The Bear Who Loved Me (6 page)

“What did they do?”

“Drink and talk shit.”

“Ah. My favorite kind of hunter. Noisy and with lousy aim.”

She chuckled. “We never caught anything but colds.”

He narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. It was a mixture of emotions both bad and good. “What happened?”

She'd started walking to the tree, but stopped at his question. “What?”

“Something bad happened or you'd be glowing with nostalgia.”

She snorted. “Drunk middle-aged men are not the most considerate people. I learned to shoot and drink beer. I learned that men are gross and think a lot about sex. I also learned that my father loved my mother even if he couldn't stand to hang around her for long.”

Ah. Abandonment issues. “So Mom was the stable one.”

“Nurses are there when you need them in the best possible way. Unless they're at work earning rent money because Dad has wandered off again.”

“What did he do?”

“He was an electrician by trade. Get rich quick schemer by action. And…” She shrugged. “He had a big personality. Drunk, sober, at home or away, he was big in my life.”

“And now?”

“Gone. Bad flu that he ignored. It was too late by the time he thought to see a doctor. We didn't even make it to the hospital in time to say good-bye.”

“Tough break.”

She was silent a moment, looking out at the dark horizon. “It's how he would have chosen to go. Quick, dramatic, and without hurting anyone else.” Then she shrugged. “I was always terrified we'd lose him in an electrical fire or a drunk-driving accident.”

“How old were you when he passed?”

“Seventeen. Old enough to process it and perfect timing to quit hoping that Dad would help out with my college tuition.”

There was a wealth of disappointment in those words. Along with anger and all those things that come with an unreliable parent. “So you got your business degree on your own.”

She snorted. “Hardly. Mom paid, I worked at my aunt's bakery. And then when it was time, I took over.”

“So which is your true love? The business or the baking?”

She frowned at him as if she hadn't ever considered the question. “They're both me. And neither. I'm also a single parent, a bad jazzercise dancer, and someone who likes to eat candy and read slutty romance novels. How do you separate one part from another?”

Good question. He'd been trying—and failing—to keep areas of his life partitioned from one another. But he couldn't imagine being a harmonious whole person either. It just wasn't in his nature. Good thing he was saved from answering by arriving at the tree.

Henry was already coming down, his nimble form dropping from the branches like a monkey. He might be small for a shifter, but the young father had always been deceptively quick. “Evening, Max,” he said, his tone neutral, his head tilted to the side in submission.

“Hello, Henry. This is Becca, Theo's guardian.”

The man flashed his teeth in a warm grin. “My mom had to keep watch for me, too. But don't worry. Instinct runs deep and keeps us safe.”

Becca flashed a grateful smile, but Carl couldn't stop himself from correcting the young man. “It's not instinct. It's his good head that will save the day. Don't ignore the man in favor of the animal.”

Henry's eyes narrowed. “Seems to me the animal is what counts in situations like this.” He gestured around the dark land. “Open field, reacting on a dime, heading by feel to your home—that's something that will confuse a man. Never a bear.”

Becca blew out a breath. “Why do I get the feeling that this is an old argument?”

“Because it's all chicken and egg,” Carl answered. “Which is more important? Who rules what?”

“Max here is a thinker. His uncle was a doer,” Henry responded. And it was obvious Henry preferred action. But that's because he was too young to remember Maximus Prime.

“But wouldn't you want brain behind the brawn?” Becca asked.

The man's eyes grew flinty at that. “'Course you do. But there's a point where there's only brain and no brawn, and that's disaster.”

Carl barely restrained a growl. “You've been waiting a long time to say that to me, haven't you?”

The man nodded with a quick slash of his chin. “I got children and I don't want them Detroit assholes getting—”

“I don't, either,” Carl interrupted, trying not to air all the political dissent in front of Becca. “But before you start talking about brawn, ask your grandfather what he thinks. Oh wait. You can't because he was disemboweled by my uncle. And do you know why? Because your grandfather gave his best pumpkin to his pregnant wife for her craving.” His uncle's clan tax had declared that the best crop always went to Maximus Prime. “Brutality is never the answer.”

“You don't have to go that far,” Henry countered. Then before Carl's grizzly took over completely and disemboweled the young father, Henry raised his hands in surrender. “I'm worried. People are saying you can't even keep Nick in line.”

Carl growled low in his throat, scary enough to silence Henry and make Becca shy away. He hadn't meant to frighten her, but he was holding on to his position by the barest thread, and he couldn't afford to let a low man on the totem pole challenge him. Not even verbally. “You ought to be grateful that I don't maim people whenever they smart mouth off to me.”

A deliberate reminder. Ages ago, Maximus Prime had permanently lamed Henry's father. Even if Henry couldn't remember the horror of those many years ago, he would remember his father's permanent limp. Henry's hard gaze flickered for a moment, then dropped.

Submission
.
Good
.

But then the kid had to add an extra dig. “We're just damned scared, is all. Them Detroit—”

“I know!” Carl barked. “Everybody's scared and acting out. When the fuck are people going to
think first
before they do something stupid?”

Henry's chin shot up. “That's the problem. We're not
people
. We're
more
.”

“All the more reason not to go off half-cocked. Only a feral lets his grizzly run amok.”

Henry didn't answer. He just stood there with his eyes downcast in submission, but his mouth and chin firmed into a hard sullen frown. He would bow to his alpha now, but the resentment was building, and Carl didn't know what to do about it. Especially since if he challenged Nick like everyone wanted, he would then be crucified for killing one of their own. That's what had happened when he first took control of the Gladwin clan.

And into that taut silence, Becca decided to intrude, her question completely out of blue. “So you have children? They must be really young. Are you worried about what happens when they grow up and shift?”

