by J. L. Wilder
I decide on a careful approach. When I’m still several yards away, I deliberately step on a twig and snap it, causing Ryan to turn around and notice me. He frowns. “What are you doing?”
I’m surprised he’s speaking full voice—isn’t he worried about scaring off whatever animal he’s stalking?—but I respond in kind. “I wanted to learn from you. About the hunt.”
“You could have asked me,” he says, a note of amusement in his tone. “You didn’t have to stalk me out here. I would have brought you with me.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” I join him on the rise and look over in the direction he was just looking. “There’s nothing out there.”
“It’s a popular feeding ground for rabbits,” he says. “I was waiting to see if any came along. And why do you say I wouldn’t have brought you?”
I can’t believe we’re still doing this dance. “You know you wouldn’t have,” I say. “You never want to be alone with me. I’m surprised you even rode me on your bike—but that was an order, I suppose. You wouldn’t have volunteered for it, would you? You’ve made it perfectly clear, at every turn, that you don’t want me around, that even though you’ve imprinted, you can choose not to be with me. And you never wanted me to be part of the clan. So, don’t act like I’m crazy now for thinking you’d have said no if I’d asked to come along.”
Ryan sighs. “Cami....”
“It’s insulting, frankly.” And to my horror, tears are forming in my eyes. I fight the urge to let them spill, trying to hold on to my anger instead. “Am I so awful? Why have you never wanted me?”
“Is that what you think?” Ryan asks quietly. “That I don’t want you?”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“If I didn’t want you, this would all be easy. I wouldn’t have to avoid you if I didn’t want you. It’s only because being near you drives me so crazy that I have to stay away, Cami.” He sighs and fists his hand in his hair, tugging a little. “I had a mate once before. A few years ago. Did you know that?”
“How could I have known that?” I’m startled to think of Ryan with someone else. Is this why he was so reluctant to allow me into the pack? Is this why he’s always viewed me as an outsider? “What happened to her?”
“I shifted,” he says, his voice very low. “I got carried away. I was so in love with her, but she made me angry...well, I’ve never been the best at controlling my temper. I shifted, and I slashed her.”
I suck in a deep breath.
“Thank God for Jack and Luka,” he says. “They were nearby, and they were able to act quickly and save her life. We got her to a hospital. She’s fine now. But she could so easily have died. She was badly injured, and it was all my fault. After that, I sent her away. I couldn’t risk that happening again.”
“And that’s why you don’t want me?” I ask. “Because you’re still in love with her?”
“Cami, no, you’re missing the point,” he says. “That was years ago. I’ve gotten over my feelings for her. But I’ll never get over that feeling of hurting someone I care about. And if you and I were to mate, things could go wrong. I could get carried away, and you could get hurt. I can’t risk it. I won’t.”
“You won’t hurt me,” I tell him. Perhaps I’m being foolish—the story he’s just shared should be enough of a cautionary tale to warn me away from him—but I know Ryan. I’ve been living with him for weeks. We sleep together every night. I’ve seen him angry, yes, but he masters his anger, turns it away from other people, walks away when things become too much for him. Whatever weaknesses Ryan may have had a few years ago, I feel sure he’s overcome them by now. I’m not afraid.
So, I take his hands and pull them to me, placing them on my torso, and straddle his lap. He sits very, very still as I kiss him, letting me set the pace, letting me guide things. I strip off his shirt and then my own, and finally, finally, we are skin to skin. It’s been such a long time coming that I could practically cry with relief, but I settle for hugging him close, pressing our bodies together.
The intensity is building, and I want to hurry things along, but I know Ryan needs a slow pace, careful control. I step back from him to remove my pants, help him to his feet, and slide his down too. He’s still immobile, so careful, so hesitant, and I pick up his hands and guide them back to my body, showing him where to touch.
