Son of the Cursed Bear (Sons of Beasts Book 1) by T. S. Joyce

Author:T. S. Joyce [Joyce, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wicked Willow Press
Published: 2017-07-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Now that he knew what to look for, this place was crawling with shifters. Apparently dens of foxes were huge. Paranoid little non-apex predator shifters knew their place on the food chain and banded together in big numbers in case anyone tried to make waves with them.

His phone rang again for the third time in a row, and Nox glared at the caller ID. Fuckface BlueBalls Dragon. With a growl, he scanned the grocery store parking lot for Nevada’s car and parked his truck to wait, just in case she decided on a late-night shopping spree again tonight. It wasn’t safe for her until those two creeper tourists moved on through. He’d been watching them, aka stalking them, to see if they needed to be a little deader than he’d left them when they’d messed with Nevada a few days ago. They were apparently here for some big golf tournament at the Foxburg Golf Course, and until it was over and they were far away from here, Nox was going to troll the local grocery store in case his mate needed back up.

Mother fucker! Stop calling her that!

Nox slammed his hand on the steering wheel, pissed at himself. Not because he’d bitten her. Fuck guilt. But because it was torture trying to stay away from her. Two days since he’d left her house with that question on her lips. Did I do something wrong?

She was perfect. Classy, beautiful, funny, and easy-going except when she was around people, but he didn’t care about that. He didn’t like being around people either. She was the type of girl a guy like him dreamed about. That real love, mate-for-life kind of encounter that made him draw up and question everything. His destiny was to be alone, right? He’d been born with too much of Clinton Fuller in him, and he was meant to wander the earth alone, fighting dominants to stay steady, bounty hunting because it was solo work, and wrinkling up year after year until he turned to dust deep in Damon’s Mountains. No legacy, no family, no mate, just getting through each day wondering why the fuck he couldn’t just be normal like everyone else.

His phone rang again. Stupid Damon.

Irritated, Nox answered, “I don’t have any new information for you.”

“Where are you?”

“On the road.”

“Have you any new leads on Vyr?”

Damon was testing, but Nox knew better than to lie to an ancient. Damon Daye had hundreds of years of lie detection experience.

“What do you know about fox shifters?”

“That they don’t exist,” Damon said blandly. “Answer my question.”

“Vyr doesn’t want to be caught.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t answering the question either. Check-fuckin’-mate.

“Nice try. Do you have any new leads?”

“I met a girl.”

Silence greeted him from the other end. Finally, Damon took the bait. “And she’s a fox?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re fucked. Go fall in lust with someone else. Foxes don’t give up their own, and they aren’t going to let a grizzly into their den. I’m not paying you to stir up a fox den, Nox.

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