The Bear King's Captive: Curvy Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (22 page)

FORTY-FOUR

A shudder snapped Leah out of her dreams. She faced the faded pink silk hanging along the bedside. Faint light filtered into the room.

Sitting up, the dream faded. Her heart thumped against her chest. She recalled Hannes telling her something, but she could only remember the passion and desire from being close to him.

She fell back onto her feather pillow and pulled the covers over her head. She would die if anyone knew what she dreamed. Why an erotic fantasy about him? He was a criminal. If she followed her heart, she betrayed everything she believed in. If she did the right thing, she could be pushing away her only chance at love. She flopped a pillow over her face and screamed until her emotions were locked down.

With a heavy heart, she threw off the covers and shuffled toward the bathroom. Passing the window, she heard dogs barking. She opened the curtains and leaned her head against the cold glass.

In the side yard, Hannes played with Pentago and Lixalot. Kneeling, he wrestled with each, taking one to the white ground while the other jumped on his back. He fell forward, face first into the snow. Leah laughed. He wrapped his arms around the other dog and both fell into the snow.

When Hannes sat up, both dogs nuzzled his face. He pulled them close and laughed. His love for these animals shined real and pure, as their love for him. A familiar ache filled her heart. For so long, she had waited for the man who would share undying and unconditional devotion so strong that each would die to protect the other.

But at the same time, she was frightened of that love. She knew the sorrow and pain that followed when it was taken away. Never would she open herself and welcome love only to have it stripped away. She could not live through that again.

Hannes threw a snowball toward the backside of the house and all three rounded the corner, out of sight. She schlepped into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and brushed her teeth.

Standing in front of the wardrobe, Leah wanted something big and protective wrapped around her. She felt vulnerable, raw at the edges. She pulled a woolly royal blue turtleneck sweater from a hanger and a pair of jeans.

Sliding onto her usual barstool, Leah tugged on the front of the bulky turtleneck.

Winston looked up from the stove. “Ah. Good morning, Leah. I trust you slept well.”

“Sort of. I had weird dreams. Were you playing a piano last night?”

Winston placed a bowl of oatmeal on the bar in front of her. “I must apologize. I told him he would wake you, but you know him as well as I do. When he wants to do something, good luck trying to change his mind.”

She stopped her spoon in midair. “You mean Hannes was playing?”

He grinned. “Yes, he also ballroom dances and fluently speaks four languages.”

“No way.” Leah dropped her spoon into the bowl.

Winston chuckled. “Yes. For an uncultured, uncouth ass, he is quite accomplished.”

“Uncultured asses don’t create music like that.” Leah stirred her oatmeal.

“Music soothes the savage beast.”

Recalling the emotions from her dreams, she grinned. “I wouldn’t say soothe is the right word, but savage fits.”

The mudroom door opened, and Hannes stepped into the kitchen. He smiled when he saw her. She snapped out her hand. “Stop!”

Hannes froze, and both he and Winston stared at her. Slipping off her stool, her hand changed from a halt to a pointed finger aimed at Hannes. She never took her eyes off him. “Step back.”

Promptly, he moved backward. Leah strode around the edge of the bar. Her eyes drilled into his. “Again.”

Hannes stepped back into the mudroom. Seeing his raised brows, slack jaw, and innocent eyes, Leah forced down her urge to laugh. “Now, sit.” She motioned to the wooden bench along the wall.

Without a word, he complied. Kneeling on the floor, she yanked up the wet cuff of his jeans above the winter boot. She untied the bow and loosened the laces. “If your mother saw you walking across her gorgeous floor in these muddy boots, she’d kick your ass into next week. And if she didn’t, I would.”

She pulled off the boot, smoothed the cuff down and scooted to the other foot. “You men never think. Sometimes I wonder how the male species isn’t extinct yet.” She tugged off his second boot and placed it to the side.

She slid forward between his knees. Unfastening the buttons on his heavy coat, she worked close enough for him to easily wrap his arms around her. And to her chagrin, she longed for that. His closeness felt comfortable and reassuring.

After unzipping the front, she leaned close to his broad chest and pushed the coat off his shoulders. The pheromone-filled heat escaping his shirt collar ignited a fire inside her that she never experienced before.

Her entire being cried out for more of the heavenly nectar. She wanted him. Lord, how she wanted him. More than her next breath. She grabbed the coat from behind him and jumped to her feet. Wrapping it on the hook directly above Hannes, she hid her flushed face in the fluffy lining. She tried to ignore her hormones and the screaming of ‘throw yourself at him’ they were doing.