“Oh, God,” he groans suddenly, and sweeps me off my feet, lowering me to my back in the snow. It’s bitingly cold, but he covers me, and the heat is a delicious contrast. I can’t quite stifle a gasp of pain as he enters me—he is bigger than either of the others—but it only takes a few moments to adjust. I roll on top of him and begin to ride him in earnest, but a moment later, he’s flipped us over again. We wrestle for dominance, our bodies never separating. Ryan’s teeth are bared, and so, I realize, are mine, and it is primal and perfect, and I know throughout every moment of it that I am completely safe, that Ryan loves me and won’t hurt me.
He kisses me as he comes, deeply and passionately, and it occurs to me that he hasn’t been with a woman since that girl he told me about, and probably thought he never would again.
Chapter Seventeen
Finally, after weeks of fear and worry, it seems all my problems are at an end. Wholehearted laughter echoes around the den at all times of day. We joke at dinner again. We all touch each other more—not just in sleep, but at all hours of the day.
Ryan’s whole demeanor has changed overnight. It’s hard to believe this is the same man who’s spent the past several weeks avoiding me at all costs. He sticks so close to me now that I can’t help but trust that his feelings for me are real. He regularly comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, and it always feels wonderful to sink back into his strong warmth. We eat side by side, his arm around my shoulders, and after dinner, we lie in front of the fire together and kiss for hours without agenda, as if we have all the time in the world. Because it seems now that we do.
If Ryan is the closest thing I have to a traditional boyfriend, Luka has become my new best friend. We’ve taken to spending every single day together. Sometimes, he accompanies me to the river to fill the water skins and collect berries. On one such occasion, we even shift together and bring home a few fish. On other days, Luka takes me deeper into the woods and shows me how to stalk and hunt small prey. He doesn’t seem to mind that most of the animals we hunt together get away, thanks to my inexperience, and we celebrate heartily when I finally make my first real kill. It’s only a squirrel—I’m not ready to think about big game—but every day I spend with this clan, I feel more and more in touch with my bear side, closer and closer to my true and natural self.
As the alpha of our clan, Jack keeps his distance. We don’t have a close personal relationship the way I do with the others. The trust I have in him, though, is stronger than any I’ve ever experienced. Sometimes, the thought makes me feel guilty, but the truth is that I never felt this way under Leo. In my old clan, I was always the afterthought, the child. I knew they would keep me safe because they always had. But here, things are different. I know Jack will keep me safe because he’s honest with me, because I can see his decision-making process. It’s easier to trust someone who’s open with you.
The only thing that still troubles me is the wolves. After all this time, I’m confident they won’t come after me—they either lost my trail or decided I wasn’t worth seeking a fight with the Hell’s Bears, as I’d hoped. But the fact remains that I lied to Jack, Ryan, and Luka in order to join their clan, and in quiet moments, when I’m alone with my thoughts, that plagues me. One of the things I value most about this group is their honesty with me. How can all these relationships be built upon the foundation of my original dishonesty? How can I live with that?
When I need to drive the thought from my mind, I remind myself that the Bears haven’t always acted with integrity either. All I need to do is visualize the face of that terrified convenience store clerk on the day we robbed his store, and I am r
eassured that I’m not the only one who’s done questionable things to get what I needed. And there’s the fact that I actually did need a place to stay. I’m still not convinced that our clan needed that money. I still haven’t seen any of the Hell’s Bears make a purchase since I joined them.
But I can’t worry about it too much, because I’m too distracted by the pleasures of three different men. They keep me busy, at least two of them usually seeking me out every day. My private little apartment in the den has now become a sex alcove used equally by everyone—I don’t feel the need for a private place to change clothes anymore. The only thing that prevents me from walking around naked is the fact that taking my clothes off usually results in one of the men grabbing me for sex, a fact I don’t object to at all except for when it diverts me from something else I was trying to do. Jack, in particular, has a bad habit of this. I’ve taken on the responsibility of patching our torn clothes, and when I remove my shirt to sew up a seam, he all but tears my pants off me and throws me over his shoulder, the other two cheering raucously as he carries me, squealing, into my alcove. By the time we’re finished, I have twice as much work to do, thanks to my newly torn pants, but I can’t keep the satisfied grin off my face while I’m doing it.
