Hunter's Moon: Silvertip Shifters/Black Mesa Wolves Read online

  Hunter’s Moon

  a Silvertip Shifters/Black Mesa Wolves crossover story

  J.K. Harper

  Contents

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by J.K. Harper

  About the Author

  HUNTER’S MOON

  Abby Kenyon belongs to Quentin Walker heart, body, and soul. But she's a sweet wolf shifter, and he's one big brute of a bear shifter. The autumn full moon mating run is his last chance to prove that only he can win the hunt for her heart...

  If you'd like to be the first to know when more Silvertip Shifters books release, please sign up for J.K.'s newsletter

  HUNTER’S MOON

  Copyright © October 2016 by Sable Moon Books

  Cover by Jacqueline Sweet

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  1

  Quentin watched as the gorgeous woman in his bed stretched her arms overhead, shamelessly exposing to him the stunning bounty of her breasts. He leaned down again to taste the taut, peaked nipple closest to him, but she playfully swatted his head away.

  "Quentin." Abby Kenyon's sweet, sexy voice trembled with laughter as well as the aftereffects of her several mind-blowing orgasms just moments before. "I have to leave. If you start touching me again, I won't be able to."

  His inner bear uttered a possessive rumble as Quentin ignored her. He bent his head back down to feast on her sweetness. Abby's soft groan as his tongue slipped around the tight nipple was enough to bring life roaring back into his cock, which had found its release in her sweet depths not just once but already twice this morning.

  "Quentin…" Her voice took on the breathy quality he loved to hear. The tone that said she was letting go, that she was focusing only on him and his touch.

  The tone of the woman he knew was his mate, no matter the fact that she still denied that truth with every ounce of saucy determination she possessed.

  He huffed to himself even as he tasted her sweet curves, one of his hands traveling over the silken slide of skin across her hip and thigh. Abby Kenyon was his mate. He knew it, his bear knew it, every shifter in town knew it. The only one who didn't seem to know it, the only one who could look it right in the face and call it impossible, was the sweet, soft woman dissolving beneath his touch right now. The gorgeous wolf shifter who had been brought up to believe she could only ever mate another wolf, a pack wolf like herself.

  Never a big brute of a guy like a bear shifter.

  His possessiveness rising stronger at the thought of Abby giving herself to anyone but him, Quentin lightly bit her nipple even as his fingers quested toward that sweet, creamy vee between her legs again. Abby gasped, the sound filled with desire. Yet when she spoke, despite the somewhat ragged tone, he heard the firmness in her voice even as her hands reached down and once again pulled his head away.

  "I don't want you to stop. Ever," she added with a low, emphatic growling to her voice that he knew was her wolf. Her wolf, at least, seem to understand that Quentin was her mate. "But I have to get back. I have a lot to do today for—uh, I just have things to take care of," she stumbled a bit.

  Shuddering with pure frustration, Quentin eased himself up Abby's sweet body until he covered her with his immense bulk, resting his forearms alongside her shoulders so he could look directly into the dark blue-green of her eyes. Heaving out a sigh as he saw the determination on her face, even though he also was pleased by the increased pulse he could see beating in her neck, Quentin just half smiled, nodding as he bent his head slightly forward to claim her lips with his. One long, almost timeless moment later filled with the sweet taste of her lips and the familiar, always arousing touch of her fingers as she gently moved them along his back, he pulled away with enormous reluctance.

  He wouldn't be that guy. The kind who demanded his woman do his bidding, stay locked up in some gilded cage just for him. Ever.

  Not even if it meant losing her.

  "I know. I'd never stand in your way,” he rumbled, equal parts conviction and turmoil boiling under his voice. “You just taste so damn good, woman." He mock growled as he suddenly buried his face into her neck, nipping and licking, making her giggle as she playfully strained away from the tickle of his mouth. "You're my ambrosia, Abby. I can't get enough of you. These moments just aren't enough for me."

  The breeze picked up outside the open windows of Quentin's bedroom in his snug little mountain cabin, carrying to both their sensitive noses the scents of the mountain in autumn. Quentin inhaled long and hard, mingling the delicate spice of aspen bark, the promising tang of crisper days yet to come, and the endless fascination of Abby's own wild scent.

  Mixing all the scents together, just as they should be. Abby, here in his home, tucked into the mountain high above the town that belonged to him and his clan. All he had to figure out was how to link the scent of his mate with the scent of his home. Together.

  With a regretful sigh, Abby eased herself out from beneath him to sit up, giving him that sexy little half smile she always did, the one that she didn't mean to be sexy but managed to slay him every single time anyway. She swung her legs around to slide off his enormous four-poster bed, her bare feet thumping to the floor. His bear willfully grumping at him as he let his mate leave the soft coziness of their den, Quentin propped himself up on the bed on one arm. Feeling slightly deflated and still frustrated, he watched as she searched for her clothes scattered across the room.

  "I'm really sorry I have to run," Abby said. Her tone was a tiny notch firmer than it had been earlier. "You know I love coming here.” She sighed a bit as she moved around his room. “This side of the mountain is so quiet and peaceful."

