The Island Of Bears: A BBW Paranormal Romance Page 2

  I pulled my phone from my purse, unlocked the screen, and began looking through my recent dialed calls to find the museum’s main number, which I’d called the day before to ask about tour times. Once I located it, I placed the call, but before I could even put the phone to my ear, two words flashed across the screen: Call Failed.

  Several parrots, or whatever strange bird was nearby on the island, shrieked and called to each other in rapid succession, as if laughing at me. It was at that moment that I noticed something else unusual about my surroundings, something else in addition to the presence of what sounded like tropical birds, and what appeared to be tropical trees. The air held the definite fresh, clean scent of salt. It smelled like ocean air. But this wasn’t possible.

  Ellis Island was located in Upper New York Bay, which was fed by the waters of the Hudson River. And though the river was actually a tidal estuary where saltwater from the Atlantic combined with freshwater from the northern tributaries, as I’d learned from a fellow passenger while coming over on the ferry earlier, this typically didn’t give the river the tangy scent of salt.

  Fighting panic, I realized that whatever medical event was happening to me was likely making me imagine things, too. Either that or my disorientation had thrown off my senses. The air probably doesn’t smell like salt at all, I told myself. I was just mistakenly thinking it. My brain was just malfunctioning.

  I tried to place another call to the museum, but the call failed to send again. Then, yet again, a third time. Now I was desperate for help, a feeling that seemed to be intensifying by the second. Deciding to give up on contacting the museum, I dialed 9-1-1 and hit send. But this call also failed. That’s when I noticed that my phone had no bars, not even a single one. Wherever I’d wandered to on the island, no matter how I’d gotten there, I’d somehow stumbled out of the service area.

  I knew I was going to have to get myself back to the museum on my own; I couldn’t wait for rescue. I had no idea how often the island rangers came to the particular part of the island where I wound up, if they even did at all. I realized that aside from possible seasonal tree-cutting and maintenance or something, they probably didn’t have any reason to come to this part of the island, and certainly not on a daily basis. If I wanted to make it back to the museum, I was going to have to rescue myself. I was going to have to do it fast, too, not knowing if I was going to have another blackout, or when.

  I immediately began striding off in what I was fairly sure was the direction of the museum. The forest, or whatever it should be called, since it was appearing more and more like a jungle, was dense and filled with trees and fallen branches, though a narrow, slightly winding path cut through all the growth. I figured this was probably a path that the rangers used whenever they came out to the area, though judging by thick overgrowth covering the sandy, rocky soil of the path at several points, it didn’t look like they came out very often.

  I hadn’t been hiking along for much more than a minute when I heard sounds of someone following me. Sounds so faint they were almost imperceptible. A distant snap of a twig, a rustle of a leaf. They were sounds so quiet that honestly, a bird could have been making them. But somehow, I just knew in my gut that it wasn’t a bird making them. I didn’t know how, but I just knew. Almost instantly, a thin trickle of sweat began snaking its way down the back of my neck, despite the fact that the day was warm and sunny, but not hot.

  Increasing my pace, I continued speed-walking down the path, wondering who could be behind me and why they were. Gut instinct, the same instinct that made me feel there was someone behind me in the first place, told me that whoever it was, it wasn’t an island ranger. It just made sense that if it was, they’d shout or call out or something to identify themselves.

  It occurred to me that it might be Gary, and as soon as it did, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t considered him earlier, when contemplating what had possibly made me black out. Being that he seemed pretty intent on bedding me that night, after I’d made it clear to him that that wouldn’t be happening, he might have followed me, I reasoned. He may have attacked me, knocking me out, and I just didn’t remember it. Or maybe he’d force-fed me some drug to render me unconscious so that he could violate me. He could have even slipped something into my food or drink at lunch, I realized. Disgusted and frightened at the same time, I quickened my pace even further, moving along at a rate of speed somewhere between a speed-walk and a run.

  Not a few moments later, whoever was behind me called out in a deep male voice. A voice that definitely wasn’t Gary’s, which was on the higher side and nasally. “Please stop! I won’t hurt you!”

  The man sounded like he was maybe only twenty or thirty feet behind me. I didn’t stop; I didn’t even slow down. If he identified himself as a ranger, maybe I would have.

  He soon called out again. “I want to help you! Please stop!”

  I still did not stop or slow. In fact, heart pounding, I accelerated my pace to a full-out run. The man continued shouting.

  “Please! I can’t let you continue going in the direction that you are! There’s danger that way. I don’t want to have to physically stop you, either. Please just stop! We can talk and I’ll try to help you!”

  Confused and scared, and sure the man behind me wasn’t an island ranger, I kept running. He kept shouting.

  “If you keep on running, eventually you’re going to make me tackle you in order to protect you! I don’t want to do that! I’m not trying to scare you; I’m trying to help you!”

  Despite what he was trying to do and trying not to do, he was scaring me. I didn’t trust him; I had no reason to. He was a complete stranger. A complete stranger chasing me through the jungle-y looking forest, telling me about some danger up ahead.

