Alpha’s Prey: A BBW Bear Shifter Romance (Bad Boy Alphas Book 11)

Caleb

Snow crunches under my boots. I shake my head to clear the metallic scent of blood from my nose.

I’m going fucking nuts.

No. Something evil lurks in these woods. It drew me out of my cabin this afternoon, sent me hiking through the brush.

It’s a prickle at the back of my neck.

The imagined scent of evil in my nostrils. I know the scent isn’t real because no matter how hard I look, I find nothing.

No mauled bodies left torn at the river’s edge. No screams of my mate and cub.

It could just be a figment of my memory…the nightmare. From the trauma of their still unexplained death three years ago. From spending too much time in bear form since then. I’m more beast than man these days, and I know it shows.

I heard the wolves in Tucson mutter about me when I was there for a fight last month.

That bear should’ve been put down after he lost his mate. He’s going to hurt somebody one of these days.

It’s true.

Leaving my winter hibernation to go to Arizona and fight that grizzly was stupid. I should never have let the idiot wolf Trey talk me into it. I should be holed up in my cabin for the winter. But he knew just how to poke the bear. He insinuated something dark about the grizzly I was going to fight, and damn if it didn’t make me have to go sniff the asshole myself.

Just in case he’s the bear who killed my family.

He wasn’t. He was an ordinary grizzly shifter. Rough, like most bears, but not wrong. Not evil.

But at least I came home with the money from the fight. I was flat broke before it. I gave most of my earnings from summer construction to one of my co-workers whose little boy needed surgery, and the rest of it had dwindled. That’s the shit-can of taking winters off.

So I roused myself. Drove to the desert. Made enough money to keep me in blueberries and salmon for eight months.

But now I can’t settle back in. I’m out here letting my dick swing in the wind as I hike restlessly through the forest.

Another woman’s gone missing.

That’s part of why I can’t rest.

There’s a serial killer, or kidnapper, loose up here.

I reach the main road sooner than expected. I walked three miles across my land without noticing. A blue Subaru pulls around the bend. I don’t recognize it, which is strange. I know most all the cars that come and go over this road, at least during winter. I stare into the SUV as it passes me, and when I see who’s driving, give a low curse.

A single female. A curvy redhead with a don’t-fuck-with-me look on her face. Alone, with suitcases in her car.

Shit.

The prickles on the back of my neck grow stronger.

I know where she’s going. She’s headed to the University of New Mexico research station. It’s a small cabin ten miles out on U.S. Forest road.

I wouldn’t give a shit except three single females have disappeared from this forest in the last eight months.

Three.

And I consider this to be my fucking forest. I’m the apex predator. No other creature—beast or human—should be bringing down humans.

Especially females.

I’m not charming or chivalrous, and I sure as hell have never been known as a gentleman, but protecting females is hard-wired into me.

I skirt along the ridge, watching her car. She pulls in and parks at the only convenience store in our tiny town.

Goddammit.

Looks like I’ll be spending the next week playing bodyguard to the determined researcher. The one too stupid to know not to come here in March. Alone.

Especially when there’s a serial killer on the loose.

Miranda

I pull in at the roadside market in Pecos to get supplies for the week.

I didn’t plan on coming up here again until late spring, but my tree ring research couldn’t wait. I have a paper to publish by June and to meet that deadline, I need the numbers now.

Dr. Alogore’s voice still rings in my head. “Another delay, and you lose funding. Get the numbers, now.”

When I argued that it was March, still winter in our Sangre de Cristo mountains, the southernmost tip of the Rockies, and—

“I don’t see your fellow researchers asking for the same type of special treatment for their projects.”

My cheeks heat as he smirks at me. Around the table my fellow researchers, all male, smirk with him. I don’t need to look around to know they’re all laughing internally at me. They mirror everything Dr. Alogore says or does. They even wear what he wears—right down to the fashion offensive plaid tie and brown Dockers.

“Fine,” I mutter, dropping my eyes to my yellow folder. It’s a bright spot of color in a drab room, and I chose it to give me a spark of joy in my otherwise weary day. But today it’s just yellow, the color of cowards.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dr. Alogore says to my blouse. I want to put my hand to my neckline, but stop myself in time. I feel the gaze of all my male colleagues resting on my modest sweater set. My grandma dresses less conservatively than I do, but I still get leers like I’m in lingerie. The way these guys look at me, I feel like they’re imagining me naked. Maybe they are. Yeah, I have big breasts. The rest of me is pretty curvy too. That doesn’t mean I should be treated any differently.

“If that’s all, let’s head out to lunch. My treat,” the professor says. Everyone murmurs gratefully except me. Dr. Alogore prefers lunch joints where the women dance on tables.

I grab my folder and scurry into the hall.

“Hey, Miranda,” one of my tall colleagues separates himself from the Dockers-wearing pack and comes to breathe down my neck. I turn and get a faceful of onion breath. He smiles like a shark, his eyes on my chest. “I’ll come up and help you collect that data.”

Ew.

“No, thank you,” I mutter and pull my cardigan closed. I’m not even baring cleavage. These guys are just creepers.

“Come on. I can help. It’s scary up there in the mountains this time of year,” he says with false concern. “We go up there together, and I can help you grab everything in record time. You can buy me dinner afterwards, to thank me.” His grin gets bigger. “I can help you with the findings, and we’ll split the credit, half and half.”

