Novak Grizzly (Daughters of Beasts Book 1) Read online

  A wave of ache washed through her chest. She knew all about that feeling. Someone had damaged him, and his reaction was so recognizable. How many times over the past week had she promised herself never to let a man touch her again? To never let another person in so she never had to hurt like this again?

  She cleared her throat and gave him an out with a new conversation. “Why did your mom follow my people?”

  Leaning back on the porch railing, he shrugged up his bad shoulder. “It was a way to feel connected to something, I guess.”

  “What about her Crew?”

  “No Crew for us. I tried to find one for us when I was older and having trouble with the animal, but I couldn’t find anyone I wanted to pledge fealty to. And they wanted my mom to Turn. I didn’t know how to be around shifters, and I was dominant, so any Alphas I talked to tried to put me in my place.” A slow smile took his face. “I don’t take orders well. So…my mom raised me on her own. She was interested in shifters because I was one, but she was all human.”

  “That’s okay if she’s human. There are humans in Damon’s Mountains.”

  “Was.”

  “What?”

  “She was human.” Kamp clamped the lid on the first-aid kit with a click and lifted it up like it weighed less than air. “And not every Crew is as accepting as your people. You can take Grim’s trailer tonight. He won’t be back until the morning.”

  “I’m sorry. Whatever happened to your mom…I’m sorry for it.”

  He pursed his lips and gave her a single nod, and then he made his way to the door of his trailer.

  “Why won’t…Grim?...be back tonight?” she asked, just to make sure she really could stay in the angry Alpha’s trailer without waking up dead.

  “Because he sleeps in the woods.”

  “Uuuuh, why does he do that?”

  “Because he’s an animal,” Kamp said, shoving the door open and pausing in the doorway. “We all are.”

  And when the door swung closed behind him, she startled with the loud sound of the slam. A dozen memories of working in the shop with her dad flashed through her mind. She could fix the door so it wouldn’t close so violently. Maybe she would adjust it before she left in the morning. It would probably bother her forever if she looked back on her night at this trailer park and thought about his eternal slamming door.

  “Scared yet?” Rhett asked from where he was leaning on the porch of 1009. She hadn’t realized he’d come back out. He might’ve looked like a model who belonged in some big city, but this man could be eerily quiet when he wanted to be. It wasn’t often she got snuck up on.

  “Nope,” she murmured, standing to test weight on her bad leg.

  “Well, you should be. This is a last chance Crew. You know what that is?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He grinned brightly. “A Novak Grizzly. I’ll be damned. When I put out that ad, I thought we would get a plaything who would run away from here screaming. Not you. You went griz first thing. Well done. You should challenge yourself and stick around. See how much you can take.”

  “Nice try, but challenge not accepted.”

  Rhett narrowed his eyes and nodded, then jogged down the steps and headed for the trail that led to the parking lot. “Just as well.” He gave her a little salute. “I’ll be back soon, Griz.”

  “My name is Remington. Where are you going?”

  “To get your crap from your car, Griz,” he called over his shoulder as he hit the tree line.

  “But my keys are in my purse!” she called, standing.

  “Then I’ll just break the window!”

  “Rhett!”

  The obnoxious man turned around with a baiting smile and held her keys up in the air.

  “Where did you—”

  “Stole ’em. Be back in a jiff!”

  She didn’t know how she felt about him going through her car. He’d proven himself a thief, and she had twenty dollars in the cupholder.

  “He probably won’t roll your car off the cliff,” a throaty, growly voice said.

  Grim stood leaning against the trailer with the pink roses. They were the complete opposite of him. The flowers were perfect, down to every last petal. There were no dead leaves, and from the looks of it, the thorns had been cut off. The roses were delicate and beautiful, a stark contrast to the tattooed, dark-haired giant who stood there glaring at Remington. The other mens’ eyes had changed back to their human colors, but not Grim’s. They were as bright gold as when he’d been a lion fighting his own Crewmate.

  “Why did you answer that ad?” he asked.

