Untamed Virgins (Mountain Men of Bear Valley Book 1) Read online

  Untamed Virgins

  Mountain Men of Bear Valley

  Chantel Seabrook

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Continue the Journey

  Mountain Men of Bear Valley Reading List

  Chantel Seabrook

  Also by Chantel Seabrook

  Frankie Love

  Also by Frankie Love

  Untamed Virgins

  Bear Valley: Where rugged men find more than a safe haven - they find their mates.

  The moment I see Adelaide Spencer, I know she’s my mate.

  Neither of us has given ourselves to another — because we were both waiting for a moment like this. Her and me, under the stars, the night spread out in front of us, full of hope and a thousand tomorrows.

  But our pasts have collided in ways she doesn’t know, and when she finds out, she’ll never forgive me. Not for the mountain man I am, or for the bear I’ve been.

  But damn, I need her. Want her. Crave her.

  When our valley is threatened by outside forces, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

  To prove that I am more than the sum of my past mistakes — that I can be her future.

  Chapter 1

  Gunnar

  Grass and brush crunch under my paws as I make my way up the steep ridge that overlooks Bear Valley. Claws dig into the hard, rocky earth as I tilt my head up, inhaling deeply. Every sense is heightened, my animal form overriding the guilt that I carry around like shackles binding me to a past I can’t erase. Guilt that’s even deeper than the ugly scars that mark my body.

  Long lines of missing fur expose the ugly scars. But it’s what the Winchester did to my human form that has me unable to look at my reflection. Knowing my sins are permanently etched into my skin.

  It’s been months since I’ve let my bear loose. I rarely free myself of the noose that seems to tighten more and more as the years pass, instead of loosening like my brothers said it would.

  But what the hell do they know? They aren’t responsible for killing a man.

  I let out a deep and distressing growl before shaking my head back and forth, and starting back up the ridge. My animal isn’t happy about how long it’s been since I’ve freed him, and I know it’ll be hard to rein him back in.

  In this state, I’m free, bound only by the laws of nature. I can understand why some men have let their bear consume them, never shifting back. Maybe that’s what scares me, that one day I’ll just give in and let the animal take over completely. To allow the untamed part of my soul free, and shake off the shackles of the past permanently.

  I don’t have much of a future, even with the scars, the feral part of me will never allow me to know the gentleness of a woman’s touch, the hope that comes with a potential mating.

  I close my eyes and inhale, reveling in the smells and sounds that surround me, ridding myself of the restlessness that rules my human form. But the small amount of tranquility I’m able to achieve is suddenly interrupted.

  The sharp sound of metal crunching and wood splintering farther down the ridge sets a wave of adrenaline coursing through my body, causing my bear to go on high alert. But it’s the angry growl of a grizzly followed by women’s screams that have me sprinting in the direction of the commotion, my paws slapping heavily against the rocky ground.

  The wild call of a grizzly in this part of the woods would have the Kodiak in me racing for a fight in any situation, but the terrified shrieks of the women heighten my innate need to protect.

  Rushing down the ridge, I don’t hesitate a second as I barrel through the trees and see the large grizzly with its front paws on the hood of the blue Civic that’s crashed into a large cedar. The four passengers inside scream louder as I slam headfirst into the grizzly’s side.

  Bigger than me by at least forty pounds, the bear is still no match for the momentum I have from flying down the side of the mountain, and we both tumble away from the vehicle, claws and teeth biting into flesh.

  The engine of the car rumbles as the driver tries unsuccessfully to start the vehicle. I’m too preoccupied with the crazed grizzly that now circles me, foam dripping from its massive jaw, dark eyes rabid, to take much notice of the terror-filled shrieks.

  I roar, a call to any of my brothers who might be nearby. This is Kodiak territory, and while most of my family are far from earshot, the grizzly doesn't know it.

  At any moment, more Kodiaks could appear around us, ready to defend what belongs to us.

  The grizzly pounds the ground with his front paws twice before growling and turning, then disappearing into the thick brush. Normally I’d go after him, trailing the bear until I knew it was off our land, but the feminine panicked cries from the smashed up Civic has the man in me in protective mode.

  I have no idea what the hell the women were thinking being up in these parts alone, in a car better suited for the city than Alaskan terrain. And even if they can get a signal up here, they’ll be alone for hours before roadside assistance can get to them.

  My truck is parked a quarter mile east of here, along with my clothes, which I’m thinking are a necessity if I don’t want to have to try and explain why I was walking around the mountain naked.

  I doubt the grizzly will come back, but still, I hate leaving when there’s a potential threat. And yet, the way the women stare bug-eyed at me through the windows, I know they’re holding their breath waiting for me to leave.

  I start to turn, ready to sprint back to my truck, when my nostrils twitch, a familiar scent wraps around my senses, momentarily paralyzing me.

