“No. Guess not. But you know, he loved you. Missed you.” Ryder scowled. “And I was a righteous mess. Figured it was my fault we’d lost you.”
“Give me a second.” Ben turned away, staring at the dark depths of the lake, trying to process the information. Seemed like the solid foundation for his life had turned to swampland. One fact remained. “But I still killed our mother.”
“By the God, you’re stubborn,” Ryder muttered. “Yes and no. Knowing she was pregnant and Arnold was fucking unstable, Pa had been stopping by to check on her. But he came too late that day to get her into town and to a healer. Arnold said she started bleeding with my birth, your birth made it worse. But she might well have bled out anyway, just from having me.”
Ben couldn’t find any words.
“Ben.” Ryder waited until their gazes met. “If she’d had a healer like she’d been advised, she’d have lived, but Arnold refused to move into town for the last month of her pregnancy. When her labor started, he didn’t rush her to a healer although he’d had time. The only guilt I see is his.”
Ben stared at him, his mind numb.
“Instead, he laid the blame on you. He couldn’t admit his inaction killed the female he loved. That he’d been too much of a yellow dog to take her into town.”
She’d been told to be under a healer’s care. Any birth would be risky. She’d started bleeding with Ryder’s birth.
It hadn’t been his fault—or at least not all his fault.
As Ryder silently watched the lake, Ben examined the conversation, picking up and turning over the sentences like logs in a forest to see what lay beneath.
Finding truth.
And after a few minutes, Ben rubbed his face, considering another statement Ryder had made, …wolves and cats have borne bears for all the generations of the Daonain. True enough. “A female might not die from bearing my cub,” he said slowly.
“Deaths during birth don’t happen often, even if the females are cats or wolves having bear cubs. I haven’t ever heard of a death if there’s a healer present.”
Ben sat for a while longer, unwilling to leap right into hope. But the fact remained—having his cubs wasn’t an automatic death sentence for a female.
Ryder scowled. “You went to Texas right before we met Genevieve—and Arnold lied to you. That’s why you came back and told me you’d never take a mate.”
“Aye.”
“And because I was young and stupid, and couldn’t imagine never mating or having cubs, I left with Genevieve.”
“Sounds about right.” Ben half-grinned. “At least, the young and stupid part.”
“Asshole.” Laughing, Ryder flicked a twig at him. His smiled died. “I don’t suppose we can look up your sire and beat the scat out of him?”
“No need. My friends in Texas let me know that he’d gone feral and died. Couple of years past.”
“Not surprising, actually. He had no one left to care about.” Ryder tilted his head, listening to a bird sing.
It was nesting and birthing season. The trilling melodies reminded Ben of how Emma sang to Minette in the kitchen. As if they were in a real home.
In the uncanny way of brothers, Ryder followed his thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as simply…sweet…as Emma.” He shook his head. “At one time, I thought pretty outweighed personality. It’s amazing what you learn as you get older, isn’t it?”
Ben grinned, knowing exactly what his littermate meant. Young, hormone-driven males went after superficially attractive females. It was a status thing. Once a bit older, the male might mate pretty, but would spend his time with smart and nice. A few more years, and unless pushed into it—as Sarah had done—a male had no time for mere prettiness. There had to be more. “Sweet. Smart. Generous. And damned lovely, too.”
Ryder rose and gripped Ben’s undamaged shoulder. “Agreed. And in case you haven’t noticed, bro, I thought I might mention—she isn’t a tiny female.”
She wasn’t small. No. She was a bear. A bear. Before Ben could shake off the stunning revelation, his littermate shifted and pounced on a rabbit in the boggy area.
Ben watched, rubbing his foot against the rock. Looked like he might have a bunny for a snack. Smiling, he realized the bond between him and Ryder no longer hurt, and was intact. Progress.
And his past? Well, he needed to think all this over. Ponder for a while.
As he watched Ryder, he realized it’d been a while since he’d hunted with his brother. What would Ryder say if Ben told him he wanted to hunt something far more appetizing than a bunny.
