Claim the Bear (8 page)

Fighting the urge to apologize, she eased back and scrunched her face up.

Dillon’s smile was infectious. “I like when you make that sound for me. Let’s me know I’m doing something right.”

Well, then, there was no point in being embarrassed about it. If it made him happy, she wouldn’t try to stifle it anymore. She rubbed her face against his cheek affectionately. She wouldn’t tell him, but it was her way of showing him how much she already cared about him. He stood still and allowed it, and when she’d treated his other cheek in a similar fashion, she leaned back to find his eyes closed, like he’d relaxed into her touch.

It was right here, in this moment, she knew she was a goner for this man. Fear bubbled through her chest at how much she really had to lose now. It wasn’t the same for him, and he could leave at any time. He’d claimed her in her people’s traditional way, but she didn’t think it was the same for bear shifters.

When he opened his eyes, they were silver and hooded. A slow smile crooked his lips as he leaned down and drank her in again. She rocked against him, and his thick shaft pressed on a sensitive spot and made her inhale a gust of breath.

“Right there?” he murmured, lowering his hand and cupping her sex just where it felt right.

A helpless noise wrenched from her throat and she nodded. He dipped his head to her breast and drew her taut nipple into his mouth, grazing it gently with his teeth as he sucked. Bowing against his hand, she gripped his shoulders. His finger slid into her and she cried out at the overwhelming pleasure his touch caused. A second stroke and something happened. Clenching, pulsing, explosion of sensation and she buried her face against his chest as her body clamped around him.

“Already?” he asked.

She would’ve been embarrassed if not for the smile in his voice.

Instead, she was rejuvenated as her lioness pushed her closer to Dillon. Her purring grew louder as she pressed against his hand again to intensify the feeling of her aftershocks. It was the first time she’d come against a man’s hand.

He rocked his powerful hips against hers. “You want more, or are you satisfied for now?” he rumbled against her ear.

“More,” she panted, then nipped his bottom lip.

Withdrawing his finger, he picked her up and set her onto the plush mattress. “Nothing crazy this first time, okay?”

She had no clue what that even meant, as her knowledge on sexual positions were limited to the first three pages of a Kama Sutra book she’d quickly leafed through in a book store once, right before a pimply store clerk asked her if she needed any help.

Dillon laid her down and pressed her knees wider as he settled his hips into the cradle between her thighs. She inhaled a shaky breath as the head of his cock rocked against her sex. He dipped in an inch, and she arched against him, desperate for more.

It was a tighter fit the next stroke as he pressed in farther, and she clenched in reflex to the strange sensation.

“No, kitty. Relax or it’ll hurt. Let me in,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers. His arms shook like he was trying to hold something back, and he panted with each stroke his hips flexed against her.

“I’m going to come again,” she said, panicked. It was happening too fast.

Dillon froze. “Not yet, baby. Wait for me.”

She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think of anything other than how damned good he felt nestled inside of her. Moments drifted by and he pressed into her again, deeper this time, stretching her until a tiny ache pinged through her middle.

He cupped her head and lowered his lips to the pulse at her neck as he eased out of her. Resting her hands on the flexing muscles of his back, she dared a look into his eyes when he lifted his head, and he rewarded her with a sexy smile.

“There you are,” he breathed, touching her cheek just under her eye.

He rolled forward and buried himself fully into her, his skin hitting her clit and making her cry out with pleasure and the slight twinge of stretching pain.

Her orgasm had eased off, allowing a slow, gratifying build, and as she met his rhythm, she could feel him swelling even bigger inside of her. She’d expected a quick heat cycle coupling at most, but what he was giving her was so much more. He was making love to her, not breeding her, and the difference made her heart latch onto him even more.

He gritted his teeth, and she raked her nails through his short hair as she watched the lusty focus in his eyes. A slight frown of concentration had taken his face, but he was staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She couldn’t take her eyes away from him as his jaw clenched and he bucked into her, again and again. Tossing her head back against the soft comforter, she shattered around him.

