Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(49)

Mason frowned and yelled, “Bash, don’t let him in the water!”

“I’ll keep him safe!” Bash called from a distance.

Beck nudged his rock-hard shoulder. “Protective.”

“Yeah, about that. My instincts are insane lately. I don’t want you or him out of my sight. Is that normal?”

Beck stooped to pick a thorn from the bottom of her flip flop while resting her hand on Mason’s forearm for balance. “It’s completely normal for me, so probably.” Robbie sure didn’t have any paternal instincts, but Mason was the sun, and her ex was the darkest night. The two couldn’t be compared.

Mason picked her up so fast she left her stomach on the forest floor. He nuzzled his sexy facial scruff against her tender belly until she was squirming and shouting laughter. His biceps bulged as he rested her over his shoulder and strode through the woods with a strong, confident gait behind the other Boarlanders.

“Just to warn you, I’m gonna be starin’ at those sexy tits of yours all day, so keep your little smirks to yourself.”

“No deal. When did you have time to plan a floating trip?”

“When you and Ryder were down in Saratoga the other day for that Lumberjack Wars meeting with Parks and Rec. I went and got the tubes from Moosey’s Bait and Barbecue, the bait side. They had a little lifejacket, too, that looked the right size for Ryder. I even got a tube for Big Blue.” Mason set her down and pointed to where Kirk was shoving the cooler into a square floaty.

Bash had placed himself between Ryder and the river waves lapping at the beach. “I bought girl drinks, too, and rainbow umbrellas so you can feel fancy.”

Ally lifted a bright red fruity beer from the cooler and handed it to Beck while Mason went to work helping Kirk and Clinton duct tape a bunch of giant yellow inner tubes together. Across the river, a commotion snatched Beck’s attention.

“Yooohooo,” called a petite, red-head with thick glasses, a floppy straw hat, and a yellow polka-dotted saggy tankini. The Gray Backs filed out of the woods behind her.

“Hey, Willa!” Emerson yelled with a wave.

“Hell, yeah,” Kirk said. “Now it’s a C-Team party.”

“The Ashe Crew is meeting us down river.” Creed, the dark-haired alpha of the Gray Backs called through cupped hands, “Hey, Ryder-man!”

“Hi Mister Creed!”

“Congratulations on owning your owl today, buddy!”

“Hooo, hooo!” Ryder called.

Her son was practically vibrating with pride as Beck snapped him into his life jacket, and a well of excitement bubbled up her throat. Today had turned out so differently than she’d thought it would.

They piled into their inner tubes, Ryder into the smallest one, and rowed clumsily with cupped, splashing hands to the middle of the river toward the Gray Backs, who were doing an equally horrid job of steering. They were all cracking up by the time they reached each other and linked up. And behind them, Kirk, Bash, and Clinton jumped all the way over the falls and into the river with huge cannon-ball splashes. Ryder got so excited, he squeezed his juice box all over himself and giggled uncontrollably when the rowdy Boarlanders popped out of the water right beside his tube and splashed him. A slow-floating quarter-mile down river, and the Ashe Crew was waiting in the shallows, true to their word, and with a couple of kiddos around Ryder’s age. Wyatt was the blue-eyed bear shifter son of the Ashe Crew alpha, Tagan, and his mate, Brooke. And Bruiser and Diem’s daughter, Harper, linked up her little tube to the boys’ too. She was a striking girl, with dark hair and one soft brown eye like Diem’s, the other blue with an elongated reptilian pupil. But despite the fire-breathing dragon that resided inside of her, she was polite and gentle with Ryder when they splashed around.

When Mason swam up behind Beck and rested his elbows on her tube, then leaned in and nuzzled her neck, another layer of happiness washed over her. Looking around at the different crews who were greeting each other like they hadn’t seen each other in months instead of days, and under Mason’s easy affection with the soundtrack of Ryder’s laughter echoing through the river valley, this incredible sense of belonging drifted over her like a warm, comfortable blanket.

And now she had another reason to fight for the shifter rights vote.

Because someday, someway, she and Ryder and Mason were going to register and pledge as official Boarlanders.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Mason readjusted Ryder’s weight in his lap so he could drape his arm around Beck’s shoulders. A distracted smile still lingered on her lips as she swayed from side to side with the rocking motion of Clinton’s truck. She was happy. Mason could sense it coming off her in waves, and damn, what it did to his animal. Hoof stomping, chest up, head held high, his animal hadn’t ever been a prideful creature, but today he was.

On the other side of the truck bed, Kirk was rubbing his mate Ally’s shoulder absently as she dozed off. Usually, Clinton drove like a bat out of hell, but today, he’d acted almost normal. Maybe 1010 was working its magic on him, too.

The sun was setting behind the mountains, painting the sky in neon pinks and oranges, casting Beck’s face in a pretty glow. She smiled up at him, as if she could hear his thoughts. Hell, maybe she could. He’d never marked a woman before. It had been against the rules of the boar people to give Essie one because she was human, and he’d cared deeply about what his people thought about him back then. Now, all he cared about was Beck, Ryder, and the inhabitants of Damon’s mountains.