The Bear's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (6 page)

“You keep one of mine, I keep one of yours.  That is the deal,” the black haired woman purred.  Her hot claws grasped the scruff of Valemon’s white fur and pulled at it painfully.  “I have my ways of knowing what goes on in your house, remember that.”

Valemon sighed deeply.  “Whatever you wish, Angrboda.  I still seek a mate.  Bears are solitary creatures and my clan has been all but wiped out by yours over the centuries.   You will get still get your sacrifice,” Valemon thought towards his nemesis.

The tall, dark haired woman stood equal to the massive bear in height.  “Oh, I know we will,” Angrboda purred.  Her red eyes glowed in the burgeoning dawn.  Her voluptuous body was clad in snug leather leggings and a chain mail shirt over a tight leather jerkin.  She also sported a heavy fur cape that was crafted from the skin of an exceptionally large bear.  Valemon tried to avert his eyes from the last remaining physical relic of his wife.

Angrboda noticed his aversion. “Does it still pain you?  After all these years, it still does, doesn’t it?” she purred “Well, too bad.  We keep what we kill in the Ironwood Clan.”  She turned on her heel and started towards the dense woods.  “You may rest here until you have your strength back.  Then you must leave.  Only come back when you have the child.”

Valemon trundled away from the water and towards the large rock that stood in the middle of the small, isolated island.  There, he knew, was warmth and safety.  The wolves couldn’t enter that cave; else the treaty would be violated. This was the Sacred Island.  All shape shifters were supposed to be welcome here, but Angrboda and her family took it over centuries ago, and now hold sway over it with an iron fist. Only dire wolves had their permanent residence here.  All others were either slaughtered, or driven off.  Valemon waited for the day when the gods would return and make Angrboda pay for what she had done.

After an hour of slow trudging through the dense woods, Valemon located the base of the giant granite spike that curiously jutted up from the dense canopy.  He ambled around and found the triangular opening of the cave that not even Angrboda could enter.   He pawed the dried grass and pine needles that found their way into the cave into a neat nest on the dirt floor, and flopped down onto it in a heap of exhaustion.  His ice blue eyes were closed before the dust settled around him, and the small cave filled with the sounds of large bear’s snoring.

CHAPTER FOUR

Rachel was in a very bad way.  She woke up and bolted out of bed towards the commode, barely making it before heaving into it once more.   She retched so forcefully that she blacked out and hit her head on the porcelain bowl, cutting her forehead open.

The housekeeper walked in and gasped as she found the tall, blonde woman passed out in a puddle of congealing blood on the slate tile floor, and hustled off to get Hans, since Valemon was nowhere to be found.

Hans stoically strode into the bedchamber with a haughty expression on his lean, goateed face and peered into the bathroom.  “Oh my, it looks like she might need some medical attention,” he said dryly as he reached into his back pocket for some blue surgical gloves.  The maid told him about the accident so he had come prepared. He flicked them open and pulled them over his spider-like fingers as he approached the prone woman. 

“Hmm, it seems to me that she was getting sick, then fell and hit her head.  Bring her to the infirmary and I shall stitch her up,” he ordered the maid who looked at him with a helpless expression, not knowing how she would lug the heavy, muscular Rachel all the way to the manor’s medical room.

“Or do I have to do everything myself?” Hans sneered at the blonde woman.  “I’ll go summon one of the groundskeepers.” He sighed as he walked towards the intercom that was positioned just outside the room.  He pushed the code that patched him through to the groundskeeper’s shed. “Yes, I need the assistance of one of you oafs, the master’s...” the word came out as a sneer, “plaything has fallen in an unfortunate accident.  Don’t worry, a burial will not be needed, yet.”

Hans clapped his thin hands together as he re-entered the room. “And there we go. Help is on its way!  Oh, do be a dear and clean her off and staunch that, will you, Hilda?  Good girl.  We don’t want it dripping all the way to the infirmary and causing you ladies any more work, now do we?” 

Hilda shot Hans a dirty look as she dampened a white washcloth under the hot water faucet.  She knelt down and dabbed carefully at the nasty gash that adorned Rachel’s smooth, high forehead.  Blood had gotten into her fine blonde hair, creating a nasty mat.  She would need help getting that out, Hilda thought.

As the maid finished cleaning the cut, one of the groundskeepers tromped into the room in his muddy boots.  “Alright, where is she?” he growled.  Hans motioned towards the bathroom with a smirk on his face and watched Hilda scramble out of the way of the large man.

The groundskeeper scooped up Rachel from the floor as if she were a toy and turned towards Hans.  “You sure you don’t need her buried?  The master seems to burn through his play things rather quickly.”

“No, Igor,” Hans replied, “this one seems to have a bit of fight in her.  We should keep her around.  If anything it keeps the...master happy.”

