All Roar and No Bite

by Celia Kyle

  She didn’t acknowledge that his words might have a tiny bit of truth to them. Or the fact that his rumbling voice got her hot. Looked like she would be going to work with wet panties.

  Van pressed his face to the side of her neck, nuzzling her, his morning scruff teasing her sensitive skin. He breathed deep, as if drawing her scent into his lungs. He rocked his hips against her, fabric-covered dick caressing her, and she pressed her ass into him. It was a mistake to encourage him, a mistake to toy with him, but it was so damn delicious.

  He groaned and something sharp and firm scraped her neck. “Did you just bite me?”

  He repeated the caress, teeth capturing her flesh and nipping before releasing. He lapped the semi-wound, tongue soothing the ache. “Depends. Do you like it?”

  Lauren swallowed hard. She wanted to say no. She wanted to ask him what woman would get off on any kind of pain. But… she didn’t want to be a liar, either. So, she kept her mouth shut and wiggled against him, tilting her head to the side, giving him more room.

  Van chuckled, all cocky and full of himself, but he did give her a repeat performance. All the while he breathed her into him. She understood the action since she felt the same. His flavors were so deep, dark. Intoxicating.

  Her pussy wept, growing moister by the second and all the man did was nibble on her. No hands stroking, pleasuring her. Nope. A tongue and teeth. She was so freakin’ weird. And turned on. Couldn’t forget turned on.

  He drew in another breath, his chest expanding and brushing her back. Except this time, he held his breath and froze, unmoving against her.

  “Fuck,” he spat the word and pushed away from the truck, leaving her cold and alone against the vehicle.

  “What? Van?” Confusion filled her and she furrowed her brow. One minute they were almost-kinda making out and then he was gone. She followed him, easing away from the hunk of metal.

  Van paced around her car, breathing deep, and holding each for a few seconds before releasing it from his lungs. He repeated the move, taking a few steps, and pausing as he slowly circled her vehicle. Step, step, inhale, hold it, release and move on.

  “Uh, Van?” He held up his hand, but didn’t look at her, so she kept her mouth shut.

  What the hell?

  He made a full lap and then moved back to her front right tire, pausing a moment before squatting and out of her sight.

  Well, then. Way to kill a happy buzz.

  She went to him. He’d obviously finished his heavy breathing-slash-steam train impression.

  Van’s gaze was locked on the ground, the gravel surrounding her vehicle.

  “Van? You’re kinda freakin’ me out.” Okay, no “kinda” in there. This was a full-on freak out.

  He brushed at the small rocks with his fingers, shifting gravel with his touch. He picked up a few and brought them to his nose. Weirder and weirder. Finally, he ducked farther and looked under the car.

  He reached beneath her vehicle and snared a handful of rocks before rolling to his feet beside her. She peered at the bits of gravel he’d collected, noting the dark brown something-or-other coating them.

  “What’s that?” She wrinkled her nose at the oily scent.

  Van let most of the rocks fall to the ground, retaining one of the largest and rolling it between his fingers. “Brake fluid. Normally I’d tell you that you should have had the lines flushed and fluid replaced years ago.”

  Lauren frowned.

  “But the question today is—why is your brake fluid coating the ground?”

  She looked at the piece of stone in his hand and then her gaze wandered to the handful on the ground. All of them were coated in the dark brown liquid. “Um, it’s an old truck?”

  She wanted that to be the reason her brake fluid stained Martin’s gravel. Like, really, really. Because if it wasn’t a simple mechanical failure, it meant the stuff had been released on purpose. It wasn’t a huge stretch to figure out who’d like Lauren to drive her truck sans brakes.

  Van wiped one hand on his wrinkled pants, a piece of gravel still clutched in the other. “Yeah, I’m not thinking that’s the answer. C’mon back inside. You’re not working today and I’ve got a few calls to make before I head out.”

  He reached around her hand, pressed his large, mostly-clean palm to her lower back, nudging her toward the house. “I have to call in sick, but you get to work? I have bills to pay, damn it.”