  Intoxicating.

  All-consuming.

  Irresistible.

  It pulls me. Stirs something inside my chest. Like a flash of electricity that sends shockwaves through my entire body.

  The driver’s side window is cracked open just a hair, and whatever, or rather whoever, the scent belongs to, is inside the car. I take a step forward, and my movement causes another series of cries to echo from the car, except for the woman in the driver’s seat. Big green eyes watch me, and I swear there’s recognition mixed with fear there.

  Dark blonde hair is pulled back from a heart-shaped face that seems all too familiar, even though I have no doubt that she and her friends are most likely just tourists who’ve come to the valley for summer vacation. She’s not a local. I know every single soul that lives in and around Bear Valley.

  And yet I swear I know her.

  I hold the woman’s gaze. God, those eyes, dark green like the deepest part of the forest. Eyes that seem to see past the bear to the man inside of me, even though I know it’s not possible.

  The window lowers a little more and her gaze scans my body. She flinches and I realize where her eyes have landed - on the scar running along my body.

  Insecurities flash through me. I may be one of the most powerful animals in these mountains, but there’s still the man inside of me that hates how others see me.

  Grotesque.

  Wounded.

  Disfigured.

  Except the woman’s eyes hol
d none of those things.

  Still, I know I need to get away. Nothing good is going to come from me terrifying the women - especially this woman. A woman whose scent filling my nostrils causes all parts of my being to react with desire...and need. A need I’ve never known before.

  And hell, it’s a need that’s begging for attention. I may be an untamed bear in the wilds of Alaska, but I’m also a virgin, a man who’s been waiting for the right woman. A woman I never thought I’d find.

  My heart beats wildly in my chest, each one of my senses alert and yet they are dazed at the same time.

  Damn, one look in those deep emerald eyes and I know she’s the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life. And if I wasn’t a logical man, I’d think she knows it too. I grew up on stories about the instant attraction to one’s mate, the knowing, which defies all reason. It’s like a flame ignited in my chest, blazing and burning away all rational thought.

  Everything is just...her. Hope, a feeling I haven’t felt in years, stirs. I won’t know for sure if she’s my mate until I kiss her, but I know one thing for certain, I will kiss this woman.

  I take another step toward the car, and see the glint in her gaze, like she’s stumbled across the one thing she’s been looking for - me.

  She lowers the window, fearlessly.

  See me, every fiber in my being screams.

  And for a second I think she does.

  Then she points a gun.

  She aims it straight at me and unlocks the safety.

  Shit.

  Hell no, I’m not going down like that. As she pulls the trigger, I use all my strength to push off the ground and bound away, hoping she’s as bad a shot as I am a judge of character.

  Because what I thought was love at first sight, turns out to be a shot to the heart.

  Chapter 2

  Adelaide

  I shoot and miss.

  Crying out in frustration, I lower the gun. My shoulders fall as I watch the massive bear run away, deep into the woods.

  And not just a bear. The bear.

  I know without any doubt that it was the bear who attacked Grandpa Quinn. The one who killed him - because of me.

  My parents had warned me not to go off alone in the woods. But I’d been a stubborn, willful thirteen-year-old, who’d just had a silly fight with her mom. I’d been muttering under my breath, kicking up leaves and wishing my parents would let me stay in Bear Valley instead of dragging me back to Seattle with them.

  And then I’d seen him.

  Bigger than any animal I’d ever come across, the Kodiak perched at the top of a cliff above me, not more than thirty feet away. He was beautiful. Majestic. His brown fur gleaming and flawless. And when his dark, soulful eyes met mine, I believed that he somehow saw straight through me.

  Even though I should have been terrified, I wasn’t.

  Stupid girl.

  We stayed there like that for a long time. Studying each other. It was like our souls recognized each other, like I knew him from somewhere, even though it was impossible.

  “Adelaide,” my grandfather had shouted for me from somewhere in the forest.

  Frustration coursed through me. I didn’t want the distraction. I only wanted my bear.

  “Adelaide.” More shouting from down the ridge. “Where are you?”

  Grumbling, I only looked away for a second, but when I’d glanced back, the bear was gone. That’s when I heard my grandfather’s terrified scream, followed by the growl of an animal, and then...the gunshot.

  My bear. It was an irrational thought. It was my grandfather I should have been worried about. But I hadn’t been.

  Fear had my feet moving, my eyes blurring with tears.

  I wasn’t prepared for what came next. Ten years later, my memories are blurry, and yet some moments are etched forever into my brain.

  One large bear, even bigger than the one I’d seen on the cliff, it’s fur more silver than brown, lay lifeless at my grandfather’s feet.

  It wasn’t my bear. Relief flooded through me, but even in that moment, I knew that trouble was only starting, it swam in the air like a warning.

