Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears Book 4) (11 page)

“I feel like you’re pulling away from me,” Mason said as he skidded to a stop in the parking lot of Sammy’s Bar.

Beck’s silence had slowly crippled him on the drive here. He’d hurt her again. He couldn’t seem to stop hurting her, an unfortunate byproduct of both of their baggage.

Beck had withered in the seat next to him, and now she sat there, avoiding his gaze, arms crossed over her chest like armor. Against him? Fuck.

He was trying to do this right. Claiming her when he was still spiraling over the death of another mate wasn’t fair to Beck. She deserved all of his heart, all of his attention.

Beck deserved all of him.

He could only imagine how she felt right now. Rejected, likely, but if she could only see how devoted to her he was already, maybe she would give him some slack. But Beck had been cheated on, time and time again, and she was at a point in her life where she wanted to be the top priority for a man. Good on her. She’d just picked Mason at the wrong time.

Wrong time? Her expression when he’d told her Essie had died ten years ago flashed across his mind. She’d been shocked that his first mate was still such a big part of his life after so long, he could tell. And maybe she was right.

Mason swallowed hard and slid his hand over her tense thigh. “Ten years is a long time to mourn. I know that, but it passed so quickly. It was like I sleepwalked through my life here in Damon’s mountains. I worked, ate, thought about how I’d screwed up her life, slept, and did it all again, day after day. And somewhere along the line, I forgot how to smile and breathe and feel, and then you came along and reminded me that I’m not dead yet.”

He tucked her red-gold hair behind her ear to see her face, but her eyes were closed and her bottom lip trembling, and God, he was breaking inside for what he was doing to her.

“I don’t want to be a reminder to live, Mason,” she whispered. “I want to be the one you choose. People come into your life for different reasons. Some are there to push you to become better or to teach you a lesson. But a few come in because they can give you honest-to-goodness, undiluted happiness, and they’re supposed to stay there.” She lifted tear-rimmed seafoam green eyes to his, and her voice trembled with honesty when she admitted, “I was hoping to be the one who stayed.”

“Babe,” he murmured, pulling her over onto his lap. She allowed it, so he cupped her cheeks and searched her eyes. “You are. Just because I didn’t give you a claiming mark the same day you gave me one doesn’t mean it isn’t on my mind. It doesn’t mean this thing between us is less-than. But I’m seeing Esmerelda. I’m hearing her, too. I’m haunted right now, and I don’t want to do this and you look back on this time and think you were a reaction. You’re no one’s reaction, Beck. You deserve your own time without Esmerelda’s ghost fuckin’ with my head. Now, I haven’t seen or heard from her since you put this mark on me, and Beck, that mark means the world to me. I’m in this, even if I’m waiting a minute to mark you back. But I want to make sure she’s gone for good, okay?”

“Robbie always said—”

“Fuck what your ex said. I’m not him, and I won’t be paying for his mistakes either, just like I won’t make you pay for Esmerelda’s mistakes. This is me and you, and I’m fighting to let my ghost go. You have to let yours go, too.”

Beck dropped her gaze, and a heartbreaking little tear slipped down her cheek. He wiped it off with the pad of his thumb and angled her face up, locked their gazes. “You can trust me, Beck. I’m right here with you, okay?”

God, she was so beautiful, face open and raw, cheeks flushed, looking at him like she was so scared he would let her down. He wouldn’t. Mason was going to do everything in his power to make sure she never felt unworthy again. “Okay?” he whispered again.

She nodded and slid her arms around him, hugged him tight, and buried her face against his neck and, fuck, he wanted to take her here. He wanted to make her come slow, make her feel how much he loved her because, over the course of the day, she’d forgotten. She didn’t know it, and he wouldn’t bring up any more women with her when she was so hurt over Essie, but he hadn’t been with anyone since those two sows he’d failed to get pregnant. It had been a long damn time since he’d let himself open up to a woman like this. Beck was his, and he was hers in ways he couldn’t explain to her without rubbing salt in her open wounds.

