Lure of the Bear (Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart Book 3)

by Anna Lowe

  “I think those two will be perfect,” a man who sounded a lot like Kai said.

  “Right. You and you. Come with me.”

  Someone nudged Dawn, and she ripped her eyes off Hunter. “Who, me?”

  Kai stood at the entrance to the party tent, wearing a mischievous grin. The photographer beside him gestured at Dawn and Hunter. “Come on already. This will just take a second.”

  Hunter balked, as did Dawn, but Kai hustled both of them along. “No need to dally, kids.”

  Dawn frowned. What was going on? Hunter’s nostrils flared like a dog testing the air for an intruder. But there was no disturbance outside the tent, just the section of lawn that had been cordoned off beside the bandstand. What did the photographer want? And why did Kai seem so amused?

  The photographer fiddled with a light meter and squinted into the sun. “Over there, please.” He motioned Dawn and Hunter into the center of the square and circled them. Hunter circled too, a wary expression on his face.

  “Perfect,” the photographer murmured, totally unaware of the bear lurking inside the man he’d just put on high alert. “Now get a little closer…”

  Dawn’s jaw dropped. Hunter looked to Kai, who shrugged.

  “Come on. Help a guy out, won’t you?” the photographer said in his nasal tone. “I need to check my angles for the wedding party tomorrow. You, put your hand on his shoulder,” he said to Dawn. “And you, put your hands on her waist.”

  Dawn and Hunter stared at each other like a couple of awkward seventh graders at their first dance.

  “Don’t just stand there. Dance. Honestly, how hard is that?”

  If Hunter hadn’t looked absolutely petrified, Dawn might have balked. But her heart softened, and she took his hands.

  Hunter gulped and looked down, and she did, too. His hands dwarfed hers, but his grip was soft. Perfect, in fact. She stepped a little closer, trying to breathe steadily.

  Hunter tipped his chin, following her movements, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Better,” the photographer murmured, moving around them. His rapid-fire camera clicked away. Then he checked the results and adjusted the setting. “Over there a little more. And I need her on my side.”

  A low growl built in Hunter’s throat, and Dawn might have laughed if she hadn’t been holding her breath. Funny that she actually liked the feeling of Hunter keeping other men away. She turned slightly for the photographer, squeezing Hunter’s hands. The second she did, his eyes softened.

  Well, dang. Was that all it took to calm a bear shifter down? A little touch? A smile? She thought back to the day of the shifter battle and filtered through the memories. The image of a murderous bear had pushed every other memory aside, but when she searched deeper, she realized there was more. Hunter had only looked fierce when he’d halted her attacker. Moments later, when he shifted back to human form, all she had seen was sorrow. Deep, deep sorrow through eyes that beseeched her, begging for a chance to explain.

  I only want to protect you. To love you. Forever, if you’ll let me. Please.

  Slowly, she ran her hands up his forearms.

  True love is patience. Persistence. Self-sacrifice, the woman in the tent had said.

  Dawn took a deep breath, working her hands up to his shoulders. Boy, did he smell nice. Like oak and leather. Like the Kahalawai peaks after a spring shower. Like koa, the toughest kind of wood.

  “Just a little more to the right,” the photographer murmured.

  She stepped right, then put her weight back on her left foot, and then shifted right again, swaying into a pantomime of a dance.

  Hunter’s arms loosened slightly, and his chest brushed hers. She nestled a little closer.

  The speakers squeaked with static, and music started up with an old-fashioned tune that worked its way into her limbs and told them how to move. She’d never been much of a dancer, but wow. It wasn’t actually that hard. Not with Hunter there and the music helping her along. It helped him, too, because he gradually loosened up and started swaying to the beat.

  “Perfect,” the photographer murmured. “Let me just try my other lens…”

  Dawn tuned the voice out and concentrated on Hunter instead. The man was rock solid, yet he yielded to the slightest pressure to turn this way or that. His chin was close to her cheek — so, so tempting to nuzzle against.