  Remington shrugged. Honesty was best. Shifters could hear a lie. “I guess I got to the point in my life where I thought, why not?”

  “Your dad.” He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. “Don’t want no problems with him. You can stay the night, but no more.”

  Before she could change her mind, she asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

  A slow, wicked smile stretched his face. “Everything.”

  He turned and walked away, disappeared into the woods like an apparition. Kamp had said to stay in the Alpha’s trailer, but she didn’t want to impose on anyone. Plus, if she was honest, she would rather stay the night in 1010, missing wall and all. Grim might be an animal who slept in the woods, but she’d slept rough many nights, too. Her choice. Any night she’d felt confused or vulnerable, or just needed space away from her big family, she’d snuck out of her trailer and slept out in the woods or in an old tree house her dad had built when she was a baby. Her older brother Weston used to hang out there with his friends from Damon’s mountains, but they were older than her and thought her annoying, so she’d steered clear of the tree house when they’d been there. Sometimes she met up with Juno and Ashlynn from other Crews but, mostly, on those nights, she wanted to be alone. Mom had always said she was like Dad in that way.

  1010 could have no walls at all, and she would still prefer to sleep there than in a stranger’s den.

  She limped over and made her way onto the porch, shoved the door open, and took a deep breath before she stepped inside. The entire living room wall was caved in, the blade still hanging out of it. There was a green couch and a flat screen television on a small TV stand. The kitchen was all white-washed cabinets and a farm sink with wooden countertops. The ceilings sagged a little, and the floors had a spongey feel to them with each step she took, but it really did remind her of the old trailer up in Damon’s Mountains. The dilapidated thing had fallen apart years ago, but her brother, Weston, had some of the pieces with his Crew—the shutters from the old 1010, if she remembered right.

  The sound of her suitcase and purse hitting the entryway startled her so bad she jumped. Rhett had tossed it up with zero care and was sauntering back to the mobile home next door without a word.

  Good golly, the shifters up here were social idiots.

  Past the kitchen was a single bedroom, and this was where she dragged her belongings. No point in unpacking, so she unzipped the lid and pulled out some clothes that actually fit. In the small bathroom, she scrubbed off the pink paint from earlier with a dark washrag. She dressed, pulled her long hair into a ponytail, and folded Kamp’s clothes neatly. And then she limped back out toward the front door of the trailer because she wanted to put them on his porch chair. A full-length mirror was nailed right next to the door. Of course Rhett was vain enough to put one there if this had been his place, but she wasn’t as comfortable with her reflection.

  Skin as pale as a ghost, dyed blond hair, raven black eyes like her mother’s, and a smattering of dark freckles all over her face and shoulders and chest that no amount of makeup could cover. The rest of her features didn’t really matter much. It was impossible to see past all the freckles. She’d worn thick makeup over her freckled skin for Kagan because he was so concerned about appearances when they went out. She’d justified it as making sacrifices for her man because that’s what love was—sacrifice. But now she thought perhaps she’d been wrong. She didn’t really know what love was, or what it was supposed to be, and she probably never would.

  She made her way two trailers down to Kamp’s place and set the borrowed clothes on his porch chair. But when a loud clang sounded from inside, followed by a muttered curse word, she stepped closer to the front door to listen.

  “No, jackass, you should just stay right here, where you belong, in this fucking prison and leave her alone. Decision made.” There was a beat of silence, and then “Fuck! I can’t let her just starve tonight. She’s hurt. She needs food to start healing up good.”

  When the front door flung open, Remington gasped and stumbled backward, gasping at the pain of landing wrong on her hurt leg. Kamp stood in the doorway, looking just as shocked as she felt, holding a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich and chips.

  He inhaled sharply and shoved the plate at her, dislodging three potato chips that tragically fell to the ground. “Here. I made this for you. I swear I didn’t poison it.”

  Slowly, Remington reached out and took the offered dinner. “I would never accuse you of poisoning it.”