He gripped her hair gently and pulled her close, stared at the neon green Sammy’s sign over her shoulder and sighed. And now with all that hurt churning inside her, she was going to have to face her ex. This sucked. He wished he could take care of this part for her, but co-parenting with Robbie was solely on Beck’s shoulders.

The clock changed to
9:00
, so Mason kissed her forehead, let his lips linger there, and then eased back. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Beck looked uncertain. “I think so. Robbie brought his girlfriend Shelly to me when they got serious since she would be in Ryder’s life. I guess Robbie needs to meet you, too, so he doesn’t feel disrespected. But then, I don’t know where you and I stand—”

“Mark or no, you’re my mate, and I’m yours.”

Her full lips trembled into a smile. “Okay. Maybe give me some distance so I can work my way up to introducing you. Robbie doesn’t do well with surprises. I need to prep him first.”

“Sounds good. Whatever you need.”

Beck moved to escape his lap, but hesitated. “Oh, and your instincts will probably tell you to stab him.” She scrunched up her nose. “Try not to.”

Mason chuckled and squeezed her ass, just because he needed the weight of it in his hand for reassurance before he went in and met her ex. “I have complete control over my temper.”

****

Mason did not have control over his temper. If he gripped his pool stick any harder, he was going to break it into splinters. Beck tried to ignore yet another dirty look he tossed at the back of Robbie’s head as her ex bitched about how she’d been late. If she didn’t hurry Robbie’s visit up, Mason was going walk over to their table and gouge her ex’s eyes out, probably with a smile on his face. At least Robbie hadn’t noticed Mason yet, because if he had, he would be complaining about that and not the time.

“Robbie, I don’t know what to tell you. You said nine o’clock. I literally walked in here on time.”

“On time. On time? Mrs. Perfect always shows up early, so I did that, too,” Robbie slurred. “I’ve been sitting here for an hour already, drinking alone.”

Beck was feeling pretty grateful for the years of dealing with Robbie’s entitled whining because she knew to plaster an empty smile on her face and ask, “So what do you want to talk to me about?” instead of breaking a beer bottle over his head.

“First, I think you should drink.” Robbie gestured to the watered-down cranberry vodka in front of her.

“Why, did you rufie it?”

“No!” Robbie’s pitch-dark eyes sparked with anger, and he ran his hand through his blond highlighted hair. Shelly must like him looking all vogue because Robbie was a pipe layer and had no use for hair appointments before he’d left her. “Look, you’re always so uptight, and we always get into a battle, but I remember you were always a happy drunk.”

“Always a happy drunk? The two times you drank with me, I was a happy drunk.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You know I was happy because you decided to take time off work and actually take me out, right?”

“God,” Robbie drawled, tossing his head back. “You know what your problem was?”

“I don’t want to know.”

“You were always so fucking needy.” He pitched his voice high. “Cuddle me. Let’s fuck while we stare at each other. You don’t hold hands with me enough.”

“
Ever
, Robbie. You didn’t hold hands with me ever, and I told you I don’t want to hear my shortfalls. We’re divorced, so we really don’t have to rehash this. Just please, tell me what you want.”

Robbie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, then looked pointedly at her drink.

She let off a little growl and said, “Fine,” then slurped it through the straw until it was gone.

“You look different,” Robbie said as he lifted his hand at the passing waitress. “She’ll have another,” he told her. “A double.”

“Hi, Layla,” Beck greeted the pretty blonde.

“Publicist,” Layla said, pointing her pen at her. “What do you actually want because I saw your face when you downed your drink. It wasn’t your favorite.”

“I’ll have a long island ice tea, thanks.”

“No, thank you,” Layla said. “I heard what you’re doing for us. I’m a fan of anyone rallying for us.”

“For us?” Robbie said, his dark eyes narrowing to hate-filled slits at the bartender. “Are you one of those
shifters,
too?” He said the word like a curse, which was ridiculous because he’d been married to a shifter once and his son was also a shifter.

