Page 57 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

Frogs chirped incessantlyoutside my tent. Horny little fuckers. Their midnight amphibian orgy was keeping me awake, and I wondered if Angel would regret using this particular campsite. Sure, it had been a pretty setting in the daylight beside the wide stream, and it did have actual bathrooms, but this was ridiculous.

I turned my head toward the Petersens’ oldest daughter, with whom I’d been assigned to share a tent. I could tell from the girl’s breathing that she was deep asleep, and it made me jealous.

Being awake in the dark without a power source to recharge my phone meant there was nothing to do but think. And these days, thinking was limited to three options: the DaBruzzi trial, the Maddox anniversary weekend, and Reese. None of them did anything to inspire sleep.

The frogs took a breather, and everything grew so quiet I heard the pop of a small spark in what was left of the evening’s campfire.

I’d just forced my thoughts onto a new topic—the old red barn and how I hated the thought of it being ignored and falling back into ruin—when I heard the telltale sound of a zipper descending a long heavy track. Someone else was up and leaving their tent.

I listened as they moved quietly—politely—clearly doing their best not to wake anyone else. It was a strange kind of voyeurism, I thought, listening to someone’s movements in the dark.

There was a rumpling sound as they left their tent. Whoever it was, they had a lot of physical mass to maneuver. That left three possibilities: Angel. The Canadian man. And Reese.

As the mystery body passed my tent, I could tell from its footsteps that it wasn’t the Canadian. He moved heavily while Reese and Angel—actually, all the Fitzpatrick men when I stopped to think about it—moved with a quiet grace that defied their size.

And then I heard the smallest hint of a throat clearing. It was as distinctive as a spoken word, and I knew it was Reese.

For a second I thought he was coming to find me, but he didn’t stop at my tent. He didn’t stop at the fire either, or go in the direction of the bathrooms. He went toward the trees, and when fifteen minutes passed and he hadn’t returned, I started to worry.

I waited a few minutes longer, but by then my concern had joined up with curiosity, and I wriggled out of my sleeping bag.

Quietly, I fumbled around near the front of the tent where I’d left my flashlight, pausing for a second when I realized no beam of light had swung past my tent before.

Reese was out there without a flashlight?

I found mine and exited the tent before turning it on. I made one quick glance around the campsite to make sure I wasn’t mistaken, but all I saw were the shadowy shapes of seven tents, the circle of logs we’d used for seating, and the soft glow of embers under the ash.

I pointed my flashlight in the direction I’d heard Reese go, then walked softly toward the edge of the trees and whispered his name.

My voice was drowned out by the frogs who’d resumed their party, so I said it a little bit louder. “Reese?”

There was still no answer. No sound of footsteps. No beam from any flashlight. I swung my light left, then right through the trees.

I glanced behind me at the tents. Should I wake Angel?

I turned back toward the trees and called out again. “Reese? Are you out there?”

An owl hooted. There was…maybe?…a crack of a stick breaking underfoot.

I took one tentative step into the woods. Then another. The underbrush was thin, so it wasn’t hard to move through the trees, though it was a little spooky.

More than once, I stopped to question what the hell I was doing. But each time my concern for Reese pulled me deeper into the trees.

No one walked around in the dark woods on purpose, did they? Unless they were sleepwalking.

Eventually I’d gone far enough that the frogs were barely perceptible. That’s when I knew it was time to turn back. I pivoted, my light swinging around, and stopped.

The beam reflected off a pair of glowing green eyes.The mountain lion.

I staggered back in shock. Was I some kind of danger magnet? What were the odds I'd run into this animal twice?

The mountain lion snarled, pulling back its lips to reveal a set of very lethal-looking teeth.

The shadow I’d seen in the barn hadn’t been distorted. This animal was much bigger than I’d imagined a mountain lion should be. It was as big as a Great Dane and nearly tall enough to look me dead in the eye.

Terror rippled through me.

The animal prowled closer.

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