Called by the Bear 4-6 (3 page)

S
ierra

I
just woke
up on the most comfortable mattress I've ever slept on, but there’s nothing about my situation that feels comfortable. I'm in a large bedroom I’ve never seen before. Judging by the sandwich on the tray of food left for me and by the sun hanging low in the sky, I think it's almost evening. I call out to Carly, but she doesn't answer.

She was shot, and we were swimming to shelter. Panic sets in as the memory of ribbons of her blood in the water flash in my mind. I'm about to call out to Brady when Victor's voice enters my head.
“I suggest you don't try to talk to anyone else. I have Carly, and I think you want her to stay alive.”

This isn't my usual interaction with Victor, and I'm left with ice in my veins instead of sexual longing. An involuntary shudder runs through me. I choose to ignore him, and I pull on the large, plain T-shirt and sweatpants folded neatly on the chair beside the bed. The fabric drapes easily and warms my chilled skin. I'm not sure where I am, but the aroma of roast beef draws me to it, and I eat. The salty flavor is heaven on my tongue, and I gobble the sandwich down in hunger.

When I’m done, I speak to Victor.
“Where am I?”

“My house. I trust you're comfortable.”

I scan the room decorated in white and pale yellow and notice a bathroom is attached. I don't remember shifting back, and I wonder who brought my naked body up to this room. Not that I'm very modest, but it would be nice to know who might know me more intimately than I prefer.

“When I said we should meet, I had something less dramatic in mind.”

The last thing I remember is seeing what looked like a dart in my shoulder. Carly had been shot in Fishing Gorge, and we were swimming toward shelter from the gunmen. I heard her call for help in my head, and I think she must have fainted, because she was floating on the surface of the water. I remember moving toward her, and a sharp prick made me turn to look at where a small arrow was stuck in my shoulder. Then all went dark.

Victor’s chuckle comforts me even though my mind knows it’s crazy, and I shake my head, wishing I didn't react kindly toward the asshat.
“I know, but the opportunity to get both of you was too wonderful to resist.”

“Is Carly okay? She was shot.”

“People are taking good care of her. You have nothing to worry about.”

I hope his words mean she's valuable enough for him to speak the truth.
“What do you want with us?”

“Patience, precious. Go enjoy a nice bath, and I'll be by to chat in a little while.”

I sniff and detect the odor of fish and dank river water on me.
Damn him.
A bath is a good idea. Plush carpet thick enough to be fur cuddles my feet as I pad my way to an open door.

The bathroom is done in the color of tropical aqua seas. Water thunders into an oversized tub, and I open the bottle of bath salts set on the tiled shelf edge. It's a lovely lilac scent, and tiny beads rush out as I pour a hefty amount into the water.

Surprisingly, the water bubbles, and I'm reminded of movies with fancy hotel tubs and vixens partially covered by froth. The thought appeals to me, and I strip to slide in. The heat of the bath is almost too much, but as I soak, my muscles relax, and I let the aroma-infused steam envelop my senses.

I lean my head back and feel guilt, hoping Carly is close to this comfortable.
“Carly, please tell me you're okay.”

I'm startled when Victor's voice echoes off the tile walls in an answer. “She's recovering from the surgery to remove the bullet in her leg. I promise you'll see her when she wakes.”

He saunters over in tailored dress pants and a white Oxford shirt. His sleeves are rolled up as if he's home from work and relaxing. Grateful for the bubbles covering me, I'm tempted to sink a touch more, but I'm pissed and sit up higher to expose my breasts. “Seriously? You come to talk to me knowing I'm in the bath? I'm not modest enough to feel intimidated by this.”

Victor doesn't hide his perusal of my tits, and damn if it doesn't turn me on. “They really are as beautiful as I imagined. I look forward to tasting them later.”

I sink back down in the water to dampen my desire. “Fat chance. You may be able to mind fuck me, but I'm not letting you do it for real
.”

“Oh, precious, I never have to force a woman to fuck me. You'll do it willingly.” He sits on the edge of the tub and drags a finger lazily through the bubbles on the surface. “Dinner is at six, and I have clothes for you in the closet.” His green eyes bore into me, and my core trembles, remembering all the dirty things he can say. “Please pick a dress, as we'll be eating in the dining room this evening.”

The problem here is that when Victor bit me, he caused an undeniable physical attraction to happen between us, and the only thing keeping me from yanking him into the tub right now is sheer willpower. His finger moves deeper into the water, and I can't control the small gasp that escapes when his touch grazes the paw-print tattoo on my breast, sending an electric current racing through me.

A low sound comes from him, and he says, “I’m so fucking hard for you right now.” Rubbing his other hand on his crotch, he adds, “Waiting like this is excellent foreplay, don't you agree?”

His hand moves to my cheek. Fuck me, because I want him to do more than stroke my face. When he slips his finger into my mouth, I bite at it in anger, but he's quick and pulls away before I can sink my teeth into his skin.

