Eventide of the Bear

by Cherise Sinclair

  When Minette yawned, Ben glanced at the early afternoon sun and pulled her down next to him. “I think it’s nap time for kittens. Settle here, cub, while the old ones talk.”

  The cubling leaned into him, looking pixie-sized against his huge body. Before Emma had finished her sandwich, the little girl was sound asleep.

  Ryder smiled at his daughter before looking at his brother and Emma. “I’m glad we had a chance for a four-legged day. Thank fuck we found out that Minette hadn’t been around shifters in animal form.” He scowled. “I should have anticipated it. Genevieve never shifted until she had to.”

  “It won’t be a problem, bro. Minette has got a decade before her first trawsfur.” Ben touched the cub’s cheek gently. “We’ll make sure she’s comfortable with what happens long before that time.”

  Thinking back to her own first trawsfur, Emma watched the cub sleeping…until the silence registered. Both males were looking at her. “What?”

  “I get the feeling your first trawsfur sucked.” Ben pulled her clenched fingers out of his hair. He stroked her fingers over his cheek in the same way Minette played with her braid. “Now, mine started well enough. My pa took me out, and we both shifted. The door to the wild was nice and clear. Smooth as an eagle’s dive.”

  Ryder frowned. “ ‘Started well enough’ sounds ominous.”

  Sensing a story, Emma leaned forward. “Did something go wrong?”

  “Yep. You see,” Ben said, “my father figured he’d sired me. When I shifted into a grizzly, he knew I wasn’t from his genes. And he blamed my size for my mother’s death in labor. After shifting and yelling at me, he stormed off.”

  “The fucking insane bastard,” Ryder muttered. “He left you to figure out how to get back to human by yourself, didn’t he?”

  “He did.” Ben’s voice was easy, but the fingers holding her hand tensed. “Took me a while.”

  Oh, sweet Mother.

  Appalled, Emma could only stare at him. A new shifter could easily lose the “door” in their mind—especially if they were upset or afraid. And the longer it took, the less likely it was that they’d see it.

  He could have died that day. Her fingers tightened around his. He’d been just a boy. The thought of his fear that day hurt her deep inside.

  “So, little bard, did your first trawsfur go as badly?” Ryder took her free hand, rescuing her from the bleak thoughts.

  “Not as bad as Ben’s. But, like Minette, I’d not been around shifters in animal form.” She lightly touched the sleeping cub’s cheek. “Mother hated picnics and dirt, and trees and the mountains. I didn’t go on excursions with anyone else since she didn’t let me have friends. No one was good enough for a Cavanaugh.” An unexpected anger filled her. How selfish her mother had been. Emma had been no more than another status-enhancing possession—and had received the same emotional care as the expensive statuary in the foyer.

  “What happened?” Ben asked.

  “She hired a shifter to serve as my first trawsfur mentor when she…eventually…realized I was the right age.” After the maid had reported that Emma had soiled the bed with her menstrual blood. Thank goodness for the school’s education classes that explained menses. “I was shocked when I first shifted, but…I loved it.”

  Ben gave her a keen glance. “Loved it almost too much?” His words held a world of understanding.

  “Yes. I knew where the door back to human was. I just didn’t want to use it.”

  “Glad you came back, little bear.” Ryder squeezed her hand. “Well, compared to you two, I had a nice, normal first trawsfur. And a hell of a better childhood.”

  “Yeah, sure you did. Sorry, bro. If we’re sharing traumatic childhood stories, you won’t escape.” Ben lifted his thick eyebrows. “Remember when we downed a bottle of Jack Daniels to see what drunk felt like? You babbled worse than a flooding brook.”

  OH FUCK. RYDER did remember. Wished he didn’t. “I don’t babble.” Because he never consumed that much alcohol again.

  “You did. You said your pa was a good male.”

  Ryder nodded, relieved. “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “But he went through females faster than wildfire through the east range, and none liked his skinny, silent cub.”

  Ryder turned his head away. Also true. During his father’s frequent absences, whoever the current female was would send him to his room. To get him out of sight. He’d learned early how shallow and unloving females were.