  With a jerky nod, he said, “Good, because I wouldn’t. You’re safe. Okay. Goodnight.” He stepped back into his house and slammed the door closed.

  “Uuuuh, Kamp?”

  “Yes?” came his muffled reply.

  “I brought back your clothes.”

  “Leave them on the porch, that’s fine.”

  “Okaaay. Did you make a sandwich for you?”

  “No. I made three sandwiches for me.”

  Oh my God, this man is ridiculous. “Okay, well since you made both of us food, do you want to eat that food together? Instead of both of us eating alone?”

  “No. Yes. Nope. Maybe. Probably? Maybe we shouldn’t. No. Definitely no.”

  Remington rolled her eyes heavenward, snatched his clothes off the chair, and then barged into his house.

  “Your welcome mat says ‘fuck off,’ but I’m not very good at minding directions.”

  Kamp snorted. “Clearly.” He scanned the living room and then strode right past her and stacked a bunch of outdoor magazines neatly into a pile. Then he picked up a couple empty glasses off the table and straightened a throw pillow on his leather couch. “Um,” he said, frowning at her. “I’ve never had anyone over.”

  “Ever?”

  “Well, I’ve only been here for three months and I hate the guys, so…”

  “Right. No parties at your place.”

  “I don’t have a table yet. I had plans to make one, but I haven’t got around to it yet.”

  “Here is good,” she said, taking a seat on the couch. “Your TV is even bigger than the one in 1010.”

  Kamp pulled a full plate off the counter and set it on the coffee table next to hers, then made his way back into the kitchen. He popped the tops on two cold beers and settled down beside her, setting one by her plate and one by his. “You say that weird.”

  “Say what weird?”

  “That house number. You’ve called that trailer 1010 a few times, but your voice goes all soft when you say it.”

  “It reminds me of something from back home.”

  Kamp took a big bite of his sandwich and gestured to hers. “Eat good. Food will help you heal faster. I can make more if you want.”

  “I thought you only made chili dogs,” she teased.

  “I only make chili dogs for Rhett because I want that dipshit to get annoyed and leave.”

  She nearly choked on a chip with her laughter. “You three are the worst Crew in the world.”

  “Agreed. We’re all going to get fired. We can’t even come close to hitting our quotas because we hate each other and fight all the time and eventually just quit early. I hate it. It means less income. I’m not used to quitting early, but it’s hard to care about the guy beside you when he doesn’t care about you.”

  “You wish it was better?”

  Kamp shrugged. “I wish I wasn’t here.” He gave her a sad smile and reached for the remote. “I’ll let you pick the show so long as it’s not some romantic bullshit with a bunch of kissing. Unless it’s porn.”

  Remington giggled and took a giant bite of sandwich. “Admission,” she said around the bite. “This is the first time I’ve felt comfortable eating like a pig in front of a guy.”

  “Shut it. There’s no way to not eat like a pig when you have a motherfucking grizzly bear inside of you. I call bullshit.”

  “No, it’s true! My ex-boyfriend was human. He got super disturbed if I went werebear on a rack of ribs. Especially in front of his friends.”

  “Well, his friends sound lame. And he sounds like a boring moron. A boron. You dated a boron. Congratulations, you found one; they are super rare.”

  She shoveled another bite into her maw and said around the food, “He wath a little boring.”

  “My ex-girlfriend left me for a hyena shifter.”

  “Oooooooooh,” she said in sympathy. “Burn. Wait, aren’t they notorious for having teeny tiny little peckers? I’m offended for you.”

  “Thank you! Finally, someone gets it. She told me I wasn’t ‘sensitive enough to meet her emotional needs.’” He did air quotes with his fingers.

  “Your ex sounds…ex-hausting.” When he rolled his eyes, she laughed. “Ha, ha, haaaa!” He was smiling, though, so he couldn’t hate her pun that much.

  “That one,” she said with a full mouth, pointing to the TV. “I want to see the scores.”

  “You watch football?” he asked, looking at her as if he’d found a unicorn or a tricky demon and didn’t know which one quite yet.