Maybe they’d start with a pretty little bear…
*
SCOWLING, RYDER TRIED to read the notes on what needed to be done for Albert Baty’s kitchen remodel. By Herne’s hairy balls, Ben’s handwriting sure hadn’t improved any in the last few years. Was the word there undine or under? Undine counter lighting didn’t make sense; water elementals wouldn’t be caught dead in a kitchen. So, under it was.
He looked up to check on Minette. Emma had dropped her off while she popped into the Wild Hunt to clear her song list with Calum. For a while, the cub had made what Emma called “mud pies,” although the bard had assured him the cub wouldn’t eat them. Now Minette was kicking a soccer ball against the fence.
“Ryder.” Kenner wandered up. “I have downtime while things dry. Where do you want me?”
The burly drywall finisher could have had his own business, but the bear was an easy-going, sociable sort. He preferred working on Ben’s crew even when doing tasks other than drywalling.
“You have a choice of installing the new stove or working on the bathroom remodel,” Ryder said.
“I hate ba—”
From the corner of his eye, Ryder saw Minette trip over a stick and fall. “Minette!”
He charged across the lawn, dropped to the ground, and scooped her into his lap. Fuck, she was crying. Panic threatened.
Breathe, cat. “Let’s see the damage,” he managed to say…almost calmly.
Her hands and knees were dirty, but not scraped, not bleeding. Still, big tears ran down her face.
“Oh, kitten.” The helpless feeling was like a current dragging him underwater. How could he fix her world? She was crying. As she clung to him, he held her against his chest.
Her crying slowed.
“Whoops, did someone take a bounce on the ground?” Kenner went down on one knee and brushed the dirt from her hands and legs. “There go. All better. Just like magic.”
Sniffling, she solemnly inspected her palms and her knees before looking up at Ryder for his opinion.
The bands loosened around his chest. “Yep, all fixed. Guess you’re good.”
One red mark got a dubious frown before she agreed and wiggled to get down. Trauma forgotten, she picked up her ball and gave it a kick. A glance over her shoulder established that he was watching.
“Excellent kick, kitten. You have a good eye.”
For the compliment, he received a far better reward—one of her tiny smiles.
As she resumed her solitary game, Ryder scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d far rather fall straight off a cliff than to see his cub in tears. “By the God, I’m not good at this.”
“Bullshit.” With a booming laugh rivaling Ben’s, Kenner smacked his shoulder. “You can’t keep a cub perfectly safe, cat. But if a hug from you makes things better, then you’re doing it right.”
A hug was considered helping? But…her crying had slowed when he held her. The knowledge was gratifying. He stood and bumped his shoulder against Kenner’s. “Thanks.”
“No problem, boss.”
An hour later, Emma had Minette by the hand as Ryder showed them through the remodeled house. He really appreciated the customizations Baty had ordered…like the glassed-in fireplace that let salamanders dance without scattering coals across the hearth. He pointed out the abundance of natural materials. “The previous owners—humans—had put in stainless steel appliances in th
e kitchen. Albert could hardly stand to come in the room.”
“Ew, I bet.” Emma looked up as a stray sunbeam danced across the wall. “Skylights. What a great idea.” She turned in a circle and stopped, frowning toward where the baseboards had been. “If you’re planning to repaint the walls, what happened there?”
“The humans had installed plastic baseboard.” He half smiled. “The molding didn’t look bad, but Ben had a fit. Said it’d make brownies ill if they tried to burrow through it.”
“Amazing. I’ve never considered the OtherFolk and what they need to live or be happy. Then again, we didn’t have brownies when I was growing up.”
Because her mother sounded as if she’d been a real shrew. Brownies only lived with stable families. “Us, either.” The unexpected jolt of longing made him shake his head. He wanted Minette to grow up in a happy home where brownies would industriously clean the kitchen and wait for the little daughter of the house to set out their treats of cake and cream.
