now, but its body remained heavy, perhaps conserving its energy to heal itself. He could relate—he, too, was exhausted. So, he stumbled toward the largest piece of furniture in the single living space in his cabin—the bed—and collapsed on top of it. As his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, he tucked the fox closer to his body, sharing his warmth, then passed out cold, but not before he made out what his bear had been trying to say.
Mine.
Chapter Two
Cold. Freezing cold.
That was the last thing Dutchy Forrester felt before her poor fox’s body gave out from fatigue.
The snowstorm appeared out of nowhere and whirled around them, making them lose their sense of direction. Up was down and down was up. As a shifter, she should have been able to last through hours of physical activity, but between trying to keep their body warm and trudging through piling snow, they had depleted their energy stores until it simply ran out.
Should have known my limits. But the call of the mountains and fresh air and trees was too much, and she’d been working her human side hard these past months. After all, her business had finally gotten off the ground and reaching heights she never thought possible.
However, eighty-hour weeks doing nothing but designing, sewing, fitting, and dealing with clients were taking its toll, and her fox finally said, enough. It wanted to get out, be in nature. And so, she let it free and let it roam, in one of the safest places she knew—up in the Blackstone Mountains where others like her could just be themselves.
The fox had been elated. After weeks and weeks of being trapped, it was finally free. Free to run and roll around in the dirt and dig with claws and hunt tiny prey. Dutchy couldn’t bear to pull it back; besides, being in animal form for a few hours always gave her the best burst of creative energy. In fox form, her senses were stronger—smells so much more pungent, sounds so clear even from a distance.
And the colors. Oh, the colors! Even in the winter, they were beautiful. The pure verdant of the pine trees. Deep browns of tree bark. Rich, black soil under their paws. And the bright blue sky … there was nothing in her collection of colored pencils and markers that could do justice to such an indescribable color. Ideas bloomed in her head as her creative energy flourished.
She’d been so wrapped up in the throes of inspiration that she hadn’t noticed the sky turning gray or the wind picking up. By the time she saw the snow whipping around them, it had been too late. She had no idea where her fox had taken her. Everything was white and cold.
Was she dead? The afterlife seemed terribly dark. And lumpy. At least it was underneath her. Everywhere else, it was warm. No, it was hot.
Uh-oh. Maybe I ended up in the other place.
The heat seemed to be concentrated behind her, as something hard pressed along the backside of her body. She found she could wiggle her toes and fingers, but the rest of her limbs were immobilized, held together by vise-like devices.
What the hell?
As her brain’s function slowly returned, her shifter vision adjusted to the darkness. She wasn’t in some kind of purgatory waiting room. Unless purgatory was a log cabin and a lumpy mattress. And those vises keeping her immobile? Those were definitely arms. Large, muscled, hairy arms. Belonging to a large, muscled, hairy male.
Oh God.
Her entire body froze. Her brain went on alert. Danger. However, her fox didn’t make a move or a sound. Normally, it would warn her, kicking in her flight or fight instinct. But no, her animal remained docile. Curious, even.
Stop messing around, she told it. They had to get out of here. Who knows what this man was capable of?
A warm breath blew on her neck, a tingle traveled up her body, from her toes to the top of her head.
Oooohhhh.
A hot, embarrassing flush of arousal coursed through her. What the hell? Was it too early to have Stockholm Syndrome?
Okay, she told her fox. If I shift, that would make us small enough to escape these tree trunks he has for arms. Then we can run—
But the fox shook its head and hunkered down, as if to say, nuh-uh, no way.
Are you crazy? She mentally pulled her hair out. We can’t—
The hulking male’s grip loosened, and her brain told her to go. Now. With a deep breath,