by T. S. Joyce
Every word of Bash’s story had broken her heart a little more. Thank goodness for the shower. If she cried quietly enough, Bash wouldn’t be able to tell. He pet her wet hair and said, “Shhh,” soft as a breath, as though he could anyway.
Bash had led a much more complicated life than she’d realized. All the shifters of Damon’s mountains had. He’d been through something traumatic but kept his head up and maintained his positive demeanor.
He and his people had been hunted like animals, and he bore the scars of that awful day, yet Bash hadn’t let the darkness poison him. There was immeasurable strength in that.
Swallowing a sob, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him, grateful he was still here, because that day could’ve ended up so differently. She could’ve never met him, could’ve never known what an incredible man he was. Her life would’ve been darker for never knowing Bash, and she would’ve never even known it. She would’ve just lived a half-life, thinking it was good enough.
She eased back and whispered, “I love your scars, Bash Bear. They mean you protected your friend and survived. They mean you’re still here. You don’t ever have to hide them around me.”
Bash searched her eyes, his chest heaving. He cupped the back of her neck, and then his lips crashed onto hers. When his tongue plunged deep into her mouth, she let off a needy sound, deep in her throat as he pushed her back against the wall. She wanted him. Needed him buried deep inside of her to wash away the trill of fear that had come with the realization of how close she’d come to losing him before she’d even met him.
He gripped her waist, harder than his usual gentle touch. She bit his lip in a tease, proof she liked him feral. His skin clamped between her teeth, she gave him a slow, wicked smile as he let off a soft growl. Hers. Bash was hers, and that included his wild side. His fingers dug harder into her waist, and she rolled her hips against him, pushing her tongue past his lips. When Bash pulled out of their kiss, his eyes were glowing. Beautiful, beastly Bash Bear. His face had twisted into something fearsome and hungry, but Emerson wasn’t scared. He was letting her see a side he kept hidden from everyone else. Chills blasted up her skin when he dipped his lips to her neck and sucked hard. She gasped in ecstasy as he pressed her harder against the wall, his long, thick erection pushing against her sex just right. Behind him, the shower steamed, and water drops raced down his taut shoulders. Slowly, firmly, he gripped her hands and dragged them up the wall until they were trapped above her head. Vulnerable. He wanted her vulnerable and trusting right now, and she fucking loved this.
“Bash,” she whispered in a pleading voice.
“Say it again,” he demanded, spreading her legs farther apart with his knee.
Defiantly, she bit his chest hard enough that he would feel her. She leaned back and lifted her chin, but didn’t repeat his name.
His breath was ragged now, and his lips twisted into a slow grin that didn’t reach the intensity of his eyes. “I like you bitey, mate, but don’t tease me for long. You’ll bleed me or keep them teeth to yourself until you’re ready.”
She dragged her attention along the edge of the burn on his shoulder. “You want more scars?”
“Just one. Yours.”
Emerson twitched her gaze to his and whispered again, “Bash.”
He rolled his eyes closed, then sighed, and when he looked at her again, they were such a light color he couldn’t pass for human if he tried. Sexy, feral Bash Bear.
Easing his hips back, he brushed the head of his cock down her wet folds, then pushed it into her, shallow and teasing. She was trembling now at the urgency of her body to be connected with the man she loved. She rocked her hips, chasing him when he pulled out. His devilish grin was back, and his face looked different now—feral and intense. He thrust into her deeper and captured her lips with his, swallowed down the moan of pleasure she let off. His hands tightened around hers over her head, and he pushed his entire length into her.
Numb. Emerson’s legs were going numb and her skin was on fire, and in her center, there was this ball of heat building to a beautiful blinding sensation. Bash’s pace was slow and calculating, made to torture. Made to keep her right on the edge of orgasm. And when she bucked and begged, “Faster,” Bash chuckled low and released her hands, then dragged her waist closer until there was no end to his skin and no beginning to hers.