  She really tried to dig her heels in, keep him from shoving her toward the door, but he was bigger and stronger and hotter and… A heated blush stole over her cheeks. Anyway.

  “You get a choice. Not working and living, or working and dying. Because those brake lines didn’t cut themselves.”

  *

  Van’s bear fumed, paced, and released the occasional deafening roar.

  Her brake lines had been cut. He hadn’t seen the severed lines, hadn’t taken the time to crawl under and feel for them, but the amount of liquid spoke for itself.

  Lauren resisted a tiny bit, but she finally shuffled along with him. He ignored the sharp pinches to his bare feet and kept their pace brisk across the rocky driveway. He hadn’t bothered with finding shoes when he’d heard those low snicks of the locks. At first the bear roared at the possibility of an intruder. Then it’d simply roared when it caught her scent and followed her path.

  Stupid woman leaving on her own when they were dealing with an asshole like Bryson Davies.

  He stomped up the porch steps and then snared the front door, holding it open for her. She shot him a glare, but he ignored it. She’d be even more pissed a little later.

  The moment they were both in the home, Van shoved the door closed and yelled for the other bear in the house. “Martin!”

  No sound came from deep within the house and Van sighed. He hated waking other bears. Bears in general got too cozy at night, a throwback to the animal’s desire to hibernate. Getting to sleep was easy, waking up… not so much. He was actually surprised his beast woke when Lauren snuck out. Then again, the animal was looking at her as a potential mate. It made sense it’d wanna keep track of what belonged to him.

  Van lowered his voice. “Can you make some coffee, baby? It’s gonna be a long morning.”

  Lauren glared, and jerked away from him, stomping toward the kitchen. She tried to keep her grumblings low, but his hearing was quite a bit better than a human’s. “Stupid man… hotness… coffee… where does he get off… sexy jerk…”

  She thought he was hot. Good to know, since he planned on showing her just how hot he could make her. After listening to her come last night, whispering his name along with her breathy whimpers. Yeah, he couldn’t wait to get close to Lauren Evans. Naked.

  It’d taken everything in him not to burst through her bedroom door and give her exactly what she begged for. He ached to strip her down and lap up every drop of her juices. The scent called to him last night and it’d teased him well into the early hours of the morning.

  Yeah, him and Lauren naked sounded like a very, very good idea.

  “Yo, Martin!” He moved further into the house. He’d gotten the grand tour, but wasn’t sure where exactly he was going.

  He poked his head into the first bedroom and recognized Lauren’s scent filling the space. More importantly, the delicious hints of her arousal and musk. His cock filled and pushed against his pants. Damn. They really needed to ensure Lauren’s safety so he could strip her down and taste every inch of her lush body. Soon.

  The next doorway led to the small bathroom where he’d spent a few moments up close and personal with her. He kept moving. The next door revealed the other guestroom which left him with one last place to check. Shit. He didn’t want to intrude on a bear with his mate, but it couldn’t be helped. Plans had to be made and relocation was necessary all around.

  Van cracked his neck, snapping it side to side. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands, body loose and relaxed before he faced a snarling beast.

  He knocked on the door
, a quick rap of his knuckles on the wood and got… nothing. Fuck. He wrapped his left hand around the knob and twisted it, slowly easing the panel into the room. He kept tapping, hoping he wasn’t surprising Martin too bad.

  The last thing they needed was an enraged werebear shifting with two ignorant humans in the house.

  “Martin?” He peeked around the edge of the door and spotted a small, tangled lump in the middle of the bed. He let his gaze travel further and locked eyes with an enraged shifter wrapped in a blanket and laying back on a nearby chair. It looked like the bear had spent the night there. “Shit.”

  At least he’d kept his skin on.

  Martin growled and flashed his fangs while his normally blue eyes darkened to black.

  “Remain calm, Martin.” He released the knob and held his hands out to his friend and subordinate. “We have a situation.” Martin curled his lips, baring his teeth. “Damn it, Martin. We got shit to do.” A rumbling growl vibrated through the room. “Fuck. Things are getting deadly. We need—”

  “Martin?” The lyrical voice was husky with sleep. The mass on the bed shifted and then a brown-haired head popped into view. “What’s wrong?”

