Whoever was out here was not tied to what happened in Detroit four years ago.
But someonewasout here.
She considered shifting, except realistically, whoever it was, they were from her pack, and they’d recognize her whether she was in human or bear form.
So she waited, standing still, her gaze bouncing along the uneven terrain, taking in all the details, watching for movement beyond the gentle swaying of the treetops in the breeze.
Finally, someone stepped out from behind a vast tree trunk only a few dozen feet away. He wore a puffy, down coat, a maroon wool beanie covering most of his sandy, shaggy hair. Jeans wrapped around his muscular legs, hiking boots on his feet. She could see his pale blue eyes even from this distance.
Remy? No, it couldn’t be. He’d gone back to Louisiana, and he had no reason to be here, on her pack’s land in northern Minnesota. She hadn’t even told him her pack’s precise location, only that she never intended to come back here.
And yet?—
“Well, this is unexpected.”
That silver-tongued Southern drawl was unmistakable.
ItwasRemy.
ChapterThree
Remy canted his head, his bear drinking in the sight of the woman he was now 100 percent certain was his mate. Or would be after he took care of that pesky revenge issue.
Her hair was as fiery red as ever, twisted into two braids, draped over each shoulder. Her skin was pale, those emerald green eyes standing out in stark contrast, framed by dark lashes.
She wore a hooded sweatshirt underneath a thigh-length overcoat, black leggings, and fur-lined, laced up ankle boots completing her look.