One morning, I wake up to find that Jack and Luka have already left the den. That’s a surprise to me, because these days, Luka and I usually leave together, and for a moment, I feel a stab of worry. Is it possible there was some sort of attack, something that required them to go out and defend us?
Then I see Ryan sitting by the fire, watching me, and I know my worry was for nothing. If there was a danger to face, there’s no way Ryan would have remained behind. He would be out fighting alongside the others. So, they must have just gone out to hunt as usual. But why would Luka leave me here without letting me know he wanted to go alone? Have I done something wrong? Is he angry with me?
Ryan answers the question without my having to ask. “I thought you and I could take a ride today,” he says. “Would that be all right with you?”
He’s so kind to me ever since the truth came out. He’s barely recognizable. “I’d like that,” I say, thinking fondly of the open road. It’s been far too long since I’ve been on a bike. I really value the time and freedom we devote to our animal selves, but I have a human self too, and she is most at home on a bike.
Ryan tosses me my leather jacket with the patch Luka gave me when we first came to our new home and I pull it on. The bike is waiting outside the cave. Ryan must have retrieved it from wherever it was hidden while he was waiting for me to wake up. He climbs on, and I follow suit, feeling the roar of the engine as he turns the key in the ignition.
We rumble slowly through the woods, along the narrow pathway. Ryan’s skill on a bike is exactly as I remembered it—unequalled by that of anyone I’ve ever ridden with before. Even as we roll over the uneven ground, bumping over rocks and fallen branches, the bike remains fairly steady. I wrap my arms tightly around his waist, but not out of fear. I know I’m not going to fall. It just feels extraordinarily good to hold on to him. I think back to the last time Ryan and I rode together. It was exciting to be so close to him, but it was also extremely anxiety inducing. Now, the anxiety is gone. There are no secrets between us, no confusion, no hidden feelings. There’s just the wind and the road, the speed of the bike and the solid presence of Ryan’s body against mine.
I lose track of time as we ride, but the sun is right overhead by the time we stop, so it must be midday. Ryan pulls his bike over and we both climb off. “Come on,” he says, and turns and walks straight into the woods by the side of the road.
I’m dumbstruck for a moment, and then I jog after him to keep up. “Hang on,” I call after him. “Where are we? Where are we going? We’re not hunting, are we?”
“No, no,” he laughs. “We couldn’t bring anything back on the bikes.”
“Bikes?” What does that mean? We only have one bike.
Ryan looks back over his shoulder and grins. Then he takes my hand and pulls me to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist, and points into a clearing.
I let out a gasp. Standing there in a patch of sunlight is Berto’s bike, the bike I rode to Alaska in my frantic flight. The bike I crashed. But it looks as good as new. It’s been fully repaired and restored and looks as immaculate as it did in the days when Berto used to ride it. “How did this get here?” I ask. “What happened?”
“I went back and got it for you,” Ryan explains. “I hid it here. I’ve been fixing it up. It runs like new.”
“But how—we were so much farther away than this....” I don’t understand. Wouldn’t Ryan have had to be gone for days at a time to retrieve this bike?
“We weren’t as far away as it seemed,” Ryan says. “Jack led us in circles a little bit, exploring the area, looking for a good location. Anyway, what do you think?” He’s beaming, clearly pleased with himself. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I’ve never had a bike of my own before. I’ve always had to ride second to someone else. I assumed it was just a function of being an omega and that that’s the way things would always be. But Ryan doesn’t seem to feel that way. Ryan seems to think it makes sense for me to have a bike of my own. And I know he couldn’t have done this without support from Jack, which means the whole clan must feel like I deserve this bike. I’ve never felt more like one of them.