  Like a switch, the bear’s growl ceased and he transformed into a man filled with love and patience. It’d taken three words to shift the male from “ready to blow” to “sweet as pie.”

  “Nothing, sweet. Van just needs to talk for a second. I’ll be right back.” The bad ass cop rose and leaned across the bed. He dropped a soft kiss to Anna’s forehead before turning back to Van. “Let’s go.”

  Martin pushed past him and strode into the hallway and Anna waved to him as he turned to follow the male. He returned the gesture, earning him another growl from Martin.

  Shit. Bears and their mates. Was he gonna turn into this kind of overbearing, possessive, protective asshole?

  Van took a moment and thought over the events of the last day… He wasn’t gonna turn into that guy, he was that guy.

  He was so fucked.

  “What’s wrong and why’d you have to wake Anna to tell me?” Martin spun on him in the hallway, stalling their progress to the kitchen.

  Van held up his right hand, fingers still clutching the piece of gravel, the surface sticky with the aged brake fluid. “Lauren’s truck had a visitor last night.”

  Martin inhaled. “Shit.”

  “Yup.” He nodded. “I’m going to go have a chat with our mayor while you relocate the women.”

  “Where?” Martin scrunched his brow.

  Van knew the bear wouldn’t like his idea any more than he really did. Not that he didn’t want Lauren close… He just didn’t want anyone else close to her. But, he couldn’t let his own feelings override good sense. The perfect location was a hundred yards from his brother’s place where bears always wandered the grounds. The only drawback was… bears always wandered the grounds.

  “My place.”

  Chapter Eight

  Snooping was bad. And Lauren knew that. She’d grown up being told not to pick and poke at other people’s belongings. But… but Van wasn’t home. He’d dropped off her and Anna with instructions to stay inside and safe. His brother owned all of the land, no one could get close, and blah, blah…

  Now that she’d had time to think, there was no way her brake lines had been cut. She was sure that as soon as they got old Betsy to a mechanic, they’d find that Lauren was a shitty truck owner. Nothing more, nothing less.

  In the meantime, she was stuck in an unfamiliar house alone. Mostly alone. Anna had crashed the moment her head hit the pillow. Martin urged her best friend to down another pill, and boom, out like a light.

  So, alone. In the big old house. With lots of little things to magically nudge aside.

  So far, she hadn’t found anything worth finding. Damn it.

  Her first impression of the home had been one of breathtaking awe. It was just… glorious. From its clean lines to the rich wood used on the exterior to the exposed beams in the ceiling. It was a combination of rustic charm with modern influences. Wood accents were sprinkled throughout the space, delicate swirls and the occasional scene of bears, both adult and cubs.

  Truly, it was a place she could happily call home.

  Not that she would, but she could. It’d definitely be a more welcome home than her ratty apartment and all of the ratty apartments and trailers that came before.

  Lauren ran her fingers along the polished mantelpiece, tips sliding over the smooth wood. She’d asked about the fireplace’s frame, stroking one of the carvings of a small cub. That’s when he had revealed he’d done the work himself, every delicate decoration created with his hands.

  She pet a realistic leaf, the ridges ticking her fingertips. He’d leaned over the hunk of wood for hours to create the masterpiece that graced the living room. His hands had touched, stroked, and sanded the hardness beneath her palm.

  Her big, bad cop had an artistic streak a mile wide.

  Then again, he wasn’t hers, was he?

  Nope. Regardless of her midnight fantasy, he didn’t belong to her.

  With a shake of her head, she moved on, exploring the place. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms. Big enough for a family, he’d said. Of course, as the words tumbled from his lips, his gaze focused on her.

  Lauren shuddered at the memory. Heat filled his eyes, the irises darkening, and she’d felt the look all the way to her toes. Even now her nipples pebbled and her pussy heated. The man was sex on two legs and he knew it. Well, she knew it, too.

  She padded through the living room and toward the back of the home. If she went through the front door, she’d see Ty’s home. But out back, she was met with a breathtaking sight.

