Read Online Bear King's Curves: A BBW Werebear Shifter Romance by A.T. Mitchell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A.T. Mitchell
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be right back. Let me go tell this
guy we've decided what we're gonna do.”
Mostly rest. Stay safe. And sort this shit out –
whatever that means.
I looked over my shoulder. Next to Lyla on the table sat
the artifact, carefully wrapped in a small plastic bag we'd gotten at
a gas station.
I didn't have a clue where to start. I'd exiled myself
from the Klamath Clan forever.
Two choices: stay with this beautiful woman I barely
knew and carve out a new life. Forget the sweet volcanic hill country
and forests of Northern California.
Or else learn as much as I could about this artifact and
why it was so damned valuable.
“ Excuse me, sir?”
The old Indian man came forward, his long gray haired
tied back in a ponytail. He took the form out of my hand.
“ We'd like to take the weekly rate. Off season.”
He nodded slowly and tapped a few keys on an ancient
looking computer. An equally archaic printer squealed, spitting out
our receipt.
Reaching for my wallet, I fished out the cash I expected
I'd need. Then he passed me the paper and I did a double take. The
numbers next to the dollar signs were a lot lower than expected.
“ What's this? I wasn't expecting such a cheap
rate, even for late autumn.”
“ Traveler's special,” he said. His eyes
glowed a little brighter, but stopped just short of winking.
I paid the cash, folded the receipt, and stuffed it into
my pocket. I waited before re-joining Lyla in the empty dining room.
I had to be damned sure this wasn't some kind of trap.
Not that any connection with my clan seemed possible in this remote
place.
That Indian can't possibly know anyone back home...
A chill worked its way up my spine. I had to be sure.
The walls where the dining hall and rooms forked had
tons of old pictures stacked along the walls. I looked them over
carefully. Didn't find any clues about this place there, nothing
alarming or obvious.
The old man was in a few images. I stopped at the last
row, a couple grainy black and white pictures dated in the early
1950s.
Behind a row of smiling men dressed like lumberjacks was
the front desk. The very same, sans the computer. The old man was
there too.
He hadn't aged a day in fifty years.
While I couldn't rule out the possibility he'd taken
over for a father, a grandfather, or someone else, the photos didn't
lie. The old manager in black and white was identical to the man I'd
just spoken to.
I looked over my shoulder, but no one was there.
Growling, I fingered the edge of the photo's frame.
Gods. Even bears didn't age that slowly.
I wondered who – or what – I was dealing
with here.
“ What is it, Nick? You've been awfully quiet since
you got back to the table.”
I sat in our room by the window, staring out at an early
morning frost. We were further north, where mountains and forests
snowed over quicker and deeper than the mild Klamath winter I was
used to.
“ That old man at the counter, the guy who manages
this place...”
Lyla relaxed on the bed near me, tilting her head in
confusion.
“ Something odd about him. He gave me a discount
without even asking. That's something no lodge in these parts should
do, especially when it looks like we're the only paying lodgers right
now.”
She sat up, a look of alarm souring her beautiful face.
I stood up, pushed onto the bed next to her, slipping a comforting
arm around her soft shoulders.
“ It's okay. I don't think we're in danger. I
searched the hallway high and low for any signs. Never heard of the
Klamath Clan having associates this far north either. Not in Idaho.”
I spoke slowly, deliberately probing my mind to make sure I hadn't
overlooked anything.
Think, damn it. Any missteps here could have a grave
price.
No, nothing. Whatever the old Indian's angle was, it
couldn't be a beef with me. Or Lyla, for that matter.
“ Then...what is it? Why do you think he'd do
something?”
“ The photos on the wall. Some of them go back
fifty or sixty years. I saw him in the background,
guy we've decided what we're gonna do.”
Mostly rest. Stay safe. And sort this shit out –
whatever that means.
I looked over my shoulder. Next to Lyla on the table sat
the artifact, carefully wrapped in a small plastic bag we'd gotten at
a gas station.
I didn't have a clue where to start. I'd exiled myself
from the Klamath Clan forever.
Two choices: stay with this beautiful woman I barely
knew and carve out a new life. Forget the sweet volcanic hill country
and forests of Northern California.
Or else learn as much as I could about this artifact and
why it was so damned valuable.
“ Excuse me, sir?”
The old Indian man came forward, his long gray haired
tied back in a ponytail. He took the form out of my hand.
“ We'd like to take the weekly rate. Off season.”
He nodded slowly and tapped a few keys on an ancient
looking computer. An equally archaic printer squealed, spitting out
our receipt.
Reaching for my wallet, I fished out the cash I expected
I'd need. Then he passed me the paper and I did a double take. The
numbers next to the dollar signs were a lot lower than expected.
“ What's this? I wasn't expecting such a cheap
rate, even for late autumn.”
“ Traveler's special,” he said. His eyes
glowed a little brighter, but stopped just short of winking.
I paid the cash, folded the receipt, and stuffed it into
my pocket. I waited before re-joining Lyla in the empty dining room.
I had to be damned sure this wasn't some kind of trap.
Not that any connection with my clan seemed possible in this remote
place.
That Indian can't possibly know anyone back home...
A chill worked its way up my spine. I had to be sure.
The walls where the dining hall and rooms forked had
tons of old pictures stacked along the walls. I looked them over
carefully. Didn't find any clues about this place there, nothing
alarming or obvious.
The old man was in a few images. I stopped at the last
row, a couple grainy black and white pictures dated in the early
1950s.
Behind a row of smiling men dressed like lumberjacks was
the front desk. The very same, sans the computer. The old man was
there too.
He hadn't aged a day in fifty years.
While I couldn't rule out the possibility he'd taken
over for a father, a grandfather, or someone else, the photos didn't
lie. The old manager in black and white was identical to the man I'd
just spoken to.
I looked over my shoulder, but no one was there.
Growling, I fingered the edge of the photo's frame.
Gods. Even bears didn't age that slowly.
I wondered who – or what – I was dealing
with here.
“ What is it, Nick? You've been awfully quiet since
you got back to the table.”
I sat in our room by the window, staring out at an early
morning frost. We were further north, where mountains and forests
snowed over quicker and deeper than the mild Klamath winter I was
used to.
“ That old man at the counter, the guy who manages
this place...”
Lyla relaxed on the bed near me, tilting her head in
confusion.
“ Something odd about him. He gave me a discount
without even asking. That's something no lodge in these parts should
do, especially when it looks like we're the only paying lodgers right
now.”
She sat up, a look of alarm souring her beautiful face.
I stood up, pushed onto the bed next to her, slipping a comforting
arm around her soft shoulders.
“ It's okay. I don't think we're in danger. I
searched the hallway high and low for any signs. Never heard of the
Klamath Clan having associates this far north either. Not in Idaho.”
I spoke slowly, deliberately probing my mind to make sure I hadn't
overlooked anything.
Think, damn it. Any missteps here could have a grave
price.
No, nothing. Whatever the old Indian's angle was, it
couldn't be a beef with me. Or Lyla, for that matter.
“ Then...what is it? Why do you think he'd do
something?”
“ The photos on the wall. Some of them go back
fifty or sixty years. I saw him in the background,
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