by Shea Balik
There might be quite a bit of snow on the ground, but that wouldn’t guarantee Kegan wouldn’t get hurt if he took a tumble. Plus, if he remained unconscious, there would be no way to get him back on his bear, which would mean Bjorn would need to shift.
He might be faster than the Unseelie’s minions, but he’d prefer to put more distance between them. His bear, even if he couldn’t run all out, would do that. It also wouldn’t hurt that being in his enormous Kodiak bear form would ensure no other wild animals would bother them, especially as Kegan may no longer have blood dripping out of his body, but the metallic scent was still enough to attract any hungry predators.
If only he could get somewhere where he could call for help. He really needed to recommend they start carrying satellite phones. That way he could have called in reinforcements. Then again, considering it was the Winter Solstice it was likely all his friends were fighting their own battles as they tried to save any druids they came across.
He ran across the frozen tundra for six hours, before he dared take another break. He hated doing it, but he feared Kegan was freezing as darkness had descended long ago. Not to mention he needed to check for infection.
His bear had found them a small hunting shack the first time, which hadn’t offered much in the way of water to clean the wounds. This time, he needed to find a place that he could keep Kegan warm for a time, plus, if he was lucky, a way to heat water to make a broth.
That little medical pouch didn’t hold much as it was meant to be strapped to his body without hindering movement, or weighing him down, but it did have the basics. Pain killers, antibiotics, which he’d given Kegan before he’d started stitching him up, healing herbs for a broth, needle and thread for stitches, as well as compression bandages and a couple of antibacterial wipes, which hadn’t done much with the amount of blood that had covered Kegan’s body.
It would be even better if he could find a place with a phone, ham radio, or anything else he could use to get in touch with the others. If only he hadn’t stayed as far from civilization as possible in order to keep the Unseelie from killing innocents.
Trusting his bear to find them another place to rest, Bjorn let his mind wander to the man he’d been sent to save. Kegan acted nothing like Ryley. Ryley had trouble figuring out how to use the magic that had been gifted to him, but he’d accepted it readily. Then again, he’d seriously burned his sister when he’d used it the first time, so it was hard to deny.
Still, it was almost as if Kegan refused to believe he could wield lightning. Like he was afraid of it. He also complained – a lot.
Not that Ryley hadn’t bitched, but Kegan made an artform of whining about every little thing. When he wasn’t whining, he was being as sarcastic as hell, which Bjorn refused to admit he found fucking adorable.
No. No. No.
Bjorn absolutely wouldn’t think about Kegan in that way. It may have happened more than a millennia ago, but Bjorn remembered it as if it were yesterday. He’d been on his first raid with his friends, as well as their fathers. How they’d been unlucky enough to make land as a group of druids were performing a ritual to seal the veil that separated their world from that of the Fae, Bjorn had no clue, but that’s exactly what happened.
They’d been ready to invade a village, but nothing had prepared them for facing creatures too gruesome to be real. The entire raiding party had died, with the exception of Bjorn and seven of his friends, and that had only been luck as the boats they’d been on had been delayed just long enough for them to join the fray after many of, what he now knew were Unseelie pets, had been destroyed.
Unfortunately, the timing of their raid had meant the druids performing the ritual to keep the veil closed had been killed. But not before the last one had managed to curse Bjorn and his friends with immortality and an animal spirit that they could shift into in order to protect the druid lineage.
But there had been one last piece of the curse that would release them from what Bjorn had come to know as hell. Living forever may sound great, but it wasn’t. Watching those around him age and die wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy, especially when it happened over and over again, with no relief in sight.
When that last druid cursed them, their God, Odin, gave them an out. Finish the task of saving the druids who would finally seal the veil and they could choose to end the curse and join him in Valhalla, or they could choose love. As romantic as it sounded, doing so would mean the curse would remain and he, as well as the one he chose, would never die.