Hot jets of wetness shot into her as Dillon rasped out her name and buried his face against her shoulder. Three rapid strokes, and more pulsed until it flowed out of her, like he had more than she could keep. She shook as adrenaline pumped through her veins and over and over, she ran her nails gently up and down his back, conjuring gooseflesh with her touch.

She was purring again.

Minutes passed as they lay there in the dark before dawn, joined together and satiated. At last, Dillon rolled off her and pulled her tightly against his chest.

Warmth and safety enveloped her and she nuzzled her face against his shoulder in a feline gesture of devotion.

“Sleep now, mate,” he murmured against her ear. “We’ll need each other again in a couple of hours.”

Breshia smiled at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as Dillon hit the second chorus of a song he was whistling. She’d never heard the tune before, but it sure sounded like a happy one. She leaned forward and smeared extra-coverage foundation over her cheek, successfully hiding the freckles there until her skin looked to be a single, uniform tone.

Apparently Dillon was one of those morning people she’d always heard about in myths and legends. None of the pride females, including herself, had put much stock in early mornings, but despite the heaviness of yesterday, Dillon seemed to be a perpetually cheerful soul—just another thing she liked about him.

His good mood was infectious, and she bobbed her head to the catchy notes.

She was relaxed and satisfied after Dillon had woke her up before the alarm and taken her slowly. She’d been a little sore, but he’d taken care with her. This morning, she’d slid out of bed feeling pretty and different. Like there was this little glowing ball of happiness sitting in her chest, warming her from the inside out.

The whistling grew louder as Dillon passed the bathroom, and he cast her a smile through the mirror. He looked startled and popped his head back in the bathroom. “What are you doing to your face?”

“Putting make-up on,” she said through a frown.

“I can see that, but it’s covering your freckles.”

She turned and leaned on the sink, then canted her head in confusion. “That’s the point.”

His dark eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “You want to cover them up?”

“Well, yeah. People stare, and they look…” She didn’t even know the word she was looking for.

“Who cares what anyone else thinks? I like them. Cover them if you want to, but I prefer you natural. They look unique, and make your eyes look brighter. Your freckles make you special, Bre. Cover them and you’re just like everyone else.”

She stared with her mouth hanging open as he left the bathroom. Turning slowly, she studied her face in the mirror. One side was freckled now, and one not, and suddenly, the natural side was a little easier to look at. She touched it lightly with her fingertips. He liked her spotted.

Swallowing her emotions down, she wet a rag and wiped the foundation off, then played up the green in her eyes he seemed to find so attractive with mascara and plumped her lips with pink gloss.

She did look different from other woman, the other pride females in particular, but if Dillon wasn’t bothered by it, perhaps she shouldn’t be either.

And it wasn’t like he was just saying it. She heard the truth in his honest inflection when he spoke of her freckles. Plus, this morning after he’d taken her, he spent half an hour tracing little patterns on her mottled shoulders.

She grinned as she scrubbed the make-up from the rag under the running faucet. A day away from the pride and she felt better than she could ever remember.

“Hey,” Dillon said, easing back into the bathroom with a troubled look for the cell phone in his hand. “Bron wants to speak with you.”

With those few words, her confidence plummeted. The Cress alpha was the one person who could take this all away. She’d been planning on applying for a job at the coffee shop in Joseph this morning, but that would have to wait until later. “Did he sound mad?”

“No, but he said he wanted to see you alone. He’s sending me back up to the Seven Devils clan with Logan to finish the repairs I started.”

“Will Samantha be there?”

“Most likely.”

Breshia couldn’t pinpoint why, but that made her feel better. Still, her hands had started trembling something fierce just thinking about being separated like this. Dillon sauntered over and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, then squeezed her close. “I’ll explain what’s happening with your heat cycle. I’ll be discreet and then come pick you back up in a couple of hours, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest. “You’re so nice to me.”

