The Bear Shifter's Virgin (Fated Bears Book 1)

by Wylder, Jasmine

  As she left the room, seven hours after she’d first entered it, Ambrose walked with her.

  “I’ll buy you a drink,” he said with a smile, “to celebrate.”

  Eva was tempted, he was so extraordinarily good looking and his voice could probably make a room full of women take off their clothes for him, but that was just the problem. Eva realized that if they were going to work together then she had better get her heart out of the way.

  “No,” she sighed using all her willpower. The night air was bracing as they walked into it. “I need to rest this,” she tapped a hand to her throat, “I should be getting home.”

  “Is this because of Tessa?” Ambrose tilted his head.

  “Who?” Eva pretended not to understand though she knew exactly who he was talking about.

  “The girl—in the hall—the one I was kissing?” Ambrose smiled wider the longer Eva pretended not to understand.

  Eva dropped the pretense, “Fine. Yes, it is.”

  Ambrose nodded knowingly.

  “I guess that makes me some sort of prude or something but I don’t care… I would rather not get attached to someone who is not attached to me.” Eva straightened her spine though she felt anything but dignified.

  “That’s fair enough, I guess.” He walked forward with both hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I’m just disappointed.”

  Eva gave him a long glance. “I’m sure it won’t last long,” she said before breaking away into the night.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as Eva returned to the East Side and to her apartment, her voice began to leave her again. There was something strange going on and she had to find out what it was.

  Thinking it over Eva first decided to take the subway straight back to the Metropolitan Opera House. Standing outside of the building she waited. Nothing happened. She supposed it was possible that the charm only worked on her voice once she was inside the building.

  Eva paced outside trying to think of the exact circumstances of her voice returning. The only thing that seemed perfectly plain was that Ambrose seemed to be part of the charm. She’d had her voice in his apartment, she had her voice in the opera house the night he’d performed, and she’d had her voice during her audition where he was present and accounted for.

  How was that possible? It had to be some sort of psychological phenomenon, didn’t it?

  Eva walked slowly back to her apartment, her mind moving far too fast to be shut into a subway car.

  That night Eva couldn’t sleep. Her mind was all over the place. Ambrose was finishing his run as Don Juan and rehearsals for the new show wouldn’t begin for three weeks. Eva knew she had to find out exactly what was going on with her voice long before the beginning of the show.

  Eva sat up in her apartment with La Bohème playing softly on her record player. She sipped at a mug of hot chamomile tea and tried to think about something besides her strange problems with her voice and what Ambrose could possibly have to do with it.

  She was still sitting wide awake when the sun rose the next morning. Eva went straight to her shower, cleaned off, changed, and left her apartment. She knew she would have no problem finding Ambrose’s building again. Everything from that night was etched so distinctly in her mind.

  When she arrived on the fourth floor Eva got out of the elevator and took a deep breath. She stared at Ambrose’s door.

  Immediately she hesitated, this probably wasn’t a good idea.

  Maybe, if she just stood outside of his door her voice would do something?

  Eva imagined Ambrose walking out of his apartment to see her staring at his door and humming Puccini. No, she would just think of an excuse.

  She couldn’t find her… her earring, and she thought she left here… she could say it was a family heirloom, something that would warrant an early morning apartment search. Not a great pretext for the early morning visit but not terrible either.

  Pushing her hands against her hips she moved forward and knocked on Ambrose’s door.

  She heard nothing from within so she knocked again with more severity.

  There was a long minute of waiting and Eva was just about to leave when the door opened and Ambrose filled the frame. He was shirtless, just like the first time she’d met him face-to-face. She tried not to look at his strong torso, muscles gleaming in the half-light of the hall.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” Ambrose looked happy enough to see her and his smile made Eva weak. She felt an impulse to fall into his arms, to rip off her clothes and take him right there in the hall.

  “I lost an earring… an important family heirloom.” Her falsified story rushed back to her but saying it out loud made the whole thing sound preposterous. But her voice—though her words might sound preposterous, the voice that said them was clear as a bell. Eva wondered at it. Here he was and there was her voice, greeting him in perfect clear tones.

  “You would like to look on the floor?” he asked. Eva nodded and Ambrose opened the door to her.

