Polar opposites, p.1
Polar Opposites, page 1
Polar Opposites
By Cheyenne Meadows
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2019 Cheyenne Meadows
ISBN 9781634868280
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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For all the readers that purchase my books, read them, then ask for more. You are the reason I keep writing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
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Polar Opposites
By Cheyenne Meadows
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Leaf litter and small boulders dotted the expansive patch of ground, their north sides covered in meandering plush green moss. Brush sprouted from the earth, occupying spaces where the tree canopy allowed sufficient light to peek through for moderate growth. Birds called and chattered. Somewhere ahead, the tinkling sound of water promised a cold drink from a natural running creek.
Donovan Mercer absorbed it all. The sights. The sounds. The scents. Mother Nature and the wilderness at their very best. Everything spoke to him, one way or another.
After spending his entire life in one big city after another, Donovan leaped at the opportunity to head to a rural setting and put some space between himself and the millions of humans inhabiting the last place he’d taken up residence. The huge cities served their purpose well—allowing him to grow into a man, sew his wild oats, and to experience so many different venues. But, after all these years, they’d fallen out of favor for something new and different. Leaving the endless chaos and commotion of people all wrapped up in the rat race, stress of daily living, and the worries of having to make the grade was an easy choice. Never would he miss the honking horns, the jammed interstates, and the rudeness of modern American civilization. Sure, some good existed with the bad, but he knew the scales wouldn’t balance. Not after seeing this pristine, gorgeous view.
This place pleased him. His new home. The temperate early summer day. The outing. Everything soothed him, offered him peace, and promised to be a getaway any time he needed to take a break from his everyday tasks.
Even the name spoke to him. Forgotten. Forgotten, Wyoming. Whomever bore responsibility for the christening of the town, pretty much hit the nail on the head. The rest of the world seemingly ran full speed ahead and then some. Here, people took a step back. Stress, worries, and headaches probably did as well. Mom and Pop stores were the rule of thumb and farmers made up the majority of the citizens. No one seemed to be in much of a hurry. Though Donovan hadn’t quite grasped that particular concept yet.
An eagle screeched overhead.
Donovan shaded his eyes with his hands in order to watch the beautiful bird in full flight.
“Yeah, I can get used to this place.”
Taking a few more steps, he came to a rise and started back down the slope. At the bottom lay a creek, which had cut a deep trench through limestone, only to flatten out into a pond, to his left. Trees gave way to meadow grass, reminding him of a secret valley. Way out in the middle of nowhere. Where only he and the wildlife existed.
A quiet splash drew his attention. He swung his head around to the far left, caught sight of what had made the noise, then gawked. Well, I’ll be damned.
Dark hair on top a man’s head appeared first out of the water, quickly followed by wide shoulders, a muscular back, and a tapering waist. The lapping creek played peekaboo with the man’s crack, giving a tantalizing glimpse now and again at a rounded ass, just made for viewing. If ever a man had been put together well, it was this one. Tall, dark, and handsome as sin. Even though Donovan hadn’t seen his face, he knew the guy would be drop dead gorgeous. Hell, he already was.
Donovan’s inner beast stirred. Yummy.
Uh, huh.
His polar stilled. Bear.
Donovan mentally shrugged. It’s grizzly country. No surprise there. He didn’t fear the other shifter in the least. Intrigued? Yes. Afraid? Not even close.
A dark tattoo on the man’s right shoulder blade intrigued Donovan enough that he crept stealthily forward. With no breeze to give his scent away, he knew he could approach several paces before he risked getting caught. His only concern with that was that the scrumptious man would stop what he was doing, drag on clothes, and walk away, never to be seen again.
Ain’t happening. His bear countered firmly.
Since when do you take interest in other bears? Donovan posed the question to his beast, not truly expecting an answer. Despite being a polar, his bear pretty much carried the same attitude as a cat—fickle. While the animal side always made his wishes known, he’d never looked twice at another ursine. Felines and canines tickled his fancy now and again, more as one-night stands or occasional flings. Nothing serious. Yet, the confidence and command behind those two words told Donovan that his bear had found a new fascination.
He moved closer, took a position next to a large, vine-wrapped tree, then leaned back against the trunk, content to stand with his arms crossed over his chest and check out the scenery. His gaze never left the man now rinsing off in the water, splashing his face, then shaking his head. Water droplets meandered down the man’s neck, shoulders, and back. Donovan watched them with a hint of envy. He wanted to follow each of them. With his fingers. His tongue. And dip even lower.
Roped muscles bunched as the man pushed his hair out of his face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you staring is rude?”
The low, bored timber of the man’s voice tickled Donovan’s fancy. He grinned, still not moving from his spot. “Is it?”
The guy cut him a sharp look over his shoulder, then returned to rinsing his chest. “This is grizzly territory. A hiker like you might want to be careful not to end up a meal for the hungry bears.”