“It’s not one-sided, Bre. I’m happy around you, too.” He stroked her jawline with the pad of his thumb and looked at her bare face with a look that could only be interpreted as pride. Leaning down, he laid a tender kiss on her lips, which drew an immediate response from her clenching stomach.

The snap of his jeans was loud in the tiny bathroom, and she reached into the elastic of his briefs and pulled a long stroke of his already hard shaft.

“You’re going to kill me, woman,” he said with a chuckle as he lifted her onto the vanity. He pulled her jeans down and tossed them out the open door. She could almost taste his smile when he brushed his tongue against hers and eased his pants down his hips.

She hadn’t known if a bear could keep up with a heat cycle like a male lion could, but apparently Dillon was up for the challenge.

He slid into her, gripping her hips to control their rhythm. This coupling was much faster and harder than the last ones, but she liked it. The skin slapping, Dillon grunting, ass flexing under her hands, uncontrolled release as he froze and emptied himself inside of her—she loved it all. His pulsing encouraged her own orgasm and she cried out his name as she bucked erratically against him.

As long as she lived, she’d never get tired of the feel of him between her legs.

He pulled out of her and murmured, “Stay there.” Then he dampened a clean rag with warm tap water and cleaned her gently.

“We’ve got three hours,” he said, catching her sensitive earlobe between his teeth and making her arch against him like an overgrown cat being petted the right way. “Get dressed and I’ll take you to Bron’s.”

****

Dillon frowned into the rearview mirror as he drove away from Bron’s house. Breshia gave a small wave from the front porch, and he had to drag his eyes away from her or he was going to lose his nerve and turn around.

“Look, I won’t be able to stay at Ethan’s all day today. I need to be back in a few hours,” he told Logan, who was messing with the radio dials from the passenger seat.

“I bet you do,” Logan said cryptically. “Smells like you got a lioness in heat on your hands. I bet she’s running you ragged.”

Dillon huffed a laugh and gripped the wheel tighter. “I don’t mind.”

“You need to stop and get some energy drinks from the gas station?” Logan teased.

“Shut up, man. I’m fine.”

“All joking aside though, you do need to stay hydrated.”

Logan would know, so Dillon ticked his head and dared a glance at his friend. He’d been challenged for breeding rights until it had almost killed him. Pride mating games were the reason he’d sought sanctuary with the Hells Canyon shifters. If anyone had the answers to the missing pieces of Breshia’s life, it would be him.

“Any other tips?” he asked carefully.

Logan leaned back in the chair and rested his elbow on the window ledge. “Eat after every coupling, even if you don’t feel hungry. She’ll need you consistently for at least three days, maybe four, and you have to stay fueled for it. Are you trying for a cub?”

“Nah. She’s on contraceptives. Some sort of shot that keeps her from getting pregnant.”

“That’s good. Smart woman. Breshia was always a hard worker from what I could tell when I visited the pride. Quiet too.”

“She won’t quit apologizing for every little thing. I don’t know what to do with it. And she can’t hold my gaze, like she thinks I’m going to hurt her or something. How do I settle her animal down enough around me?”

“That, my friend, is going to take a lot more than just some advice from me. She’s submissive, and you likely won’t be able to change her after what she’s been through. There will come a point where she gets as good as she’s going to, and you’re going to have to accept the rest.”

Dillon swallowed hard, wanting to know, and not wanting to all at once. “What’s she been through?”

“She should be the one to tell you that.”

“Logan, cut it out with the mystery bullshit. She gets scared off of talking about anything to do with her time in Portland. I want to know what I’m dealing with. I don’t want to hurt her any more than I can tell she already is, but I have almost nothing to work with. No background except for a few tidbits here and there. What happened to her that her lion is so scared?”

Logan sighed and stared out the window so long, Dillon thought he was just going to flat out ignore him for the rest of the drive to the Seven Devils. “You ever heard of caning?”