Igor nodded and shoved past the slender butler on his way to the infirmary.  He didn’t care about the goings on inside the manor; he just showed up and did what he was told by either Hans, or Valemon himself.  He looked down at the woman in his arms.  Pretty little thing, I suppose, he thought .  Would be a shame to plant this one.   He sighed as he made his way through the manor.  He tromped down the carpeted stairs and around the corner into the lower floors of the other wing.

He waited in the dark hallway next to the door to the infirmary for Hans to make his appearance.  The woman’s blood began to drip from the makeshift bandage that lay on her forehead.  Igor sighed and leaned against the wall as he waited. 

“Oh, there you are,” Hans' slightly nasal voice announced.  “Don’t just stand there, come on in,” he bossed as he unlocked the door.

The large groundskeeper plodded into the dusty infirmary with the unconscious woman and placed her on the dust coated leather examining table. 

“Oh, I do hope that the supplies are still good.  If not she’ll probably have a nasty festering wound on her head in no time,” the butler said with a droll mutter as he puttered around searching for antiseptic and suture materials.  “Ah, here we go.  A little bit of iodine,” he announced as he held the brown bottle to his red eye, “and some catgut sutures,” he finished as he pulled out somewhat yellowed packets of ancient suture material that had been pre-threaded in the factory.

Hans reached up and turned on the lamp to brighten his work area, since the dim smoked glass windows didn’t allow much in the way of natural sunlight to shine through.  He opened the iodine and poured it onto some sterile gauze the groundskeeper had prepared, and smeared it roughly around the gash on Rachel’s forehead, dislodging what little clotting had formed.  He then tore open one of the suture packets and got to work.  The woman was unconscious so he had no reason to numb the area first.

As he jabbed and pulled the catgut through Rachel’s flesh, she began to stir. “Oww. What’s going on?” she slurred as she reached up to where Hans was working. 

“Ah, don’t grab at me, pet.  I’m just sewing up this nasty cut you’ve gone and given yourself.  Just lay still, I’m almost finished,” the man replied through gritted teeth.

Rachel allowed her arm to fall to her side.  “I just remember going to the bathroom to puke, then black,” she muttered.

“Yes,” Hans said as he tied off the last suture and cut the string, “From the looks of your eyes, you threw up so hard that you fainted. It happens.  Vasovagal something or another, anyway you cut your head on the commode.  Made one heck of a mess.”

“Oh...I’m sorry,”  Rachel whispered.

Hans smirked at her, not really giving a hoot if she was being genuine or not.  “Well, do try to be more careful next time.   Poor Hilda had to clean up your mess, and was terribly distraught at finding you.”

Rachel grimaced as the searing pain in her head throbbed due to the bright light.  “Yeah, I’ll try to do that.” She grunted as she tried to sit up.

Hans placed a spidery hand on her chest and pushed her back down.  “Now, let’s not be so hasty.  There has to be a reason why you’re throwing up all the time.”

Rachel squirmed under his powerful grip.  “Let me go...” she growled as she tried to move his hand from her chest, but he remained resolute.  He oozed a supernatural power that kept her riveted to the table. 

“Igor, remove her pants please,” Hans purred.  “And go into the white cabinet over there and get me a straight number two catheter and a beaker.” His red eyes bore into Rachel’s, keeping her transfixed to the table.  Igor returned with the required equipment and began to pull Rachel’s white cotton panties down from her curvy hips.

“Now don’t move,” Hans commanded, while keeping Rachel under his hypnotic gaze.  He grabbed a tube of water based lubricant from a nearby drawer and cut it open with a pair of scissors and applied it to the rubber catheter.  He never broke her gaze as he gently spread her labia and forced the tube inside her bladder. 

Rachel yelped in pain as the foreign invader prodded her bladder.  She still couldn’t move from the violation.  Her body felt heavy, and her mind felt as if it were stuffed with cotton.  The dull sound of urine hitting a tin tray filled her ears.  She felt another sharp pain as Hans brutally ripped the catheter out of her bladder and the desperate urge to urinate passed. 

“Now, let’s see what the doctor says,” he whispered as he searched around the old infirmary.  “Ah yes, I knew she had some around here.” He looked at Rachel as he felt his control over her slipping away. “Ah, not so fast my pet, don’t you want to know what’s going on with you?”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“Now that isn’t proper,” Hans chided.  “Here we go.  The late lady of the house bought these tests wholesale for some strange reason.” He had a sick smirk across his face as he opened up one of the tests. “Now, let us see if my suspicions are correct.  You definitely smell it,” he said distastefully, with his lip curled. 

Hans dipped the absorbent tip into the kidney dish full of urine.  Igor impassively stood at the door, waiting for her attempt to flee in case Hans’ control wore off.

