Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(47)

Ryder arched his gaze to Clinton as he walked by. And to Mason’s utter disbelief, Clinton ruffled Ryder’s hair gently until the little boy giggled and play punched at his leg. Clinton ducked and wove, fists up in the air and an easy grin on his face. What the crap was going on? Hell froze over or something. Clinton didn’t do easy, normal moments.

The shadow boxing bear shifter scowled at Mason and asked, “What are you lookin’ at?” Then he sauntered off without another look back and yep, there was Crazy Clinton again.

“Hey, did you park your truck at the end of the line?” Mason called.

Clinton flipped him off over his shoulder, which he supposed was a yes. Today, they were floating the river, something Clinton had been begging to do for a month. Well, actually he’d wanted to get sloppy drunk and float the river, but one out of two wasn’t bad since they were going to cut him off at beer five. When Ryder had told Mason that his dad was supposed to take him to swim lessons this summer, but had bailed for work instead, he found himself determined to make up for that *’s shortcomings. He would teach Ryder to swim before the weather turned, but for today, he was going to have some fun with the crew so that Ryder didn’t look back on the day Beck was forced to register him and have a bad taste in his mouth. Mason didn’t want him to suffer when he looked back on today.

Kirk walked by, his arm slung over Ally’s slim shoulders. She wore a green bikini that didn’t hide much of the tattoos that covered her back and arm. Good for her. She used to hide her ink because she didn’t want to share her story, but over the past couple of months, her modesty and insecurities had slipped away. Probably hanging with a crew of party-lovin’, constantly-Changing, semi-nudist shifters helped.

“You coming?” Kirk asked.

“We’re waiting on Momma,” Ryder said. “Momma!! Hurry up or we’re gonna miss the river!”

Mason chuckled and told him, “Don’t rush her, boy. We’re still waiting on Harrison, Emerson, and Audrey, too. Don’t worry. We won’t miss the river.”

When Mason stood and turned toward his trailer, he was stunned to stillness at the sight of his mate. She was walking this way, her bird-fine frame on display under a purple triangle bikini top and holey cut-off shorts she must’ve borrowed from one of the girls. They hung loose on her hips in the sexiest way possible. He’d never seen her in anything other than a matching pajama set, matching lingerie, power pants, or crisp, designer jeans under a blouse, but damn, she sure was fitting in now. The black sparkly flip flops on her feet were a little big and clacked with each step she approached, and those long, sexy legs had him adjusting his dick. The afternoon light gleamed off the silver stretch marks over her hips, but it was her cleavage, bouncing enticingly with each step that held his attention for too long. How did he know? Because when he finally managed to rip his gaze away from those perfect tits of hers, she’d shoved her white-rimmed sunglasses up on her head and her gorgeous green eyes were dancing as she offered him that knowing grin he loved so much.

Damn, his woman was beautiful. She pulled her petal-pink towel off her shoulder, exposing the raw, red slices he’d given her a few hours ago. Not just his woman anymore. A slow smile stretched his face. His mate.

Emerson walked beside Beck, chattering on happily in her green two-piece, the swell of her belly leading the way. And on Beck’s other side, Audrey was in her white tiger form, mouth open in a soft pant as she strode gracefully toward them, her giant paws spreading on the soft ground with each step. Her tiger loved the water.

The soft tinkling of Beck’s laughter filled the clearing. Beck had said Ryder’s smile meant the world to her, but Beck was changing, too. Likely more than she realized. Mason had noticed her smiling more, opening up more, relaxing into the crew. A few weeks ago, he’d been at one of the valleys of his life, and standing here, watching Ryder run to Beck, watching her catch him in her arms and spin him as they both peeled into giggles, he thought he couldn’t be any happier. What a turnaround. What a complete one-eighty his life had undergone in such a short amount of time.

Gentle movement across the trailer park in the woods beyond captured his attention. There was something in the tree branches. Something blurry, hard to make out, tinged in blue. Mason took a step forward and squinted. As Esmerelda came into focus, his blood chilled to ice, and a horrified sound scratched up his throat. She was hanging from a rope, her body transparent so that he could make out the pine needles behind her. Her neck was broken against the rope, her bare feet swaying gently in the breeze, her white sundress pristine and lifting at the hem, just like he remembered. Almost. Her eyes were open, staring at him, beseeching him as her lips formed the words, they’re coming.

With a gasp, he closed his eyes. His lungs hardened to rock, like he was the one dangling from that hanging rope.

Mason.

Don’t say my name, Essie. Please don’t say my name.

“Mason!”

He shook his head hard as Essie’s voice morphed into Beck’s. His mate’s nails were digging into his bicep as she shook him hard. “Mason, what’s wrong?” Her tone was pitched high and scared.

Mason forced himself to look back at the trees, but Essie was gone. Just…gone, like she’d never been there at all. He wanted to believe he’d just imagined it, but the chills on his arms wouldn’t go away. He rubbed the cold skin on the back of his neck and dragged his horrified gaze back to Beck. She was real. She was real, touchable, and here, and she would never leave him like Essie had.