  The sun shone high above the hills, but it was the hills themselves that called to her. They were rolling swaths of green tipped with tall trees and decorated with bushes of varying shades. In the distance, a hint of the lake peeked at her. Grayslake.

  She’d never been there. While most kids and teens spent summers on the lake, Lauren spent summers working.

  Now, it was so close. Could she…?

  She pressed her fingertips to the glass, tracing the lake’s shore. Sun glinted off the smooth water, the calm surface begging someone to run and splash through its contents.

  Unable to resist the call, she placed her hand on the door handle, fingering the satin finished lever. A flick of the small button-shaped lock, she pushed down, releasing the door from the frame. The glass panel swung wide, freeing her.

  The fresh air swept over her, urging her to leave the house and explore. It seemed crisper here, cleaner. She let the door swing closed behind her. The grass and trees beckoned and she followed, padding across the solid wood porch toward the steps.

  Lauren ran her hand along the smooth railing as she descended the handful of stairs to the ground below. The grass crunched beneath her feet, the softness welcoming her with that first step.

  The wind ruffled her hair and she smiled, dragging a few wayward strands and tucking them behind her ear. She took another few steps, enjoying the outdoors.

  She had all of Bryson’s asshole drama in the back of her mind, but it couldn’t overshadow the excitement of being outside, being close to Grayslake, and able to enjoy the day. Tomorrow she’d go back to her crappy job and struggling to keep her crappy apartment.

  Tomorrow.

  A woman’s yell reached her, the sound slicing through the quiet. The voice was unfamiliar to her, but Van warned her a lot of friends and family visited his brother’s house each day. Considering how close that house happened to be, she figured it belonged to a visitor.

  Well, she wasn’t going to worry about it now. Not when—

  Lauren fell with a squawk, her feet flipping from beneath her and sending her crashing to the ground. She toppled to her back, grunting when she finally collided with the firm surface.

  “Parker, no!”

  Warm fur brushed her bare legs, the body wiggling against her, and obviously excited a
bout managing to knock her on her ass. A cold nose nuzzled her knee and snuffled along her thigh, getting closer to…

  “No,” she pushed at the snout nearing her no-no place. The narrow, rather long snout. A greyhound? No, too furry. She raised her head to look, but the pain of her fall was getting to her. It grew with every passing second. She brought her free hand to the back of her head and didn’t find any wetness, but… damn.

  “Crap on a cracker. Parker.”

  Parker. Funny name for a dog.

  The pup kept pushing at her hand, easing back, and trying to avoid her capture. Well, she had more motivation to keep him away from the goods.

  Groaning, she eased up onto one elbow, propping herself so she could get a good look at Parker and his owner. Except… Lauren gulped… except what was supposed to be a dog—because people owned dogs in the country—was not a dog. No, it was so anti-dog it wasn’t funny. It was the antithesis of dog in all of dogland.

  She fought to keep her heart rate steady. She couldn’t show it fear, couldn’t antagonize the beast. They could smell fear, right? Totally. She read that somewhere. Or saw it on TV. Who cared? She sure as hell didn’t. Her only concern was getting away from the non-dog, freakin’ bear cub. Bear. With big teeth. Sure, he was small for a bear, but that didn’t change the fact he was a bear. Maybe a baby bear. The maybe-baby-bear grinned at her, exposing two rows of death-inducing teeth. Oh, god, it was gonna eat her.

  Lauren snatched her hand back, unwilling to lose her fingers because she was trying to save her pink bits from a snuffling. Getting her hands beneath her, she used them to tug her back and clear of the animal’s body.

  A woman came careening around the corner of the house, jogging when she finally spied them. “Parker Abrams, so help me!”

  The small bear swung his gaze to the woman and Lauren took her chance. She scrambled backward, struggling to get to the safety of the house.

  Fucking Van hadn’t fucking mentioned fucking anything about fucking fuckity-fuck bears!

  Her right hand touched the stairs, a low thump sounding when her palm struck wood. Oh shit, that got the bear’s attention back on her. She was gonna die. She was a bear snack or a bear meal with all of her fat and jiggly bits. God, it could live a week on her ass alone.