“Now, now, are you really prepared to shift and have bear sex with me?”

What?
Uh-uh, I'm not doing animal sex. No fucking way. The grimace on my face gives me away, and he chuckles.

“But feisty is good. Oh so good, precious.” He rises, and his large erection strains at his pants.

God help me, but I stare at his cock and want it in my hands, my mouth, and my body. He says, “It's five now, but come down when you're ready. You can join me for a drink before dinner.”

The moment he leaves, I get out and let the air chill my wet body. I need to cool down and figure out how I'm going to make it through dinner. Lotion waits on the counter, and I smooth it into my skin. The scent is the same as the bath salts, and it occurs to me it’s on purpose. Lilacs were in bloom for Carly's wedding, and the aroma will now forever be associated with Victor changing me.

I wander back to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. A bureau sits against the wall, and I approach the closet next to it to slide the door open. It reveals five dresses, and the hangers scratch at metal when I file through to choose one. Deciding on the most modest of the bunch, I pick a red silk wraparound with a belt that ties at my waist. It's sleeveless and shows off the tattoos that cover my arms.

Wooden drawers roll open almost silently as I search for underwear. “Son of a bitch!” There isn't any, and I have no doubt it's to disarm me. Searching through the closet again, I realize all the dresses are of a thin material that won't hide my aroused nipples.

Fuming, I pull on the red dress, and the silk caresses my skin in a sensual way as I slip on matching shoes and return to the bathroom to do something about my hair. It's a ratty mess, and I'm tempted to leave it that way, but Victor would probably see it as looking freshly fucked, so I brush it instead. I don't bother with makeup, even though there is quite an array at my disposal.

When I exit the bedroom, I see a short section of hall to my right and a long one to my left with a staircase partway down. Victor's home is old, and because it reminds me of the one my grandparents had, I think it was built some time in the early nineteen hundreds. The ceiling is high, and when I get to the stairs, the railing is an ornate, dark-stained wood polished to glimmer under lights. It's smooth under my hands as I make my way down.

Ballet flats that fit my feet perfectly tap on the steps as I gawk at the crystal chandelier. It's magnificent, and warm light radiates from the clear glass jewels. In a better circumstance, I would be gushing to the host about his beautiful home. But after glancing at the large man waiting at the bottom, the desire to compliment him is the last thing on my mind.

Victor says, “Would you like to go see Carly?”

“Carly! Are you okay?”

“She can't hear you, but you'll see for yourself she's just fine.”

When he opens the door to a basement and cold air blasts at us, I'm not so sure I believe him.

This time I descend plain, wood-plank stairs constructed of boards nailed to the frame. The chill makes me wrap my arms around myself, and the draft under my dress brings my nakedness to the forefront of my mind. Victor leads me to a cage with Carly's bear form inside. She’s snoring, and I glance at her thigh where the bullet entered.

Victor says, “Our vet removed the bullet, and she's sedated. Keeping her in bear form means she'll heal more quickly and with much less pain.”

I squat down to pet her paw that is at the edge of the cage, and my heart contracts imagining her fear when she wakes. “How long will she be out?”

“That depends on you.”

I stand as my gut clenches. Victor’s green eyes glimmer with tiny flames of light in the dark cellar. I see a flicker of something that’s not quite real, like I’ve seen in Carly’s eyes. I ask, “What do you want?”

S
ierra

E
ver since I
became part bear, I'm unusually warm, but right now I'm rubbing my arms to ward off the chill. It's more than the icy draft from the basement wafting up my dress that is making me cold as we head back up to the main floor of the house. I shudder, because I think I'm about to find out why Victor wants to sleep with me.

He leads me to a cozy room that makes me imagine the powerful, rich men in novels. Heavy burgundy-velvet drapes, leather furniture with brass tacks, and even a fireplace smack of a silk-robed gentleman in slippers with a brandy by the fire.

Victor looks me up and down slowly as a smile forms on his face. My large breasts are not contained by a bra; they sway easily and make the silk of my dress rub over my nipples when I move. I don't need to check to know they're hard and poking out. He says, “Would you like some champagne? I have one that is a bit on the sweet side, knowing you aren't a wine drinker.”

“Sure.” I'm not positive alcohol is a good idea, but I'm also certain I'll do anything he wants to save Carly and her babies. I may need the fuzziness to pretend he's some random hookup after too much to drink on a raging Saturday night.

A cork pops loudly, and I watch as he pours the pale-yellow liquid into a tall, thin glass. He hands it to me, and I take a sip right away. The bubbles dance on my tongue, and the sweet flavor is pleasant.

Victor asks, “Do you like it?”

“I do. It's nice, thank you.”

Victor pours himself a glass of red wine from a large, bulbous container and says, “Sit, and let's chat.”

