Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(19)

“Okay then,” Mason muttered as the server made her way to the table. She held up the check, and Mason gave her a two-fingered wave. “I got this.”

“Oh, I can get my own,” Beck murmured.

Bash loudly slurped the last of his water and piped up, “Don’t worry, Beck. We can’t break his bank. Mason is a boar shifter.”

With a frown, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Boar people only think about money and piglets. Mason is rich like one of them pirates with the buried treasures in the—”

“Bash!” Mason barked out. “That’s good, man.”

Bash was quiet for about two and a half seconds before he leaned forward and whisper-screamed, “He has lots of money.”

Emerson and Audrey snickered, but Mason didn’t seem amused. He sighed an irritated sound, pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and handed the waitress his card.

“They’re coming,” a woman murmured behind Beck.

“What?” she asked, turning around. Behind her, no one was there. There was only an empty table, but when she looked at Mason again, he was staring at her with a look akin to horror in his now blazing blue eyes.

“Did you hear her?” he asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

“Who?” She checked behind her again, but clearly she’d lost her mind because, really, not a soul was there.

Mason shook his head hard and muttered, “No one. Forget it.”

Mason signed the receipt in a hurry and then stood so fast his chair went up on its back two legs and toppled over.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” His tone had gone feral. With a quick glance at Beck, he said, “I need some air.” And with that, he turned and left the restaurant. Left her staring after him wondering what had just happened.

A cool breeze blasted against her neck and lifted all the fine hairs on her body.

Beck searched the empty space one last time as her instincts screamed that something wasn’t right.

They’re coming.

Who the hell was they?





Chapter Nine


The silence in the cab of Mason’s truck was so thick it was choking. His profile was rigid as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, and his jaw clenched as he turned onto the road that would lead to the trailer park.

He was a powerful, masculine man with his ripped torso pressing against his white T-shirt, his suntanned arms bulging against the sleeves, so what on earth had him reacting like this? He’d closed down so fast, so hard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she murmured.

Mason shook his head and pulled a baseball cap from the backseat, then pulled it low over his eyes. He wasn’t hiding anything from her, though. Her senses were tuned to him already.

“I’m not rich, you know. It’s not like I’m just slumming it out here in the trailer park. I like living here. Like living simply. I don’t need a lot.”

“I’m not judging you.”

Mason blasted under the Boarland Mobile Park sign, a trail of dust billowing behind them. “Bash was right.”

“About what?”

“About what is important to my people. Boar people aren’t like bears, or gorillas, or anyone else. Money trumps all, but wealth isn’t only measured in the size of your bank account. Wealth is measured in the number of offspring you can successfully have and provide for. I don’t have the offspring, but my instinct to stock away money is still there. I just don’t have anyone to spend it on. I bought this truck, sure, but what else do I need? What else could I want? I had a big fancy job once, a long time ago. It hurt me, and it hurt…”

“Your first mate?”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“How long ago?”

“Beck,” he gritted out, casting her a hard warning glance.

“Okay, I understand. You’re not ready. It’s hard to talk about my ex, too.”

“Your ex, Beck. Ex. You’re a shifter in hiding, but still, you’ve never once called him your mate to me. I lost my mate. My mate. And when she passed, it ripped my guts out. Ripped my heart from my chest. Ripped my life away, my future. I was ruined by age twenty-two. That’s what love does. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Y-yes,” she forced out, clenching her hands against the urge to shove open the door and flee. She couldn’t be a shifter with all these heightened senses and not believe in the veil.

“When you lose love—actual love—your life gets filled with them. You see your mate on everyone’s face you pass in the street. You can’t stop thinking about moments you shared. Can’t stop thinking about what-ifs. Can’t stop blaming yourself.”

Anger lashed at her heart that he was comparing his loss to hers. They weren’t the same, but he didn’t know how deeply she’d been cut. “And now she’s haunting you.”

Mason clacked his teeth together and pulled to a stop in front of 1010, and before the wheels had even locked up, she shoved open the door and scrambled out. Clutching her purse to her stomach to keep her pain from leaking from her body, she strode toward the porch. And when she heard him slam his door and follow behind, she jogged to escape him.

She reached for the door handle, but Mason was there in a blur, hand on the barrier. “You’re angry.”