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  Caught by the Bear

  An MC Shifter Romance

  Table of Contents

  Caught by the Bear

  Copyright

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  About This Book

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  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Stalk me...

  Also by Adele Niles

  Copyright

  First Edition, November 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Adele Niles

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations are the product of the author's imagination.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  License

  This book is available exclusively on Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from a site other than an Amazon.com country specific website it means the author was not compensated for this book and you have likely obtained this book through an unapproved distribution channel.

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  About This Book

  Caught by the Bear

  In a flash, everything changes.

  What I see, scares me.

  Who I see, captures me.

  And now I’m caught, holding on to a secret that can launch my career and destroy lives.

  The decision is mine, but the choice isn’t obvious.

  My secret is Zane’s life and now Zane’s life includes me.

  I’m fated to be his and he’ll do everything he can to protect me from the dangers of Maiden’s Fork.

  But are those dangers too much for him to handle?

  Caught by the Bear is an MC Shifter Romance with plenty of heat and over the top alpha love. This shifter book is safe, with no cheating and a HEA that will have you baying for more!

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  Prologue

  Coraline

  This is it.

  I’ve gone to hell.

  My internet isn’t hooked up yet, and my carrier doesn’t provide coverage in this corner of the inferno.

  Twenty years old, and I’m completely bored.

  I plop down in the middle of the bed and stare out the window.

  At trees.

  And more trees.

  And a flash of gray.

  Wait. What?

  I look again. What was that gray? Some kind of weird wildlife? Well, wildlife is better than no life at all. I reach for my camera, but my equipment’s still packed up.

  I see another gray blur as something zips through the trees.

  A wolf? A coyote? It seems too big. Moves too fast. I look around wildly for the bag with my camera equipment.

  Then I see another streak of gray.

  But this time it stops—for a second—and looks at me.

  It’s not a wolf. Or any coyote I’ve ever seen.

  Wolves and coyotes don’t have long fangs.

  Or glowing red eyes.

  Or six-inch claws.

  Then it’s gone.

  I blink my eyes and breathe. My hands are shaking, and I fold them together, hoping to get some control.

  Okay. I just saw a monster.

  I’m not bored anymore.

  Chapter 1

  Coraline

  I stare at my stats in panic. My views and subscriptions are dropping. I’m a few numbers down with average views for my newer videos, and yeah, I haven’t been gaining new subscribers.

  My throat feels tight. It isn’t time to panic. Whatever I saw outside—that would be a reason to panic. This? This shouldn’t be a big deal.

  But it feels like a big deal. I’ve been a YouTuber for a year now and this is the first time this has happened to my channel.

  I inspect my own image on my laptop. Turning twenty didn’t change me that much. Same big brown eyes. Same curly auburn hair. A little pale—but who wouldn’t be pale, out here in the middle of a frigging forest?

  I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. I find my center. I let go my anger.

  For now.

  I critique my image again. I’m a little on the chubby side, but all that chubby goes into curvy boobies and a nice cozy tushie that still spins the boys around.

  Same button nose. Same cute smile. Same sweet voice.

  Saying the same thing.

  Same thing as the last video. The same damn thing…

  There it is, I admit. My problem. I’ve got nothing new.

  But how am I going to make a new movie in a place where nothing moves?

  Whoops. Anger again. Breathe. Let it go.

  But why shouldn’t I be mad? I’ve been ripped away from the city and my friends for the entire summer, and all because I was a failure at college. Big deal.

  Oh, sure, I know what my parents told me. They rented this room in a bed and breakfast for the summer because they wanted me to get out of the city, to be away from the noise and the heat. I might have failed my classes, but I’m not stupid. The soundproofing and air conditioning in my apartment are almost too good.

  They want me away from the city because they’re tired of hearing their so-called friends talk about how their kids are going to this medical school or that law school while their daughter makes her living off of YouTube and doesn’t give a rat’s ass about coursework or finals.

  I don’t know what they’re telling their friends that I’m doing up here in no-woman’s land, but I bet the story’s a doozy.

  They think I’m a failure, an embarrassment. But they haven’t bothered to check out my channel, or see how many hits I’m getting with my videos on cryptids and the paranormal.

  Or at least, they haven’t seen how many hits I used to be getting. Today’s stats are scary.

  But that’s going to change. All of my camera equipment and cryptid-hunting gear has arrived and I’ve set it up. I’ve heard great rumors about Bigfoot and skinwalkers in this part of the Catskills, even though it’s out of their normal range. What if I video captured one of those? What a freaking boon that would be! I wouldn’t have to worry about falling stats ever again.

