Kerrelyn Sparks: Wild About You

His gaze drifted back to the rocks where Carly had died twenty years ago. She had trusted him completely, even after he’d confessed to her that he was a were-bear. Since her, he hadn’t met another mortal female he had felt he could trust with his secret.

There had been a time when the pain and guilt of Carly’s death had nearly crippled him. All through college and his football career he’d allowed himself to suffer as a way to punish himself. But as the years went by, his burden of guilt slowly changed. Instead of feeling guilty for wanting to forget, he now felt guilty that he could barely recall her face. How cruel life was that she had paid the price for Rhett Bleddyn’s rage.

Death was too good for Rhett. Howard wanted to watch the sick bastard squirm. He’d have to go about it secretly and stealthily in order to keep his people safe, but with the proper strategy, he felt confident about pulling it off. And if he avenged Carly, then maybe he could finally lay his guilt to rest. He’d been banished for long enough.

A cool breeze swept up from Mishenka Bay, and he closed his eyes to focus fully on the scent—a glorious mixture of salty sea and lush forest. Home . He took a deep breath to let the comforting fragrance seep into his soul, and a new face formed in his mind. Elsa. Beautiful Elsa. She was invading his thoughts more and more each day. Unfortunately that only proved that no matter how clever a strategist he tried to be, he was still a fool.

Elsa Bjornberg was a celebrity, a breathtaking, gut-wrenching beauty, who traveled the world for her successful career. Why would she want to meet some guy from an obscure island in Mishenka Bay, Alaska? Especially a guy who was oversized and turned into a real bear on occasion. The cold reality was that they would never meet. He’d known months ago that his obsession with her was ridiculous. Pathetic. Juvenile. It was embarrassing, so he kept it secret.

And yet, whenever he saw her on television, he felt drawn to her. Not just mildly attracted but somehow irrevocably attached to her. It didn’t make sense, but knowing that didn’t make the strange feeling go away.

The soft scuffle of a footstep behind him made him stiffen. Holy crap, he’d allowed himself to get distracted. He masked his reaction by swinging the staff up and across his shoulders, gripping each end with his hands.

With his back to them, he listened carefully as he gazed up at the moon, a dull silver disc shrouded in clouds. It would be full tomorrow night. If everything went according to plan, he’d score a touchdown. “Hello, Phil.”

There was a moment of silence, then a whoosh of air as Phil Jones exhaled. “How did you know it was me? Alaska is overrun with werewolves.”

“They don’t use that fancy, girly shampoo.” Howard smiled when he heard a low growl in response.

A slight mechanical click emanated from the vampire behind him. Could it be Dougal Kincaid? The Vamp had lost his right hand in combat a few years ago, and Roman had recently fitted him with a mechanical one.

“Dougal?” Howard turned, widening his smile when he saw he’d been correct. “It’s good to see you again. You arrived last night?”

The Scotsman tilted his head, studying him. “Someone told you?”

“No. It rained last night, and your kilt smells like wet sheep.”

Dougal’s mouth curled with amusement. “Ye’re in trouble with Angus, ye ken.”

“Not enough trouble, if he only sent two of you.”

“Believe me, he’s pissed,” Phil grumbled, then shoved his long, shaggy hair back over his shoulders. “It’s cheaper to use the same shampoo that my wife buys.”

“I understand.” Howard gave him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t mention it again since you’re so . . . sensitive about it.”

Phil’s eyes narrowed.

Dougal chuckled. “We have orders to take you back to Romatech immediately.”

Howard nodded, still smiling. “Good luck with that.”

Phil snorted. “What the hell are you up to, Howard?”

“I thought you’d never ask. I need more players on my team.”

“Team?” Dougal asked. “Ye’re playing a game?”

“Yes. It’s called Payback. It’ll be easier to score if I have a few more hands.” Howard slanted a wry look at the Vamp’s fake right hand. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Dougal wiggled the fingers on his mechanical hand. “Ye’d be surprised what I can do.”

“Tell it to the ladies.” Howard motioned to Phil. “Are you in?”

“If you’re getting back at Rhett Bleddyn, then yeah, I’m in. Angus can wait.”

Dougal scoffed. “Now there are two of you no’ following orders. Angus will be royally pissed.”

“Maybe not,” Phil argued. “He knows what an asshole Rhett is. The guy tried to force my sister into marriage. He was going to kill off my entire family and steal all our land and followers. He’s a power-hungry, ruthless bastard.”

Dougal nodded, then turned to Howard. “I can see why Phil wants revenge, but what do ye have against him?”

Howard remained silent, then swung his staff off his shoulders and planted one end in the gravelly dirt next to his feet. “I have my reasons. Are you in?”

Dougal’s hand produced a series of clicks as he curled the fingers into a fist, then stretched them back out. “What is the purpose of yer game? Are ye wanting to kill Bleddyn?”

“Do I look like a murderer?” Howard frowned when the two guys exchanged glances. “Okay. You’ve seen me kill, but only in battle.”

“You’re ferocious,” Phil muttered. “You rip heads off with a single swipe.”

“So I’m efficient,” Howard grumbled, then smiled. “No one has ever complained about my efficiency before.”

Phil snorted. “We’re just relieved you’re on our side.”

Howard’s mouth twitched. “Are you sure about that?”

Phil stiffened. “You big lummox, why don’t you—”

“Enough.” Dougal lifted a hand, then shot an annoyed look at Howard. “I need to know more before I decide. Do ye plan to lure Rhett into battle?”

“No.” Howard pointed his staff toward a few lights twinkling far out in Mishenka Bay. “You see that group of islands out there? They’re called the Bear Claw Islands ’cause there’s a big round one and four narrow ones extending north.”

Dougal moved closer to the cliff edge. “That’s where ye grew up?”

“Yes. On the big round one called The Paw.”

“We saw on your bio that you went to high school down there.” Phil motioned at the town below and snickered. “A were-bear playing football for the Port Mishenka Marmots? That had to be embarrassing.”

Howard arched a brow at him. “I kicked ass on that field. Would you care for a demonstration?”

“Enough, you two.” Dougal gestured to the Bear Claw Islands. “Does yer family still live there?”

“Yes. That group of islands and Kodiak Island to the north are where most were-bears live. We’re down to about a hundred now.”

“Shit.” Phil frowned at the islands. “You’re in danger of extinction.”

Howard sighed. “There was a time, a few hundred years ago, when were-bears flourished and covered the mainland. There were over a thousand of us. But then settlers began moving in, searching for gold, and werewolves moved in, wanting the land. The Alpha wolves tended to bite any guy who found gold, so he would become their minion.”

“And then they would have his gold,” Phil muttered.

Howard nodded. “The werewolves quickly amassed land and wealth. If someone had something they wanted, they simply bit him to bring him in line.”

“The were-bears dinna bite people?” Dougal asked.

“Not usually. It’s not in our nature to live in packs. Especially the male bears. We’re loners. Unfortunately, that always worked against us. We were spread out thin, each male bear taking a huge territory, and it made us vulnerable. A single were-bear might be able to defeat a small group of wolves, but they started attacking us in packs of thirty and forty.”