Eventide of the Bear (The Wild Hunt Legacy #3) (14 page)

Ben had always taken care of his friends. Apparently, his service had expanded to encompass the entire town.

Turning his gaze away, Ryder traced a finger over the squares on the tablecloth. Aside from becoming more cynical about females, had he changed since he and Ben split apart? Had he grown at all?

He’d worked to be successful. To be recognized for his skills. To have enough money, but everything he’d accomplished had been to benefit himself.

His success now felt…hollow, lonely.

When Genevieve had spread rumors he was abusive, Ryder’d been shaken when no one had spoken up for him. The Cosantir’s lack of action hadn’t been surprising since the guardian lived in a different town and remained aloof from “petty” problems. Nevertheless, in Farway, no one had stood up for Ryder.

Yet had he ever given anything to the town? He’d lived there, but never helped make it better for anyone, never participated in anything except the Gatherings—which Genevieve had turned into nightmares—and never tried to be a part of the community.

He and Ben had always wanted to belong somewhere. How had he missed learning that belonging required effort on his part?

Ryder looked around the room, observing the people. Good folks, both humans and shifters. Flannel shirts, jeans, and boots. Hardworking, independent, solid citizens. Ones he’d be proud to call friends. It was time he did some work to earn their respect.

As Ben had.

Ryder rubbed his jaw. He’d given nothing to Genevieve’s territory, but here—this would be his town and his territory.

It was time he started to nail down his own place here.

*

Later, in the
great room, Emma rested with her back against the couch arm. Minette was tucked in the small space against her side. The feeling of the small body next to her was sweet enough she had a lump in her throat. A month ago, she’d never imagined she’d be so happy.

Well…mostly happy. The stench of burnt roast still lingered in the air. However, her embarrassment had diminished, leaving only resolve. She was going to learn to function like a normal person, including learning to cook.

Ben had been astonishingly nonchalant about her fiasco.

Ryder had been, as well, despite his initially cynical questions. He’d been fun at supper, teasing Ben and Minette—and even her. It seemed his brusque personality hid a wicked feline sense of humor.

Across the room, he was building a fire in the wide marble fireplace. As the kindling caught fire, a salamander poked its pointed nose out from the ashes and wiggled happily.

Minette went to watch, standing beside her sire.

Ryder tugged her down beside him. Every day, he grew more comfortable with his cub. He pointed at the fire elemental. “When the fire starts to roar, the salamander will dance for us.”

When Minette gave the same squirm of delight as the salamander, Ryder laughed, and Emma could only stare in wonder. His magnificent, resonant laugh sent shivers up her spine. Why didn’t he do that more often?

“Who fancies some music?” Ben thumped down the stairs and into the room. He held two classical guitars.

Guitars.
Emma’s fingers curled with longing. She’d missed music even more than people.
Don’t touch, bear. Not yours.
“Do you and Ryder play the guitar? I thought you said you grew up in the wilderness, owning nothing more than a few books.”

“Ben did—in Texas.” Ryder’s jaw flexed. “When we were five, my father dragged me to Montana.”

Leaving Ben behind? The thought of their separation made her heart ache. She’d thought it was sad to have no siblings. How shattering would it feel to be separated after being together?

Ben ran his fingers over the guitar strings. “When we met up again as young males, we spent a winter with our mother’s grandmother in an Elder Village with no electricity. She taught us to play guitars.”

Ryder’s chiseled face softened at the memory. “Naini was Welsh, and nothing made her happier than an evening of music. Everyone had to participate or suffer her displeasure.”

Envy filled Emma at the thought of singing with others. She and the master bard had played music together. A couple of times, another bard had visited him. To share songs within a family group must be marvelous.

“Here you go, honey bear,” Ben said gently. He bent and brushed his lips across hers in a kiss.

His lips were warm. Firm. His cheek brushed against hers with the slight scratchiness, and rather than pulling away, he lifted his head a couple of inches and looked straight into her stunned eyes. The line beside his mouth deepened, although he wasn’t…quite…smiling. He held her eyes for a second, then another, before he straightened.

He’d
kissed
her. She could feel the blood surging in her veins and the increasing hum of interest. Everything in her wanted another kiss.

Shaking her head, she looked down. He’d put the guitar in her lap. She was holding a guitar for the first time in three years.

“Oh,” she breathed. The scent, the feel of the glossy finish, the sound when she plucked the first string…
Wonderful.

“By the God, look at her.” Ryder’s chuckle held the same amused enjoyment as when Minette had squirmed. “You got your prey cornered, Griz. A kiss to get her all flushed, a guitar to light up her eyes.”

Ben grinned. “I hope you still have your instrument, bro. I don’t think she’s going to share my spare.”

“Yep, I brought it.” As Ryder took a log from the pile, he asked Minette, “Can you show Ben where it is, kitten?”

Minette ran across the room, took Ben’s hand, and pulled him after her.

As Ryder set bigger logs in the fireplace, the scent of fir and pine filled the room with smoky sweetness.

Emma did a tentative strum over the strings, and the guitar bumped into the back couch cushions. The position wouldn’t work. She struggled to sit up.