Kegan might be beautiful, feisty, and funny as hell, but there was no way Bjorn would allow himself to fall for anyone when it would mean losing his chance to end this miserable existence. His bear growled, the sound menacing in the darkness at the thought of not claiming Kegan. Bjorn didn’t give a shit.
Growling back at his bear, Bjorn told it to find them a place to rest or it wouldn’t matter if he wanted Kegan or not, because the man would mostly like freeze to death.
***
It had taken far longer than Bjorn had hoped for his bear to find a place for them to hide. When he did, Bjorn had heaved a sigh of relief to see there was not only a wood stove but plenty of chopped wood in a small lean-to less than twenty feet from the small cabin. There wasn’t running water, but considering they were in remote parts of Alaska, or possibly Canada after the length of time they’d been running, he hadn’t expected that.
Once he’d put Kegan on the bed, wrapped in two blankets, with a fire crackling in the wood stove, he’d taken the only pot he could find and filled it with snow. Placing it on top of the small woodstove, he’d waited for the snow to melt before sprinkling the herbs into the water.
With the broth heating up, Bjorn went to Kegan and started taking off his coat, fleece jacket, two sweaters, and two long-sleeved shirts. It was hard not to admire the defined muscles on his slim body. If Bjorn had to guess, Kegan hadn’t earned them in a gym, but rather through old fashioned activity.
Giving himself a mental slap, Bjorn stopped ogling Kegan’s unconscious form and checked on his handiwork. Happy there didn’t appear to be an infection starting, he placed the blankets over Kegan once more and went to check on the broth.
It was just starting to boil. Good, because he was going to need to start more snow melting if he was going to clean the dried blood from Kegan’s body.
There were two shelves that held a coffee mug, a bowl, a plate as well as a fork, knife, and spoon. It wasn’t much, but they wouldn’t need much since he wasn’t planning on staying that long.
Grabbing the bowl and spoon, he went back to the little stove. Once he’d filled the bowl, he went outside to give the pot a quick wash in the snow, then filled it again before returning it to the stove.
Bowl and spoon in hand, he went to the bed, pulling the room’s only chair to its side. Sitting down, he tried to wake Kegan. When that didn’t work, he slowly dribbled a spoonful of broth into his mouth, praying he would swallow and not choke. It was tedious, to say the least, but by the time he heard the pot boiling once more, he’d managed to get a third of the broth into Kegan.
He set the bowl aside and brought the pan of water over to the bed. In a sealed bag in a small closet, he’d found a bath towel as well as a washcloth. Hopefully that meant they were clean.
Starting with the washcloth, he worked to scrub the blood from Kegan’s tanned skin. Slowly, he wiped along Kegan’s defined chest, swirling the cloth over each of his nipples until they both beaded into hard nubs.
Bjorn’s dick plumped but he didn’t stop as he worked his way over a flat abdomen. The muscles underneath fluttered visibly at his touch. Bjorn knew this was wrong, especially since Kegan was passed out, but he just couldn’t control his need to touch.
He was using the excuse of cleaning Kegan to molest him. By Odin’s teeth, he was a pervert. So why didn’t he stop? He needed to concentrate on why they were there. The Unseelie’s minions were most likely still after them. The last thing Bjorn shoul
d be doing was delaying them putting more distance between them and the monsters chasing them.
Not to mention – again – he was molesting Kegan without any way for the man to give consent. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Thrusting up to his feet, the chair he’d been sitting on crashed to the ground, the sound echoing in the small cabin. Kegan shifted slightly, but didn’t wake.
Get control, Bjorn.
Ashamed, he forced himself to sit back down. This time, when he picked up the washcloth, he purposefully rinsed it in the pot of water and started over. He worked the material over the blood encrusted skin as far from the wounds as possible, slowly working his way toward them.
A soft, pained groan told him when he was getting too close. Not that he stopped, but Bjorn did try to be more careful as he wiped as much blood off Kegan as possible. His hand shook with the effort it took to not continue the path he’d started before, but Bjorn refused to be that guy.
