by Celia Kyle
He knew what the sound meant—knew what he was supposed to do—but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
Except Uncle Bren made that sound again. The one said that he had to run as fast as he could and find a grown up bear. That’s what it meant. Go now. Go fast. Go far.
And don’t… He did moan then because he didn’t like the next part of the rule.
Don’t look back.
Van’s eyes burned, tears making them hurt and he wanted to whine and tell Uncle Bren “no,” that he could stay and help. But then the human with the small gun looked at him, lifted his arm and was ready to shoot Van again. His uncle snarled and growled, reaching out for the bad human and he sent the man slamming to the ground. The human collapsed in a bloody heap and Uncle Bren looked at him, stared at him and gave that roar and Van knew he had to listen. He had to.
But he didn’t want to, not now, not ever.
Another one of the bad men aimed at Van, his super big gun pointed at him, while the second and third guy focused on Uncle Bren.
And Uncle Bren… He whined, he begged Van with his eyes and his low chuff, he pleaded with Van to run, so he ran and ran and he didn’t look back when he heard the first shot, or the second, or the third. He didn’t look back when his uncle roared or one of the humans screamed. He didn’t…
He stumbled to a stop, tripping over a fallen branch and he landed on his hurt paw. He wanted to cry out, wanted to whine for his mom to come make it better, but there was no one there to help him. No one but him and Uncle Bren, and Uncle Bren was…
A low, guttural moan reached Van, the sound deep and filled with sadness and he knew, knew it was Uncle Bren. Uncle Bren wasn’t dead. He was alive, and Van would go as fast as he could, faster than any cub ever, and get help. He’d…
“How many rounds you got left in that pistol?”
Pop. Pop. Pop.
There weren’t any sounds anymore. His uncle didn’t call to him and then the humans started talking about getting that one guy an ambulance before he died and maybe one of the medics could take a picture…
The soft touch of delicate fingers ghosting over his skin drew him from the past and back into the present. Drew him back to Lauren’s room, and Lauren’s bed, and sweet Lauren resting across from him. Her hand slid across his collarbone and then pet the scar that marred his right shoulder. Lauren’s voice was barely a whisper, her touch no more than a ghostly caress. “This isn’t from the fight with the hyenas.”
Van shook his head and cleared his throat, pushing past the lump that’d formed in his chest. “No.”
She leaned back further and stroked his arm until she got to his wrist. Her fingers traced the uneven bone, the knot on the left side of his right wrist. “And this…”
“When I was thrown.” His heart hammered and fought to burst free of his chest. Emotions overwhelmed him, crashed and slammed into him from all sides. “It was dislocated. It’d mostly healed by the time I found help and I…” He coughed. “I didn’t want to ever forget. I wouldn’t let them fix it.”
“Van.” So much emotion, he could read so much in the way she whispered his name. “God, Van.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. It was a long time ago.”
A bit over twenty years. Twenty two, but he didn’t want to count. Didn’t want to remember. Sometimes he tried to forget. Tried to remember the good times before… Before. He fought to hold onto the times when he’d laugh and play with his uncle, except the hatred refused to be brushed aside.
Lauren shook her head. “No, it’s really not.”
“It’s—”
She propped herself on an elbow and glared down at him, her eyes sparkling with the anger. “It’s not. You were what, four? Five? What you had to witness, what you had to experience and then you ran…” She sobbed and he reached for her, his heart breaking that she was so upset by what he’d shared. She batted his hand away. “You were a baby, Van.”
“I’m fine now.”
“You’re not.” She shook her head. “You’ve got so much hate and God knows it’s justified. I just wish…”
He tugged her close then and she allowed it, her body sinking into his embrace and collapsing against him. She was what he needed. She was the reason that hate wasn’t quite so sharp and deadly any longer. Just having her close healed him. Every second, every minute, blunted the rage a little more.
“I can forget for a while sometimes and then others… Then it’s right there in front of me. The roars, the blood, the guns.” He traced a pattern on her skin, gliding his finger along her arm. He sighed, more details coming forward.
“I waited, you know. Stuck around until they realized the one man was dead. Stayed close enough to see forest rangers come down and hold the camera while he took pictures of the other three men as they posed with Uncle Bren’s body. The ranger was one of us and he…” He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. “He took the guns away and for the first time in my life, I realized what ‘dealt with’ meant.”
He’d never ever forget those screams or the way they made him feel. For a little while, for the few minutes that the men screamed and fought a full grown grizzly, he’d been happy. It was the first time he’d lusted for blood.
A warm wetness slid over his bare chest, evidence of his mate’s tears and pain. For him, all for him.
“That’s why…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to.
“That’s why I have a problem with humans.”
“Hate them.” Her voice trembled, but remained fairly steady.
“The bear doesn’t. Not entirely. It still feels pain over Uncle Bren’s loss and a hint of loathing because we couldn’t help him. But the second he saw you, it was done. You belonged to us.”
“But the human part of you?”
