Chance Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire 6)

by T. S. Joyce

  She was losing her mind, losing control of her body as she arched against him in a silent plea for more, but she needed to say this before she lost her words completely. Lifting his face from her breast, she whispered, “Chance?”

  “What is it?” he asked, a furrow of worry in his blond brows.

  “I love your wolf.”

  “What?”

  She ran her finger across the drying mud on his cheek. “I mean, your wolf is the most beautiful animal I’ve ever seen. He’s perfect.” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes so she would be brave enough when she murmured, “You’re perfect.”

  Chance brought her palm to his lips and let his kiss linger there, then drew her hand against his chest, right over his heart, which was beating frantically. He didn’t have to explain. She was falling, too. Her eyes prickled with emotion as a feeling of utter safety slid over her shoulders. She hadn’t felt like this since she was a kid, before everyone in her life had convinced her the world was dark, and honestly, she didn’t think she would ever feel like this again. Not with anyone.

  With a grateful smile, she ran her hand over the scars on his ribcage. “My beautiful monster,” she whispered.

  Chance rolled his eyes closed and lifted off her, locking his arms, his triceps flexing under his weight. “Em, are you sure you want to do this? I won’t be able to leave you alone if we take this any further. I can feel it. This isn’t just casual sex for me.”

  Chance was giving her an out, but he didn’t understand. For the first time in years, the fog had lifted and she was seeing clearly. And it was Chance who had started that change in her. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t stop this feeling she had when she was with him, but she could identify it. Certainty. Chance was good, and she was a better person for being around him. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

  Chance lowered himself and kissed her, then trailed his lips slowly down her jaw line as his oversize hand gripped her waist. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmured.

  Chance wouldn’t, though. He’d had the opportunity to take her against the house, and he’d resisted. He’d taken his time and brought her to the soft mattress instead. The rasp of his blond, short scruff felt amazing against her flushed skin, and she writhed against his touch as he dragged his lips lower to her hipbone. Smoothly, he pulled off her muddy shoes one by one, then peeled the rest of her clothes off, eyes locked on hers. Hands steady, he lifted her knee, bending her leg until the heel of her foot rested on the soft covers, and then he gently bit the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His smile was back. God, she loved that look on him, like he was having fun, enjoying her body.

  “You look positively naughty right now,” she mused.

  “I was just thinking about last night when you said you would give me, like”—he pitched his voice high—“ten BJs a day.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, covering her flushing cheeks. “I kind of remember that now.” With a giggle, she said, “Just so you know going forward, my max is really three BJs a day.”

  “Woman, my max is three a day. You’d kill me with ten. I’d just be a shriveled body, lying in the corner, completely drained. I’m glad you aren’t a boner vampire.”

  “Stop it,” she said, clutching her stomach to stop the laughter. “This is supposed to be our sexy moment, and you’re teasing.”

  He clamped his lips over her clit and gently bit down, blazing eyes challenging her.

  “Oooh,” she groaned, gripping his hair. “Right there.”

  His growl vibrated against her clit, making her toes curl. Chance ran his tongue up her wet slit and sucked gently, and now she was desperate. Desperate for his tongue to slip inside of her, but he seemed content to tease her, sucking, biting, licking until she was rocking her hips to the rhythm he set.

  Chance ran his hand up her belly and massaged her breast. With his other hand, he held onto one of her thighs. She felt it then—the first shallow dip of his tongue. Her sex pulsed, and she spread her legs wider for him. “Please, Chance,” she whispered.

  The growl rattled against her harder, louder, and his tongue dipped a little deeper. Tease, tease, Chance was a tease, and she couldn’t bear it anymore. Gripping his hair harder, she dragged him closer and bowed against the mattress as he slid his tongue inside of her. The pressure was already too much. “I’m gonna…” She panted and writhed against him.

  He sucked her clit one last time and crawled over her. Rolling her on top of him, he pulled her legs into a straddle and sat up, lips on her breast in an instant. She should’ve been shaken by how fast she got here, but his erection was tight against her clit and she loved it here, comfortable against his stony chest with his knees drawn up against her back.