Hell, he wasn’t sure when he’d become that guy. When it came to Kegan, all rational thoughts seemed to flee. What other reason did he have for not only touching Kegan without consent, but to allow himself to imagine what it would be like to live forever with this man by his side?
He was losing it. That was all there was to it. After twelve hundred years, Bjorn had finally snapped.
CHAPTER 6
Pleasant tingles of pleasure skittered across Kegan’s skin wherever that washcloth touched. He’d been surprised how much he was enjoying Bjorn’s gentle touch on him that Kegan hadn’t even considered calling the man out for doing so when he hadn’t been able to give Bjorn permission for the intimacy.
Hell, if it meant Bjorn would continue, Kegan would willingly pretend to be passed out until the man was buried inside his ass. Not that he believed Bjorn would ever take things that far without Kegan’s consent, but he could dream, especially when the man’s touch helped to alleviate some of the ache that still resided in his side.
When Bjorn suddenly stood up, Kegan bemoaned the loss of the sensual touch. He also nearly jumped right out of his skin when something crashed to the floor. Thankfully, Bjorn was too occupied with whatever had him reacting like that to notice.
He waited for what seemed like forever for Bjorn to once more touch him. But instead of the soft strokes from before, the contact was remote, as if Bjorn no longer wanted to be anywhere near Kegan. It took everything within Kegan to not beg Bjorn to once more touch him like he mattered, but Kegan wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
Sure, it had been as erotic as fuck, but Kegan was trouble. He let everyone down eventually. Even his brother, the one person who’d always believed in him. No point in adding someone he barely knew to that list by getting involved with him.
If only his body would get the message. Even though Bjorn was more utilitarian in what he was doing, Kegan’s dick still took interest. His only saving grace was the pain that still simmered along his side, staving off an erection that most undoubtedly would have tented the bedding, making it quite obvious how much he wanted this man who appeared out of nowhere to save him.
Fire blazed across his flesh as the coarse fibers of the washcloth came into contact with Kegan’s wounds. Unable to hold back, he let out a groan as he tried to shrink back into the mattress to get away from the pain. It hurt like a bitch, but at least it killed any arousal he’d been feeling.
“Stop,” he barely managed to whisper through his dry throat and mouth.
But Bjorn ignored him as he continued to wipe what Kegan imagined was dried blood from his body. The only concession the man made was gently dab at the area instead of wiping, which was better but still fucking burned.
“Wat-“ the sound cut off when he couldn’t get enough moisture to finish the request for water.
Good thing Bjorn understood, for Kegan wasn’t so sure he could have tried again. His mouth was dryer than a desert. He swore he could even feel the grains of sand along his tongue. It was disgusting.
He’d felt Bjorn standing up again and then a cold wind blew into the space. Curious, Kegan pried open his eyelids that were begging him to remain closed to get more sleep. He wished that could happen, but, unless he’d been passed out for a whole lot longer than he thought, they were probably still running from the monsters chasing them.
That meant Kegan needed to stay awake, even if it was only to climb back on… His eyes shot open as an image flitted through his mind. They landed on Bjorn holding a ceramic mug overflowing with snow.
The moment he saw the big man, one word echoed in his mind.
Bear.
Kegan fought through the exhaustion and pain to clear his mind as he watched Bjorn hold the mug over the wood stove.
No way.
He had to have been dreaming. Right?
Maybe he had an infection and was delirious. Or, it had been the pain killers. That would have affected his imagination. It just wasn’t possible for a man to turn into a bear.
Right. His inner voice said sarcastically. And monsters appearing out of thin air to attack your family was just a trick of light.
Kegan frowned, wishing that stupid voice would shut the hell up. At the very least it didn’t need to be so sarcastic.
The sensation of his hands curling into thick fur that was far softer than he would have imagined as he cuddled his body closer, came over him. A dream might explain what he thought he saw, but to remember how that bear felt? Dreams weren’t that vivid. Were they?
