Page 17 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

H eather yanked up her yoga pants and prayed that the leaves she'd just used weren't of the poison oak variety. That would so completely suck. She winced slightly as she adjusted her clothing. She was sore, but in the most wonderful way. After all, Brock was a large guy. All over.

Nothing a good soak in the hot spring won't cure.

A small smile curved her mouth as she thought of what Brock's reaction was going to be when she returned only to strip down right in front of him. She couldn’t blame him for what was bothering him this morning, but if last night was any indication, the sight of her bare behind should be enough to pull him out of his funk.

Funny. She'd never been shy about sex, as long as the lights were dimmed. Or better yet, off completely so her partner couldn’t see her.

Once she could get a guy into bed, her naturally passionate nature took over, making up for her less than perfect body.

Keeping a guy in her bed? That was a different story.

She’d yet to find one that wanted repeat action, even though every single one of them had all but bowed and kissed her feet after a night with her.

She knew it was because she was a plus-size girl.

No guy wanted to be seen with anything less than a Barbie doll these days. It would ruin their rep or whatever.

Personally, she thought it was because their balls were quite small. Too small to stand up to society. Or maybe it was the lack of better prospects at the time that steered them to her bed, and nothing else.

But for the first time in her life, she didn't feel any trepidation at all about prancing around completely naked in front of a guy. But Brock wasn't just any guy, and he honestly seemed to have a true appreciation for her figure, chubby rolls and all.

Unless it was only because she happened to be the only female here, and like most of the guys she came across (usually around last call at whatever bar she happened to be in, if she were to be honest with herself), he wasn't one to turn down an opportunity.

Or maybe he really just likes you. Why else would his eyes light up the way they do whenever he looks at you?

Heather berated herself for her negative thoughts as soon as she thought them.

She was normally a pretty positive kind of person.

But sometimes, it was really hard to stay positive about something that the rest of the world insisted you should feel ashamed of.

After a while, you can’t help but start to believe them.

A few feet away, she spotted a clump of viney-looking things that didn't look too rough or too sappy. Breaking off one of the branches, she sniffed it, then touched the tip of her tongue to it. Just a branch. Perfect. She used the broken greenery to scrub at her teeth.

See? She could adapt.

While she brushed, she kept a keen eye out for anything strange, but all was peaceful, and her thoughts wandered back to her anticipation of what she hoped would be a repeat of the night before.

Was it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was actually attracted to girls that had a little more meat on them?

Maybe he was. Even though she wasn't exactly bikini model material, she wasn't completely repulsive.

Running her tongue over her teeth, she searched for any spots she'd missed and then tossed the branch aside.

Different colors to her left caught her eye and she wandered over to a small bush growing near the base of one of the never-ending pine trees.

Bending down, she carefully moved the thorny branches aside to reveal a handful of dark purple berries.

Could it be? Plucking one from its home, she took a small bite. It was! Wild blackberries! Thrilled to have something to eat, however meager, that wasn't a mutant-cat-thing, she eagerly filled her shirt with every ripe berry on the bush. It wasn't much, but it was enough to share.

"Heather!"

Her head whipped around at the distant sound of Brock's voice. That didn't sound good.

"Heather!!"

Why did he sound so far away? She hadn't been out here for that long, had she? She couldn’t have wandered away that far.

"I'm coming!" she yelled through the fog.

She'd just started heading back toward the spring when the ground shook violently beneath her feet.

Dropping the berries, she lurched toward Brock's voice, moving as fast as she dared as the ground rippled beneath her feet.

She swerved to miss a tree trunk but a branch snaked out in front of her and she tripped, landing hard face down in the dirt and pine needles.

Pushing herself to her feet, she struggled on until she came to the break in the never-ending trees and the spring was in sight.

Only it wasn't a spring anymore. It was a freakin’ geyser.

Her mouth dropped open as she stared up at the steaming tower of water spewing from the earth.

"Get back!!" Brock bellowed at her.

He was running full out toward her, sort of.

Another spout of water was bursting through the ground, blocking his way.

The small clearing was flooding rapidly, and she could see he was trying to get around the advancing water before it cut her off from him completely.

The ground rumbled again and the geysers shot up even higher.

With a roar, Brock splashed through the water at full speed.

He grabbed her hand as he ran past her and pulled her along with him. "Come on! We 'ave tae go. Now!"

She turned to run and stumbled over a rock in true Heather fashion, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her along with him until they'd gotten far enough away.

When they were out of range of the quaking ground, he slowed to a jog, setting her on her feet and making sure she had her balance before letting go of her waist.

"What the hell was that?" she panted.

"I won a coin toss."

She stared at him in disbelief, but he grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him before she could say anything else. If this was what happened when he won, she'd hate to see what would've gone down if he'd lost.

He kept them at a pace that she could barely keep up with, but didn't slow down for her this time. Every few seconds, he'd look back over his shoulder, and urge her to keep going.

They must have run for at least a mile before Heather finally staggered to a stop. Leaning over, she put her hands on her knees and tried to breath. She hated how exhausted she was, but marathon running had never been her thing.