  And oops, she really did sneak in a nuzzle. Or two. Maybe even three, until Hunter tipped his head against hers and snuggled her in even closer, and that was nice, too.

  She had the vague feeling that people were watching, but her mind was just blurry enough not to care.

  “Okay, just one more shot over here,” the photographer said.

  Dawn nearly murmured, No rush. She could keep this up all day.

  Hunter’s hands moved over her back, and her imagination ran away with the idea of all the other parts of her body they might wander to. Not that they did, damn it. She pressed her hips against his and felt him nudge back. Her lips parted as she considered kissing his neck, though a fuzzy sensation told her she’d better not — yet. Which was puzzling, because it felt so perfect, squeezing her body against his. Natural. Peaceful, almost. Why should she hold back?

  Then a sudden racket sounded behind her, and Hunter lunged around, protecting her body with his.

  Dawn’s eyes fluttered as she fought to focus. Whew. Where was she? What was happening?

  “Sorry,” the photographer said sheepishly, stepping away from the chair he’d backed into. “Anyway, that’s enough. You can go back to work.”

  No, she wanted to protest. I’m not ready yet.

  But then the blood rushed to Dawn’s face, and her brain switched back on. Wait — had she just been slow-dancing with Hunter?

  His face was as pink as hers must have turned, and they stared at each other, half a step apart. His eyes glowed, and it wasn’t a trick of the light.

  A lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t even realized how close she’d gotten to Hunter. She hadn’t felt anything but an inner pull. No fear, no panic gripping her body, telling her to scream and shove him away.

  “Hunter,” she murmured, not really sure what she wanted to say. Thank you? Don’t let me go? I’m sorry?

  He squeezed her hands, and his lips turned up in a smile.

  Chapter Nine

  Somehow, Hunter forced himself to step away from Dawn and straighten his tie. Somebody said something, but he didn’t catch what, not with his blood roaring through his veins.

  Mate, his bear whispered in sheer joy. She is our mate.

  Well, he already knew that, but Dawn seemed to recognize it, too. She’d snuggled right in and danced with him, and even afterward, when the daze cleared from her eyes, her gaze was steady and warm. Unafraid.

  But damn it, people were bustling all around them again, and someone called Dawn away. She went, casting longing looks over her shoulder that made him want to beat his chest and cry, Mine!

  “Way to go, partner,” Kai murmured with a smack to his back.

  “Who knew the big lug could dance?” That was Cruz, who didn’t sound as grouchy as usual.

  Hunter ignored them, keeping his eyes on Dawn. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent of Dawn that still lingered all around. When was the last time he’d felt so good?

  It didn’t last long, though, because a moment later, a cry broke out, and every muscle in his body tensed again.

  “Where is my photographer? Damn it, where is that man?”

  “Bridezilla returns,” Cruz muttered, beating a hasty retreat.

  Kai grabbed Hunter’s arm and steered him away from what was sure to be another scene. “The wedding rehearsal will be starting soon. Remember?”

  Hunter groaned. How could things go from so good to so miserable in such a short time?

  “Listen, I can cover for you until the rehearsal party,” Kai started, and Hunter’s universe brightened again. “But I promised Tessa I’d be back before eight.”

  Hu
nter waited as Kai went on.

  “Dawn is going off duty now. Why don’t you get a ride home with her? Take a little break.”

  Hunter checked his watch, then his sanity. Wait. Was he really going to leave his post?

  “I said, I can cover for you,” Kai said, reading his mind.

  Hurry, his bear said, sniffing in the direction Dawn had gone.

  So he did hurry. He practically sprinted, in fact, and caught up just as she was getting to her car.

  “Dawn,” he called, screeching to a stop before he spooked her again. He caught his breath, pretending he wasn’t panting.

  She whirled, and he feared the worst. But her face brightened when she saw him, and her lips quivered when she said, “Yes?”

  Her tone was upbeat. Hopeful, almost.

  He clamped his lips together because suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say anymore. Maybe just, Dawn, can you give me a ride? Or should he be a little bolder and say what he really felt? Dawn, I love you desperately. Please, don’t let me go.