“Oh.” Emma’s eyes held remorse. “I forget you and Ben were separated. That must have been terrible.”
“A bit.” He’d been five and hadn’t spoken for nearly a year. Cats didn’t lose people well. Didn’t make friends easily.
“Smith, you moron, what the fuck did you do?” The yell came from the bathroom.
Great. Wishing Ben was back, Ryder strode through the living room and into the bath, and stared.
The young human male had fucked up the granite tiles. Badly. He opened his mouth…and remembered Minette’s reaction to shouting.
Two days ago, when Ben had been swearing and bellowing into the phone about a missed shipment, Minette had disappeared. They’d found her hiding outside in the bushes.
Sheathe the claws, cat. Ryder sucked air in through his nose. As his anger dimmed, he realized the young male looked like a pup expecting to get kicked. His eyes were almost as vulnerable as Minette’s.
Hell. Now what? Ben had given him advice, right? “Just treat them as if they were oversized Minettes, and you’ll do fine.”
“I’m sorry, Ryder.” The pup ran a finger over the gap between the granite and the wall. “I messed up the measurements.”
“Yep, you did.” Ryder considered. “Hang on to the granite pieces. They might look good as part of the fireplace hearth. And have Kenner double-check your measurements today, until you know you have it down.”
The lad nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m really sorry.”
“You’ll learn.” Remembering Minette’s smile when he’d noticed her kicking skill, Ryder added, “We all make mistakes. And you’ve got a talent for laying tile. Ben’s lucky to have you.”
The glow in the youngster’s eyes was…yeah…worth breaking a fang trying not to yell. Ryder glanced at Kenner and got the male’s confirming nod that he’d pup-sit.
Emma was waiting outside the door, and the smile she gave him was wide and open, and filled his heart as if she’d installed golden lighting in a dark room.
Chapter Seventeen
‡
IT’D BEEN A week since Ben had been hurt, and after okaying him to work, Donal also stated Ben would know if he was overdoing. No fucking shit.
Since it was Saturday, Ben and Ryder had been fixing up the house for Zeb’s pack member. Ben finally gave into the throbbing pain and called it quits.
Damn healer.
Leaving his littermate to finish framing in the windows, he walked out of the decrepit house. The sagging porch groaned beneath his weight.
He hadn’t seen a building in such poor condition since his younger days when he lived among humans. Damn place should be torn down, but Tullia had lived here since she was first mated. She was in about the same shape as the house. At her age, she wouldn’t do well with change, so they’d do their best to get her home into livable shape. Considering the crap job the original builders had done, the structure would end up more solid than when it was new.
On the steps, Ben halted. Now there is a sight.
Emma was kneeling in the neglected flower garden bordering the street.
Drawing on a small tablet, Minette sat cross-legged beside her. Satisfaction welled within Ben. The cub’s cheeks had filled out, and her small arms no longer looked like skin stretched over bones. Her smile came far more often now.
Donal had checked her over, saying her silence wasn’t caused by anything physical. With time and love, she should recover.
Well, they had the time. As Ben watched the two females, he knew love wouldn’t be a problem either. The mite had taken up residence in his heart as if she’d been born from one of his own matings. She was a bundle of sweetness…and was beginning to show hints of the mischievousness her sire had possessed when a cub. When she was healed, she’d probably run them all ragged.
His gaze turned to Emma. Also recovering. No longer underweight, she was beautifully rounded. She’d left her hair loose to spill down her back in a golden sheet that begged to be tousled by a male. Her cheeks were the color of ripening peaches, her mouth a kissable pink.
And she was fucking kissable, wasn’t she?
He realized he was smiling. Yeah, well, he’d been doing that more, first when the three additional people filled his home, then three days ago when Ryder had laid out the facts of their birth.
His guilt was gone, and he felt lighter, as if he’d removed a heavy tool belt.