Donovan snorted. Either the shifter was yanking his chain or he hadn’t picked up on the fact that he and Donovan shared common DNA, at least up until the specific variety of ursine. He’d bet his hiking boots, the guy already picked up the truth, despite the lack of wind to carry Donovan’s scent to him. The grizzly shifter was too casual, calm, and unhurried. His carriage spoke of solid confidence, maybe a hint of arrogance. Everything about the guy radiated danger and an ability to handle anything that came his way—even another shifter.
“I’m Donovan. Don’t suppose you have a name?”
The guy moved toward shore. Each stride revealed more and more of that sculpted, primed body.
Donovan barely resisted the urge to lick his lips. The tattoo drew his attention once again. A black Pegasus with some blues and purples woven into the feathers, mane, and tail stood out against the otherwise tanned skin. Unique and sexy. Very sexy, indeed. “Nice ink.”
Again, silence answered Donovan. He stood straight again and casually walked a couple of steps closer to the bank of the stream, eager to get the man’s full attention. After all, it was only fair. Donovan couldn’t take his eyes off him. A trill ran through his veins as he eyed the grand specimen in front of him. His inner beast concurred.
“You still didn’t tell me your name.”
The man stepped from the water, keeping his back to Donovan. More and more skin exposed for Donovan’s viewing pleasure. Hips, ass, strong thighs. And, wow, back to his perfectly molded ass. The muscles that snapped and flexed with each step. Donovan’s mouth dried up even as his pulse picked up speed. The sight mesmerized Donovan, feeding his memory banks and fantasies.
“Awfully chatty, aren’t you?”
“Not always.” Donovan inclined his head. “I’m new to this area. Just trying to make friends, I suppose.”
The guy lowered his chin and glanced back at Donovan. “Make friends elsewhere.”
“A little anti-social, huh?” Donovan replied.
Instead of answering, the other man gave a careless shrug. He turned for a split second to face Donovan, giving him a quick view of his chest, six-pack abs, and a nice package before inclining his head.
“By the way, you’re standing in poison ivy.” With that sa
Where the hottest man Donovan had ever seen once was, now stood a massive grizzly bear. Dark brown hair covered his body while his feet and snout were nearly black. Long claws sprang from each foot, ready to rip into anything that was unlucky enough to draw the grizzly’s wrath.
The bear sneered, lumbered over to a nearby tree, then raked those razor-sharp claws down the trunk. Seemingly satisfied with leaving his mark, the grizzly loped down the hill before veering off into the woods.
Donovan’s breath caught. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest. Even worse, he had the boner of all boners throbbing in his shorts. He licked his dry lips and opened up all his senses for one last peek or sound of the bear’s exit. Only silence greeted him.
Holy shit, he’s hot.
Arrogant, too, his inner bear quipped with an irritated snort.
Donovan smirked. What happened to ‘yummy’?
His attitude leaves much to be desired.
Donovan scanned the area, disappointed when he didn’t catch a glimpse of the big bear. He sighed and began walking in the opposite direction than the bear went. First impressions can be wrong.
Uh, huh. You’re just horny.
Donovan rolled his eyes at the crazy conversation with his inner beast. So are you.
I have my standards. He doesn’t fit any of them.
Donovan tsked. Picky, picky, picky. And a little snotty to boot.
Go suck an egg. A long pause followed. Did you forget the poison ivy?
Well, shit. Donovan danced around, trying to escape the nasty vegetation without getting it anywhere near bare skin. He’d heard stories of the horrendous itch. Having never really been out in the forest before, he’d missed out on that glorious opportunity. Until now.
If I end up looking like a speckled tomato, I’m going to be pissed.
Yeah, yeah. His inner bear snorted.
With a long, drawn out sigh, Donovan continued on his way. He’d find the guy. If he had to comb through the entire forest to do so. Poison ivy and all.
* * * *
He’ll do nicely.
TJ grumbled at his inner beast. You’re just horny. Anyone will do for you right now.
It is mating season or did you forget?
No way in hell could he forget. The demanding, nearly overbearing urges to find another man and screw until the cows came home plagued him day and night. Had for over a week. More than once, TJ considered driving into town, finding a hook-up for a night, and relieving some of the unrelenting ache. Only the knowledge that it wouldn’t be near enough and his inability to take time off work kept him staying the course, praying the heat ended soon. Too bad he knew better. Mating season lasted about a month for grizzlies in the wild. Shifters, at least in his experience, didn’t quite mimic their cousins in that regard, with the length being closer to two or three weeks. Surely, a blessing in that regard. Even a single less day was a definite positive.