  He cleared his throat, but all that came out was a jumble.

  “I’m off for a few hours. You too?” she asked, coming to his rescue.

  He nodded eagerly. Too eagerly?

  She leaned on the open car door and considered for a minute. “They want me back for the rehearsal party tonight. In plain clothes,” she sighed. “Bride’s orders.”

  For once, Hunter couldn’t find fault with one of Regina’s wishes. Not that he minded Dawn in uniform — hell, he’d love looking at her if she wore a penguin suit — but the uniform was a constant reminder that she was an officer of the law, and he was a man who occasionally had to operate outside the law, if only when he had good reason to.

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I’m off for a little while, too.”

  He held his breath while she considered a second longer. “Would you like a ride home?”

  He jerked his head up and down and circled to the passenger seat when she nodded him in. His overeager bear nearly made him dash around the car, but he hit the brakes and walked at what he hoped was a casual pace.

  Don’t be such a child, he chastised his bear — a little hypocritically, really, because he was equally delighted. He buckled up, leaned back in the seat, and looked around. Holy smokes. He was in a car. With Dawn. Driving. Going someplace — a place he couldn’t recall anymore, but it barely seemed to matter.

  He sat very still, telling himself not to get too excited. But boy, was that hard. His mind kept flashing back to images of their dance — and worse, overlaying that with memories of their kiss.

  “Long day today,” she murmured, filling the silence.

  “Long day,” he agreed.

  The window was open, and thank God for that, because he could have passed out just from her heavenly scent. Jasmine and buttercup and hibiscus, all mixed together, along with something new. A scent he couldn’t quite place.

  Ask her, his bear said. Go ahead and ask her.

  He sat perfectly still, afraid to say a word. He couldn’t ask Dawn what he was dying to say. He didn’t dare.

  Come on, already, his bear demanded. Just ask.

  She was just warming up to him again. He’d ruin everything if he pushed too hard.

  Wanna bet? his bear said, sniffing deeply.

  He closed his eyes, trying to place the new ingredient in her scent, and froze when he realized what it was.

  Desire.

  He sat very, very still and sniffed again, double-checking. That was definitely the scent of desire. A sweet, cotton-candy scent he often caught wafting between the mated couples of Koa Point — Kai and Tessa, and Boone and Nina.

  Dawn and Hunter, his bear murmured, trying their names out side by side. We even sound like we belong together. And Meli means honey. We’re made for each other.

  Ah, the logic of a grizzly. Hunter sighed.

  So ask her, already, his inner beast cried.

  He’d barely spoken ten words to her today. Make that, over the past days — or weeks, even. There was no way he could express what he felt.

  You don’t have to be a poet. Just ask, his bear said.

  Maybe he should wait until they got to the gate of Koa Point.

  His bear rolled its eyes. Say it. Say, Dawn…

  “Dawn,” he said, barely above the sound of the engine.

  She turned her head.

  Would you like to stop by my place? his bear coached, sounding out the words for his thick brain.

  “Would you like to stop by my place?” he whispered.

  For a second, he thought she hadn’t heard because she just drove along. But then she opened her mouth and shook her head. “No.”

  His heart sank. I told you, he started accusing his bear, but Dawn spoke up, cutting him off.

  “No, but I’d like you to stop by my place,” she said, quiet as a mouse.

  She kept her eyes glued to the road, but he could sense her heart rate accelerate the way he wished the car would.

  Say something, idiot, his bear hissed.

  “That would be very nice,” he managed.

  His bear groaned.

  What? Hunter demanded.

  Is that the best you can do?

  He considered. Yes. That was the best he could do. But heck, Dawn didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the car’s speed inched up as she made a turn inland.

  “It’s just up here, about two miles,” she murmured.

  He nodded, pretending his heart wasn’t leaping around in glee.

  “So, about Lily…” Dawn started.