Bash kissed her slowly, smoothly, his lips like water against hers. “I won’t bite you,” he promised, just like he had the first time they’d been together, as if he needed to remind his bear not to Turn her.
Safe, so safe. She was safe with her Bash Bear.
He slid his shaft deep inside her, his stomach flexing against hers with every graceful movement. He wouldn’t bite her, but she’d made no such promises to him. She wanted him to bear her mark. Wanted his skin to tell shifters he was claimed by her. Emerson drew away from his kiss and pressed her lips on his pec, right above his pounding heartbeat. His hand slid up her arm and around the back of her neck, and gently, he drew her closer, encouraging her. Daring her.
With one last smile against his skin, she bit him hard. Harder. Harder still until she tasted iron, but he held her there like he felt no pain at all. The snarl in his throat sounded possessive as he jerked his hips and thrust into her. With one last effort, she tensed her jaws, then released his torn skin. She watched three rivers of crimson wash down his chest over his perfect, puckered nipple, down the defined crease under his pec as they faded from red to pink under the water. The watered-down bloodstreams ran over the mounds of his flexed abs before they pooled where her and Bash’s bodies met. She should feel horrified. She should be mortified by what she’d done to the man she adored, but when she looked into his face, she couldn’t muster the regret. He looked so fucking proud of her. His fiery green eyes drank her in as he whispered out the words, “You. Honor. Me.”
Her eyes burned with how big this moment had turned out to be. That mark on him felt huge. Bigger than a human marriage contract. Deep down, on an instinctive level, she knew she’d just bound them in ways that would echo through their lives for always. “I love you,” she said, her murmur breaking on the emotion. With a kiss laid above the mark she’d made, she whispered, “Mine now.”
His, “I love you, too,” came out gravelly and low, beautiful. God, what his admission did to her. She wanted to laugh and cry and hug him tight because it was the first time he’d uttered those words. Bash pushed into her again, and now he wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t drawing them out. His control had slipped, and the growl in his throat had turned rough as tree bark. When he pulled all the way out and slammed into her again, she arched her back against the cold tiles, crying out his name. Bash pumped into her harder, pushing her toward the edge with every graceful stroke into her body. With a gasp, she closed her eyes and let her body take over. No thoughts, or fears, or questions were welcome here now. Only sensation, and Bash knew how to take care of her. He was so big, so thick, but the stretch felt good as he bucked into her faster. His arms wrapped around her back, Bash pulled her tightly against him as he gritted out her name, the last syllable tapering into a snarl.
Emerson was chanting nonsensical sounds now, completely out of control, completely gone, tipping over the edge as the tingling pressure in her middle built to an inferno. The first pounding pulse of her orgasm rocked her from the middle out, and with her, Bash gritted out a helpless groan and froze. His dick swelled and throbbed, and her insides went warm, then cool, then warm again with every burst of release he shot into her. Pulsing, beautiful sensation—sex hadn’t ever felt like this, wild but fulfilling, as if something about her life had come full circle.
There was no doubt in her mind her entire life, all of her choices, all of the heartbreak and triumph, had led her to this moment with him. The one. Her Bash. Her mate. Her everything.
She ran her fingernails gently up and down the uneven skin of his back and left sucking kisses on his neck as he emptied himself completely inside of her. H
er aftershocks pulsed on and on, matching his. The water went cold against their legs, but she didn’t care. Bash didn’t seem to mind either since he was massaging the back of her head now, rubbing the scruff of his face gently against her cheek in animalistic affection, coveting her. She wished she could stay here in this moment forever with Bash telling her without words that he loved her. That he adored her, and she was more than enough for him.
“I never said I love you to another girl,” he said low, his lips right near her earlobe.
Emerson hugged his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. God, what that combination of words meant to her. Hidden between each one was a secret admission.
You are my only.
She brushed her cheek against his, matching his affection, and said softly, “You’re my only, too.”