  He realized he was holding Emma’s hand and started to pull away.

  Her fingers tightened to the point of pain as her soft brown eyes revealed a compassion he didn’t want to accept.

  “Got a grip on you, little bear,” he said roughly.

  She didn’t let go. “I hang on to what I lo…” She broke off, leaving him staring. To what I love? Did she…

  She finished, “…to what I want to hang on to. So, your father’s females didn’t like having another’s cub underfoot?”

  “Nope.” Shallow, uncaring, mercenary, and—

  She snorted. “Between them and Genevieve, it’s no wonder you don’t like females.”

  Her statement slid like a blade between his ribs.

  “My pa said your father adored our mother,” Ben noted. “The new females probably didn’t want you around reminding them—and him—of someone he really did love.”

  Ryder’s brows pulled together. “You…might have a point.”

  Ben grinned at Emma. “Then the ugly cub grew up, turned studly, and now has females flocking to him. Even his sire’s females were hanging all over him, and only because of his appearance. He hasn’t changed otherwise.”

  “Asshole.” If he punched his brother, chances were good that he’d wake the cub. Ben’s summary was fucking accurate. When they were younger, it’d burned Ryder’s ass that females wanted to mate for the sole reason that they liked the way he looked. As a cahir, Ben got the same treatment.

  A muffled sound made him glance down.

  Emma had her hand over her mouth to smother her laughter.

  “What?” he growled.

  “Oh, your face.” She pointed at him. “Such utter disgust that some female might want you because you’re gorgeous.”

  Well… His lips curved up as much of his bitterness receded. “Gorgeous, huh?”

  She was so pretty when she turned pink. “Um. We should head back. I have to sing this evening,” she muttered, releasing his hand.

  “True enough.” Ben rose, lifting Minette up with him. He reached back to yank Ryder to his feet.

  Ryder gave Emma a hand and moved closer to run a finger down her flushed cheek. Her brown eyes were beautiful, big and wide and vulnerable.

  Had she almost said she loved him? By the God, he wanted to hear that more than he wanted his next breath. But…he wouldn’t push. This little bear was too easily spooked. Might flee rather than share.

  And somehow, somewhen, he needed to let her know he’d already taken that leap.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‡

  “EMMA, DRAW ME a bear,” Luke said. In the small building next to Ryder’s workshop, the mischievous cub and his littermate sat on the floor with crayons encircling them. The other students had already been picked up by their mothers. An hour ago, Ryder had come for Minette and carried her across the backyard to the house. But Bonnie, the boys’ mother, had called to say their pack meeting was running late.

  “One bear, coming up.” Emma traced out the outline of a bear. Before she’d finished, Luke’s littermate demanded a wolf.

  Wolves were trickier, but she managed. “There you go,” Emma said and handed over the paper. “What color is the wolf going to be?”

  “Purple,” Tyler said after a glance at his brother’s bear whose fur was the color of green lake algae.

  “I look forward to seeing that,” Emma told him gravely.

  He nodded graciously and concentrated on coloring within the lines.

  “Emma, I’m so
sorry I’m late.” Like a brisk breeze, Bonnie blew into the room. Her offspring jumped her, acting as if they hadn’t seen her for months rather than hours.

  After duly admiring the artwork, Bonnie sent them to gather their belongings.

  “Did the meeting go all right?” Emma asked. “You look…tense.”

  The wolf’s blonde hair was ruffled, and she carried the lingering scent of anger.

  “Talk about a showdown.” Bonnie blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Shay’s been extremely patient with Chad and Patrick, but tonight, he stated the next time they get aggressive with a female, he’ll either beat the hell out of them or drive them out of the territory altogether.”

  Wasn’t Chad the wolf who’d deliberately squashed her fingers at the Gathering? Emma blinked. “Bree mentioned once that there was trouble left over from last year or something.”

  “Or something. Our last alphas and beta were belligerent and aggressive. Shay’s different—controlled and patient. Unfortunately, some of the younger wolves see his restraint as weakness. They’re sooo going to learn different.” She picked up a stuffed mouse and tossed it to Luke to pack. “We also have a few young females who lack manners, but Bree’s too soft-hearted to discipline them.”

