Page 22 of Dream Weaver (Spellbound in Sedona #3)

COOPER

Abby’s breath caught, and she backed away. I followed her, keeping my body between her and the cougars.

But, shoot. We didn’t have much space to retreat into. The rock arch connected smoothly to the landscape at one end — where the cougars were — but it crumbled off at the other. To escape in that direction, we would have to jump a six-foot gap over a fifty-foot drop.

A fourth cougar appeared at the cliff face near that end, cutting off that suicidal option.

“Aren’t cougars supposed to be solitary?” Abby murmured.

I nodded slowly. “Cougars, yes. Shifters, no.”

Their scents made that clear — a musky feline scent mixed with a faint trace of human sweat.

Abby’s hand tightened around mine as she checked the sky.

“It’s getting closer.”

I didn’t look, because so were the cougars.

We were running out of options fast.

I pulled my shirt over my head and thrust it at her. “Hang on to this, please.”

That was Peter’s shirt, and I’d hate to ruin it in a shift.

The cougars closed in, snarling.

I yanked off my boots next, because those would be a bitch to kick off halfway through a shift.

“Wait!” Abby protested when I stepped away. “What are you—”

My back hunched, and I snarled. It was all garbled, though, because my bear pelt broke through my skin, and that stung like hell.

“Oh,” Abby mumbled.

Not exactly a cheer of approval, but at least she hadn’t screamed in horror.

My bear ripped to the surface, and I found myself on four feet and awash in scents. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the felines. How had I not caught that earlier?

Angry with myself and them, I reared onto my back legs and roared.

“Whoa,” Abby murmured.

A good thing Abby was Abby and not most folks. Otherwise, she would have run for the hills. Not that she could, though, with that fourth cougar blocking our only avenue of escape.

The three felines at the near end converged and stepped onto the first part of the arch, one in the front and two at its flanks.

Definitely shifters — with military training, I would bet.

A leaf fluttered by, then another, and the wind picked up, whispering through the trees. The dark cloud was nearly upon us, more orange than gray now.

“Dust storm,” Abby warned. “Not far off.”

Well, neither were those cougars, though one at the back glanced toward the storm in concern. It grumbled at the others and dropped back. The leader turned to hiss at it, then tried to impress me with his long, curved fangs.

Ha. I pulled my lips back to show off mine with an earsplitting roar.

Three of us and only one of you, his snarl implied.

Yeah, well. I was three times their size, and the narrow bridge would make it hard for them to attack at once.

A gust of wind tore over the bridge, and I dropped back to all fours. Even the cougars put their bellies to the ground, while Abby crouched.

Then the leader leaped forward, catching me off guard. Claws parted my thick fur, but only two sliced my skin. I roared and swung back. We slammed together, and I heaved to one side.

“Watch out!” Abby yelled as momentum carried me toward the edge.

The cougar scrambled wildly, and I thrust my front paws out, barely managing to hit the brakes before skidding over the edge.

With a panicked yowl, the cougar tumbled past me and disappeared. The wind lulled just long enough to let the sound of a sickening thump reach us from below. Then the wind kicked up again, howling like a living, breathing thing.

My hair stood on end.

Magic, my bear hissed.

The second cougar stopped, swishing its tail. The third anchored itself against the wind with a wide stance and yowled, not at all enthusiastic about being so exposed.

Abby hunched and turned away from the wind. “Oh. Ow. Ouch.”

Tiny pricks slammed at my nose. The dust storm was about to hit — and hit hard.

The wind howled, and I stumbled sideways, digging my claws into the ground.

“Get down!” Abby yelled.

The hell I would. Not with those cougars there.

But the wind buffeted them too, and they swayed against the force of the wind. Seconds later, they turned and raced for cover.

I glanced over in time to see their buddy disappear into the trees.

“Hang on!” Abby cried over the howling wind.

I roared back as it blasted over us. I was heavy, but Abby was light — light as a feather to those hurricane-force winds.

As quick as I dared, I shuffled over and hunched, keeping my claws sheathed as I scooped her against my body with one paw. Then I curled up like a momma bear caught in a blizzard with her young, with Abby nestled against me. Dammit. How had we not seen this coming?

Abby wrapped her arms around my front leg, holding on. Sand pelted my back, and wind flattened my fur.

In the midst of the dust storm, lightning flashed, and Boom! Thunder cracked.

My teeth rattled — the lightning was that close. My back leg twitched, and I found myself an inch closer to the edge. Abby was even closer to the abyss.