  Quentin was positive he caught the sound of a struggle beneath her words as well. Yeah. He damn well knew her wolf side felt one way, yet Abby's stubborn human brain side thought it felt differently. She didn't know a single cross-species mated pair. In her pack, all matings were between wolves. But even though she was a wolf, and acted like one, she also seemed more attuned to the bear shifter way of life than she'd seemed to think she would be. At least, she was a hell of a lot more attuned to it than any other wolf shifter from a pure pack like the Black Mesa wolves on the other side of the mountain.

  He frowned to himself. Convincing his sexy, sweet she-wolf that he really and truly was her mate was the hardest challenge of his life. It was fast becoming the most infuriating, as well.

  “That's how we like it. Peaceful.” Quentin watched as she found her shirt, her cute little pants he'd practically torn off her a few hours ago. Her tousled blond hair rippled over her neck and shoulders, teased at him from between her legs as she took a few long strides across the room to where her pink underwear dangled from the arm of a chair. “Peaceful and private. Just like it should be.”

  She turned back to him, her eyes softening she pulled the hem of her shirt down over her hips. “It's probably the most beautiful place I've ever seen. You have the most amazing views of anyone in the state, I'd bet.” Her throaty laugh quivered in her voice as Quentin swung himself off
the bed as well, facing her with his own smile as he stood.

  He took a step, casually leaning his shoulders against one of the sturdy oak posters of his bed, crossing his arms in front of him as his feet stayed planted solidly on the floor. When Abby's glance took a leisurely trip over his naked body, down to his still half-hard dick, then back up what he knew was a really well-defined chest and arms from the hard work that was a deliberate part of his life, he let his mouth curve up into a slow, gratified smile.

  "Hmmm," Quentin said. He opened his arms as she eagerly moved toward him, enveloping her in a giant, well, bear hug. She snuggled right up to him, melting against his body like it was meant to be.

  Which it was. Quentin's bear hummed in approval as his mate molded herself to him.

  Tucking her in close, he kept his head down so he could inhale the citrusy scent of her hair. "I know. After all, it's why I decided to build this cabin right here. Total chick magnet with these views."

  Abby snorted with laughter against his chest, her hands reaching down behind him to slap his ass. Hell, yeah. It was this saucy little side of her that both revved him up and twanged his heart strings. Every time. "Agreed," she said, turning her head so she could look out the window on the front side of the small cabin. "Your views aren't too bad."

  This time, Quentin was the one to snort as he followed her gaze. The main town of Deep Hollow nestled at the bottom of the valley that meandered below them through these mountains, just at the northwestern edge of the range before the wildest depths of the San Juan Mountains opened up. All the businesses and most of the locals lived down there, in town. Quentin, most of his brothers, and several other bear shifters all lived up here, though. Far above town, outside the actual town limits, in a sweet little spot known as Silvertip Ridge. Where they had a view, and privacy from a sometimes intrusive world.

  Best of all, it was a shifter-only playground. Silvertip Lodge advertised only to shifters, with any emails or phone calls coming from the occasional human being gently yet firmly directed elsewhere. A smorgasbord of different shifter types were to be found on the private grounds at any time of year, wandering the well-guarded premises in their animal forms at will. Quentin still hoped Abby might take inspiration from some of the cross-specied mated pairs who often roamed around, but so far she hadn't seemed to have taken the hint.

  Quentin's family, his tight band of parents, brothers, cousins, and friends, all called Silvertip Ridge their home. Decades ago, his parents had decided to take over an abandoned old mining camp nestled on the side of the mountain, well above town, and make it into a small resort. The years they'd spent building cabins, figuring out how to get water and electricity up here, and how to survive during the epic summer storms as well as the deep winter snows had been an exciting time, according to their oft-told stories. Now, Silvertip Lodge boasted the best views of Deep Hollow, the envy of anyone who ever visited or even stayed for a summer, as some guests did.

  Especially Quentin's cabin, which he'd built years ago when it became apparent that managing the lodge was the ideal job for him. His wide front deck extended out from the front of his cabin, from which the edge of the world seemed to drop off as the spectacular views of the San Juans and beyond spread out in every direction. It had taken him a good amount of time to get the trees blocking the view taken down, but it been well worth it since he used the wood for his cabin and storage shed, not to mention that their removal opened up the views that anyone could feast on every day for the rest of their lives and never get tired of. It seemed like an endless procession of mountaintops, ridges, and hillside folds staggered off in three directions. It was pretty much a postcard of wild and scenic Colorado. And it was Quentin's.

  He vowed to himself that one day sooner than later it would be Abby's, too.

  After another long, appreciative moment gazing out at the stunning vista, Abby squeezed him, turning her head up to his for one more kiss. He was pretty sure he saw the usual snap of conflict and regret in her eyes when she finally pulled away. Even so, she collected her keys, her purse, pulled on the sexy cowboy boots she usually liked to wear, and headed for the door.