  Right, the landlord. Hunter liked Lily, but he hoped to hell she was out. But if not, okay. He could sit and drink a cup of tea instead of making the most of some private time. As long as he got to stay near Dawn.

  “She’ll probably be out. It’s bridge night,” Dawn said.

  His heart thumped a little harder, and his pulse spiked. “Bridge night. Nice,” he said like a total moron.

  Bridge night is great, his bear crooned.

  They passed a sugarcane field and a scattering of houses before turning left down a lane of cottages shaded by pines. Dawn parked in front of the blue-shuttered house at the end and sat still for a minute.

  “Um, if you don’t want to…” he said, though it made his gut churn to imagine her changing her mind now.

  She shook her head and stuck on a smile. A brave smile that made him wonder what was going on in her mind. Was it his bear, scaring her again?

  She motioned him out of the car and walked briskly down a path along the left side of the house. “That’s Lily’s place…”

  Hunter nodded, thanking every god in the Hawaiian pantheon that the older woman wasn’t home.

  Dawn pointed to a yellow cottage with white trim around the back. “I rent the place back here…”

  “Nice.” Somehow, he’d imagined her in exactly such a place. Small, cozy, and neat, with potted plants and a lantern by the door.

  The chair on the little porch faced west, where the sun was setting in vivid stripes of red, orange, and yellow. The screen door opened with a squeak, and he held it, trying to hide the shake in his hand while Dawn fumbled with the keys.

  “There,” she murmured, pushing the door open and gesturing him in.

  The place was neat as a pin, of course. Whatever dishes she’d used for breakfast had been dried and put away, and the magazines on the table were arranged just so. Each of the throw pillows on the love seat was offset from the one behind it at exactly the same angle, like a flicked-open fan in various shades of blue.

  “Nice,” he said, stepping to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on one wall. There were books on Hawaiian flowers, Hawaiian quilts, and Hawaiian history arranged by category and set apart by owl figurines of all shapes and sizes. A glittery owl. An owl made out of a coconut. A ceramic owl. Even an owl made out of seashells.

  Hoo, hoo. Right on cue, an owl hooted from outside.

  Pu’eo is Dawn’s aumakua, he remembered Lily saying. The form h
er ancestral spirit took.

  “Wow,” he said, spotting a basalt poi pounder by the loveseat.

  “I’m kind of a flea market junkie,” Dawn said, pointing to the antique Victrola in the corner.

  “Does that work?”

  “Sure does,” she said, lifting the lid and cranking the handle. She carefully placed the needle on the record and let it spin. “The song takes a second to start up,” Dawn murmured as the scratchy sound of an old-time 78 record filled the room with quiet anticipation.

  The door to the bedroom was ajar — the only other room under the peaked roof — and Hunter couldn’t help glancing in. His breath caught when he saw the quilt on the four-poster bed. A bright, yellow quilt with a flowery pattern.

  “Oh.”

  “What?” She came up to his shoulder and looked, too.

  “My mom had a quilt a lot like that.”

  A slew of sounds, sights, and smells washed over him. The babble of the creek beside the cabin he’d grown up in. The fresh scent of wildflowers in spring. The sunny yellow of his mother’s old dress, recycled as patches in the quilt.

  He turned away from the memories so quickly that he nearly bumped into Dawn, and he caught her arms — more to steady himself than her. They stared at each other for a second, and then, without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. A hug that had nothing to do with steady anything, because his heart was pounding away.

  He started to pull back, afraid of how Dawn would react, but her arms slid around him and tightened, refusing to let go.

  “This is good.” Her voice was muffled, and his chest heated under the spot closest to her face.

  “It is good,” he whispered, resting his head on hers.

  They stood there for a long minute while the Victrola needle went around and around, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Not sure he wanted to do anything, because just holding her was great. But when her hands started moving along his back, his bear gave him all kinds of bad ideas.

  She wants this, too. No need to hold back.

  Of course, he had to hold back. No way was he going to risk scaring her again. Not that she seemed all that scared, which figured. Dawn was as tough as they came, even if she reminded him of an exotic flower.