  Bree was not only a sweetheart, but she’d also been raised human. What would it be like to change to such a different culture? She noticed Bonnie’s worried expression. “Something else?”

  “I’m afraid so. I stayed late so I could give you the scoop.”

  Uh-oh. Emma straightened. “Go on.”

  “Before we could deal with Candice and Ursula, a female came into the lodge. A really beautiful, skanky wolf who’s moving to Cold Creek to be with her cub. She says the baby’s father stole the child from her home—and that he’s violent.”

  “Genevieve?” Emma whispered through numb lips.

  “That’s her.” Bonnie squeezed her hand. “I’d hoped to say you needn’t worry, but that bitch is good. She had the young males eating out of her hand like lap dogs. Candice and Ursula were fawning all over her.”

  “She was the one who was violent. Minette is just starting to get over being afraid all the time.”

  “Honey, I figured it was something like that.” Bonnie shook her head. “Will you tell Ryder and Ben what’s going on?”

  “I will.”

  A few minutes later, Emma left her “preschool” building, crossed the yard, and went in their home’s back door. In the kitchen, the fragrance of venison stew came from the crock-pot on the counter. She hadn’t eaten, but her appetite had disappeared the minute Genevieve was mentioned.

  She stopped to drink a glass of water and frowned at the refrigerator door where Minette’s crayon drawings had been ordered into neat lines. Turning in a circle, she noted that the counters and sink were spotless, the floor clean enough to eat from, and even the stovetop scoured.

  Interesting. Had they already heard about Genevieve? She knew she cleaned when she was upset—which had been most difficult to do in a cave—but which of the males reacted that way?

  She followed the sounds of quiet talking to the great room.

  Ryder sprawled on the sectional, reading one of his philosophy books. In front of the crackling fire, Ben and Minette were putting away the wooden cherries from a board game. Ben’s hands were so big he kept dropping pieces. In the center of the room, Minette had built something that resembled Ben’s house, complete with towers, from scrap lumber Ryder’d cut and painted for her.

  Minette looked up and beamed, then dashed over with enthusiastic hugs and kisses. Emma’s eyes stung with pleased tears—because that was how Bonnie’s boys had acted toward her.

  As the cubling trotted back to finish putting her game away, Emma’s face tightened. Genevieve’s arrival might send the happy child back into a terrified waif.

  Ryder set his book down and sat up. “What’s wrong, Emma?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  Still sitting, Ben studied her, and his brows drew together.

  She gave a meaningful glance toward Minette. “We can talk later.”

  Ryder caught on immediately. His expression turned to concrete.

  At the rise of tension, Minette quieted. Her thumb slid into her mouth.

  Emma pulled in a slow breath. The child was overly sensitive to moods around her. Someday, the hard-won talent would serve her well, but it hurt to see a child so insecure.

  “Look how late it’s gotten,” Emma said. “I think it’s time a kitten had a bath, don’t you?”

  “Aye,” Ryder agreed.

  “Minette, since we’re not going to wash your hair tonight, do you want me to braid it and pin it on top of your head?”

  Her little face lit up.

  “Why don’t you run up to my room and pick out a scrunchie?”

  As the cub dashed up the stairs, Emma sank down beside Ryder. “Genevieve attended the pack meeting and told them she’s moving here. And that you’re violent.”

  Ryder grunted as if he’d taken a fist to his stomach. But he put an arm around her and pulled her close enough to share his body heat. “Easy, bard. We’ll work out whatever we need to work out.”

  Emma scowled. “Why can’t people tell that she’s lying? Her scent should show it, if nothing else.”

  “She wears human perfume,” Ryder said.

  Emma wrinkled her nose. “Ewwww.” The cloying “fragrances” of the humans were nose-clogging torture. “Hmm. Can’t we go to the Cosantir? Wouldn’t he be able to make her tell the truth? And go away?”