  Emily plucked at the skin on his neck with her teeth as she lifted off him. Chance’s hands went rough on her hips, gripping her hard, and she eased back to watch his face as she slid over his shaft. So big. Almost too big, but the stretch felt good, especially when Chance’s gaze went from dazed to fierce in a moment. He huffed a soft breath and ended it with her whispered name. “Em.”

  God, she adored him. Loved him already. The way he looked at her, the way he made her feel, she was lost to her lineage completely in this moment. She’d picked a side, picked a partner. Picked a mate.

  When she rolled her hips, he let off a shaky breath and rested his forehead against her shoulder. She set the pace slow and nibbled his ear as his arms wrapped around her. He pulled her tightly against him every time she took all of him.

  His lips were on her now, urgent, wild, and his scent was changing. Fur. Her wolf. Hers for always if he would allow it.

  Chance rolled her onto her back and took the reins, pushing into her faster as he bit her lip, her jaw, her neck, her chest, right over her left breast. He was tempted, she could tell. Tempted to mark her, and she glowed under the meaning. She was his, like he belonged to her.

  “Do it,” she whispered.

  “Don’t,” he ground out. “Don’t tell me to do that.”

  “I want your mark.”

  He was graceful over her, abs contracting every time he slid his girth into her. Faster now. She was going to come soon. “Please, Chance. Mark me.”

  “Fffuck, Em!” He released her skin, clenched his teeth, and squeezed his eyes closed.

  So close. “Chance, Chance,” she panted mindlessly as orgasm exploded through her in bright, quick pulsing bursts.

  Over her, he went hard as steal, gritting out a helpless sound as the first burst of warmth filled her. His cock throbbed inside of her, heating her from the inside out with his release. He moved gracefully over her, filling her a few more times until he sighed and sagged against her.

  After pulling her to his chest, he relaxed onto the bed. They lay like that until their breath slowed and their heartbeats relaxed into steady, matching paces.

  “That’s a dangerous game you played,” he murmured against her hair.

  “I don’t play games,” she responded, nuzzling her cheek against his heated skin.

  Chance shook his head and sighed but didn’t say anything else.

  She lay entwined with him until the waning evening light turned gray through the single bedroom window. Running her fingers absently up and down his scars, she said, “I can tell you are a good man. Do you want to know how?”

  Chance was quiet for a while, so she thought he’d fallen asleep.

  Finally he asked, “How?” Maybe he’d just been as lost in thought as she was.

  “You gave another shifter your back and got hurt, just to buy Dalton time. You take care of the ones you love. Fiercely.”

  Chance brushed his fingers gently through her tangled hair, smoothing it with each stroke. “My mom wanted a big family. She’d grown up with eight brothers and sisters in the lower forty-eight, and she wanted that same dynamic for me. I was the oldest. The first born. The only boy.”

  Emily winced at the pain in his voice. “How many sisters did you lose?”

>   “Six little gravestones. Six little funerals. Six times I watched my mom’s stomach grow, and each night, I prayed it would be a boy so I could have a brother. So my mom would stop being so sad, and so my dad wouldn’t get that sick, gaunt look every time they found out they were having another girl. When Dalton’s dad passed away, Dalton started spending more time with our family so he could be around other werewolves. His mom, my aunt, wanted that for him. She didn’t want him growing up feeling different or alone without his dad around. She wanted a pack for him. And I remember the first summer Dalton spent with us, my mom smiled more, and my dad lost the hollowness in his eyes. And I…I finally got a brother.”

  Emily bit her tears back and snuggled closer to his skin.

  “When Dalton lost his first baby to the werewolf curse, his mate pushed him away the same day. She cut him off, and he’d already bonded with her. He lost everything all at once, and he wouldn’t let anyone in. Wouldn’t let anyone see him. No one but me.”

