Finding His Mate (Bare Bites #3) - Mila Crawford Page 0,1

arms around my neck and pulled me close to her. “You call me every day, ok? Every single day.”

I nodded my head, kissed the top of hers, and walked out.

Outside, I looked back at the house that had been the center of all my childhood memories, good and bad, turned and walked off to find something new. To find a light before the darkness completely drowned me.

Chapter 1

Shayla - present day

The sharp crack of a branch sent a shudder through my veins.

I stalled, halting the breath in my throat as my eyes scanned the woods. My feet planted firmly, I slowly pulled the shotgun from its resting spot on my shoulder and held it firmly in both hands.

And I waited.

I’d spent the better part of the last three hours hunting a wounded stag through the wood thicket, my patience finally worn thin enough to set my sights on home. But maybe I’d given up too soon, maybe I’d be having venison stew for dinner after all.

My meat reserves were wearing thin. I needed this stag.

And then another crack sent the hairs on the back of my neck bristling. I hunched in the leaves at the base of a giant evergreen, the scent of sap in my plaited hair as I pulled the shotgun’s sight to my eye and scanned the woods again.

Something was out there. Stag or not, I had to be ready.

I squinted when I caught leaves moving fifty yards in the distance, the sun’s late evening rays causing long shadows and many hard-to-see hiding spots for creatures, big and small.

And human.

“What the shit?” I uttered under my breath, sinking myself deeper in the dark shadows of the evergreen branches as one man kicked another into the edge of a small meadow. I emptied my lungs, cramming my eyes closed and pretending I wasn’t seeing what it looked like I was seeing.

Three men, towering over another. The shortest of the three held a pistol, ready to fire at the helpless man on the ground.

Was I about to witness a murder? My heart hammered as I stood without thinking, feet carrying me, deft and quick, over the forest floor. Fallen evergreen needles padded my steps as I reached the edge of the meadow and hunkered, close enough now to hear their shouting voices.

I tightened my grip on my favorite shotgun, glad now I’d brought this one along and not my father’s older, less accurate gun. Before I could second-guess myself, I launched out of the bush and at the men, the sights of my gun already aimed at the hand of the man holding the pistol. I released my finger, the pierce of the shot in the air followed instantly by the howl of the shortest man as he dropped the gun and grabbed his hand, now missing the tip of his pinky finger.

I aimed my gun at the tallest’s throat, ready to take him out if needed. Their eyes rounded, glancing from the man on the ground and back to me, before turning and tearing back off down the trail they’d come from.

“Fucking tourists.” I grumbled as I set my gun against a tree and turned to the man they’d just been threatening to kill. Any outsider in these woods was a tourist as far as I was concerned. I cast my eyes across the broad stretch of the man’s rippled shoulders underneath a torn cotton t-shirt, dripping and damp with sweat. “Whoa, if I’d known you looked like that I don’t think I would have rescued you.” Fear spun through me as I realized he was big enough to turn on me and do some damage. I may have had the gun, but from the look of his long and powerful legs, he could outrun me easily.

My eyes ate up his form greedily, the hard angles of his jawline drawing me in. His beard was thick and dark, with just a soft sprinkle of salt and pepper at the edges. He looked like he’d been living in the woods for years. The way his thick thighs stretched the canvas of his camouflage pants was the first indication this man spent a lot of time maneuvering through the woods.

He was rough, with an animalistic edge to his solid form, but the way his eyes lingered on mine sent a thrill of tingles up my spine. I took a step closer, eyes hovering at the small red splotch growing on the cotton of his shirt. His body stiffened as if