  “I play fantasy football, and my quarterback is on this team. When did your ex leave you for teeny-peeny?”

  “Three years ago. I gave up on the fairer sex after that.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Look around, Novak. What am I gonna do? Seduce a girl in town and bring her back to my trailer park with my delinquent Crew?”

  “One, my friends call me Remi, not Novak. Every time you say that, I feel like one of your bros. Two, you’re hot, and not all girls need a mansion. Some like destructive, mildly psychotic lion shifters with temper problems who put logging blades through houses but also know first aid. Someday, someone is going to stumble into your trailer park and point to you and go, ‘That mess right there is all mine.’”

  One of his eyes had turned a light gold while the other stayed green, and his face had softened as he’d watched her talk. “Are you a future-teller like Beaston? Are you saying that will happen?”

  “Not at all. You are probably screwed, and no girl is going to live up here in the wilderness with you guys.” She couldn’t control her laughter by the end. He shoved her in the shoulder until she toppled over on the couch and spilled some of her chips.

  “God, you’re annoying, Novak,” he said, chuckling. “I’m glad you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “This is a really good sandwich. Your chef skills are on point. Except it’s even yummier with turkey in it.”

  When Kamp took a swig of beer, Remi really did try not to stare longingly as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his muscular throat. His lips were perfectly puckered on the lip of the bottle, and his powerful arms stretched the sleeves of his black T-shirt. He smelled like that cologne she’d sniffed on the shirt she’d borrowed. Kamp was yummy.

  Remi followed suit and took a long sip of her cold beer, too. “This is good,” she said, studying the label. It was a beer she’d never heard of before called Pen15 Juice. She laughed. “The logo looks like it says penis juice.”

  Kamp rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That was Rhett’s only contribution. He swore he was going to name it something epic. He would make all the labels if he could have three percent of any future profit, so I thought he was actually going to take it seriously. But he put this shit on all the bottles, and now I’m stuck with four batches of penis juice beer. He’s an asshole and will get zero percent of all future profits.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, sitting up straighter. “You brew this?”

  “Yep. I used to make moonshine, too, but I got a little arrested.”

  She snickered and made her way into the kitchen. “A little arrested,” she murmured, looking around for beer brewing equipment. All she saw was a bowl with trail mix and an empty package next to it. There were about a dozen M&Ms in a little pile on the counter. “If you only like the candies, why do you get trail mix? Why don’t you just get a bag of candy?”

  “The candy is the only thing I don’t like. I can’t really eat chocolate,” he explained, coming to lean onto the countertop, beer in hand. “My animal feels sick for a day or two when I eat it. But I stay out for work, and the trail mix a good quick snack that keeps me going for a while. It’s my favorite thing to eat. I just have to adjust it a little. It’s annoying, but I can’t find any trail mix like this without the candies.”

  “I thought dogs were allergic to chocolate, not big ferocious lions.” She ate all the orange ones.

  “Apparently, cats can be sensitive, too.” He frowned at her as she picked another orange one out of the trail mix and popped it in her mouth. “M&Ms all taste the same so I know those aren’t your favorite flavors. Favorite color?”

  “Nah, my favorite color is teal. Where I’m from, you eat green ones to make you horny and orange ones for bigger boobs.”

  He chuckled. “Your boobs are just fine.”

  She jerked her attention over at him. His cheeks were turning red, and he ducked his gaze as he picked at the label on his beer. “They’re perfect,” he murmured so softly she almost missed it. “I like your freckles, too. And you don’t cover yourself when you Change. I like that you are who you are and you don’t water yourself down. That confidence is sexy.” He cleared his throat and stood up straight. “And I kinda think it’s hot that your grizzly came straight for me today. I don’t think many people would have a shot at running you over, Novak. Come on, I’ll show you where I brew the beer.”

  There was this silly breezy sensation in her stomach as he passed her by, heading for the back door on the other side of the kitchen. He called her Novak, but for some reason, she wished he would let his guard down and call her Remi.