Dillon narrowed his eyes at the road. “No, but I can imagine what it is.”

“When Breshia was about ten, it became really apparent to the pride that she was a submissive, which almost doesn’t even exist in lion shifters. It’s not in our blood to cower. And the older she got, the more she internalized everything. Eventually, she didn’t defend herself at all. Add that to her looking different, which is a huge blow in a pride. Females are vain. And I don’t mean your typical, want to look good type of vanity. Appearances, and posturing, are everything. The females stay in a power struggle, so perfection is something they strive for. Breshia broke the mold.”

“Thomas talked to her like she was nothing,” Dillon admitted low. Disgust tinged every word. He wanted to kill that son of a bitch just thinking about him.

“Everyone did. They were trained to, and she never defended herself, so it became the way of things. Ironic that now they need her so badly and she won’t play along. They brought her defiance on themselves, and probably blame her, not their actions against her all this time. And Dillon, I swear to God, if you change in this truck, I’m going to claw the shit out of you. Cut it out.”

Dillon swallowed the rumble in this throat and rolled the windows down so his bear didn’t feel so trapped.

“You can’t do anything about where she’s been, man.” Logan looked at him with the saddest look in his dark eyes. “Only where she’d going.”

“I care about her.”

“I know. I knew it before you even brought Breshia to Bron’s last night.”

“What? How?”

“Reese called Muriel. Said she was there when you two bonded.”

Dillon scrunched his face up and shook his head in denial. “Bonds are bullshit.”

“Are they?” Logan stared, eyebrows cocked.

He did feel different about her than any other woman, but they’d been through a lot in the short time they’d been together. And yeah, every time he slept with her, he felt like something on a cellular level was changed, was improved, but that could be how it was for every mated pair, he didn’t know. Still, talking about a bond clicked something into place for him and felt right. He’d have to think on this later, when Logan wasn’t grinning like a cocky idiot from the other side of his truck.

“Look, a bond isn’t a bad thing, nor is it some scientific mumbo jumbo that connects you to your fated mate. It’s just your animal choosing for you. It’s up to the rest of you to pick her now.”

Dillon had already chosen her in every way that mattered, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Logan after one day of knowing Breshia. Logan would think he was a lunatic. But then again, Logan and Muriel’s pairing had happened quickly, so maybe he’d understand better than Dillon was giving him credit for. “They caned her to try and rile up her lion, didn’t they?”

“Yeah. They tried to whoop the submissive from her, but Breshia was too strong for them. The pride doesn’t see it that way, but her animal is tougher and more stubborn than all of them. They stopped trying to ‘fix’ her animal when she was in her late teens, and have left her alone for the most part.”

“Until the genetic testing. Until they gave her to your brother.”

“Yeah. Listen, Bron is in a hard spot. He doesn’t know the dynamics in the pride, or how different Breshia is, so he can’t condone what you did by claiming her. But for me,” Logan said, watching him with such a serious expression. “For me, I’m proud of what you did for her. She has a shot at being okay here. The pride would breed her until she couldn’t do it anymore, and they wouldn’t lift a finger to help her raise all those cubs. Thomas would break her, and the pride would help.”

“It’s not over yet, is it?” Dillon pulled in front of the Seven Devils ranger camp and threw the truck in park. “They won’t give up this easily now that I’ve taken one of their last breeders.”

Logan shook his head slowly. “No.”

Agony ripped through him at the thought of losing Breshia now. “How do I keep her?”

“The pride let up on getting me back when I got Muriel pregnant.”

“You’re saying breed Breshia.”

“When you are both ready. Doesn’t have to be now, but that’s when you’ll likely feel the relief. It won’t always be like this.”

Logan hopped out of the truck and Dillon watched him greet Ethan and Reese near the main tent.

Bringing a baby into this mess wasn’t going to solve anything.

Somehow, he was going to have to think of another way to get the pride to let his mate go.