  And then there’s that weird gray animal I saw yesterday…that’s where I need to start.

  I get into my jeans, lace up my hiking boots, and grab my camera.

  I’m back in business, inspired, and ready to go.

  Chapter 2

  Zane

  I twist the throttle and stomp on the kickstart. My bike fires up the first time.

  Like always.

  I’ve got on my leathers. My cutaway broadcasts my colors: URSA. Un
ited Righteous Shifters of America. My brothers.

  We are all bear shifters and we are the MC that rules Maiden’s Fork.

  We got it sweet and we know it. Problem is, when you got it good, you have to protect it.

  Not that we catch flak from most other MCs. They know we got it wrapped tight. It’s only the Howlers who can’t seem to figure this out.

  That bunch of sleaze bags think they have a chance because they’re werecoyotes and figure they can put up a fight. But a bear can have a coyote for breakfast.

  I think they got this delusion because they’re so inbred their minds have been pickled. Or, more likely, they’ve been sampling they’re own goods. These guys deal in heroin, oxy, and meth, and the URSA don’t abide that shit.

  Sure, we’ll get buzzed on Mary Jane and pop a shroom or two, but we know what the bad stuff does, and we don’t have time for that.

  But the Howlers have it figured like this—they can’t beat us in a fair fight, so they’re going to move in with their poisons and get the locals addicted. Then they figure the locals will turn on us when we try to cut their supply, and the Howlers will take over.

  But they’re making some big mistakes.

  For one, the locals ain’t stupid. They may be crude and rude and low tech, but that doesn’t mean they’re braindead. They’re not going to fuck up what they got with some no-win drug. They like their booze, and they figure that’s good enough. It’s cheap, there’s plenty around, and it don’t have Howler lice on it.

  And the Howlers forget that the URSA ain’t going to cave, no matter what. We’ll go down to the last bear standing to protect our home, our ladies, and our rugrats. We’ve got someone on guard day and night. And if one bro gets a whiff of Howler stink, we’re all down their throats.

  Tonight I caught the night patrol, which is really no problem. I like riding under the stars and blasting up the twisting mountain roads with my super shifter reflexes. But if I run into trouble—and by that, I mean Howlers—I’m going to have to keep my cool.

  So I hate starting out pissed. And I’m pissed already.

  What’s the burr up my butt? Simple: E. J. Kendrick.

  E. J. is a tall, skinny, rat-faced ugly who looks like his last meal came from a dumpster. I hate this guy for two solid reasons. He’s supposed to be head of the Howlers—if an evil horde can have a head. The other reason I hate this guy has to do with my belief, based on sound shifter instinct. I think E. J. is responsible for killing Ash, the last President of our club.

  But the brothers say I don’t have evidence. As a result, they’ll beat back any Howlers that step over our line, but they’re not going to start a war just based on my say so.

  But damn! These bros are so blind, they can’t see the warts on the end of their dicks.

  Of course the Howlers killed Ash. I tell them to look at the facts.

  For one, a shifter’s natural ability to heal almost any wound means a bro can get gut shot and walk away an hour later. Pure silver can kill a shifter if he’s stabbed or shot with it, but most people don’t walk around with silver bullets in their pockets.

  So, there’s not many ways you can kill a shifter, but taking off their head will work. Ash’s head was blown clean off. Who would know that but another shifter, and who would try it but a dirty Howler?

  I guessed it would be too much for the URSA to admit they got caught with their pants down and that low-lifes like the Howlers got to their leader. So they bought E. J.’s story that he saw some hunter make the shot while Ash was in his bear form.

  But the story doesn’t make sense. Any hunter in these woods knows not to hunt black bears because they are damned hard to kill. All it does is make the bear mad and then they come after you.

  And if you did have to kill one, you would aim for the torso, the biggest target, not try some trick shot to the head and hope you lived long enough for another shot.

  And when Ash’s body was found, E. J.’s tracks were all around. E. J. said he was going over to see if he could help Ash before sounding the alarm, but I think he was trying the oldest trick in the book. He was hiding in plain sight.

  But facts just make the brothers mad, so the new Prez, Drake, puts me on extra patrols just to get me out of the clubhouse. Drake listens to what I’m saying, but he can’t convince the bros without hard evidence, so he’s got to keep the peace.

  Telling me I have to be out on my bike is like telling a kid they have to eat candy, so I don’t mind.

  Except maybe when it rains. That’s not as much fun.

  There’s a flash of lightning as I come around the curve of the road.

  And it rains.

