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    Shifter Woods: Roar
    Shifter Woods: Roar
    Shifter Woods: Roar
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    Shifter Woods: Roar

    By Nicola Cameron

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    About this ebook

    When armed lowlifes and a snowstorm in the Sandia Mountains strand photojournalist Gavin Leeds in Mike Ivanov’s cabin, the newshound gets the shock of his life. Not only is his sexy rescuer an Alpha bear shifter, but Mike also believes that Gavin is his destined heart’s mate. Some hot and dirty sex with a hunky shifter is one thing, but Gavin doesn’t believe in fated mates or happily ever afters.

    Mike Ivanov has enough problems with his pack as it is; they’re not thrilled that he won’t be siring the next Alpha, and now he has to answer a challenge from one of his pack members. Having his heart’s mate show up on the same night doesn’t help. Finding out that his mate is a snarky, rebellious human with a commitment problem and an ass he wants to bite?

    Nobody ever said an Alpha’s life was going to be easy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNicola M. Cameron
    Release dateJan 21, 2018
    ISBN9781370307258
    Shifter Woods: Roar
    Author

    Nicola Cameron

    Nicola Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about science fiction, fantasy, and romance. When not writing about those things, she likes to make StuffTM. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.While possessing a healthy interest in romance (and sex) since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred quite nicely to speculative romance. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.

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      Book preview

      Shifter Woods - Nicola Cameron

      1

      Iam so fucked.

      Gavin Leeds ran through the snowy woods, iced pine branches whipping him in the face and chest. The camera he’d shoved into a jacket pocket to stop it from bouncing on his chest was now banging into his side like a pointy rock. Grimacing, he fell back on his old MMA training to block out the pain, focusing on staying upright on the slick, rocky path. If he slipped or fell, he was dead.

      You can do this. All he had to do was make it back to the road and Laurie Rivera’s car, and he’d be fine. Goddamn it, you hike these fucking mountains every summer. You know where you’re going.

      He ducked around a tumbled deadfall, boot slipping on a patch of half-thawed ice, and caught himself on a sapling. Yeah, he knew where he was going. The problem was, he had no idea if Laurie knew where she was going. Getting lost in the foothills of the Sandia Mountains wouldn’t be that difficult, especially for a city girl like her.

      She just had to head back down the drive to the road. She’s not stupid. She’ll be there.

      Behind him, he could hear the breathless cursing of the men who were hunting him down.

      God, please let her be there.

      The two of them were on assignment from the Albuquerque Sun to investigate rumors of a backwoods white slavery ring that was kidnapping homeless women from Albuquerque and forcing them to work the truck stops along I-25 and I-40. One of Laurie’s sources had tipped her off about a cabin in Esposito County where the women were being stashed. They’d driven up to the tiny county north of the city and found a cabin that matched her source’s description, down to a small RV supposedly used to transport the women. While Gavin was getting shots of the RV’s license plates, two rednecks with rifles had come storming out of the rundown cabin. On instinct, Gavin had told Laurie to get back to the car before standing up and yelling at the rednecks, trying to draw them off the reporter.

      It had worked, judging from the pants and curses behind him. Sucking in a cold gulp of air that made his throat and lungs hurt, Gavin tried to figure out where he was. He hiked in the Sandias every spring and was pretty sure there was a trailhead somewhere in the area. If he could make it there, he had a straight shot back to the road and safety.

      He yelped when the land abruptly dropped out in front of him, sinking into one of the gullies carved by eons of snowmelt. Windmilling his arms, he caught himself before tumbling down the incline and landing in the freezing water. Fuck.

      The sounds behind him were getting closer. Gritting his teeth, he cut along the ridge of the gully, heading upstream. The going was slower here and the spot between his shoulder blades began to burn, waiting for a bullet to smash through it. Don’t be dumb. If it’s slowing you down, it’s slowing them down, too.

      The scraggly brush running parallel to the gully abruptly opened, revealing a swath of pristine snow. Gavin spotted a large cabin at the far end of the gap, a Jeep Grand Cherokee parked nearby.

      He changed course, running towards sanctuary. Hopefully the Jeep meant the owner was home. If they had a rifle, even better. He was sure he could take either of the ringleaders in hand-to-hand, but as long as they had rifles he was screwed.

      Ten feet from the cabin’s porch, he heard a triumphant shout behind him and his nuts pulled up tight against his body. Yeah, so fucked—

      The cabin door banged open and a man stepped out, a rifle in his hands.

      Gavin had just enough time to think rifle good before realizing it was aimed straight at him. Yelling, he dove to the snowy ground as a loud bang cracked the chilly air and something small and lethal whistled over him.

      That’s the only warning you’ll get, Alvin, the man called in a low, gravely voice. Now get the hell off my land.

      Wondering if he’d pissed himself, Gavin tried to get enough breath to explain he wasn't Alvin when a reedy voice behind him whined, "What the fuck, man? That jerk-off was trespassing on my property!"

      And now he isn’t. Get going.

      Wiping snow from his eyes, Gavin glanced back towards the gulley. A skinny man with bad teeth, a grimy trucker cap, and a rifle stood there glaring at his savior. Fuck you, Ivanov! This whole county don’t belong to you!

      No, but the area from the creek down to the road does, the man from the cabin called, and you’re standing in the middle of it. Third and last warning, Alvin.

      All right, all right. Asshole. Spitting something brown into the snow, Alvin shouldered his rifle and stomped out of sight.

      After a moment, Gavin decided that the wet feeling around his groin was just melting snow soaking into the denim. He pushed up, trying to get some traction and stand, when a gloved hand appeared in front of his face.

      You okay? the gravelly voice asked.

      Gavin grabbed the hand and let his rescuer pull him up. I think so. I—

      The words dried in his mouth as he looked into the face of the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen. Thick black hair with the iridescence of a crow’s wing was matched by a five o’clock shadow that undoubtedly poked through five minutes after shaving. Wide blue eyes gleamed in the winter sunlight, and a nice nose and mouth sat over a cleft chin. The man was bundled in a Carhartt jacket, but his jeans fit well over muscled thighs, suggesting that the rest of him was just as powerfully built.

      But it wasn’t just the fact that this guy looked like Gavin’s ideal jerk-off fantasy. Back when he was still on the UFC circuit he sometimes ran into fighters who gave off an aura that could only be called feral. It made even the cockiest of fighters think twice about climbing in the octagon with them. To a man they were pure destructive power in a fighter’s skin, and the opponents who faced off against them usually wound up bleeding or worse.

      He was getting the same vibes now from the man in front of him. But instead of making him want to run after that redneck asshole as fast as he could, it was actually turning his crank. He licked his lips, wondering how the man’s own full, firm mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. Letting someone like this go down on him would be dangerous as hell. Teeth would most definitely be involved.

      And fuck, that was hot.

      The man’s nostrils flared, and those blue eyes blinked slowly at him. You sure you’re okay?

      Uh. Gavin shook his head, trying to shake off the steamy images in his head. Yeah, sorry. Thanks.

      No problem. The man glared past his shoulder in the direction of the departed redneck. Alvin might be an asshole, but he had a point. Folks around here don’t like trespassers.

      Yeah, I noticed. Gavin fumbled in his jacket for his press pass, holding up the laminated tag with his picture. "My name’s Gavin Leeds. I’m a photographer with the Albuquerque Sun. I was up here with a reporter investigating a story, and we got separated at that asshole’s cabin."

      The man frowned. Mike Ivanov. What kind of story?

      He gave a précis of the white slavery ring report. "Alvin and a buddy came out of the cabin

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