  As she opened it, Quentin took a deep breath. Time to throw down the gambit. In a low voice, he called out after her, "Have a good weekend, Abby. Wish you'd reconsider and let me spend it with you."

  Her shoulders stiffened slightly under the pretty blue blouse that sadly now hid her even prettier breasts from him. Turning back, she looked at him with a quizzical expression. "I can't see you this weekend.” She looked down at her feet for a second before looking back up at him. Uncertainty framed her features. "Aren't you and the boys working, anyway?"

  "The boys have to work, yes.” Even though it drove his brothers nuts sometimes, they'd resigned themselves to being called “the boys” as they labored on occasion under Quentin's watch at the lodge. “Being the boss, though, means I get certain perks. Such as being able to take some time off. Like on special weekends such as this one."

  He gave her a deliberately pointed, searching stare. Abby swallowed again, now looking slightly uneasy. "What—what's so special about this weekend?"

  Damn, she was such a sexy little thing, standing there framed in his doorway with the beautiful backdrop of the mountains behind her. She belonged here, dammit. She belonged with him. He just had to prove it to her.

  "Well, sweetheart," he said slowly, "it's the full moon this weekend. A hunter's moon, I think the elders in certain native tribes used to call it. Am I right?"

  Gotcha, beautiful, he thought as her eyes darted around as if in search of an escape hatch.

  "Um... Yes?" Her voice was hesitant, her tone awkward. She was utterly incapable of lying with any degree of believability. She was an honest, genuine person. It was part of why he just couldn't understand why she refused to see that they were meant for each other.

  "Hunter's moon. Right. When all the wolf packs gather for a big run.” Quentin gave her a long look. “And your Black Mesa pack has the biggest one in this part of the country. Doesn't it?"

  Abby inhaled, her beautiful eyes widening a bit. "Quentin, you know that's a wolf thing—"

  Normally, he would take the bait and argue that sort of point with her. But then he'd found out what the real truth behind the hunter's moons were.

  It was a time when many wolves found their true mates. And mated with them. Under the full moon.

  The thought of it was slowly killing him. But she wasn't ready for him to come to her pack. She wasn't ready to let them know she'd found her mate, and it was a bear shifter. He didn't want to fight with her over it. If he made her mad enough, she might decide being with a temperamental, possessive bear shifter was the wrong thing after all.

  So he played it cool instead, much to the chagrin of his utterly enamored bear.

  "Yeah, babe, I know that.” He shrugged with seeming nonchalance. “It's a big run this weekend, and it's important to your pack. I do listen to you, you know." Hung on her every word was more like it, but he wasn't about to admit that out loud. He dropped his guard with Abby more than with anyone else in the entire world. He just wasn't quite ready to let her know that she pretty much had him totally whipped.

  Not yet, at least.

  He shrugged again, still trying to look as unconcerned as possible. "I'm just saying, have a great weekend, babe. Since I knew you'd be busy, I made some plans other than working myself."

  At that, Abby looked surprised. As if he didn't notice, he went on. "You'd better be getting over the mountain to your pack. You'll be late. Call me, l—"

  Damn. He'd almost said the word out loud. The word that seemed too fragile for either one of them to say out loud.

  Lover. Love.

  Catching himself quickly, he said instead, "Later."

  It took everything he had to just jerk his chin goodbye at her, then casually turn away and head over to his closet like he meant to get dressed. After a long beat, Abby replied, slight confusion still edging her word
s. "Okay. Bye. I'll talk to you later."

  Hearing the puzzlement in her voice squeezed his heart. He held firm, despite the distressed grunting of his bear. There was only one way he was going to win this amazing, perfect she-wolf for himself. Wait for her to come to him. Reining himself in so he didn't turn around to run out the door after her to grab her up in his arms again, Quentin just listened as his stubborn, sexy, sweet little mate got in her car and drove down the mountain, away from him. Like she did every time, no matter how many arguments he'd presented to her during the past half a year since he'd first clapped eyes on her.

  “You're taking a big gamble on this one, Quentin Walker.” His voice muttered out savagely to himself, echoing in the suddenly empty cabin.

  Because if she decided not to come back to him, he'd be alone for the rest of his life.

  2

  “So then he said—oh!” Abby interrupted herself with a soft exclamation. “The trees are turning more every day." A delicate, bright yellow aspen leaf fluttered through the air above Abby's head, landing in her lap as she looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead.

  Megan, Abby's closest friend, looked up as well. “I love fall.” Megan's voice went dreamy for a second. Then she turned back to Abby, interest sharpening her tone again. "But don't stop there. So then he said what?"

  Abby resettled herself against the silvery white bark of the aspen tree trunk she leaned against. She and Megan were tucked beneath it in a far corner of the Black Mesa Wolf Pack den property. Abby wanted to talk to her best friend about Quentin. Her favorite topic of conversation, bar none. Every time she brought him up, she just felt—happy. Settled.

  But that didn't matter. Not when he was just an awesome guy to spend time with for now. An awesome guy, but a bear shifter. Wolves didn't hang out with bears. Or mate with them. Not any wolves that she knew, at least.