Beck wanted to throat-punch the judgmental asshole.

Layla plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I am not a shifter.”

“Good for you,” Robbie slurred.

“But he is,” Layla said, pointing to a tatted-up, dark-headed behemoth behind the bar. Kong narrowed his eyes at Robbie. Layla smoothed her apron over the swell of her belly, “And my baby will be, too.” Her smile dipped to nothing. “Start shit in here, and I’ll throw you out so fast you’ll think I’m a fucking wizard.” She turned to her mate and called out, “A long island for our mighty publicist and nothing more for this dick. He’s cut off.”

“Yeeep,” Kong said as he spun a glass in his palm like a bartending pro. His angry eyes flashed an inhuman green at Robbie before Kong went back to work.

Mason broke a rack of balls over on the pool table where he was hanging out with Haydan and Kellen of the Ashe Crew, who’d just walked in. The sound of balls scattering was deafening in the bar. It wasn’t yet rush hour, and only a few of the tables were full. Even with his eyes flashing a furious, inhuman color, Mason looked sexy as hell lining up his next shot.

“Hellooo,” Robbie said, snapping in front of her face.

With a slow, infuriated blink, she gave McFartFace her attention again.

“What I have to say will make you angry.”

“Just say it,” she muttered.

“Shelly and I are getting married.”

Not shocking. They’d been together through half of Beck and Robbie’s marriage. “Congratulations,” she said in a dead voice.

“Because she’s pregnant.”

How romantic. “Double congratulations.”

“With twins.”

Beck prayed for patience, counted to three, then murmured, “Robbie, that’s fine. I’m not angry. I’m glad for you that you’re sticking with Shelly. I mean, you two have been together for a long time.” She had tried not to sound bitter, but a little eked through. “And it’ll be good for Ryder to have some half-siblings.” She guessed. But on second thought, maybe this would hurt him if he saw his father being a good parent to his other kids. Huh. Now her chest was filling with dread. She hadn’t been able to mold Robbie into good father material, but maybe Shelly had powers Beck didn’t possess.

“The thing is…my other babies will be human.”

Uh oh. Beck dragged her hands under the table and clenched them in her lap until her nails dug into her palms. “So?”

“So Shelly doesn’t like that Ryder Changes into that hairy little bird whenever he wants. She don’t like taking care of him.”

“Well, she doesn’t take care of him, so crisis averted.”

“Yeah, but having him a month a year is going to be hard if she don’t want him in our house.”

“Robbie, you’re his father—”

“And as his father I should have a say in his treatment.”

“Treatment?”

Robbie pulled a stack of pamphlets from his pocket and slammed them on the table. The title of the first one shocked her into stillness.
Experimental Gene Treatment
.

Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks, then landed in her ears as she pulled the pamphlet open. The first paragraph alone made her sick to her stomach.

“They are trying to fix shifters.”

“Fix. Shifters.” Her voice shook like a leaf in a hurricane.

“Yeah, Beck, fix shifters because I’ll be good goddamned if I watch you become all loud and proud, registering and shit, and shaming my name. My kid ain’t meant to have a fucking owl in him.” Robbie’s voice filled with bone-chilling vitriol. “You tricked me. You never admitted you were a shifter. Not when we were dating, not when you got pregnant, not when we got married. I had a right to know what I was getting myself into.”

“I didn’t tell you because you’re anti-shifter, Robbie!”

“Doesn’t matter your reasons, Beck. I had to find out my kid was a freak when he turned into a fucking fuzzy baby owl right after his first birthday. That’s messed up.”

“Ryder’s not a freak.” She clenched her hands tighter until warmth trickled down her palms from where her nails dug in. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to Change and claw his eyes out for what he was suggesting. “Six months, Robbie. This pamphlet says the experiments will last half a damned year. You would torture the animal from our son, then? Is that what this is? You’d rather him be ‘normal’ than healthy? He is normal! I’m normal,” she said, pressing her bleeding palms against her chest.