Steeling her expression, Leah looked down on him. His emerald eyes gazed up at her. Like before, butterflies whirled in her stomach.

She pulled off his bright orange knit hat and almost laughed as static made half his hair stand straight out. She covered her mouth to conceal her grin and tossed the hat onto the shelf.

She rubbed her hand over his wet jeans then ran her damp fingers through his soft hair. Her body and mind screamed for what was inches from her. His hand on his thigh moved forward and brushed her leg. Her breathing shallowed and quickened. Shying away from his eyes, her shaking fingers grazed his cheek; brazenly, her thumb skimmed his cold lips.

His fingers slid around the back of her leg, gently nudging her closer. The world faded into a blur. Her mind overflowed with desire and emotion. Her trembling hands cupped his face.

His world was all that mattered. She wanted to lose herself in his green fields, live like a bird through his sky, and sink into his blue oceans--like the ocean they crossed on a ship where she was a prisoner and he was a killer.

Leah snapped her hands away and stepped back. What was she doing? This was wrong! This went against good judgment. Her lust might be raging for him, but he was a mercenary, ready to dispose of her whenever it suited him. That’s not the kind of relationship she wanted. She wanted love. She wanted commitment. She wanted someone who would cherish and care for her like…like she had started to care for Hannes.

Whether she liked it or not, her feelings for him had grown with every day they spent together and now she was up against herself in the ultimate battle. She leaned against the far wall and hid her face. She felt stupid and weak. In an instant, he was at her side. He bundled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. God, that felt so good. So special.

Winston banged pots and pans in the kitchen. “Hannes! You’re going to be late for your meeting!”

Hannes released her and walked into the kitchen. “All right, old man. You’re going to make me deaf.” He continued down the hall and out of sight.

Before returning to the kitchen, Leah wiped her eyes and pulled herself together. She slid onto her stool and stirred her cooling oatmeal.

“Would you like anything special from the market?”

“A bottle of chocolate coated Valium would be great. When are you going?”

“When Hannes is ready.”

“Hannes is going grocery shopping with you?” She could just see him next to the cart with a wobbly wheel, flipping through a hundred coupons in his hands.

“He has a meeting and is dropping me off. But he does not know that yet. For some reason, he thinks you cannot be left alone. Are you fine by yourself for an hour?”

Surface emotions boiled. How dare Hannes treat her like a child. “What does he think I’m going to do? There’s not a phone in this house or even a computer. I’m not going to swim to the mainland. I guess I could write a letter, but I don’t have a damn stamp!” She leaned back in her stool and crossed her arms.

Winston shrugged his shoulders. “There’s the boat.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “I have no clue how to start it, much less drive something like that.”

Hannes reentered the kitchen and set his briefcase on the bar. Glimpsing him, Leah’s jaw dropped. His black casual sport jacket defined his fine physique. The white T-shirt underneath clung to his body. The stonewashed jeans fit snug in all the right places.

Winston started in on him. “Hannes, really now. Leah will be fine here on her own. We will only be gone for a short time.”

Without so much as a glance her way, he said, “Fine. Let’s get this over with quickly.”

Both men headed toward the garage door.

Winston stopped at the pantry and pulled out two fabric bags with handles. “You think it will be that fast?”

Hannes continued to the door. “It better be. I have no idea what this guy wants, and I’ve got the sauna set to be hot within an hour.”

An hour was good. What could possibly happen in an hour on a private island in the middle of Finland?

FORTY-FIVE

Hannes put the ferry into motion after Winston came to a stop on the concrete platform. He suddenly was itchy nervous. Looking around at the other islands on the calm water, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The passenger side window slid down.

“Hannes? You have a worried expression. What’s wrong?”

Stuffing hands into his pockets, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

“Hannes, you know better than that. Since your change, your instincts are spot on. Even before, you had strong intuitions. Zero in on it and find the reason.” The window raised seemingly on its own accord.

Even before, you had strong intuition.
Paska
. Why did Winston have to bring that memory back? Was the old man trying to kill him? The last time he felt like this…fuck. Nightmares from his past burrowed into his head, taking him to a time he hoped never to remember.

Otila crossed his arms and stood in the entrance to the Command Center tent. He glanced at the guarded hut on the skirt of camp where the female spy his team captured remained unharmed under lock and key. She was the first woman agent he’d met among Russia’s booming intelligence community. She proved tougher to break than most men, despite her bedroom eyes and red lips.

Hidden documents were discovered in the agent’s personables before a “debriefing” became necessary. Otila detested torture, no matter the reason. After deciphering the intel, he wanted time to consider the options. Europe’s future rested in his hands, and by God, he was going to take a day or two to plan. If the wrong people found out he intercepted the message, he and his team could suddenly become expendable.

