Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(9)

The other Boarlanders approached slower, as if giving Sebastian room to greet Mason as long as he wanted. She’d done her research, knew who they were from the pictures on the internet. Mason hadn’t been easy to find, but the rest of them were out there for everyone to see, fully registered and open with who they were. Social media accounts, bangaboarlander pages, blogs, and newspaper articles. Emerson Kane was cupping the slight swell of her belly with one hand and wiping the corner of her eye with the other as she approached, all curly black hair and emotional gold-colored eyes. And Harrison was there with his short chestnut hair and somber, dark blue eyes. His mate, Audrey, had her dark hair pulled high in a ponytail and wore a purple Moosey’s Bait and Barbecue shirt over cut-off shorts. Kirk, the massive gorilla shifter who had made waves across the world a couple months ago when he battled Kong in animal form, stayed on the outskirts, eyes averted. He felt…angry, and Beck’s fight or flight instincts kicked up. Warily, she pressed herself against the tailgate of Mason’s truck and exposed her neck. His mate was human, but looked tough. Alison had short platinum-blond hair and tattoos on one arm that stretched from under her black tank top to her elbow. Her eyebrows were dark, and her pixie face held a similar frown that Kirk wore.

Sebastian shoved him back to arm’s length and croaked out, “You’re back now so I don’t have to miss you no more. You’re back now.”

Mason looked gutted and shook his head. “No, man. I’m just delivering your new publicist.”

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest like a shield, and now he wouldn’t meet Mason’s gaze. He cleared his throat and cast her a quick glance, then back to the ground. “Hi, publicist. I’m Bash.” He gestured to Emerson, who was rubbing his back. “This is my mate and my cub. It ain’t out of Emerson’s belly yet, but it’s still my cub.”

“I’m Rebecca Anderson, but everyone calls me Beck.” She stepped forward to shake his hand but stumbled to a stop when Kirk spoke up in a voice that was too low and too gravelly to be human. “You look great, man.” There was a sarcastic edge. “I guess you’ve just been too happy with your awesome new life to come visit.”

The truck bed sank and creaked loudly. A muscled-up titan stood in the back and slammed his dusty boot on the tailgate. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thigh. Clinton. “He don’t look great.” He twitched his predatory silver gaze to Mason. “You look like shit.”

Mason ran his hand over his short hair and then shook his head. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Is it?” Clinton jumped out of the truck and landed hard on the gravel, kicking up dirt. He stalked Mason slowly. “Pretty shitty the way you left, don’t you think?” He looked around to the others. “He don’t write. He don’t call.” He shoved Mason’s shoulder hard, but the boar shifter barely moved. “I guess spending a whole f*ckin’ logging season here didn’t bond you to us. Not like we thought.” Clinton lowered his voice to a shaking, angry murmur. “Not like I thought.”

“Clinton,” Harrison warned.

Mason ran his hand over his beard and said, “Nah, Harrison. It’s fine.”

Clinton began circling behind Mason slowly, and the air felt so heavy it was unbreathable.

“Don’t,” Audrey gritted out, but Clinton didn’t hear, or didn’t care.

A massive blond grizzly exploded from his skin and then paced ten yards off, eyes never leaving Mason. A challenge if Beck ever saw one, but she’d never been this close to a Changed grizzly shifter, and Mason stood no chance in a fight with Clinton.

Mason sighed, then pulled his sunglasses off and tossed them in the back of his truck.

Panicked, she pleaded, “Mason.”

“Go on inside,” he murmured in a dead voice.

“No, I don’t think you should do this.”

The Boarlanders had scattered, and now a smattering of pops pulled Beck’s attention. A massive white tiger was stalking forward, head lowered, lips curled back over long canines and, holy shit, what was happening?

When she turned around to beg Mason to leave with her, to get in the truck and drive them away from here, he was peeling his shirt over his head. She was stunned to silence. Oh, she’d known he was fit from the way his shoulders filled his T-shirt, but she hadn’t been prepared for him to look like this. Suntanned skin, rippling with muscle, defined abs that flexed with his movement, and two long, raised scars that stretched from his pelvis up his ribs and disappeared under his arm. His biceps bulged as he pulled his shirt right-side out, as though he had all the time in the world.

“Wait, wait, wait. I think we should go,” she whispered, grabbing his hand without thinking.

He flinched away and gave her a warning look. His eyes were glowing blue, and power pulsed from his skin. “That trailer will do for you,” he ground out, jerking his chin at the last trailer on the left. “Get on inside now. This don’t concern you.”

But he was wrong. It sure felt like it concerned her. Like anything that happened to him would hurt her, and she didn’t want this. Didn’t want him fighting against these apex predators. What chance did a little boar shifter stand against them?

“Mason, go easy on him,” Harrison said.

Wait, what?

Harrison crossed his arms over his chest, his arms flexing with the motion. “Let him keep his innards.”