  Ben rose to his feet, his sheer size incredibly reassuring, and tucked the board game on a bookshelf. When Emma had arrived, the shelves held only a handful of Ben’s history books, but games and toys had been appearing until no free space remained.

  “Calum might help,” Ben said. “But calling on him might be chancy. It’s true that Cosantirs don’t tolerate lying, but they’re also very traditional. And, far as I know, cubs always stay with the dam.”

  “But she hurt Minette.”

  “Aye. And, since Calum has a good heart, he might take steps to ensure the cub’s safety. That doesn’t mean he’ll pick a couple of males to raise a female cub. He might hand Minette back to Genevieve with someone ordered to supervise. Or require Genevieve to move into the wolf pack quarters.”

  “Oh.” She certainly knew the dangers of a Cosantir’s Judgment. Avoiding Calum might be a better idea. “You have a point.”

  Ben touched her hair as he walked past. “Like Ryder said. We’ll manage.”

  Ryder looked up. “Where are you going? You cooked, so it’s my night to clean.”

  “I need to do something. Scrubbing the fuck out of something will work.”

  Emma frowned. “The kitchen’s clean already. Even that marker stain on the floor where Minette tried to draw a frog is gone.”

  “Can’t be clean. Ryder always leaves a mess,” Ben said and disappeared. The lights came on.

  Emma and Ryder followed him, trailed by Minette who clutched a bright pink scrunchie.

  “Whoa, I didn’t know kitchens could shine like this,” Ryder said.

  Ben grinned. “Never happened to me, but I’ve seen the Cosantir’s kitchen this spotless. And Zeb and Shay’s.”

  Emma tilted her head. “You hired Jody and her crew to clean here?”

  Ben’s laugh rumbled out before he pulled her against his body, kissing her lightly. Just his scent, his touch, the strength in his arms left her leaning against him, trying to remember the conversation.

  Cleaning. Right.

  “Nope.” He’d turned her and pointed to the far wall. A small hole showed in the baseboard.

  “That wasn’t there before.” Ryder picked up Minette, settling her on his hip.

  “I think we’ve acquired a pair of brownies,” Ben said. “We’ll need to leave out cream and cookies for them.”

  Emma wrapped her arms around Ben and hugged him hard. In the old tales, which apparently were still true, the house-clea
ning brownies served families in exchange for goodies. But they only lived with families. Happy families.

  Ryder’s face held an unfamiliar expression, much like the wonder of a cub seeing the moon for the first time.

  “Cookies and cream?” Pulling in a deep breath, Emma used one of Ben’s favorite phrases, “I’ll get right on that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‡

  LATE THE NEXT afternoon, Ben walked into the grocery store and crossed to the dairy section to pick up a carton of cream.

  Cookies had been on his list, as well, but the honey bear must have spent the morning baking. At lunch, she’d swung by the construction site and dropped off a sackful of cookies for him and the crew.

  Seems Ryder told her how much Ben enjoyed peanut butter cookies.

  He shook his head. She was always doing little things that said she’d been thinking of him, that she cared enough to discover his tastes. She did the same with Ryder. Was this what having a mother would have been like?

  Who knew? Not him or Ryder. In fact, none of them, including Minette, had grown up with a mother’s affection.

  Emma’s mother had certainly not taught her how to care for a family, but everything she did showed him and Ryder what they’d missed. And Minette drank in Emma’s care and attention like a drought-starved plant. Must be instinct that showed Emma how to be a mother.

  Neither he nor Ryder, nor Emma, either, had been blessed with mated parents to use for examples. But they were slowly moving into a real relationship. From friends to lovers.

  He’d wanted her since the moment he saw her, but now…now that he liked her, loved her, and had mated her…the need was constant. He was worse than a testosterone-overloaded young male lusting after her from waking to sleeping. Ryder was in the same shape.

  Apparently so was Emma. She’d been generously dividing her nights between them. And letting herself be lured into extras.

  With a smile, he rubbed the itching scratches on his chest. Because Ryder’d been shaken to hear Genevieve was back, Emma spent the night with him. This morning, after Ryder had left, Ben had visited her bedroom to report Minette was still asleep and he was leaving.