Between Two Wolves (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Menage Werewolf Romance) Read Online Free

to construct this beautiful creation. I walked around,
noticing seating ledges, a sandy bottom, and an actual set of steps built out
of flat rocks. It made me think a group of engineers had shown up to create
this masterpiece. It was an even more impressive feat when I thought that it
would be gone next spring.
    I grabbed my pack, and went to find a
place to set up camp. The park maintained a few wilderness areas on this side
of the mountain. There was a clearing that I was particularly fond of, and I
hoped nobody would be there. Since I hadn't seen any cars, and since it was
still early in the season, I was pretty confident it would be free.
    And it was. I breathed out a sigh, and
set my pack down for the last time today. There was something very special
about this place, the way the trees formed a lacy ceiling overhead. There were
hardwoods, oaks and maples mostly, and right now the leaves were still that
bright green that made the clear light seem magical. It was perfect.
    I sat for a minute in my cathedral of
trees, just breathing in the cool air, enjoying the silence, and not having my
pack on my shoulders. A weekend spent here would do me a world of good. I
realized I was still smiling, and that it felt wonderful.
    First things first. I needed to set up the tent,
which was probably my least favorite chore. But if I didn't have a tent, and it
rained, which it usually did, I'd be miserable. Best just to get it done.
    So I fought with the slippery nylon and
the flexible rods that held it all together. It was fiddly, and I muttered
under my breath. Harrison had never enjoyed camping, and gradually I'd stopped
going on solo hikes. So over time I'd given away most of my good gear to
friends. No one had wanted this old tent, and I'd never gotten around to
getting a new one. Not that I'd have ever used it while we were together...
    Enough, Risha. You came here to forget
about him, not look for things to remember.
    I sighed, sitting down on a log someone
had moved into the clearing as a seat, the tent in a forlorn pile at my feet. I
wanted to forget, but there were so many things that reminded me of a
conversation with Harrison, or more likely an argument. The tent, a piece of
art he'd left behind. The one I’d bought for his birthday. The couch. The
apartment we'd shared. I'd thought about moving, but I realized there was only
so far I could go in getting Harrison out of my life, and my mind.
    The sounds of the river caught my
attention. The sun was getting lower, and I made a sudden decision. I would go
down, take a soak in one of the hot springs, leave the tent until later. The
slices of sky that showed between the trees were clear, and I could set the
tent up when I got back.
    Rummaging through my pack, I dug out an
old pair of shorts, tattered and full of holes, and indecent for any place
public. But they were perfect for the hot springs. I'd learned a long time ago
that no matter how carefully they tried to make the ledges and seats
comfortable, the rocks could still rough on my tender backside, and would
inevitably ruin any good pair of shorts I wore, so I had decided to pack along
my old, worn out ones.
    I cast a slightly nervous glance around
the clearing. There was no one around, and I knew that. But since I'd left the
ranger, I'd had the disconcerting feeling of not being alone. Not exactly of
being watched, but that there was someone close by. I'd done a lot of long
distance hiking in college, and I'd discovered this weird kind of sixth sense
that happens when there's someone ahead of you, or behind you on the trail.
There's no sign of them, but you know before you hear or see them that they're
there.
    But there was no one here now, except for
a blue jay that was really unhappy that I'd invaded its territory. It cawed and
carried on, scolding me loudly. I shook off the eerie feeling of being watched,
tugged off my jeans and underwear, and pulled on my shorts. Reaching beneath my
t-shirt, I undid the clasp on my bra