Eventide of the Bear (The Wild Hunt Legacy #3) (23 page)

On the steps, Ben halted.
Now there is a sight.

Emma was kneeling in the neglected flower garden bordering the street.

Drawing on a small tablet, Minette sat cross-legged beside her. Satisfaction welled within Ben. The cub’s cheeks had filled out, and her small arms no longer looked like skin stretched over bones. Her smile came far more often now.

Donal had checked her over, saying her silence wasn’t caused by anything physical. With time and love, she should recover.

Well, they had the time. As Ben watched the two females, he knew love wouldn’t be a problem either. The mite had taken up residence in his heart as if she’d been born from one of his own matings. She was a bundle of sweetness…and was beginning to show hints of the mischievousness her sire had possessed when a cub. When she was healed, she’d probably run them all ragged.

His gaze turned to Emma. Also recovering. No longer underweight, she was beautifully rounded. She’d left her hair loose to spill down her back in a golden sheet that begged to be tousled by a male. Her cheeks were the color of ripening peaches, her mouth a kissable pink.

And she was fucking kissable, wasn’t she?

He realized he was smiling. Yeah, well, he’d been doing that more, first when the three additional people filled his home, then three days ago when Ryder had laid out the facts of their birth.

His guilt was gone, and he felt lighter, as if he’d removed a heavy tool belt.

Even more… Ben inhaled slowly, catching the scent of the golden female in the garden. He now had a future, something he’d lacked since his trip to Texas. For five long years, when he’d heard cubs laughing, he’d known he would never have any offspring to raise, to protect, to love. And now, suddenly, the narrow, dark valley was filled with sunlight.

He could take a mate. Share one with his brother. Have cubs. Have a future that held love. Females were trouble—just ask Ryder—but they were also the glory and brightness in a male’s life. Feeling he couldn’t take a lifemate had dimmed his world.

When Ryder had walked away, the darkness had been complete.

Now, change had come again. His littermate was back. With a cub. And they had a female living with them. The sweetest, bravest female he’d ever known.

Ben’s house was filled with people, with laughter and song, and even bickering. Fuck, he loved coming home now.

He watched as Minette poked at a bug in the dirt, and Emma laughed. She didn’t laugh enough—but, like Min, her smiles came more often. It would be an honor, a delight, to be the one who helped her lose her shyness. To be the one who won her trust.

Her love.

Yeah, he wanted that female right there.

She was…amazing, constantly surprising him with her intelligence, her unexpected flashes of humor, her sheer kindness.

She was big enough to fill a man’s arms and wonderfully soft. Her scent held her sweet female musk with traces of flowers and cinnamon.

And even when speaking, she sounded as if she was singing.

The tavern had been packed again two days ago with shifters in to listen to the bard. Ben had taken himself another kiss before walking her home. Kissing Emma was more satisfying—and intoxicating—than actual sex with any other female.

What would mating her be like?

Even better would be sharing her with his brother. It’d been too long since they’d enjoyed a female together. But those teamwork skills didn’t go away, and no female had ever complained about their favors in the past. On the contrary.

But he wanted to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his littermate as they slid lifemating bracelets on their chosen female’s wrist.

He wanted to see their female swell with their young. The mere thought sent hormones dancing in his veins.

Could Emma learn to love them?

Winning her wouldn’t be an easy trail. Something in her past had derailed her from the normal enjoyment a female felt toward sex. She certainly wasn’t going to jump right into his bed. It was time to get to the bottom of those secrets.

At least his brother had started to realize not every female was like Genevieve, although her memory was still a splinter in Ryder’s paw, prickling him every time he paced forward.

With the Mother’s grace, there would be enough time and love to get them to the trail’s end.

Leaning a hip against the railing, Ben watched his two females…until he noticed a brown-haired male coming up the sidewalk.

The wolf shifter detoured across the yard to join Emma.

Ben scowled as possessiveness welled within him.
Mine
. He jumped off the porch and stalked toward where the brash male was trying to make conversation with her.

When Emma saw him, she smiled in welcome. “Ben. I thought I scented you.”

After setting his hand on her shoulder—
mine
—he smiled down at her, then studied the interloper. The wolf was young. Closer to Emma’s age. Would she prefer youth?

Trying to keep from shoving the male away, Ben told him, “Work is inside.”

The young male stiffened as if he’d been poked in the side with a stick. “And just who are you to tell me what I should do?”

Catching the scent of fear from Emma, Ben glanced at her. Her color had paled. Her scent held no sexual interest for the wolf—just fear. The bastard had scared her somehow.

“I’m supervising the work on this house.” Ben’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Get moving.”

When the wolf drew himself up, Ben followed suit—and towered over the puppy by almost a foot.

The young male took an involuntary step back and muttered, “Fucking bear.” And he caved. “Fine. I need to get to work anyway.”

Spineless, Ben thought with annoyance. What kind of cubs were they raising in Shay’s pack?

Emma pulled Minette into her arms, and both females stared up at Ben as if he’d gone on a feral rampage. “Wh-why are you upset?” Emma asked shakily. “He wasn’t doing any harm.”

By the God, the puppy hadn’t scared her; Ben had.
Hell.
“Sorry, honey bear, it’s habit. I forgot not everyone on a work site is one of my crew.” A growl escaped him. “When my employees are at a site to work, they actually work…not flirt with females.”

Perhaps he should follow his own advice and get his ass back to work. The south side construction site needed to be checked.

But…first… Slowly he bent, cupped Emma’s soft chin in his hand, and held her for a carefully controlled, persuasive kiss. When her lips softened and opened, he plunged his tongue into the dark recesses of her mouth, savoring her taste, her willingness to participate.

A shaking sensation recalled him, and he opened his eyes.

Minette was silently laughing her little ass off.