Even more… Ben inhaled slowly, catching the scent of the golden female in the garden. He now had a future, something he’d lacked since his trip to Texas. For five long years, when he’d heard cubs laughing, he’d known he would never have any offspring to raise, to protect, to love. And now, suddenly, the narrow, dark valley was filled with sunlight.
He could take a mate. Share one with his brother. Have cubs. Have a future that held love. Females were trouble—just ask Ryder—but they were also the glory and brightness in a male’s life. Feeling he couldn’t take a lifemate had dimmed his world.
When Ryder had walked away, the darkness had been complete.
Now, change had come again. His littermate was back. With a cub. And they had a female living with them. The sweetest, bravest female he’d ever known.
Ben’s house was filled with people, with laughter and song, and even bickering. Fuck, he loved coming home now.
He watched as Minette poked at a bug in the dirt, and Emma laughed. She didn’t laugh enough—but, like Min, her smiles came more often. It would be an honor, a delight, to be the one who helped her lose her shyness. To be the one who won her trust.
Her love.
Yeah, he wanted that female right there.
She was…amazing, constantly surprising him with her intelligence, her unexpected flashes of humor, her sheer kindness.
She was big enough to fill a man’s arms and wonderfully soft. Her scent held her sweet female musk with traces of flowers and cinnamon.
And even when speaking, she sounded as if she was singing.
The tavern had been packed again two days ago with shifters in to listen to the bard. Ben had taken himself another kiss before walking her home. Kissing Emma was more satisfying—and intoxicating—than actual sex with any other female.
What would mating her be like?
Even better would be sharing her with his brother. It’d been too long since they’d enjoyed a female together. But those teamwork skills didn’t go away, and no female had ever complained about their favors in the past. On the contrary.
But he wanted to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his littermate as they slid lifemating bracelets on their chosen female’s wrist.
He wanted to see their female swell with their young. The mere thought sent hormones dancing in his veins.
Could Emma learn to love them?
Winning her wouldn’t be an easy trail. Something in her past had derailed her from the normal enjoyment a female felt toward sex. She certainly wasn’t going to jump right into his bed. It was time to get to the bottom of those secrets.
At least
his brother had started to realize not every female was like Genevieve, although her memory was still a splinter in Ryder’s paw, prickling him every time he paced forward.
With the Mother’s grace, there would be enough time and love to get them to the trail’s end.
Leaning a hip against the railing, Ben watched his two females…until he noticed a brown-haired male coming up the sidewalk.
The wolf shifter detoured across the yard to join Emma.
Ben scowled as possessiveness welled within him. Mine. He jumped off the porch and stalked toward where the brash male was trying to make conversation with her.
When Emma saw him, she smiled in welcome. “Ben. I thought I scented you.”
After setting his hand on her shoulder—mine—he smiled down at her, then studied the interloper. The wolf was young. Closer to Emma’s age. Would she prefer youth?
Trying to keep from shoving the male away, Ben told him, “Work is inside.”
The young male stiffened as if he’d been poked in the side with a stick. “And just who are you to tell me what I should do?”
Catching the scent of fear from Emma, Ben glanced at her. Her color had paled. Her scent held no sexual interest for the wolf—just fear. The bastard had scared her somehow.
“I’m supervising the work on this house.” Ben’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Get moving.”
When the wolf drew himself up, Ben followed suit—and towered over the puppy by almost a foot.
The young male took an involuntary step back and muttered, “Fucking bear.” And he caved. “Fine. I need to get to work anyway.”
Spineless, Ben thought with annoyance. What kind of cubs were they raising in Shay’s pack?
Emma pulled Minette into her arms, and both females stared up at Ben as if he’d gone on a feral rampage. “Wh-why are you upset?” Emma asked shakily. “He wasn’t doing any harm.”
By the God, the puppy hadn’t scared her; Ben had. Hell. “Sorry, honey bear, it’s habit. I forgot not everyone on a work site is one of my crew.” A growl escaped him. “When my employees are at a site to work, they actually work…not flirt with females.”
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