During his years in the military, never had he seen such buzz around a camp. His men itched to move. For the past three days, Otila had kept his long-range patrol unit camped close to Russia’s western border.

The passing rain shower dropped the temperature ten degrees in ten minutes, making the breeze fresh, but cold. He ran his fingers through his thick, dirty blond hair. From the other side of camp, one of his men hurried toward him, splashing through puddles. “Commander Otila, sir.” The young man’s body stiffened as he saluted.

“At ease.”

“Sir, classified correspondence, sir.” The young man in front of Otila couldn’t have been any older than eighteen, which was rare among his long-range group.

Otila took the sheet from the youth. “Dismissed.” Reading the barely legible note, he walked into the tent. After a few seconds, his face scowled and flushed hot. He wadded the paper into a ball and threw it against the canvas wall. Perkele! This was not what he needed right now.

“Lieutenant!”

The second-in-command leaped from his chair at the rear of the tent. “Sir, yes, sir!” His muscle-bound arms hung away from his sides.

“Collect Team Six. We have orders to move out.”

“Sir, right away, sir.” He jogged along the tent’s wall.

“And Korhonen, keep it low key. We’re going into enemy territory.”

In the early hours of an unusually warm evening, the commander led his team to an abandoned city fifty kilometers inside Russia’s border. If their intel was correct, a rogue militia group posing as NATO peacekeepers would pass through here within the hour. Their orders were to keep them from crossing into Finland.

He scanned the area, looking for potential danger. His intuition remained quiet, so he continued past the dirt covered barbershop window. The city itself existed as a testament to the long history of war and brutality in Russia’s past. Only shells of the grand buildings stood to attest to the city’s past beauty. Sights of dilapidation and decay banished any hope of life. A true ghost town.             

The smell of not-yet-fallen rain warned of what was coming. The commander lifted two fingers over his head. Painted snipers split from the group and disappeared into overgrown shrubbery and thick underbrush.

Three blocks into the defunct town, Otila raised and twirled his hand. More men dispersed among decomposing cars and sagging rooflines.

Waiting to start the show, he and Korhonen crouched behind a pile of debris close to the first building. Nearby, a shop sign creaked in the strengthening wind. The breeze ruffled Otila’s hair into his eyes. He brushed it into his helmet.

The first scout, stationed at a bombed-out hotel three kilometers to the north, reported the target’s approach. The rogue squad was a small force for any aggressive action: one armored vehicle with a forward mount, semi-automatic and two transport trucks.

This assignment progressed exactly as planned--in fact, too well. The enemy’s location and movements were mapped to the minute. His troop encountered zero resistance the entire fifty kilometers. Quite convenient that the route passed through a deserted town off the main road.

The commander’s stomach turned and his instincts yelled. The second lookout reported in, two kilos from the city. Think. What was wrong? Dust blew into his eyes, making them water. He radioed the first scout at kilo three. No response. No response from the second who just reported. That was enough. He sent out the signal for full retreat, abandon operation.

Out of camouflaged pits and building tops, Russian forces materialized and surrounded each stationed man, taking weapons and applying restraints. No shots fired; Otila hoped all of his men were alive so he could find the traitor and kill him.

When the transport trucks arrived a few minutes later, the commander and his men were forced onto them, to seemingly disappear from the face of the earth.

Hannes snapped back to the present as the wind bit into his unprotected face.

“Earth to young man. Hello out there.” Winston leaned onto the passenger’s seat, window down, hollering. “I’d prefer not to crash today.”

Hannes whipped his eyes forward to see the shore much too close for his speed. He threw the lever to stop and kicked in the reverse engines to minimize any damage. Actually, he had enough time for a safe docking; his father taught him well when it came to keeping others safe.

When bringing the ferry to the landing, the wind changed. He caught a whiff that shot an electric jolt through him. He put his nose to the air for his animal to take in more. There it was again.

Hannes scanned the tiny marina’s parking area. Everything was snow covered except for an old truck with a boat trailer hitched to the back. That hadn’t been there the other day. People did not go for boat rides this early when it’s this cold. Add that to the familiar stench in the air…

Hannes upped the power in reverse, his intuition, or whatever it was, screamed go back. Now. The passenger window came down again.

With a frown, Winston asked, “Did you figure it out?”

“I will when we get back to the house.”

“You saw the truck, I gather.”

“And more.”

“Should I prepare for the apocalypse?”

Hannes ran his fingers through his windblown hair. “Worse.”