“You liked watching, cub?” he asked, tapping his finger on her adorable nose.

She wrinkled it up, still grinning.

“Well at least
she
appreciates the way I kiss,” he told Emma and surprised an amused snort out of her.

He leaned down, nuzzling the little bear’s temple, feeling the brush of silky hair…and inhaling the interest in her scent. “And so do you, darlin’,” he whispered. “So do you.”

*

After assigning the
newly arrived male wolf to attaching iron bars to the reframed window, Ryder paused to drink the tea Tullia had brought him.

Tea
. Complete with a pot and cup. Whoever heard of drinking tea on a job site? But she was so pitifully grateful and eager to repay their work that Ryder hadn’t been able to refuse.

She’d told him her three mates had built the house an eon ago. Ryder scowled. Given the crookedness of…fucking everything…they shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a hammer.

He and Ben hadn’t planned on messing around with the windows. But when Ryder’d attached an iron window guard, he’d realized a child could yank the screws right out of the dry rot. So he’d spent most of today removing windows and reframing them with solid wood.

All of the construction work was going well. Ben’s two crews accepted direction well, and although he didn’t enjoy being crew boss, he could manage. Just as Ben managed handling the finances and payroll when needed.

He smiled as he finished the last window and repacked his tools. Being partnered with his littermate was like pulling on a worn pair of jeans—nothing fancy, simply a good fit. Comfortable and right.

Ryder walked out of the shabby house to see Ben kiss Emma. By the God, seemed Ben hadn’t hesitated to act on Ryder’s advice.

His brother definitely wanted to mate with her.

They were littermates; they’d share. Ryder felt…unsettled. He should have thought this all through before pointing Ben in her direction.

Then again, maybe it was only his brain falling behind. Everything else in him—his body and his spirit—said the little bear was fucking appealing. Soft. Lush. The breeze carried her wildflower scent, and the sun lit her hair until she seemed to shimmer with gold.

Ben nuzzled Emma’s cheek, gave a tug on Minette’s hair, and sauntered down the sidewalk, heading toward home.

Ryder stayed in the doorway, watching as Emma tried to regain her composure. She looked a little dazed.

He damn well knew the feeling. What did he want to do?

Minette adored her—and no wonder. Even when Ryder’d been acting as if he had ice up his ass, Emma had remained sweet. And she was damned smart, the bard.

And wary.

Well, so was he, for that matter. He could see taking Emma to bed, but hopefully, Ben wasn’t thinking about lifemating her. Hooking their lives—their very souls—to a female? Maybe. Maybe not.

“Hey, Ryder.” The call came from the south where Bonnie was coming up the sidewalk from town. The female was one of Zeb and Shay’s wolf pack, and she often took time to bring Tullia some food. Wolf packs took care of their own.

Ben was teaching him how other shifters took care of the whole clan.

“What’s up, Bonnie?” Ryder walked out to meet her.

“I found those papers you wanted.” Bonnie handed him a manila envelope. “You really think you can get Tullia some assistance?”

“Probably.” Partly as a result of their isolation, the Daonain tended to see “help” as being physical, not financial, and often forgot they were part of the United States. But they were shortsighted. He’d learned a lot in his years hanging out with humans. “We pay taxes to the government. A percentage of those taxes fund programs to care for the elderly and indigent. Tullia worked all her life. She deserves a break now.”

“I totally agree.” Bonnie noticed Emma and walked closer. “I see she’s going to have flowers, too. Those will be beautiful.”

Budding with gold flowers, small plants filled the bard’s market basket. Softhearted female. She knew Tullia didn’t get out any longer, only went as far as her porch.

“Hi, Bonnie.” Emma fingered a tiny bud. “Another week and Tullia will be able to sit on her porch and see the blooms.”

Ryder made a mental note to fix the porch swing.

Ignoring Bonnie and Ryder, Minette patted Emma’s thigh and held up the tablet. She’d written a wobbly 6 under Emma’s drawing of six golden flowers.

“Wonderful counting, kitten,” Emma said. “And you made a perfect six.”

Minette beamed and set the tablet in Emma’s lap for her next task.

“All right. People next.” Emma sketched a curvy female with braided hair, a male with jaw-length hair and a dark beard shadow, a bigger, clean-shaven male, and a child. “How many are in this picture?”

Minette held up four fingers.

“Exactly right. Four. Can you write the number?”

Minette took the tablet. Her tiny mouth was a determined line, her thumb-sucking hand fully employed to hold the paper steady. He recognized that focus—his focus.

He had a cub. The wonder of it still stopped him in his tracks several times a day. How had he and Genevieve created something—someone—so very special?

“She’s a bright little sprite.” Bonnie said. “How old is she?”

“Four.” Ryder’s throat was so tight the word came out hoarse. So many years where he hadn’t been there for her.

“Only four?” Bonnie turned a speculative look at the girl. “How long has she been counting and writing?”

“A week,” Emma and Ryder replied.

Smiling at the pretty bard, Ryder continued. “Emma’s been working with Minette. Teaching her. Before last week, she could only color. Printing and counting past four is new.”

“Amazing.” Bonnie studied Emma. “Why aren’t you a teacher?”

“Part of my bard training was about education,” Emma said, “but the human law requires formal credentials for anything other than preschool or tutoring. I didn’t go to college.”

Many Daonain didn’t attend college since being surrounded by humans and held to their rigid schedules was uncomfortable. But from the wistful look in Emma’s eyes, she would have gone. What had prevented her?

He frowned. She’d had a rich mother who hired and fired cooks. If she hadn’t been caught singing—and questioned by the Cosantir himself—would anyone even know she was a bard?

And she’d spent three years in the wilderness. She’d have barely been an adult, for fuck’s sake. Why would a talented shifter—a bard—isolate herself in such a way?