Chapter Fifteen
The last two weeks had been easily the best of her life. Emerson had somehow managed to only get a warning for the editing ‘mistake,’ and had even been given permission to submit articles. Margee had seemed excited that Emerson was taking initiative to be a voice against anti-shifter propaganda in the paper. She suspected it was from a combination of Margee’s belief that shifters deserved a fair shake and her disdain for Bartleby. In fact, Margee hadn’t been able to get through the meeting where she was supposed to give Emerson her formal warning without laughing, and she’d bought her a drink at Sammy’s Bar afterward.
With that heaviness off Emerson’s shoulders, she and Bash had made the effort to see each other every minute they could. Sometimes he came to Saratoga after a shift, but most of the time, she preferred to go to the trailer park. It felt homier there, and there was more to do. More people to see. Her friends were there. It was endless barbecues, hikes, and swimming at Bear Trap Falls. The trailer park also meant 1010, watching the baby mice grow, and making sure Nards and Nipples had good food to eat. And above all, the trailer park meant Bash could be himself. And damn, she loved when her man let her see the animal side of him. Heavy-footed, beastly-eyed, lumbering, muscled-up, loyal as hell bear shifter with a growl in his throat for every emotion. In town, he had to hide his power, hide his nature, but in the woods of Damon’s mountains, he was free to be his perfect self. It made her love the trailer park even more.
Mornings meant breakfast with Bash and sweet kisses before he left with his crew for the landing. Days were spent with him working on the job site and her editing in the comfort of his office or hanging out with Audrey when she had a day off from Moosey’s. Evenings were split. Sometimes they spent time with the crew, and sometimes Bash wanted her all to himself. And nights…nights were her favorite time of day because Bash didn’t like sleeping away from her. He would get ready for bed, curl her up against his stomach, and talk to her until she fell asleep, warm and safe beside him.
Everything had fallen right into place…
Until today.
Emerson pulled to a stop right before she reached the newly painted Boarland Mobile Park sign and shook her head. She couldn’t do this.
Another deep ache took her stomach, and she doubled over, gripping the steering wheel as her eyes burned with tears. She’d done everything right, charted her ovulation down to an exact science with Dr. Mallory, and she and Bash had started trying for a baby right on the day Dr. Mallory had said would be best. But she’d taken multiple pregnancy tests this morning, and they’d all said the same thing. Not pregnant.
Her body was like clockwork, and now, just as she’d feared, her boobs were tender, and she was feeling those deep cramps that said she would start her period any second.
How was she going to tell Bash? He would be wrecked, and she could barely hold her own disappointment at bay. Just the thought of seeing him hurt over her failure felt like lashes against her insides.
Heartbroken, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel of her little silver Toyota Corolla and let off a pitiful sob.
When the passenger side door opened, she jerked back, rushing to wipe the dampness from her cheeks. Clinton sat heavily in the seat beside her and shut the door, successfully locking her inside a tiny car with a maniac. He wore a trucker hat, holey jeans, and a loose tank top that said My Only Friend Is Beer. There was a tattoo on his ribcage, exposed under the low-slung arm holes of his shirt. It was two lines of written script font she couldn’t read fast enough before he covered it up.
“I’m fixing up my trailer,” he said, staring straight out the window.
“Okay,” she said, blinking slowly. Today was weird.
He inhaled deeply and set a yellow dandelion flower on her leg. “Bash said girls like flowers. You can stop crying now.” He crossed his arms over his chest and cast her a quick glance, then back out the front window.
Emerson picked the tiny flower off her leg and held it up. It still had the milky film on the stem where he’d just plucked it from a weed patch somewhere. She was going to dry it and keep it forever. “Thank you.”
“Not that I care, at all, but if you want to…you know…talk, you can say words to me and I won’t yell at you.”
“But you hate me.”
“Chhh,” he said, shaking his head. “I never said that.”
“But you’re always rude.”
“I was trying to chase you away.”