Normally, he could handle it. Had done so for several of years. Yet, something about the newcomer struck a chord. Maybe it was the hint of innocence Donovan carried, his happy-go-lucky persona—at least the brief part that TJ had been privy to. Or, perhaps, it was because Donovan was another bear. Polar, not grizzly. A fact which his inner beast didn’t seem to mind.
TJ watched Donovan tromp loudly through the brush, stop in the middle of a large patch of poison ivy, and pivot in a circle.
He’s looking for us.
Yeah, while standing in the middle of poison ivy. Again. Still in bear form, TJ shook his mighty head. City bear is going to regret this outing. Not only because of the vegetation he seemed drawn to, but also because he wore tan shorts with hiking boots. A white T-shirt completed the wardrobe. Nothing any rural person would have chosen when going on a hike in summer. If Donovan didn’t turn into a walking tomato from the plants, he’d most likely be picking ticks off his hide and scratching at an outbreak of chigger bites. Then, there would be the mosquitos. No shortage of misery causing agents in the woods, that was for sure. And, at that rate, Donovan would find each and every one.
We could warn him, his inner grizzly quipped with amusement.
I already did.
A few beats of silence followed as he watched Donovan march off in a different direction, brushing the weeds away with his hands.
TJ returned to all fours, where he’d been sitting behind a large log, in his grizzly form.
Where do you think we’re going?
Following him.
Why? TJ forcefully put on the brakes. With such a tempting morsel as Donovan made, he didn’t trust himself or his bear within twenty feet of the other shifter.
To make sure he’s safe.
Uh, huh. From what? The rash causing plants or the biting bugs?
Other bears.
TJ lifted his nose and scented the air. Sure enough, a vague aroma carried on the wind. Another grizzly, though this one seemed to be the wild kind. Of course, why could I think otherwise? Sarcasm dripped from every word in the thought.
You like him.
TJ snorted, allowing his beast to guide the way—for now. If he gets mauled and eaten, it would be bad press for the wildlife.
Is that the story you’re going with?
Yeah. There was no lying to his beast. The inner grizzly knew it all—including the fact that Donovan intrigued TJ. From his blondish, sandy-brown hair, to the ample muscles on his large frame, to the whiteness of his legs revealed by the shorts. The blue eyes sparkled with amusement and play, something that compelled TJ to join in the fun. Dared him to let loose. Encouraged him to grin. TJ had resisted all of the above. To give in would have been too risky. For both of them.
He’d read enough in Donovan’s expressions, body language, and pheromones to know the other guy appreciated what he saw in TJ, and probably wouldn’t be adverse to a little down and dirty roll in the hay. That wasn’t the issue at all. It was afterwards where the problems existed. TJ knew it well and reminded himself of the vow he’d made way back when. To take on a relationship simply cost too much. A price he’d once been willing to pay, but no longer.
He studied Donovan as the man covered more ground. The graceful motions, the way he lifted his head, sniffed the air, and carried himself with confidence. He might not know jack shit about the wilderness, but he somehow managed to pull off the charade.
He’s a polar. They can take care of themselves.
A polar in grizzly territory who can’t even manage to stay out of the poison ivy? his inner beast quipped.
Well, hell. With a resigned sigh, he trailed after the tenderfoot, determined to protect Donovan from harm, at least those in the mammal realm.
A shot pierced the air.
TJ jerked around, opening his senses to discover the exact direction it came from. A tiny scent tantalized him. Not strong enough to grab his attention and lead him to the culprit, it was still able to give him a vague idea.
He took a couple of steps before stopping. Swiveling his head around, he glanced the way Donovan had gone. Indecision flared. Stay and protect Donovan from the vegetation and potential wild animal attacks or dash off further into his property and find the hunter poaching on his land.
Back and forth he wavered.
Finally, his inner grizzly made the decision for him.
Surging ahead at full speed, he raced toward the area he believed the hunter trespassed. It wasn’t the first time some stupid human decided to cross the boundary and go after the wild game on TJ’s land. Hopefully, it would be the last.
With his instincts driving him, TJ went after the shooter.
By the time he arrived, he found little more than a single spent gun casing, tracks, and a decidedly pungent smell of a human on a mission. The odor caused TJ to scrunch his nose. He also knew the human had hot-footed it out of there. The tracks told of a man running, angling to avoid branches and bushes, and a hasty retreat straight to the road. The evidence stacked up. This was no ordinary hunter, tromping through the woods in order to find his next trophy to hang on the wall. It was a man well-versed with the wilderness. He knew he’d be hunted, so didn’t bother to tarry once he missed his target, whatever that might have been. No animal carcass or blood led him to believe that anything had taken a hit. A definite positive.
What concerned him the most was the casing. He knew enough about guns and bullets to identify the ammo. A .450 cartridge. Huge and deadly. This guy wasn’t hunting deer or squirrel. He was going for much bigger game—bears.