I run my hand across the seat. I’ve been a passenger on this bike so many times. It’s a true link to my past, something I’ve been missing since I joined the Hell’s Bears. It’s not just a sign of my belonging with them, it’s also a reminder of the family I used to have. I have to look away from Ryan for a moment, struggling to get control of my emotions. I don’t want him to see me cry.
We ride home, side by side. The experience is euphoric. I’ve only driven my own bike once before, on my run from the wolves, and this couldn’t be more different. I feel fearless, powerful, as if I could do anything. Sometimes, Ryan falls back and lets me take the lead, even though I’m not yet as skilled or confident as he is on a bike. The road falling away in front of me is absolutely wonderful. I feel like I could do this for hours, every day, for the rest of my life. I am so happy to be one of the Hell’s Bears, to be part of this clan that has helped me uncover a side of myself I never thought possible.
Back at the den, after we’ve hidden our bikes away, Jack carefully inks the Hell’s Bears’ signature tattoo onto my shoulder, while Luka kisses the inside of my opposite wrist to distract me from the pain. Ryan grills meat and regales the others with stories of my newfound biking ability and promises to take me on regular rides so I can improve my skills. I think of Berto and the other members of my old clan and wonder what they’d say if they could see me now. I wonder whether they would even recognize me. I’ve changed so much.
As I crawl into the pile of my clanmates and drift off to sleep, it occurs to me that this has been the happiest day of my life.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, I wake up feeling absolutely miserable.
Even though I’ve had a great night’s sleep, I’m absolutely exhausted. I probe my subconscious, trying to determine whether my rest was interrupted by nightmares, but as usual, I can’t remember any of my dreams. If I did have a nightmare, it couldn’t have been that bad, surely, or it would have stuck with me.
Have I woken too early? The men are all still here, piled around me, and for a moment, it occurs to me that I ought to roll over and go back to sleep. But that idea is quickly dispelled by the fact that I can see sunlight pouring in through the open top of our den. Even as this thought registers, Luka mumbles something in his sleep and Ryan rolls over, away from the pile of bodies—sure signs that the two of them are beginning to wake. It’s definitely morning, then.
And yet, the fatigue is overwhelming. My muscles are as weak as if I’d just completed a marathon, and my eyes don’t want to stay open. I roll over and bury my face in Jack’s shoulder, taki
ng a few deep breaths and trying to pull myself together. Maybe the oxygen will help wake me up. Maybe....
My nostrils fill with a rotten, unbearable scent and my hand flies to my mouth as my stomach gives a lurch. I know instantly that I’m going to vomit, and in the same second, I realize there’s no way I can make it out of the cave in time. Panicking, I lunge up despite my exhaustion and grab one of our few cookpots, hunching over it and gagging.
The sound of my distress wakes the others. A moment later, I feel warm hands on my back. “Cami? Are you all right?” The voice belongs to Ryan, and he sounds more worried than I’ve ever heard him. “Jack, wake up, she’s sick, something’s wrong.”
I wave a hand behind me, trying to reassure him, trying to keep him from bringing the others over. This is utterly humiliating, and the last thing I want right now is an audience. I’m sure once I clear my stomach, I’ll feel better, and I’m just wishing I could have found a way to do it privately. For the first time in ages, I’m wishing I had a room of my own, as I did back with my old clan. There, at least, I would have been able to manage embarrassing bodily issues without everyone looking on.
But the others seem completely unaware of my shame, huddling around me, their voices heavy with concern. “Does she have a fever?” Luka asks anxiously.
Ryan’s hand moves from my back to my forehead. “Doesn’t feel like it,” he says.
“Stop it,” I moan. “I’m all right.” My stomach has settled a little bit, and I sit back and thrust the pot away so I won’t have to look at it. “I just woke up feeling off. It’s not a big deal.”
“Was the meat cooked all the way last night?” Jack asks. There’s an urgency in his voice. “It could be a bacteria...food poisoning....”
“Then we’d all be sick,” Ryan says.
“Not if Cami’s was the only piece that was underdone.”
“I cooked her steak just as well as everyone else’s,” Ryan says defensively.