  Chapter 3

  Coraline

  I am almost to the top of Bear Mountain. It’s been a hike, but I love a good hike. Luckily, I picked a beautiful day for it.

  I’ve been walking around with my eyes on the trail, though, and when I look up to survey the landscape around me, I notice that dark clouds have formed. Crap. Storms come on fast in the mountains. A lightning bolt lights up the valley. Is it going to rain?

  The deluge of water answers my question.

  My first fear, of course, is for my equipment. I’m wearing a waterproof down jacket, but that will only protect me, not my camera. I duck into a clump of trees, open my jacket, and shelter my camera underneath the jacket while I break it down to put into the camera case.

  This feat requires some crazy arm acrobatics, but I get it done. Then I remember I fastened the hood on my jacket, so I pull up the hood to cover my already soaked head.

  I’m waiting out the storm in this condition when I hear voices coming up the path toward me. My paranormal investigations have taught me to be still when I hear unfamiliar voices and sounds, so I wait.

  As the voices get closer, they sound like a pack of men, howling with laughter, probably at some rude joke.

  There’s no way I can get out of my shelter of trees right now because they would see me, so I hunker down.

  Sure enough, when they slump past, I can see they look like the type of punks who would spell trouble for a lone woman. They’re wearing worn leathers and cutaway jean jackets with creepy looking patches. On their backs they have the image of a wild-eyed coyote with salivating lips and a snarl showing long teeth.

  I know these guys are bad news because I know predators when I see them. I may be new to the woods, but I grew up in New York City.

  I keep as still as possible as they pass.

  Only when I can no longer hear them laughing, or stomping of their nature-crushing boots, do I step out of the trees and start off in the opposite direction.

  The path is muddy and slippery, so when I see a fire break to the east, I decide it would be safer to follow this path down the mountain. Safer this path than a path made by wildlife. Like bears. Or wolves. Or coyotes.

  I’m right as far as safer footing is concerned, but I’m wrong when it comes to coyotes. I round a bend and I find myself face to muzzle with a pack of coyotes. They’re sitting calmly, as though they were waiting for me.

  This is unnerving enough, but then the biggest one of them comes over to me and sniffs.

  Then it looks up at me with glowing red eyes.

  I slowly start to back away.

  A low growl issues from the big beast’s throat. Its lips curl and I see fangs.

  It rears up. And I see six-inch claws.

  Other coyotes slowly circle and cut off any hope of escape.

  They start to howl, and they sound unnervingly like the pack of men who passed by me howling at their joke.

  Could it be them? No. Impossible.

  I’m nearly frozen in fear, but then another instinct prevails.

  I reach for my camera.

  Chapter 4

  Zane

  I’m going up an incline when the scent hits me. It makes my bear go so crazy I damn near lay the bike down turning it around.

  My bear is clawing at my brain. He senses danger, but instead of retreating, h
e wants to head into it. There is something he wants to protect. Someone.

  The bike squirrels and slides on the wet road. The scent gets stronger. Then it fades.

  I can feel my bear fighting to get out. He wants to take over the bike and go back up the road to where I lost the scent.

  I hold him in check and take the bike back cautiously. I test the wind to make sure I’m approaching from the downwind side. When I find the scents again, I know why my bear wanted out.

  I smell fear. I smell female. I smell Howler.

  And something else. Something that makes my heart pound and my dick harden.

  What the hell?

  The bros say I got a hard-on for E. J., but I didn’t think that’s what they meant.

  I kill the bike and prop it in some trees. I strip off my clothes and throw them on the bike. I phase into my bear and circle through the woods to the place in the firebreak where the scents are the strongest.

  When I flatten against a tree and shoot a look around, I don’t know what I expect to see.

  But I didn’t expect to see the most beautiful woman in the world.

  She has hair like fire, big, wide brown eyes, and curves as sweet and succulent as a luscious ripe pear. My bear’s mouth drools and I have to stop him from jumping out and grabbing her.

  I know he could handle one of these werecoyotes. Even two or three. But I don’t know if he could handle the whole pack—and keep this woman safe at the same time.

  I’m trying to figure out a strategy when I see the biggest coyote’s head go up. He’s testing the air with his nose. He turns his ugly face toward me, and I know who it is.

  E. J.

  Not even a dead coyote could smell that bad.

  As though by a signal, all the other mangy curs follow their leader’s nose. They turn as one and face me.

  Behind them, I can see the woman taking advantage of the distraction and backing into the trees.

  Beautiful and smart! The man inside me smiles.

  Then I jerk up my head and let out a roar. I wade into the pack.

  Coyotes come at me from every side, but there is only one I want to get to.