Rachel’s heart beat like a drum in her chest.  She couldn’t believe what he was testing for. “Hey look, it’s too early to tell!  We only had...”

“Silence, bitch,” he barked.  “You have absolutely no idea what you are meddling with.”  He looked at the pregnancy test with a false sense of surprise on his face. “Why look at this, congratulations! You’re going to be a mommy,” he spat.  With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Rachel, finally free of the evil butler’s spell, sat up and looked around for her underwear.  Igor walked over to her from the door and handed her the white cotton bikini briefs he had removed from her on Hans’ orders. 

“What the hell was that all about? And I’m...?”

Igor looked at her.  “We’re going to have to contact the master.  Such a thing isn’t really supposed to happen.  Usually, his girls die when they first begin to carry.  I don’t know why. I’ve buried at least five of them in the past year.  It breaks him up every time, too.  I think you need to be careful.”

Rachel swallowed hard as she pulled her underpants on.  “Do you know where he could be?”

The groundskeeper looked around nervously. “I might...” he replied evasively.

“Well, I need to get to him.  I really don’t know what’s going on with me, the test says I’m pregnant and...” she picked up the test that Hans flung to the ground as he exited the room, “it looks like I’m further along than I should be.”

Igor silently nodded.  “You need to get away from Hans.  That much I know.  Go to your room and get dressed. I’ll try to get you to where Valemon is, if he’s still there.”

Rachel looked at the large, towheaded man and gulped, and fled the room.  She still felt woozy after her accident but she was not going to let that stop her.  She felt a chill go down her spine as she remembered the conversation that had just taken place between her and the groundskeeper.  He put the emphasis on the word try, and that was not lost on her.

She pulled her khaki hiking pants on and pulled on her grey sweater over her turtleneck.  She tied her long blonde hair back in a rough ponytail, grabbed her camera bag and swiftly left the room. She strode by Hilda as she silently fled the manor before Hans knew she was gone.   Rachel knew Hilda wouldn’t say a word to Hans as to her whereabouts so she wasn’t too concerned.

She exited the large front door of the ancient manor and noticed Igor hulking near one of the stone corners of the castle.  The day was overcast with a mild drizzle filling the air.  “Good,” he said.  “This will help mask our scent from them.”

Rachel looked up at Igor, confused. “Scent?”

“No time to explain; let’s get down into the tunnel.  With luck, Valemon left the boat behind.” Igor shuffled her down the ramp as he held the door open.  “Get in, hurry.” The sounds of distant howls tickled her ears as she climbed the ladder into the tunnel below.  She heard the thud of the door close over her head followed by the heavier thud of Igor leaping off the ladder.  “Let’s get to the cavern, fast.  Hans knows where this tunnel leads to.”

They rushed down the steep dirt path towards the sound of the lapping waves, she stumbled and Igor swiftly picked her up by the shirt collar with his powerful hands and pulled her back on to her feet.  “No time for that, there’s the boat.”  He pointed to the wooden rowboat with a new outboard motor fitted to it.

Rachel climbed down the rope ladder that hung off the dock and into the old wooden boat.  Igor followed suit and caused the boat to list dangerously to the side as he embarked.  “Sorry about that, it’s sort of difficult when you’re as big as me,” he rumbled as he pulled the cord to the outboard motor to start it up.  The roar of the small engine echoed through the cavern causing Rachel to flinch at the noise.

“There’s no hope for secrecy now,” Igor said as he increased the throttle and steered the small craft out of the cavern and into the narrow fjord.

Rachel looked at Igor carefully, now that she had the chance.  She noticed there was a slight family resemblance between him and Valemon.  “Um.  I was wondering, are you and Valemon related?”

Igor cast her a side-glance as he kept his eye out on the water.  “Yes.  We’re cousins.”

“Really?” Rachel sat closer to the edge of the seat.

“Yes, the thing is, I’m a bastard.  Like the whelp you’re pregnant with right now,” he rumbled.  “I have no rights to this castle, nor have I attracted the attention Valemon has.”

Rachel nodded quietly.  “So you’re saying...”

“Valemon will explain everything to you in short order.  We have a few hours of travel down this fjord to get to his location. He rarely ever swims this, so it must have been urgent.”

Rachel looked out at the sheer cliffs to hide her concern for Valemon.  She felt a little queasy as a small wave lapped at the boat and tried not to vomit, she definitely did not want to fall into the frigid waters. 

Suddenly a searing pain ripped through Rachel’s abdomen.  She doubled over and clutched her stomach, collapsing in the wet bottom of the rowboat.  Igor didn’t stop, he knew he couldn’t.  He glanced at the woman who lay in the boat writhing in agony as her insides felt like they were being torn to shreds from the inside.  He knew exactly what was going on, but remained mute.  He put his own mother through the exact same agony Rachel was going through.  He secretly hoped that her outcome would be better.