  “So when you were standing under him, trying to prop him up to loosen that hanging rope, you weren’t just trying to save your packmate or your cousin. You were trying to save your brother.”

  “Yeah.” Chance swallowed hard. “Your dad did that, Em. I want to mark you. I want it so bad I can’t think straight, but you can’t ask me that again until I feel like you’re ready.”

  “Because I’m my father’s daughter.”

  “No, because two days ago, you were hunting me. Hunting my family. My brother, my friends, the little baby girl of our pack. Your life just did a complete one-eighty, and I’m so fucking glad you are here with me, giving me a shot at being with you. But I am fueled by animal instincts, and you aren’t. This doesn’t feel fast to me, Em, but in human time, it’s really fast. I don’t want to be a reaction.”

  “Chance, you aren’t a reaction. My head is clear, and I’m not with you to betray my family for hurting me.”

  “I know. I can tell from the way you look at me and talk to me.”

  “Then why are you still questioning my loyalty?”

  “That’s not what this is,” he said, easing back and gripping her hair at the base of her neck. “It’s really not. It’s me being careful for the both of us. It’s me taking care of you while you heal from the scars your family left on your insides. And someday, when you’re not going through this huge transition and you aren’t running on emotion, I hope you’ll ask me for the mark again when we’re both ready for the commitment.” He smiled and clamped his teeth onto her shoulder. “And then I’ll mean it. I’ll do it right, and we’ll throw a party afterward and celebrate with your new pack.”

  “Our new pack,” she corrected softly. “I’ll show you, Chance Dawson.” Tucking her arms against her chest between them, she snuggled close and sighed. “Someday I’ll prove I’m ready and I’m worthy. I’ll work really hard to be good enough.”

  Chance’s growl rattled his chest and vibrated against her forearms. Resting his cheek against hers, he whispered, “Silly little bunny. You’re already more than enough.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you want to see something cool?” Emily asked.

  She looked so beautiful here in the gold lamplight from the bedside table. Cheeks glowing, smile lingering on her full lips, blue eyes soft, and her hair mussed and sexy from lounging around in bed with him. He loved this. Loved that she could find happiness in just being here with him.

  Chance grinned and clamped his teeth over the top edge of the sheet, then pulled it down far enough to expose her perky breasts. Perfect curves and pert, pink little nipples that begged to be played with, and now she was waiting on an answer to a question he couldn’t remember.

  “Not those. Watch.” She picked up the remote from the bedside table, pointed it up at the ceiling, and hit the button. A panel moved slowly, exposing a huge skylight. Above, the night sky was cloudless and the stars looked like silver glitter on a royal blue background.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  “This was the room I stayed in when I would come to visit as a kid. That skylight was always my favorite part of this place. In my room at my mom’s house, I would pretend to look through the ceiling some nights when I couldn’t sleep. I would imagine I was here. The city was my home, and it was fine. I had my friends and my mom, and she was a really good parent. Now I feel kind of guilty for asking for more time with my dad. She was always quiet about why they split up, and she didn’t offer any explanations on why I got so little time with him, but now I think maybe she was trying to protect me. I can’t imagine sending a kid to stay with someone with his views, you know? Who thought he was some sort of hero for planning the murder of a pack.” She inhaled deeply and ran her fingertips lightly down the scars on his ribcage. She’d done that a lot tonight. “But even knowing what I know now about my dad, I still missed this place. The woods, Galena, four-wheelers, snow machines. I had fun memories between the messed up stuff, you know?”

  Chance stroked her hair and dragged his gaze from the stars above to look at something even prettier—his Em. “Like what?” He wanted to know every single thing about her.

  “Like, my dad would take me to the gas station in town on the mornings he had to work, and we would get cherry fried pies. It was our tradition. Even now, cherry fried pies are my favorite breakfast food.”

  “Because of the good memories associated with them?”

  “Yeah. But now, every good memory is tainted. I feel guilty for having any good thoughts about him. I have these moments where a memory will make me smile, and I’ll immediately have this sick ache in my stomach. He wasn’t a good man.”

