Colton McCreary’s return to Bear Mountain hasn’t gone
as smoothly as planned. His damaged face has always caused people to stare, but
for some reason, the looks are ten times worse coming from those at home—those
who know the McCreary name for all the wrong reasons. His imperfection only
adds to their distaste. He ends up hiding in the shadows as much as he can,
watching life passing him by.
Brandon and Zander are offered a vacation in Bear
Mountain to meet with the alpha. Brandon’s surgical skills have him courted by
Declan and many in town with hopes the pair will move there and take over the
new wing of the clinic. Upon arrival, they immediately see Colton and know he’s
their third from their first glance.
Brandon’s ready to stay—Zander’s less sure Bear
Mountain could be their home. Between less than welcoming bear shifters,
werewolf attacks at the borders of the new wall, and the threat of war to come,
Zander fears they need to get out while the getting’s good.
Will there be enough time for the three to find a way
to come together before violence erupts?
“What’s your name?”
Brandon asked.
Colt’s mouth went dry.
“Colton.”
A smile crossed
Brandon’s lips. “We’re visiting for a couple of weeks. I hope to see more of
you while we’re here.”
There was a double
meaning to the male’s words. Colt heard the unspoken message in the comment.
“We’re staying up here
at the inn,” Zander added.
Colt’s gaze flickered
over to Zander. He was more than handsome—he was perfect.
As perfect as Colt
wasn’t.
“I’m—very busy,” Colt
said, backing away. He spun around before they could say anything else. His
bear roared inside—demanding he go back, but it was impossible for him to move
in any other direction but away. Once he made it to the kitchen, he threw both
plates against the wall of the dishwashing room.
The china shattered
against the tiled wall and didn’t make him feel any better.
Red’s mate, Quentin,
came racing around the corner. “What happened?”
Colt stared at the
little shattered pieces of plate on the floor. “Dropped some plates. You can
take it out of my pay.” He walked across the room and grabbed a broom leaning
against a corner.
A hand covered his.
Colt looked up and met
Quent’s gaze.
“You okay?” Quentin
asked.
No. I’m not okay.
He nodded his head, diverting
his gaze.
Quentin didn’t move a
moment, not until Red came into the space.
“Everything okay in
here?” Red asked.
Quentin removed his
hand and backed away. “Butterfingers here dropped a couple of plates,” Quentin
said, humor in his voice.
Colt kept his stare on
the floor as he crossed the room, broom and dustpan in hand. He cleaned up the
plates as he listened for Red and Quentin to leave him alone.
Finally they did and he
could breathe.
Barely.
He tossed the remnants
of the plates in a large trash bin before leaving the broom and pan against the
wall. Exiting the dish room, he walked closer to Red.
“I’m not feeling well.
I need to leave.”
Red’s head turned in
his direction, but Colt couldn’t lift his to meet the stare burning into his
flesh.
“Yeah… okay… I hope you
feel better.”
A twinge of guilt hit
Colt. Red and Quentin had been good to him. He hated lying—although it wasn’t
much of a lie. He wasn’t feeling
himself. How could he be okay after facing his mates in such a public way? His
stomach clenched at the thought of it.
Colt nodded, mumbling a
thanks before heading for the back door to avoid Jamie catching him sneaking
out the front.
When he was outside, he
took in a deep breath—clearing the scents of the two males from his nose.
Two weeks. They were
here for two weeks.
He
could avoid them that long.