  The stranger shouted to me yet again. “Please stop! Do you want me to tackle you?”

  I certainly didn’t. After the mysterious and troubling events I’d recently experienced, I didn’t need some strange man tackling me on top of it all.

  I accelerated my run to a sprint, glancing behind me for just a quick second while I did so, getting just a brief snapshot picture of the man chasing me. But actually, he wasn’t really chasing me. At least, he wasn’t chasing me by running. Tall, with long legs, he was simply striding quickly, about twenty feet behind me. Despite the fact that I was sprinting, apparently he didn’t have to exert himself much in order to stay on my tail. Which maybe shouldn’t have surprised me, since I was definitely on the shorter side, with shorter legs and a curvier, decidedly not-exceptionally-athletic body type, and even going full-out, I’d never been able to run very fast. At present, I wasn’t even fast enough to outrun a tall, long-legged man who was simply striding briskly.

  My glance backward had also informed me of something else besides the fact that the man behind me was very tall. He also had a muscular, broad-shouldered physique, and dark hair that glinted in the sun. Even though my peek at him had only lasted a second, that had been long enough for me to see that he had a strong-jawed, attractive face as well. And maybe attractive wasn’t even a strong enough word. I didn’t want to slow down to take another look, but drop-dead gorgeous might have been a better way of describing my first impression of his face.

  Sounding increasingly exasperated, he shouted at me again. “For the love of God, please stop! You are running in the direction of danger! The lake is that way! You must really want to be stopped physically!”

  I really didn’t; I really just wanted to get the hell away from the strange, devastatingly attractive man behind me. The man who was a complete stranger to me and who, for all I knew, could have been a serial killer. Though something in my gut was telling me he wasn’t. If he were, he could have overcome me and killed me right away, and without all the shouting, I supposed.

  However, at the same time, I still didn’t trust this man, and I wasn’t about to slow down or stop for him. Maybe he wasn’t a serial killer, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have another nefarious intent. His te
lling me that I should stop because I was headed toward danger just seemed like some sort of ruse.

  “Stop running, goddammit! I’m warning you!”

  And now he was warning me. It was becoming clear that the danger wasn’t in front of me; it was behind me. The danger was him.

  With my heart pounding and my lungs burning, I began sprinting even faster, sucking in air as deeply as I could. I lost one of my slingback sandals, and then the other, quickly discovering that the sandy, rocky soil beneath my feet wasn’t exactly a comfortable running surface.

  I glanced backward at the man following me. “Leave me alone!”

  He wasn’t striding along anymore; he was now jogging to keep up with me, though it wasn’t a very fast jog at all. He didn’t appear to be exerting himself in the least. I glanced back again and saw that he hadn’t stopped or slowed, despite what I’d said. So, I drew in a great lungful of air in order to shout at him once more.

  “I mean it! Leave me alone, you... You freak!”

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d called him a freak; I was just scared and angry, and the word had just come out.

  His response was a deep, rumbling chuckle before speaking.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I can’t just leave you alone. You’re heading into danger, and I have to stop you for your own good. So, you can either voluntarily stop yourself right now, or I can physically stop you myself, as I’ve said. Your choice.”

  He’d slowly closed the distance between us and was now only maybe eight or ten feet behind me, close enough that he didn’t even have to shout anymore. Close enough that my fear of him was only increasing, because I knew he could now grab me and attack me at any second.

  Not knowing how much longer I could sustain my pace, especially since the rocky soil was really hurting my feet, I continued sprinting, knowing I couldn’t outrun the man behind me, but driven by desperation and panic to try.

  I glanced back at him again, panting from exertion. “I said leave me alone!”

  To my horror, the man jogged up alongside me, then passed me, turned, and began jogging backward, facing me. “All right. You’ve made your choice. I’m going to physically stop you from going any further now, though I promise I’ll try to be gentle.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Still jogging backward, the man extended his long, muscular arms, took me by the shoulders, and then came to a dead stop, making me crash into his hard, chiseled body. “I told you I’d have to stop you. Just up ahead is a dangerous place.”

  I flailed and twisted against his body, trying to break free. “Let me go! Let me go this second!”

  He was showing no signs that he was going to do so. In fact, he now had his arms around me and was holding me tight. He seemed to be trying to press my face against his chest. Which, even in the midst of all my flailing, I could not help but catch a little whiff of him. The scent emanating from his chest was something clean, masculine, and woodsy, with maybe just a hint of leather and a hint of spice.

  It was heavenly, though I hated to admit it to myself. I didn’t want to admit to myself that the man who was restraining me against my will, the man who’d chased me down, actually smelled good.

  In response to my struggling, the man tightened his arms around me further, shushing me. “Just be still. Be still, please, so we can talk. Please know I’m just trying to protect you. You’ve accused me of being a freak, and maybe I am in some ways. I know I’m definitely a safety freak when it comes to not allowing defenseless young women to run headlong into certain death.”