“Hold on, little bear.” Ryder took the guitar from her and set it to one side. With a hand behind her back and the other under her knees, he turned her, placing her legs on the leather ottoman. His lean fingers were longer than Ben’s, just as callused, and to her surprise, just as gentle. His scent held the wildness of a cat shifter and a hint of the woodsy soap he used.

Tingling sensations traced over her skin, teasing her with the knowledge she was female and he was male.
No. No, no, no.
It was bad enough to be attracted to Ben, but this male? This very cynical male who was far too handsome?
Impossible.

She bowed her head to study her hands. “Thank you.” Her voice came out a whisper.

“Emma?” When she looked up, she met night-dark eyes gleaming with laughter. “You are very welcome.” He ran a single finger down her cheek.

Pulling back, he shook his head in the same way she shook out her fur when she first
trawsfurred
, getting rid of the last, lingering traces of human. “Ben and I both spent a lot of time in the wilderness. The one time I did a whole summer, I was still talking to myself a month later. How long were you away from civilization?”

The unexpected question shocked her. His dark eyes were intent and slightly frightening. “No evasions, please, little bard,” he said softly. “Give me a number.”

Lie? She couldn’t, never could. “Three.”

“Three what?”

Stubborn male.
Her whisper was almost inaudible. “Years.”

His staggered expression pleased her, until he followed it with another question. “Why?”

She lifted her chin. “I explained to the Cosantir.” And she wasn’t going to explain further.

When Ben and Minette walked into the room, she almost cheered.

“Here’s your guitar, bro.” Ben handed it to Ryder.

With a frown, Ryder sat in a chair, but his gaze kept returning to her.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. She didn’t have to answer any more questions. She shouldn’t have answered him at all. Stupid male.

Stupid Emma.

“Problems?” Ben’s regard warmed her skin.

“No? I have a guitar. Nothing can be a problem.” Music could heal almost anything.

The minute the males started singing together, she knew she was right.

So
beautiful.
In a sonorous baritone, Ryder carried the melody. Ben added the harmony in his deep, rumbly bass.

More than beautiful. Like one of those fabled aphrodisiacs, the sound of their beautiful male voices danced across her skin, trailing desire behind it. Nothing, not even the Gathering, had ever affected her so deeply, in every sense.

When she looked at Ben, all she could see was how broad his shoulders were, how his biceps strained the fabric of his white shirt, and how the collar framed his corded neck. She wanted to press her lips right there, to the tanned skin exposed by the two open buttons.

When she looked at Ryder, she couldn’t look away from the beauty of his wrists and his powerful fingers on the strings. What would those hands feel like on her body?

Stop.

She switched her attention to Minette. In front of the fire, the cub swayed in time with the music and watched the salamanders dance amidst the flames.

Lovely.

Unable to stop smiling, Emma curled her hand around the guitar neck and added some fancy fingering to the music. Happiness welled up and overflowed inside her as she lifted her voice in a descant, above and around the melody.

Minette bounced as the music became richer.

The males turned to look at her. Ben’s gaze filled with pleasure; Ryder’s softened to a liquid darkness.

Maybe this sunlit time wouldn’t last, but for now…for this glorious moment in time…she’d wrap herself in the warmth.

‡

I
n the Wild
Hunt Tavern, Ben leaned on the fireplace mantel and enjoyed himself.

Seated in a nearby chair, Emma sang to the crowd, accompanying herself with the guitar Ben had given her.

Ben grinned at the Cosantir’s disgruntled expression. Hosting the bard had been a brilliant idea, but he’d obviously considered only the benefits to the Daonain, not how the local residents would flock to the tavern for the new entertainment. A typical cat shifter, Calum hated crowds.

Too bad for him. Word had gone out, and although this was the bard’s first Thursday performance, every table was full. People lined the walls. Even the pool players had stopped to listen.

The shifters and the spattering of humans were enthralled. He smiled as she slid smoothly into another song—a more ribald one that set the tavern to rocking.

Ben understood. Her songs drilled deep enough to draw tears, before bathing the ache clean, and closing it with comfort. Her tenderness and enthusiasm touched everyone who listened.

Emma had a lot of love to give. It wouldn’t be long before she was lifemated. Hell, any male would be proud to care for her, protect her, and cherish her.

However, Ben wouldn’t be that male. He couldn’t be, mustn’t be.

Emma was only a small black bear, not a grizzly, and his cubs would still be too large for her to birth safely. His sadness cast a pall over his surroundings. Over the past few weeks, she and Minette had shown him what his life lacked. He wanted a mate. Wanted to share her with his brother and watch her swell with their offspring. Wanted to be surrounded by love and the infectious laughter of cubs.

With a shake of his head, he pushed the regrets aside and concentrated on the music.

Emma brought one song to an end and segued into a hymn to the Mother. Around the tavern, people seemed to barely breathe as the spirit of the goddess shimmered in the air.

When the song finished, Emma sat back, easing people down with slow fingerings on the guitar and soft humming. Finally, she spoke.

“Thank you for your attention. May the Mother’s love forever light your trail until you return safely home.”

When applause swept the room, her solemn expression sweetened with her smile—and her surprise was clear in her voice. “Thank you.”

A couple of people moved forward to speak with her. More gathered. Emma’s eyes widened, and she recoiled back into the chair.

Ryder had said the bear lived in the wilderness for three years. Three fucking years. A tavern filled with people must be overwhelming.