  “Adelaide.” My grandfather’s eyes had widened when he saw me, his shoulders heaving with each breath he took. And there was something else in his gaze, something I couldn’t understand. Holding the still smoking rifle, he looked as wild as the animal at his feet.

  “You shot it,” I’d cried.

  A deep growl-like cry vibrated through the woods. It was a sound, filled with grief, that rocked straight through me.

  My bear stood a few feet away slightly hidden behind a large oak, and it let out another long, sorrowful growl.

  It was a human reaction. I remember thinking that. But the rage that followed was pure animal. Brown eyes turned dark, and its anger turned to my grandfather, who redirected his gun.

  “Papa, don’t,” I’d cried out as he’d lifted the barrel and pointed it at the bear - my bear.

  I’d been more concerned about the animal than my own grandfather. But I’d believed that the man had been in no danger. That the wild animal wouldn’t cause us harm.

  Stupid, stupid, girl.

  “Run,” I’d cried out to the bear, like it could understand me.

  My cry caused it to hesitate, it’s gaze turning back to me.

  And then the gun blasted.

  I saw the bullet rip through the flesh of the animal. It wasn’t a fatal blow, but it left a long, deep gaping mark that oozed blood.

  The bear turned its focus back on my grandfather, its focus moving between the lifeless animal at his feet and the rifle in his hand.

  So much grief. I swear I could feel it in my soul.

  My grandfather reloaded the gun.

  “Just run,” I’d screamed again, and as if the bear understood my command, he did.

  But then the gun sounded. This time the bullet ripped open an even uglier wound along the bear’s flank. Deep crimson matted the brown fur, dripping onto the dark soil beneath its feet.

  After a few unsteady steps, the bear dropped to the ground.

  That’s when I tried to run. Not away from the bear, but toward it.

  My bear. My bear. My bear. It was my heart’s cry.

  Tears blurred my vision, and the toe of my shoe got caught on something, a rock or an exposed root. I never saw what it was that sent me flailing toward the ground causing my head to smack against something hard.

  Darkness wrapped around me. Darkness that was filled with grief and fear.

  I don’t know what happened next. At least not the details of it. Later my parents would tell me that I was lucky that the fall knocked me unconscious. That the bear left me alone because I was no longer a threat.

  But what I didn’t tell them, what I never told anyone, was that I regained consciousness a few times before someone found me. That I remember the bear hovering over my grandfather’s body. Remember the sound of his screams as the animal killed him, tossing his body around like it weighed no more than a bean bag chair.

  I’d passed out again, awaking again to the animal hovering over me, it’s nostrils sniffing, nudging, before it collapsed beside me.

  I remember the mixed emotions that twisted inside my gut. Even though the bear had killed a person I loved, that it meant no harm to me, and if anything it wanted to protect me.

  A shiver raced through my body and guilt crept into my chest. I never could get rid of that feeling - that there was some kind of connection between me and the savage beast who changed my life forever that day. But as the years passed, anger and revenge had replaced any empathy I’d felt for the creature.

  That day taught me a few things about this wild, untamed land. It taught me to always be prepared. Which is why I made sure that when I decided to come back here after all these years, the first thing I bought was a Glock 19.

  The one I just fired.

  “Oh, my God,” Harley yells, her voice carrying with the echo of the shot.

  The bear is gon
e before I can shoot again. Which sounds intense, like I’m used to this sort of thing. I’m not. Truthfully, I’ve never shot a gun in an emergency before. But this was more than an emergency, it was life or death.

  And revenge.

  “What the hell, Addie?” Piper screams, even though she’s usually the most in control of all of us. “What are you doing?”

  My hands are still shaking, but I need to be strong for my friends. This has got to be even more terrifying for them than for me. “I was trying to kill that bear before it killed us.”

  Harley reaches over me and tries to turn on the ignition from the passenger seat, her hands shaking as she does. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Not before Addie puts the damn gun away,” Piper demands, her hazel eyes locking on mine in the rearview mirror. If there’s a natural leader among the four of us, it’s always been her, but this is my territory, and even though she might be the queen bee in the big city, she knows nothing about the wilds of Alaska.

  “Look,” I say. “I came to Alaska every summer during my childhood. My grandpa taught me to shoot when I was eleven. It’s important to know how to protect ourselves.”

  “Well,” Kate says, her voice two octaves higher than normal. I catch a glimpse of her bright red hair in my peripheral vision as she tosses it back over her shoulder the way she does when she’s nervous or upset. Right now, I can tell she’s both. “I’m not shooting anything. I’m a vegetarian for crying out loud.”

  “It would be difficult to be a vegetarian if you’re dead,” I say, putting on the gun’s safety and placing it back in the glove compartment.