Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(50)

Clinton pulled under the Boarland Mobile Park sign and onto the new gravel road. He parked in his yard over the scorched words he’d burned into his weeds and, exhausted from the day, they all climbed out of the truck. Ryder was still hanging on, but Mason would bet his tusks he would sleep like a winter grizzly tonight.

But when he turned for 1010, there was a familiar, beat-up old white Ford truck parked on the new concrete pad beside it. And on the front porch rocking chairs, Beaston and Aviana sat with matching smiles.

“Beaston!” Kirk called with a wave. The others greeted him, too, but the feral-eyed bear shifter only nodded a greeting, his glowing green eyes never straying from Ryder.

With a frown, Mason led Ryder and Beck to the porch. The boy hadn’t met the Novaks yet, but not for lack of Mason trying. It seemed Beaston had trouble being separated from his raven boy more than a few yards, and he’d grown protective and unwilling to take him out of the trailer he shared with Aviana behind the Grayland Mobile Park.

Beaston was cupping something gently on his lap and didn’t stand as they approached like his dark-haired mate, Aviana, did. Instead, he cocked his head at Ryder and murmured, “I’m Beaston.”

Ryder had gone quiet, and Mason understood. Beaston’s eyes glowed like a demon’s, and the air around him was heavy with dominance.

“Tell him hi,” Beck encouraged him.

“Hi,” Ryder said shyly, his eyes on the floorboards.

“Introduce yourself,” Beck murmured, inching him forward by the shoulders.

“My name’s Ryder Layton Anderson and I’m five years old and I live in a trailer park.”

Beaston cracked a crooked smile, just for an instant before his eyes went curious again. “I came here to see you.”

“Why?” Ryder asked in that little squeaky voice of his.

“I have something to show you.”

“Is it a puppy?”

“No, but it’s the most important thing to me. The best thing.” He held out his cupped hands, and on his palms sat a tiny, fluffy, jet-black chick with a glossy, black beak and big round eyes that blinked curiously at Ryder. “This is my raven boy, Weston. Someday, you’ll call him Wes.”

Ryder’s eyes went round, and Mason knelt beside him to get a better look at Beaston’s son. “He’s already shifted?”

“Early,” Beaston said with a nod. “I wanted to come today. Wanted to come to the river for Ryder, but Weston Changed and...”

Aviana settled her hand on her mate’s tensed shoulder and whispered, “It’s okay.”

“I had a dream,” Beaston said, his eyes steady on Ryder. “A black raven and a snow white owl were flying over a crowd. Everything was loud. Cheering. They flew as one. Happy. My Aviana will only bear me cubs now, and Weston will be my only raven boy, and you…you will be like his brother. You’ll be fierce. Strong.” Beaston’s eyes blazed like green flames as his voice dipped lower. “And do you know what they will call you?”

“What?” Ryder whispered.

“They will call you Air-Ryder, Son of the Beast Boar, Blood Brother to the Novak Raven.”

Chills blasted up Mason’s arms, and he jerked his eyes to Beck, who looked equally as stunned.

“Who,” Mason asked, fully aware that Beaston’s dreams had never been wrong. He had the sight, like his mother before him. “Who will call him that?”

Beaston lifted those wild green eyes to Mason as a sly grin spread across his face. “Everyone.”





Chapter Twenty-Three


Mason stood leaned against Ryder’s open doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched him sleep. The little boy’s lips were parted, and his face was completely relaxed. He used to think boar offspring were the cutest, but now that seemed ridiculous. Ryder was the cutest. Little fluffy owlet, always wanting Mason or Beck to hold him when he Changed. Mason had tucked one of his downy gray and white feathers into an empty matchbox for safekeeping since Ryder wouldn’t be this little forever.

Beaston’s dream proved that. Someday he would grow up, and Mason wouldn’t get to cuddle the little owl anymore. He would get manly hugs and back slaps. Son of the Beast Boar. Mason gritted his teeth against the urge to fall apart. He sure didn’t feel like The Barrow anymore.

Beck was in the living room folding laundry and watching some reality show she roped him into sitting through after Ryder went to bed at night. Any other woman, he would’ve fought it, but Beck liked snuggling and talking about the characters, and damn, he would watch a documentary about water boiling if it made her happy.

She’d been on the warpath since they’d been forced to register. Her days were filled with balancing motherhood and being a champion for the shifters. She had meetings and conference calls, organized events, and bullied the crews into community service with a relentless tenacity. Cora Keller had called Harrison and told him to keep her happy because the work Beck was doing for shifter public relationships was making a huge difference. Even Cora was back to joking on her phone calls, where for a while, she’d been so stressed, like the weight of their future was on her shoulders.

Mason was so f*cking proud of Beck for stepping up. She had everyone doing a job, visiting the websites, answering questions, doing community outreach, and volunteering at Parks and Rec events down in Saratoga. At her direction, the girls of the Ashe Crew had built a huge rapport with the surrounding areas at the flea market where they sold their shabby chic furniture and décor. Willa’s Worms were now a staple at every bait shop from here to Kansas, and every one of the crews spent more time in town and signed autographs whenever anyone asked.