Shit. What next? Fire?

Somewhere out there was a witch or a warlock, and it wanted us dead.

A witch like Lisa — er, Liselle?

Abby stirred. I grumbled, keeping her close, but she wiggled through my grasp.

“Hold still!” she hollered in my ear.

No way. I reached for her, wishing for human hands to grasp with.

“Trust me, dammit!” she whispered — or yelled — next.

I wanted to, but I’d seen Abby mad, and mad made her impulsive. Explosive. Dangerous to everyone in a hundred-yard radius.

Then again, explosive and dangerous might come in handy right now. I sure as hell wasn’t accomplishing much. A bear could vanquish almost any foe, but witchcraft was kind of a stretch.

So, I did my best to shelter Abby as she struggled up to her hands and knees, leaning into the wind — and me. She didn’t have much body mass to lean with, though. My mother would definitely not approve. If we survived this, I vowed to take Abby home to Wyoming, introduce her to my entire family, and let my mother stuff her with home cooking to put some meat on those bones.

But right now…

Through the howling wind and dust, something colorful whipped around. My shirt, I realized. Well, Peter’s. Abby had wrapped it around her arm like a talisman.

Gripping fistfuls of fur, she worked her way up my body, stopping when the wind blasted, then fighting onward. When she reached her knees, she sucked in a deep breath and stabbed one hand into the storm.

The wind screamed, knocking into her. Abby wavered slightly, then reached higher. Higher…

Heaving to her feet, she stood and thrust a hand out against the storm. The other hand clutched my fur, and the shirt wrapped around it whipped in the wind.

Stop, her gesture said. I order you to stop.

It didn’t, but sand stopped stinging my eyes, and the heavy curtain of dust that had enveloped us thinned.

I turned my head, watching her battle the wind. Her hair streamed out behind her, but a pocket of air cleared in front of her face. She rotated her hand, slicing the wind like a knife.

The storm raged on, but it split around the blade of her hand, letting the air pocket around us expand. My body was Abby’s trench, and her arm was a rifle protruding into the battlefield. The shirt wrapped around her wrist flapped so hard, I thought it would shred.

The air crackled with magic. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. Whoever was on the other end of that storm was really, really mad.

But so was Abby, and she was stubborn as hell. Gritting her teeth, she hung on.

The storm raged all around us, but a bubble of calm expanded, inches from our skin. Sand flew through the air, blurring my view of straining trees and whipping shrubs. Thin rays of sunlight burst through the clouds, blinding me briefly before clouds wiped them away.

Gradually, though, the sun won out, and thin slices of blue sky became wide swaths. The wind faded, letting sand and dust settle to the ground. The shirt wrapped around Abby’s arm stirred a while longer, then went limp.

Abby sagged over my body. Her heart pounded against my side.

I rolled slightly and looked up, quietly chuffing at her.

Releasing a fistful of fur, she patted my side. “I’m okay.”

I chuffed again, not satisfied.

“Really. I’m fine,” she whispered, creaking to her feet.

Sand rained from her clothes, and her hair was a mess. But she seemed fine — until she realized she was face-to-face with a grizzly. Me.

I kept perfectly still, like she was the butterfly in that mountain meadow, a long time ago.

Her throat rippled with a gulp, and she patted my side tentatively.

“Um… Good bear. Nice bear…” She backed away.

A mournful rumble sounded in my chest, and she froze. Then she inched closer and rested a hand on my side.

“Sorry. And thanks. And…er…wow.” She moved her fingers over my fur.

I nosed a little closer and wiggled my ears. They were much softer and nicer to pet. Would she get the hint?

She did, moving her hands to my head, then my ears.

The rumble changed to a hum, and she chuckled.

“Whoa. You’re a bear.”

Well, obviously. And she was a witch. But, hey. Once again, we’d proven ourselves a good team.

I flopped back, exposing my belly.

She laughed and scratched there next. “If you were human, this would be totally inappropriate.”

My gut warmed. We’d spent a hot, sizzling night together. Did appropriate even apply any more?

Abby’s eyes sparkled, and I was sure she was thinking the same thing.

A bird darted by, making Abby glance around.

The storm had faded to nothing, but the landscape was still in a hushed, batten-down-the-hatches mode.

“We ought to get out of here,” she whispered.

I looked around, then dipped my head in a nod. Still, I couldn’t help giving Abby a quizzical look.

“What the hell happened?” she echoed the question my expression had asked. Then she gritted her teeth and took a step toward the trail. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”