Well, at least he was honest. Emerson rested back against the chair and stared at the trailer park beyond the sign. “I have to talk to Bash first.”
“About how you ain’t pregnant?”
She jerked her gaze to him, and Clinton’s gray eyes locked slowly onto hers.
“How did you know?”
“I Internet searched it. Been counting down until you could take one of those tests. It’s close, and you’re in here crying, avoiding the trailer park. I’ve only seen you speed into here and basically drift your car into the carport behind Bash’s when you show up, all excited to see him.”
“I let him down—”
“Oh, bullshit. So you didn’t get a baby in you immediately. Woman, do you know how many things have to go right in your body and Bash’s to make a cub? A million things. You’re wanting to make a miracle, but sometimes it don’t happen first thing. You didn’t let anyone down. You’re going through something completely normal and, besides, have you seen the way Bash looks at you? You, Emerson. His eyes aren’t on your belly or what you can give him. Bash has wanted to find you for a long time. I promise he won’t be mad at you.” Clinton pressed himself back against his seat and sighed an irritated sound. “You know what he says up on the jobsite when any of us mention babies or when you’ll find out? He threatens to pluck our throats from our bodies if we put any pressure on you.”
“Ew.”
“What I mean is…Bash knows this ain’t a sure thing. He’s told me a dozen times it could take a hundred years for him to put a baby in you. Which is weird because you two would be excessively old to have a kid at that age, but whatever. Sometimes it’s hard for shifters to have kids, just like sometimes it’s hard for humans. Give it time. You’ll get the cub you’re supposed to raise.”
Emerson sat there utterly shocked as Clinton shoved the door open and got out.
“Oh,” he said, ducking back into the doorway. “If you tell anyone I picked you that flower, I’ll plant sticker burrs in Bash’s new yard, burn all his pizza rolls, key your car, tell everyone you wet the bed, and I’ll spit in every beer you ever drink from here until the day you die.” He gave her an empty grin, slammed the car door, and then sauntered under the entrance sign.
Well, okay then. Pursing her lips, Emerson shoved her car into drive and coasted into the park. Clinton was hammering new framework on his trailer when she walked around the front of Bash’s house, and when he looked up from his work, she waved. Clinton flipped her off, but at least he did it with a smile, so that was something.
She climbed the porch stairs, and then, stalling, straightened the rocking chairs before making her way into his trailer. Bash had music playing in his offic
e, so he must’ve been doing finance stuff. He liked to do math to Metallica for some reason. Emerson couldn’t help her smile when she saw him, nodding his head to the hard beat, his back to her, sitting in his office chair going over a complicated spreadsheet that he’d probably memorized by now. He was scary good with numbers. Which baffled her for the hundredth time on why he thought he wasn’t a smart man. He said things differently, sure, and he wanted simple things out of life, but that didn’t have anything to do with his intelligence. Not in her eyes. She hoped their future cub, or cubs if they were lucky, would be like him.
She had to tell him quick so she could stop feeling so queasy.
“Bash Bear?”
He turned in his chair, smile ready on his lips, a baseball cap on backward covering his black hair. The short, dark stubble on his jaw made his green eyes look even more captivating, and today, he was wearing a tight, long-sleeved charcoal shirt that hugged his muscles and stunned her once again that a man like him was interested in making a life with a girl like her.
The smile dipped from his face when he looked in her eyes. “It’s okay,” he said immediately, “I got you something.”
“Bash, I don’t want any presents today.” I don’t deserve them.
“I got you flowers because I thought you might be sad about not getting a baby this month.”
She frowned as he passed her by and jogged toward the kitchen. She followed slowly and teared up as he pulled store-bought red roses from the fridge.
“I bought you the fancy ones from a florist in town because it’s not your Friday flowers. I also searched the Internet for girl period stuff, and I got you a heating pad, pain killers, and chocolate, but I accidentally ate most of that on the way home. I think there is one piece left.”