Right, like he wants to have casual conversation. I place myself on the couch, and the cool leather seeps through my dress and right to my sex. I'm a little horrified thinking moisture from between my legs will leave a wet spot on the back of the red silk, and I cross my legs, trying to center my weight on one ass cheek. Not that Victor doesn’t know. I’m sure he can smell my arousal with his heightened bear senses. I take another, bigger sip of my drink.

“Your tattoos are beautiful. How long have you had them?”

“I started getting them when I was sixteen.” I'm not willing to elaborate and cut to the chase instead. “Why don't you tell me what it is I have to do in exchange for Carly's life?”

Victor snorts. “So dramatic. I have no intention of killing her.” He leans back in his overstuffed chair and swirls burgundy liquid around his wide wine glass. “She's a worthy adversary. Besides, it's you that has all the power.”

“Me? How so?”

He takes a leisurely sip of his wine and licks his lips slowly after he swallows. I notice the intense green color of his eyes. Along with his dark hair, Victor is a very attractive man, and I shift my position on the couch a bit.

He says, “The tattoo girl will bear the greatest gift.”

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to explain what that means. He says, “The prophecy. You're going to have the children that will take over the clans, and they're going to be mine.”

Fuck me. He's talking about Carly. Victor doesn't know she was a tattoo artist, and no way in hell am I going to tell him. I don't hide my surprise, knowing he doesn't realize what my reaction really is. “The prophecy?”

“The Le Roux aren't the only ones with a Native American shaman.”

“Ah, so you want me to have your kids?” Great. One more person that wants to breed me.

“Yes. In exchange for getting Carly back safely to her clan, you will stay with me and give me children. If you decide you want to return to the Le Roux when you're done, you may.”

Whoa.
This is more than just sex. This is having children and either leaving them or staying with Victor for the next couple of decades. I take a sip of champagne to buy time. I'm about to change my life for what might be forever. As I'm swallowing, Carly's voice whispers in my head.
“Sierra, where are you?””

Surprise makes me choke. I can't answer her without Victor hearing me, so I cough and try to think of what I can say. “Sorry, it went down the wrong way.”

Victor's smirk tells me he thinks I'm struggling with my decision. What he doesn't know is, it's a no-brainer. I would die for Carly. Catori, the Native American woman we met in Colorado, told me I was destined to care for people, and that's exactly what's going to happen.

I speak to Carly in my head but look right at Victor so he thinks I'm talking to him. “
I was meant to take care of people. I'll do what I have to do.”

His smile reveals sparkling white teeth that make me remember what he looks like as a bear, and my tattoo throbs. While my desire simmers on the surface, the iciness of fear flows through my veins. I finish off my glass of champagne, and Victor rises to refill it.

His powerful thighs fill out his dress slacks, and I suspect he gets his clothes tailored to fit, as Keith does. My heart throbs a bit when the memory of my last night with Keith tries to invade my mind. I tuck the thought away for another time and focus on Victor.

Bubbles form on the top of the liquid as he pours slowly. It settles, leaving me with a glass more than half full. The bottle clinks against the metal bucket as he sets it down. Victor sits next to me on the couch, and the scent of pleasant cologne floats toward me. “A toast,” he says.

I raise my glass and paste on a smile as I say, “Yes, to doing what needs to be done.”

Victor chuckles and takes a sip of his wine. “Oh, Sierra, I think you're going to enjoy what has to be done.”

He takes my glass from me and sets both of our goblets down on the coffee table in front of us. The clink of crystal on wood fades in the background as he turns to me with fire in his eyes. He grips my arm with one hand while gathering my hair at the back of my neck with his other. “But just to make sure.”

I almost scream, thinking he's about to bite me and renew the strong attraction that happens with the penetration of his teeth. But he yanks my head back and suckles on my neck instead. Relaxing a bit at the sensations that are clouding my brain, I lean into his kiss. He moves down my chest, and when he licks my paw-print tattoo, I arch up and moan. He's right. This isn't going to be so hard to endure, because the real-life version of what we’ve been doing for weeks is blocking out any distaste I have for the man.

Victor continues to lick and suck as if the mark is my sensitive folds of sex, and I'm sure he knows what it does to me. Trembling on the precipice of an orgasm, I scream when he surprises me with a bite into my flesh. While my cry is from fear and pain, the pleasure drowns everything in its intensity, and I quake in my release.

A rough tongue licks my wound to seal it, and aftershocks race through my body as he lays me down on the couch. “Oh, precious, that was beautiful.” He pulls the tie at my waist, and red silk falls open, baring me to him. Victor’s gaze is like a sweet caress, and I wiggle in anticipation as he unbuttons his shirt.

His voice is low, and he asks, “Do you want this?”

I nod because, except for a tiny voice of reason lost in the recesses of my brain, I've never wanted anything more in my life.