“Still has trouble in certain situations. Except,” he rushed to add, “when it comes to you. You are mine, Lauren. I’ll still get pissed at humans and may even curse them, I can’t lie about that. After my uncle… I have problems. I’ve been working on them for a long, long time. I’ll probably fight them until the day I die. But I promise to give other shifter groups an equal amount of insults.”
She got quiet, eyes trained on his chest and her fingers slid over him, tracing the scars that neared his neck. Those few had been close—deep—and the poison in the hyena’s claws had nearly done him in.
“I can’t even imagine the pain, what you endured that day, but I don’t want you to regret choosing me, Van. In a year, five years, ten years, I don’t want you to look at me and think for a single instant: ‘Human.’” He hated to see the heartbreak and pain in her features. “I don’t want you to look at our children—”
“Cubs.” He couldn’t withhold the correction. Especially when talk of the future gave him hope. “Shifting or not, they’re cubs.”
“Will you hate them if they don’t shift? If they’re more human than bear?”
“Love,” his heart broke for her and the bear cursed him for the turmoil he’d rained on her. “Never. They’d be ours. Shifter or not, they’d be ours.”
“I won’t have children raised in a house of prejudice, Van.”
He covered her hand with one of his. “I can’t promise there won’t be the occasional wolf or hyena joke. But I promise you, love, there won’t ever be anything negative about humans taught to our children by anyone in our family.” He lifted her delicate hand and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “And if all else fails, I’ll have you there to keep me in line.”
“What about the rest of the clan?” A new tension thrummed through her.
“Our clan won’t say a word. If I can conquer my pain after everything.” He took a deep, calming breath. “Then they can do the same. They don’t have a right to feel the way they do. They weren’t there. They didn’t witness…” The ranger’s attack had been brutal, bloody. He’d tortured those men, destroyed them, pulled them inside out. And when it was done, he’d cut the twine holding Van’s
snout shut and carried him to the station. “They didn’t see it all. They don’t have the right to those emotions. That doesn’t mean they won’t try, that they won’t say things, but they’ll only utter the words once.” He pictured the Southeast Itan’s second-in-command, Malcom in front of him. That asshole had a lot to say about Ty mating Mia. He wouldn’t mind punching him a time or two.
“Van, you can’t beat up every prejudiced person.”
“Nope,” he shrugged. “Just the ones who come here or are near you and our cubs.”
Lauren sighed.
When she didn’t say a word, he spoke up. “Are we okay?”
“I just… I can’t even imagine… How can you even…?” She nuzzled his chest, kisses traveling to his shoulder and brushing the evidence of that day. “We’re not not okay.”
“But that’s not okay-okay?” The memories still clouded his mind, making his thoughts muddled and twisted. Van the man was as confused as his bear. Then again, his bear was confused and very, very annoyed at him. Van’s big mouth had gotten them in trouble and he’d had to crawl through a damned window. Then he’d ripped his heart out of his chest and laid it on a platter for Lauren, spread himself to her gaze and relived the past.
“That’s…” she growled and his dick twitched. He couldn’t help it. They weren’t not okay which was halfway to okay and all he knew was he wasn’t in the doghouse any longer. That meant—hopefully—cock hardening wouldn’t earn him a slap.
Lots, hopefully.
He wanted to wash away the pain, shove it back into its hell hole, and revel in life for a while. His uncle had died for Van and he wanted to embrace what he’d been given.
“Van?” She shifted against him, her fabric-covered thigh sliding along his. “Go to sleep.”
“Here?”
Another growl. “Yes. We’ll talk more in the morning. I understand better and I get that you weren’t snarling at me, but I’ve got to work through things and—”
“Naked? Work through them naked?”
Lauren stilled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Damn, that was very close to a shout. “Love, what I meant was…”
The bedroom door opened, letting hallway light into the space and revealing them to the interloper.
Van jerked up, intent on protecting Lauren from whomever interrupted them, but he froze at Ty’s voice. “First, language. The kid is down the hall and if my mate can’t scream ‘fuck me harder,’ you can’t say a regular old fuck.”
“More than I needed to know about your sex life, Ty.”
“And,” his brother growled, “Lauren, forgive him. This right here, this is the best version of Van you’re ever gonna get. He’s an ass, says stupid things, but he’s really sorry already. And that shit,” his brother coughed and cleared his throat, and Van pretended not to see the light sheen in his eyes. “It just… Give him another chance.”
With that, his brother eased back through the door, tugging on the wood panel.
Van called out to him before he disappeared. “Hey, Ty.” His brother stuck his head back in, eyebrows raised. “How’d you know I was here?”
Ty snorted. “Did you think the coverage outside Lauren’s window was magically light? Or the window was left unlocked accidentally?” His brother stepped into the hallway and the door shut with a low thunk. Though, one chuckled word did reach him. “Sucker.”
When it came to Lauren, he really was willing to believe anything if it meant he could be with her.
Gathering her close, he laid back, dragging her along with him. “So…”
“So.” She nuzzled him.
“Forgive me for being an ass and a total dick?”
“Have to. The Itan said so.” She grinned at him, but his heart became ice.