  “But he was good to you in his own way.”

  “You’re being too forgiving,” she whispered. Her smile faded, and she leaned over and pressed her lips gently onto his claw-mark scar. “I’ll never forgive him for this.”

  Chance tucked her hair behind her ear. His chest hurt for what she must be going through. Sure, she’d made the right decision to stop her hunting, but it was at the expense of everything she’d ever known. Every moment, every thought, every word her father and uncle had ever spoken to her would be ruined now.

  Emily rolled onto her stomach and arched her back, propping up on her elbows as she fiddled with the edge of a pillow. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder and hid part of her face. He didn’t like that—her hiding from him.

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to look at me and not think of him?” she asked in a careful tone.

  “Yes.” It was the easiest answer in the world.

  “How do you know?”

  Chance ran his finger up the curve of her spine, then pulled her hair away from her face. “Because I already do. I see you, Em. Not your father. Not what he trained you to do.”

  The smile was back on her mouth, spreading slowly, making his heart thump against his sternum. God, she was stunning. Em leaned forward and kissed his lips, then each of his cheeks before she nuzzled against his face and whispered, “You’re my favorite.”

  A banging echoed on the front door, and the change in Emily was instant. In a flash, she had one leg off the bed, one knee resting on the mattress, and she held a long buck knife with the dull edge of the blade resting tightly against her forearm. Her eyes had gone fiery and every muscle was tensed, ready. Holy shit, where had she been hiding that huge knife?

  Another pounding knock sounded, hard enough that the walls rattled.

  “Chance, get your ass out here,” Link yelled. “Now!”

  Aw, shit. “Stay here.”

  “Who is it?” Em asked.

  Chance ghosted her an empty smile. She was going to hate this. “That would be my alpha.”

  “Oh, my gosh, Lincoln McCall is here?” she whisper screamed. Her grip tightened on the handle of her knife.

  “It’ll be fine.” Probably.

  Chance shoved his legs into his jeans and jogged to the door as Link huffed and puffed and threatened to bring the entire damned house down.
>
  What he saw on Link’s face when he opened the door was nothing shy of terrifying. Snow-white eyes, his lips twisted in a feral snarl, and his hands clenched at his sides like he was trying desperately hard not to sock Chance in the jaw. Hello, Crazy McCall.

  “Good evening,” Chance said.

  Link’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Tell me you didn’t claim her.”

  “That’s none of your damned—”

  “Tell me now, or I’m going to go look at her back myself.”

  “No, I didn’t claim her. Yet.”

  “Yet,” Link said, angling back a step as he gripped his hands onto his waist. “Yet! Are you fucking kidding me right now? You do realize what she is, right? Because I refuse to believe you are this naïve.”

  “You don’t know her.”

  “I know she’s a fucking Hell Hunter. I know she’s the daughter of Emanuel fucking Vega, who tried to murder Dalton and burn Kate alive, and if you think he was going to stop there, you’re wrong. Her father was going to hunt us, hang and burn us, pair by pair. I have a kid, Chance. Do you get that? Fina is barely walking, completely unable to defend herself without the protection of the pack, and you’re fucking a Hell Hunter, the very people trained to kill us.”

  “I know, but Link, she isn’t like her dad.”

  Link scoffed and jogged down the stairs.

  “Are we done?” Chance asked, confused.

  “No!” Link picked up a huge trap off the ground below and shook it, the metal chain clinking with the movement. “She’s hunting us still! Does this look familiar, Chance? It should. She’s got an entire pile of these exact traps sitting by that mountain of ashes over there.”

  “What’s he saying?” Emily asked from behind Chance.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder. She was wearing jeans and a black tank top, no bra. It was too cold for her to be out here in that. Chance dragged his gaze to the trap in Link’s hand, then back to her. “He’s saying you’re still hunting us.”

  Em looked genuinely confused. “No, I’m not.”