And there it is. A blatant grab for my research.

“Ugh, no thank you.” I hunch my shoulders and hug the folder to my front. “What, you think you can swoop in at the last minute and I’ll let you put your name above mine on the paper?”

He shrugs. “Makes sense, alphabetically—”

“No. I got this.” I duck my head and walk as fast as my legs can carry me. No one is cheating me out of my research. Not this time.

This paper could make the difference between another shitty year as a postdoc in Dr. Alogore’s lab and getting an actual professorial position somewhere. Anywhere. Of course, a professor position still won’t guarantee me respect in my field. I’ve seen enough women in science have their careers belittled on a daily basis to know I’ll be fighting for my equal rights every step of the way. Probably until the day I retire.

Never give up, never give in. That’s my motto.

I get out in Pecos and grab my empty canvas shopping bags to fill. Inside, I blink as my eyes adjust to the dimly lit, somewhat depressing market. I’ve been here before, so I know what to expect, but it still makes my skin crawl. Unswept concrete floors, ancient canned goods with old-fashioned price tags. Like any convenience market near an entry to a U.S. Forest, it carries extremely overpriced gas station fare. Loaves of Wonder Bread for almost five bucks, eight dollar jars of peanut butter.

I packed my own non-perishables in Albuquerque, so I head to the refrigerator case to grab a jug of milk, some eggs, bacon, and butter. That should be enough to get me by for the five days I plan to be up here.

I bring them up to the counter where an ancient man is talking to a local. He ignores me for a solid two minutes before he slowly drags the eggs toward the register while still gabbing away.

I clear my throat.

His companion, equally old, says goodbye and shuffles out. The owner turns and eyes me speculatively. Yes, his eyes drop to my cleavage. “What brings you up here, young lady? Isn’t the right time of year for fishing or hiking.”

“I’m headed to the research lab for a few days,” I say politely. It’s the exact same conversation we had last time I was here. Granted, that was six months ago, but still. I doubt they get a ton of women camping or hiking alone.

“Oh right, right. University of New Mexico, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He stops punching numbers into the cash register and squints at me. “You be careful up there alone. You’ve heard about the missing women?”

I push away the dread that ripples through me. The only thing to fear is fear itself. Right?

“I’ve heard, yes. But I’ve got my dog with me. And he’s very protective.”

That may or may not be true. I have a furry German / Australian Shepherd mix who loves to play fetch. But he does have a ferocious-sounding bark.

“Well, you might have to protect your dog. You do know we have a bear problem in this forest, don’t you?”

Right, the bear problem. He told me about it the last time I was up here. As an ecologist, I rather dislike when humans presume the animals are the problem. Wouldn’t our overpopulation and the shrinkage of wildlife corridors be the actual problem?

When I was here this past summer, he leaned on the counter and squinted at me. “You be careful up here. There’s a rabid bear roaming this wilderness. Tore a woman and her child to pieces a few years back.”

“If he was rabid a few years ago, he’d be dead by now, don’t you think?” I hated to use science and logic as a weapon, but…please.

“Well, he may not be rabid, but he’s definitely feral,” the old man had claimed.

I couldn’t help the scorn that must’ve crept over my face. “Bears can’t be feral. We don’t keep them as pets.”

The man thumped my change down on the counter and glared at me. “Crazy, then! There’s a crazy bear out there. Uncanny-like. Enormous animal with eyes that glow yellow and a real desire to destroy things. Same time that woman and her child got killed, the bear scored every tree in a three mile radius with his claws.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard about your bear,” I tell him now. “But you haven’t had any bear problems recently, right?”

“No, it’s been a few years. But something was wrong with the animal, I’m telling you. You mind your dog, or that bear might kill him just for sport—mark my words.”

Right. And Bigfoot might invite me to a tea party. I wanted to argue that bear attacks are incredibly rare, and just because an animal is an apex predator doesn’t mean it’s out to get humans. Most animals just want to be left alone in their natural habitat. And don’t get me started on the villainizing of sharks and bears and wolves in animated children’s movies.

The guy points at the number on the register. “Twenty-eight twenty-two.”

Yeah, like I said—overpriced.

I hand over my money and try to quell the stirring in my stomach. “Okay, I’ll keep him close at all times. Thanks for the warning.”

Despite the fact that I’d put my reusable bags on the counter with the food, the guy slid all my food into plastic ones.

I take them and dump the food into my canvas sacks and hand the bags back to him. “I don’t need these, thanks.”

As I head out the door, I hear him call after me, “You be careful, you hear?”

“Yep, I will. Thank you!”

Inside my Subaru, Bear gives a happy bark to see me return.

I open the door and put the bags of groceries on the passenger seat while Bear lunges forward and tries to kiss my face from the back seat. “You ready to go to the cabin, boy?”

He chuffs and tries to lick some more.

I angle my face away and give him a quick head rub. “Go lie down,” I tell him.

He promptly hops over the back seat into the trunk area, where I put his bed, and curls into it.

I smile into the rear view mirror. “Good boy.”

Snowflakes hit my windshield, and I say a prayer to the weather gods. The weather app I checked said there’d be a light wintry mix but would clear up tomorrow. It will be chilly, but I should be able to complete my research and get home by the end of the week.