  I was still convinced that what the man was saying was all some sort of an act. I was still convinced that he probably wanted to do me harm. It just stood to reason that any man lurking around on the island far from the museum probably wasn’t up to any good. For all I knew, this man could have had something to do with my blackout. He could have crept up behind me and knocked me over the head, for all I knew.

  Then, he could have waited for me to come around so that he could enjoy the thrill of the chase, something I knew many predators loved. I just didn’t know. What I did know is that I’d be a fool to trust this man. The circumstances of our meeting were just too strange and suspect and the events of the day had been just too troubling.

  I knew I needed to get away from him and somehow find my way back to the museum. But there was just one problem with getting away, even aside from the fact that the man was holding me tightly in arms that felt as if they were made of iron. The problem was that his intoxicating scent seemed to be quite literally intoxicating me. I stopped struggling just to inhale it, almost against my will.

  I didn’t want to. I wanted to run. I wanted to break free from this tall, very well-built man. I wanted to get the hell away from his scent, and his extraordinarily handsome face, and his pale blue eyes. But somehow, I just couldn’t make any more attempts at the moment. My fight had really left me. However, I was still fully aware that I was in a dangerous situation and still had to break free soon, even if I had to force my body to move. So, when the man spoke next, I decided to make my move.

  Still holding me tightly, though with his arms relaxing just a fraction, he looked at me with just the faintest hint of what appeared to be amusement softening his features. “There. That’s better. Now, are you done struggling for good so that we can talk? If I let you go, are you going to try to run anymore?”

  Lying, I shook my head, still trying to catch my breath from sprinting. “No. No, I’ll just stand so we can talk.”

  The man studied me face for a long moment, then released me. “Okay, good. Now, first off, what part of the island did you come from, and why—?”

  He didn’t finish whatever he’d been about to say because I’d kicked him in the shin. Hard. I’d put every ounce of my strength into the kick. I’d actually been aiming for a different location, one a little higher up. That one likely would have been a little more painful of a place to get kicked. But the split-second my foot had left the ground, he’d done a quick movement, pulling his hips back, seeming to anticipate what my target was, and my aim had been a bit thrown off. But still, I’d connected with his shin, and good.

  I was now sprinting away, heading in the same direction that I had been before, flying. I hoped that even with my bare feet, I’d hurt him badly enough that he wouldn’t be able to take off again right away and catch me. I hoped that my action had bought me some time to escape and find the museum. That was wishful thinking.

  Within seconds, he tackled me, literally tackled me, taking me in his arms and somehow turning in mid-air in a display of pretty extreme athleticism. He landed on his back, seemingly completely unharmed, pulling me on top of him.

  He actually had the audacity to give me a little half-grin. “Well, I did warn you about that.”

  I struggled and thrashed against the hardness of his long body. “Let me go, you... you—”

  “Freak? No, wait... You already used that one.”

  “You let me go this second, or I’ll—”

  “Insult me again? All right, give me your best.”

  “Jerk!”

  “Oh, come on. That is so standard. Try to be more inventive.”

  “You... You son of a bitch!”

  He had the nerve to feign a yawn. “Still not impressed. You’ve got to get more creative.”

  Miles beyond angry and for many different reasons, I pushed against his chest, fighting to get up, but to no avail. His arms were wrapped around me too tightly, pressing me against his body.

  “Let me up this second, you—”

  “‘You’ what? This had better be good.”

  “You son of a freak!”

  I hadn’t meant to spit out the unusual insult. Though I didn’t know what I had been trying to say. With my anger jumbling my thoughts and making me wild and hostile, and with the words and phrases I’d recently said seeming to be stuck in my head, the phrase had just tumbled out. The man holding me to his body just chuckled, the action causing a r
umbling in his chest, the vibrations of which I felt against my breasts. I couldn’t deny that the sensation wasn’t a terrible one. Not at all.

  The man spoke with a definite twinkle in his eyes. “Now that was an inventive insult. I knew you had it in you.” Pausing briefly to chuckle again, he relaxed his hold on me just slightly. “‘Son of a freak.’ Yes, I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been called that. It’s different. I like it.”

  The position I was in, pressed against the length of a very muscular, very long, male body, was suddenly making me feel a little weak for some reason, and even more breathless than I’d already been from my running.

  With this funny weakness seeming to spread through all my muscles from my head to my toes, I finally stopped struggling. “You listen to me. You may have the upper hand physically, but time is not on your side. Any minute now, any second now, island rangers will come through this area, and when they see that you’re holding me against my will, they’ll arrest you for kidnapping and assault. They’ll haul you in so fast your head will spin.”

  I knew that rangers likely wouldn’t be coming around anytime soon, but the man frowned briefly, and I continued, heartened that my threat had the desired result.

  “Yeah, that’s right. You will be taken away in handcuffs and sent to prison for holding me captive. You’ll probably get at least ten years. The rangers are going to come through here any second... Probably at least a pair of them, and maybe even a big team of three or four or five of them... And when they see how you’re holding me against my will—”

  “Who’s holding anyone against their will?”