“What’s wrong?” So engrossed in his thoughts, Kegan hadn’t seen Bjorn bringing the mug to him. The big man, shook his head as he sat down. “Sorry. Don’t try to answer that, yet. I know your throat is dry.”
When Bjorn’s strong arms wrapped around Kegan to help him sit up, Kegan couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and inhaling his scent.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The movement caused the flames of hell to engulf his wounds. Add to that he was fairly sure, as unbelievable as it should be, that Bjorn could shift into a bear and the last thing Kegan should be doing was sniffing Bjorn. It had to be the drugs.
Nothing else made any sense. Would Bjorn think he was crazy for asking if he could shift into a freaking bear? Was he crazy? Kegan was no longer sure.
Before his brother’s twenty-first birthday, Kegan would have thought himself relatively sane. Weird at times? Sure. But certifiable? No way.
All that changed when he watched McAlister being torn apart by a creature that didn’t resemble anything he’d ever seen in his life. Not at once anyway. For each one had parts that were normal. Scales, fur, talons, beaks, snouts, claws, hooves - they were all there, just in different combinations than he’d ever known.
Then there was the slime. He shuddered.
“Sorry, I know this must hurt.” Bjorn’s deep voice rumbled around the small room, sending another set of shivers through Kegan that had nothing to do with monsters.
Unable to speak, Kegan couldn’t explain it had been the thought of those beasts covered in slime that had his body shaking, not the pain. Although, that wasn’t helping.
“Here.” Once Bjorn had him propped up, he held the mug to Kegan’s lips. “Drink slowly. You don’t want to risk throwing up again.”
The memory of nearly choking on his own vomit was enough to make Kegan listen to Bjorn and take small sips. He sighed as he felt the moisture coat his tongue and slide down his parched throat. Two more sips and he felt as if he were starting to return to the land of the living.
More importantly, he could speak again. “Bear,” he spat out without any other explanation.
Apparently, Bjorn didn’t need one. “Yes, I can shift into a bear. You weren’t hallucinating that. I promise, I am aware of everything when I’m in my animal form and I’d never hurt you.”
Kegan stared at Bjorn, sure one of them, or at this point he was willing to believe both of them, should be committed. Bjorn might have only said what Kegan had already guessed, but there was something about h
earing it that made it that more impossible to be real.
It was that last grain of rice that tipped the scales. Kegan had grown up with the stories of the Fae as well as druid magic. He’d been told about the Veil that separated the realm of the Fae from their world and how generations of druids had been performing rituals eight times a year to keep that veil intact.
He’d been warned that druids had been dying at the hands of the Fae because their efforts to seal the veil hadn’t been as successful as they’d hoped and some of the lower beings were able to get through.
Not once had he truly imagined any of it happening. He, as well as a few other friends he’d made with other druid families, had thought the stories nothing more than tales meant to scare children into participating in the family gatherings. Although, Kegan wasn’t as negative as some of the others. Ryley had outright laughed at the absurd notion of Fae, other realms, and magic.
Kegan knew the magic existed, although he still had trouble accepting it, even when he saw his dad wield it. But the Fae? The Veil? He’d assumed it either not real, or had been, but was no longer a problem.
Then he’d witnessed monsters that shouldn’t exist appear out of thin air and kill McAlister right in front of his eyes. His family had tried to battle them, but one after another they’d been struck down.
For more than two years, Kegan had run as hard as he could to stay ahead of those things from doing the same to him. But his luck had run out when he’d been surrounded by what Bjorn called the Unseelie pets… Was that this morning, or had a day passed?
Either way, he’d been scared shitless. Then Bjorn appeared like an ancient warrior, ready to defend him and telling Kegan he had to find a way to use a druid power he shouldn’t have yet received. Yet, like everything else in his life, the unexpected happened and two creatures that had been attacking him turned to ash, which, according to Bjorn had been from lightning that he believed Kegan had controlled.