"We should keep going." Brock had circled back to her and now stood hovering at her side. The son of a bitch wasn't even out of breath.

She held up one hand. "I…just…need…a few…seconds," she panted. "To catch my breath."

He looked back toward where they'd come from with an anxious expression, but finally, he gave a curt nod. "Okay."

It took her more like a minute, but eventually she started breathing somewhat normally again. "All right," she said as she straightened up. "I'm good."

"We can probably just…"

Brock didn't finish what he'd been about to say. Heather opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when she heard it too. The roar of rushing water. It was getting louder now with every second, and it was coming straight toward them.

"Go! Go!" Brock shouted, urging her forward with a hand on the small of her back.

Heather willed her tired limbs to move and took off running again in no particular direction except away from the tidal wave coming at them. They ran blindly through the fog, dodging trees and briars.

"Look for high ground!" Brock shouted.

Out of the corner of her eye, Heather caught a glimpse of something running with them, low to the ground. She looked harder. It was one of those cat things. As she watched, it made a sharp turn and took off through the fog.

"This way!" Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to the right, following it. It was more familiar with this place then they were, and animals usually had a sense for getting out of danger.

The roar of the water was deafening now, the air so hot and humid her clothes were sticking to her and she could barely breathe.

It felt like she was in a kettle of boiling water, seasoned with pine needles.

Heather could no longer hear Brock running behind her, but didn't need to risk looking back to check on him.

She could feel him behind her, silently urging her on.

She was running so hard, she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to when the stream they'd been following the day before suddenly appeared in front of her. She barreled through the icy water, emerging on the other side and running up the bank to higher ground.

At the top, she stopped and turned and Brock did the same. She concentrated on not throwing up while they watched the wave of floodwater coming at them. As the edge of it hit the stream, it seemed to lose some of its momentum.

"I think we're okay here," Brock voiced the same thing she'd been thinking. Studying the landscape as far as he could see, he nodded. "I think we're high enough."

Keeping a close eye on the rapidly swelling stream, she stated the obvious. "Glad it waited for us to get out before it decided to turn into a water spout."

"It wasn't just a water spout, we would've been soup if we'd still been in there," Brock told her.

"Soup?"

"The water started to boil while you were gone."

"Boil?" She knew she was repeating everything he'd just said like an idiot, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

He held out his bright red hands for her to see.

"I scalded my hands when I stuck them in the water to wash my face.

They were blistered when I first pulled them out.

If I'd waited a few more seconds, it would've cooked the muscle right off my bones.

" Dropping his hands, he pointed with his chin. "Here it comes."

They held their breath as the highest part of the wave made its way toward them, destroying everything in its wake like a steamroller.

It took down thirty-foot trees effortlessly, tossing them about like toothpicks in the muddy waters and cutting a path as far as the eye could see.

As it hit the stream, it seemed to pause, weighing its options.

The water hissed loudly as the two temperatures mixed, then with a renewed surge of strength, it plowed through the cold water and headed their way.

“It’s like it’s alive or something,” she breathed in awe.

Brock took her by the wrist and began to back up. "We're nae high enough."

Heather squinted through the cloud of steam created by the stream, like cold water hitting a hot frying pan.

Rather than slowing it down, the wave seemed to be gaining power as it plowed up the bank toward the hill they were on.

Chunks of the ground gave way as the water pounded toward them, creating a mudslide above it.

It edged ever closer to them until the ground began to slip from under her feet as she tried to back away.

"Heather! Grab my hand!" Brock shouted.

She reached back for him but before he could get a good grip, the water surged up and slammed into her, sucking her down and tossing her head over heels until she didn't know which way was up.

At least the cold stream had cooled the water down enough so she wasn't being boiled alive.

However, she now had other things to worry about.

Her lungs were screaming for air when she slammed into a tree trunk floating downstream.

She wrapped her arms around it, letting it carry her along.

Her face broke the surface of the water and she sucked in a quick breath before she was pushed under again.

The rough bark tore through her clothes to the soft skin beneath, leaving stinging scrapes covering her chest and arms, but she hung on to that tree with everything in her.

The second time she came up, she heard Brock screaming her name from far away, but when she opened her mouth to answer him water poured in as she went under again.

Rolling over and over with the log, she finally broke the surface again just when she thought she was surely going to drown.

Sputtering and coughing, she stayed above water this time as she floated along with the floodwaters.

Drawing her first deep breath since she'd gone under, she croaked out, "Brock!" She pulled herself up higher on the log and searched the water around her. "Brock!" she screamed, louder this time.

But he wasn't there. She was gearing up to yell for him again when she noticed the river she was floating in was picking up speed, and fast. And the roar of the water was getting louder.

As her log floaty spun around in the current, she saw the top of a pine disappear into thin air in front of her, followed by the sound of a large explosion.

Splinters flew back up into the air. All that was left of the majestic tree.

Heather closed her eyes, praying to any gods who were listening that it wasn't what it appeared. But apparently there were no gods around at the moment, for when she opened them again, the log was wrenched from her arms as they were both swept over the edge of the waterfall.