Henry turned slightly, his mouth softening as he looked at her. “Can't help but think about that when sitting out here for hours. I got two little girls and they're feisty as hell.”

“How old?” she asked.

“Eleven months and four years. It'll be a long time until we face a night like tonight.”

“But you still worry. I thought I'd go insane when Theo started teething. But now he's out there alone somewhere.” Her gaze slid across the landscape. “There's always something to freak out about. I don't know how we get through it.”

“One day at a time, is how,” Henry returned, his words gentle. “That's what I tell Donna. Just one day at a time.”

Becca smiled, gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you so much for keeping watch. I cannot tell you how reassuring it is that someone who cares is helping him. A stranger.”

“Aw.” The man ducked his head. “Theo's one of us now. That means you are, too, and we Gladwins protect our own.”

“I can see that,” she said, then she reached forward and squeezed his arm. “Thank you again.”

Henry patted her hand in response, all aggression gone from his body. And then Becca gasped as if she'd just remembered something.

“I nearly forgot. We brought stew for you.” She reached over and pulled the basket from Carl's hand. “I'll bet you're hungry.”

“Sure am, if it's Marty's special stew?” he asked, looking at Carl.

Becca answered for him. “If by special you mean with a half bottle of brandy in it, then, yes, she made it overly special.”

“Not possible,” Henry said with a grin as he took the basket. “Welcome to the clan, ma'am,” he said. Then he nodded briefly to Carl. “Mr. Max.”

“Stay safe, Henry.”

And with that, the man trotted back to his truck with Carl's breakfast. Carl watched the man go, seeing that his movements were casual, almost jaunty. Which, given that he'd been a half breath away from challenging the Max, was beyond startling. “How'd you do that?” he asked, his voice too low for even shifter ears to hear.

“What?”

He didn't have the words to answer. In just a few sentences, she'd diffused Henry's resentment into nothing. “If I'd known all he wanted was my stew, I'd have sent someone hours ago.”

She brushed away one of the weeping willow branches as she moved to the ladder. “It's not the stew he wanted. Just someone to understand his fears.”

He looked at her. “We've all got fears.” She more than most, given that Theo was out there somewhere.

“And that's what people think about when sitting out here alone in the dark for hours on end. He wasn't really criticizing you. He was just scared for his girls. All that fear has to go somewhere, so he chose to attack you as the nearest target.”

He touched her arm to support her up the ladder, but didn't follow through with the motion. Instead he turned her around to face him so he could study the minute shifts of her mouth.

“How did you know what to say to him?”

She chuckled. “I served for years on the PTA.”

He frowned. “I don't understand.”

“What do you think the PTA is? It's a group of neurotic, sleep-deprived parents who are terrified they're screwing up their kids. Just about every ridiculous argument we had could be diffused by simple support and understanding.”

He stared at her. It couldn't be that easy, and yet the evidence told him she was right. “Scared doesn't give you the right to challenge your alpha. That's just begging for more trouble.”

She tilted her chin up at him. It was a function of how close he'd stepped up to her, but he still saw it as an adorably impertinent gesture. “Did you miss the words ‘frightened' and ‘sleep-deprived'? No one's rational like that.”

He shook his head, his mind replaying her words and fitting them to half the arguments he had with people. What if half the times he thought people were challenging his authority, they were merely blowing off steam and fear? It boggled his mind. And in that moment of confusion, she pressed her advantage in a very bearlike fashion.

“And don't think I missed the suggestion that shifters are
more
than people. Just how deep does that bigotry run?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. “You're part of the clan. You heard him. He welcomed you.”

“Not the point. Plus, he was frightened about Detroit and Nick. What's going on there?”

He gestured with his hand as if he could push the fears aside. “I'm handling it,” he said, praying that he was making smart choices.

“You do know that I'm not stupid, right? There're signs of problems all over the place. Plus kidnapping frightened mothers can't be your usual mode of operation. More like an act of desperation. I figure you're holding the clan together by sheer willpower and nothing else. That's impressive, but it can't last.” She leaned back against the tree trunk, her eyes reflecting the moonlight and her pert little nose all but poking him in the eye. “How am I doing, Mr. Max? How close to the mark—”

He kissed her.

It wasn't a conscious act. Maybe it was just another delaying tactic, since everything she said was dead-center right. If he distracted her with a kiss, maybe she wouldn't realize what she'd figured out. Or maybe he just wanted to taste that too-smart mouth and get up close and personal with her ski slope of a nose. Maybe he just wanted to press her against the tree trunk and possess the woman who saw things too clearly.

She was startled. Of course she was. He'd moved with shifter speed because it had been the act of his grizzly. But she didn't fight him. After a split second of frozen surprise, she softened against him. Her gasp opened her mouth, and he wasted no time tasting her. And now was when he expected her to bite his tongue off or shove him away. Instead, she pushed at him with her tongue. Hot and fierce, they dueled while her hands gripped his upper arms, squeezing them enough to make him growl with hunger.

Then she did it. A little whimper of a sound that came from deep within her. He felt it pass through her lips and knew it for what it was:
yes
.

Lust roared through him, hard and hungry. His hands found her waist, tiny in his massive hands, and he spread his fingers as he pushed them upward. Her coat separated, the buttons popping free, and he felt the soft texture of her blouse. Tiny rib cage, full breasts held in an underwire bra. He hated the hard ridges that restricted the lush mounds. He squeezed her breasts, feeling the hard points of her nipples even through all the layers.

And all the while he ravished her mouth. He used his height to dominate as he invaded between her teeth and explore every part. And then he began to thrust. Not just above but below, where his groin pressed thick against her soft belly.

She'd said yes, and he was going to take her right here in the middle of his homeland at the beginning of spring. His bear knew this to be right, and the man in him was powerless to stop the drive to pin her against the tree and take her every way his beast wanted.