“Lauren, I don’t want—”
She nipped him. “I’m not forgiving you because of Ty. I’m forgiving you because you helped me understand where you’re coming from.” She stroked his chest again and he was beginning to like her fingers tracing his scars. It was oddly soothing, her acceptance of his past warming his soul.
“I’m cautiously optimistic about our relationship.” Her words were soft, almost a whisper.
He stroked her, hands sliding over her clothed body. He wished she was naked, bare for him. He’d lick and taste her, glory in her flavors. Slide deep into her.
Damn, he loved her. Right, wrong, or indifferent. He loved Lauren Evans. Even if it was way too early and fast.
Fuck it, he’d push his luck. “How about cautiously, optimistically in love with me, too?”
Lauren growled, but he sensed the playfulness in the sound. He also scented the heat that filled the air, the hint of joy riding on its wings and the edge of uncertainty that trailed in its wake.
She took a deep, slow breath and stared into his eyes, her unwavering gaze locked on his. “Maybe.”
“I can work with maybe.” His lips spread into a wide, goofy grin. He knew enough about women to recognize that her “maybe” meant yes. She just wasn’t ready to tell him her feelings, and he was okay with that. “And just in case you’re wondering,” he let his bear free and let the full weight of his emotions fill his features. He wanted her to see, to know, he spoke the truth. “I’m cautiously, certainly in love with you.”
Chapter Seventeen
It was the weirdest declaration of love Lauren had ever witnessed, but it was perfect. Perfectly perfect and better than any movie, and she didn’t care if it was lame and early and they barely knew each other and…
…cautiously certainly…
“Yeah?” She swallowed past the dry lump in her throat.
“Yeah.” He jerked his head in a nod and laid back, his chest deflating with a giant sigh.
…cautiously certainly…
He was hers. Right then, right there, she realized that for all his faults, for all her faults, he belonged to her and her alone. He’d experienced and endured things in his life that altered his perception and ideals. Things no one should ever suffer, child or adult. And now he was attempting to work through his horrific past.
It was time for her to get beyond her own. Being poor, enduring stares as if she was nothing better than the dirt on someone’s shoe was nothing compared to Van’s life. Her first step would be giving herself to him. Completely.
She thought about the occupants in the house, of the bears who had insanely good hearing and Parker’s little ears down the hallway.
“Van?” She fought to keep her voice steady and low, unwilling for anyone inside, or outside, the house to hear her.
“Baby?” The words were husky and deep.
“Take me home.”
He stiffened, his muscles going taut. “Lauren, we talked about the danger. You can’t—”
She reached up and placed two fingers over his lips. “No, our home.”
A new tautness thrummed through him and his cock hardened against her hip, filling and stiffening. “Lauren?”
“Take me to our home, Van. Take me there and make me,” she swallowed past the nervousness building inside her, “make me truly yours.”
“You want…?”
She reached down, sliding her fingertips over his skin, the familiar textures meeting her touch, and finally stopped when she got to his cock. She encircled his length and stroked him. He shuddered, his body trembling as his dick pulsed against her palm. “I want you. Completely.”
“It’s not good to tease a bear, baby.” He growled low and she smiled.
Pressing her cheek to his chest, she nuzzled him. “I’ve been telling you that unless you’re pushed, you’re all roar and no bite.” She nibbled his chest, scraping her teeth over his flesh. “Am I pushing you?”
She gathered his skin between her teeth and bit down. Not enough to break the skin, but enough for him to feel it. He jerked and twitched beneath her, his shaft throbbing against her hip.
“Lauren…”
“Van, unless you get me snug in our den in the next six
ty seconds, everyone in this house, and every single guard lurking outside the window, are gonna hear me scream your name as I come.”
That got him moving. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and manhandled her from the bed until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. He snared her wrist and tugged her toward the window.
“I’m not crawling out of a window when there’s a perfectly good door—”
“Faster,” he growled at her.
“Van—”
He whipped his head toward her and she noticed the flatness of his forehead and the slight protrusion of his jaw. A low growl rolled through the room, vibrating her from within. “Mine.”
The bear was making its desires known. And that didn’t scare her a bit. “Okay, you win. Out the window it is.”
The growl softened into a soft chuff and the sounds of pleasure brought a smile to her lips. “Mine.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, big guy.”
If he wasn’t so sexy, the whole “mine” thing would be annoying.
Van released her when he got to the window so he could shove it open once again. He stuck his head out, attention shifting side to side and then he was finally satisfied. Geesh.
He crawled through, landing on the solid ground with a grunt. He held out his arms, hands beckoning her to follow him. Groaning, she bent down and slung one leg through the portal, straddling the window sill.
“You know, this seemed like a good idea.” But she wasn’t that flexible. And her ass was big. Big butted women who weren’t flexible did not belong in open windows. “But the door might be better.” Van, predictably, growled. “I’m moving. But if I break something, it means no happy-fun-times for you.”
He laughed. The jerk.
He assisted her, his massive, occasionally deadly, hands gripped her and gently helped her through the window and carefully placed her on the ground. She took a moment to grin at him, the giddy excitement of sneaking out filling her. She’d never been one to creep from the house after curfew and now she was sneaking out with a boy.
That smile died a quick death.
