Page 39 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

ZARA

I slow down slightly around the next bend, aware that Maddox said he’d be coming in my direction. The last thing I want is to crash headfirst into the only person who can help Ben.

Edging forward in my seat, I peer out into the pitch black, keeping my eyes peeled for approaching headlights. A truck sits parked on the shoulder, hazards blinking like a beacon in the darkness.

Relief floods through me, making my hands tremble on the wheel.

I pull up behind it and cut the engine. The sudden silence feels oppressive. Then, a massive shape emerges from the darkness, and my heart stops. It’s a bear standing on its hind legs beside my window, one huge paw raised.

Even knowing this must be Maddox, instinct screams at me to hit the gas.

The bear drops to all fours and shifts mid-stride. One moment there’s a grizzly, the next, Maddox stands there naked, already moving toward the truck with purpose.

My hands tremble on the wheel as I take him in. Even in the darkness, the family resemblance is striking. Same broad shoulders as Ben, same dark hair, same intense way of moving that speaks of barely leashed power.

Maddox doesn’t give me time to think. He jogs around the truck, his breath misting in the frigid mountain air, and yanks open the door. The hinges protest loudly in the quiet night. He gestures for me to slide over to the passenger seat with a sharp motion that brooks no argument.

“Move,” Maddox says, already sliding into the driver’s seat before my ass has cleared the console.

His skin radiates heat despite the cold, and the truck suddenly feels too small with him in it. He yanks something off the seat behind and places it in his lap to cover the family jewels and then drives.

As we pull back onto the road, the headlights sweep across the trees and catch movement. Wolves, grey shadows keeping pace with us through the underbrush.

My stomach drops as I count at least three pairs of eyes reflecting our lights.

He’s driving in the wrong direction. Away from the fight, and away from my mate, who needs help.

“Turn around,” I say, panic sharpening my voice to glass. The image of Ben surrounded by wolves flashes behind my eyes. “We have to go back and help him. You’re supposed to help him.”

“No.” Maddox doesn’t even glance at me. His hands are steady on the wheel as he navigates the winding road with practiced ease. He puts the truck into gear, and we roll forward, the engine rumbling as we pick up speed away from the fight.

My hand shoots out, and I grab his arm. His muscles are like iron under my fingers, not giving an inch.

“What are you doing? We have to go back.”

Maddox doesn’t take his foot off the gas. If anything, he pushes the truck faster.

“You’re Ben’s mate.” He keeps his eyes on the road, taking a sharp curve without slowing. “The thing he wants most is for you to be safe. If I bring you back there, it’ll all be for nothing. Plus, he’ll kick my ass.”

Safe. I’m safe while Ben faces a pack of wolves, alone.

“But there were so many of them. At least a dozen.” The memory of all those wolves emerging from the trees makes bile rise in my throat. “And they’re not normal wolves. They were huge. Please.”

Shadows move in the dark undergrowth as we pass, and eyes glint where moonlight penetrates the trees. It’s something out of a horror film.

“Not happening.” His tone is flat and final. Professional.

“But what if you’re too late?”

My voice cracks, and I feel sick as he takes me further from my mate. Each mile stretches between us like a chasm. The forest flies by outside the windows, dark and indifferent, to my terror.

“Ben’s no pushover.” He speeds up through another curve, tires gripping the wet pavement. “You can hate me all you want. My job right now is keeping you alive.”

In the distance, a howl rises through the night air. Then another. The pack calls to each other. My stomach drops, and my hands clench in my lap.

“Turn around. Please.” I’m begging now.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. It’s a no.”

The flat refusal makes something inside me snap.

“They were everywhere,” I say. “I don’t want him to die because of me.”

Maddox’s hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles whitening, but he doesn’t slow down. His jaw works as if he’s grinding his teeth.

“I’ll go inside and lock the doors. I have a gun.” I beg, desperate. “Just please turn this truck around.”

Another howl, closer now, and the truck suddenly feels like a tin can, too fragile against what’s out there. I’d be happy locked indoors.

“Already told you. No.”

The finality in his voice tells me it’s useless, so I keep my mouth shut after that, knowing nothing I say will change his mind. We drive in tense silence then. My hands fist in my lap so tight, my nails dig into my palms, with fury and fear warring inside me.

Maddox pulls up to a log cabin, newer than Ben’s, and solid looking. Security lights blaze to life, illuminating a cleared perimeter. He’s out of the truck before I can blink, scanning the woods for those chasing wolves.

I follow, clutching the gun. “Please.”

He hesitates before pressing his lips together at the sound of more howls in the distance.

“Fuck.” Then he shakes his head. “Right, get inside.”

He unlocks the door with a heavy key and quickly checks the interior. The cabin smells of cedar and coffee—masculine and lived in.

“Windows are reinforced. Door’s steel core under the wood. Lock this behind me.”

He tosses his keys onto the counter and hands me a radio from a shelf by the door, the plastic heavy and reassuring. His movements are economical, with no wasted motion. Then he grabs a set of keys from a hook, the metal jangling.

“Channel three. Mason’s maybe twenty minutes out. Beau too, hopefully.” He’s already heading back outside, boots heavy on the porch. “Lock it. Now.”

He doesn’t say another word.

The motorcycle roars to life, the sound shockingly loud in the quiet night. He’s gone in seconds, racing back up the mountain with the engine fading until all I hear is my own rapid breathing. The silence that follows feels worse than the howls.

I stand there for a moment, hand on the door, listening to nothing. Then I slide the deadbolt home with shaking fingers. The click sounds final.

I check the windows and test the back door. Everything’s locked up tight.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Fifteen.

A branch snaps outside, as loud as a gunshot in the stillness.

“Mason?” I ask loudly, hoping that even if it’s not, they’ll know I’m expecting company.

When I hear nothing but another rustle of branches outside, adrenaline dumps into my veins, and I start to pace. My heart slams against my ribs so hard, it hurts. I grab the radio with sweaty palms, nearly dropping it, when there’s a loud bang against the back wall of the cabin.

“Maddox?”

Static fills the cabin, then his voice comes through, breathless and strained. Behind him, I hear snarling, the sound of impact, and flesh hitting flesh.

“Maddox, there’s something outside.”