  Just as she walked in a woman walked through the hall. Dressed only in an oversized shirt, her hair askew, Eva understood at once that the woman had spent the night. The woman looked Eva over without much interest and continued on her way.

  Eva turned back to the front door.

  “But your earring?” Ambrose asked and Eva knew that her false story had not fooled him. Feeling a burst of indignation at being called out on her fake errand Eva dug in.

  She moved briskly into the music room. She looked briefly at the statue, the music books, the piano, and the ever memorable Persian rug. Her skin glowed hot. She got on her knees and looked around the rug, feeling with her hands, determined that she should not let Ambrose call her out on her ruse.

  “What does it look like?” Ambrose asked as he watched Eva search, he did not offer assistance or try to look himself.

  “A little pearl, a family heirloom,” she repeated the word. Perhaps it was the word heirloom that made her sound false. Eva described an earring that did actually exist but was now safely in her jewelry box at home.

  “Hmm, I haven’t seen anything like that,” he said, as if he found random earrings on his floors all the time. This inflamed Eva all the more. Of course he found stray earrings, and stray panties, hair clips, lipsticks, and probably stray women as well!

  Ambrose sat on a nearby chair. “In fact, I don’t remember you wearing any earrings at all when you were here.”

  Eva felt her face grow pink, “Well I don’t see it.”

  “Perhaps you want to look in the library?”

  Ambrose had just made it to his feet when the woman walked into the room. She was fully dressed now and Eva wondered at her making such quick work of it.

  “I’m meeting some friends for breakfast.” The woman didn’t look at Eva. She was French with an accent that probably made men go wild. Her bronze hair was cropped tight to her head, and her thin frame was not unlike that of the infamous Tessa.

  Ambrose walked the woman to the door and Eva heard a few murmurs then the sound of lips meeting skin. Then the door was closed and Ambrose was back.

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?” Eva felt sick.

  “Don’t I?” Ambrose asked easily.

  “What happened to Tessa?” Eva had been turning the name over all night since Ambrose had said it.

  “Cecile is visiting from Paris for a few days on business,” Ambrose said as explanation. Eva waited for more but Ambrose said nothing else about it.

  “You really are…” Eva wanted to put Ambrose in his place but she could tell by the expression on his face that nothing she said would perturb him and would only invigorate her own wrath.

  Eva walked back to the library and again went about her search. This time she really did feel like she was searching for something but she couldn’t say what it was.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Eva turned, she really would have liked some but she could not bear to give him the satisfaction.
“No,” she snapped the word then pursed her lips together.

  “I don’t suppose you would mind if I had some?” He turned and left the library and Eva, against her better judgment, followed him.

  “The other night, when those men approached us, you…you…” Eva felt like a little dog yipping at the heels of the postman.

  “I saved your life? You’re grateful? You want to thank me?” Ambrose said without turning around.

  “You were stronger than…than any human I’ve ever seen. Why?” Eva stopped short of running into him when Ambrose began pouring coffee into a mug.

  “Why am I strong?” Ambrose turned to her, his smile not as casual as before.

  “Why are you always so cold to the touch?”

  “Perhaps it is a circulation issue.” He leaned back against the counter, mug in hand.

  “Why do you have a statue of man biting a woman, and a book that says Ambrose Leroy is the Vampire King of the underground?” Eva’s words hung on her mouth and as she looked at Ambrose a horrifying understanding washed over her. She’d known all along hadn’t she?

  “Let me tell you a story,” Ambrose shifted. He turned and poured a second cup of coffee then handed it to Eva, “Sit down.”

  “I don’t want it.” Eva felt her chest heaving and she realized that she was scared. Scared of the story he might tell, scared of what she might already know.

  “Yes you do.” He placed the mug on the counter in front of a seat and Eva found herself sitting down in front of it.

  Eva picked up the mug and took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and brought her mind into sharper focus.

  “You haven’t heard the story line for Luciano’s new opera yet,” Ambrose said.

  “We can talk about that later.” Eva put the mug down again, ready to stand up, ready to run out of the apartment and never return.

  “In the new opera I will be playing the Vampire King. King of the underground—King of the darkness.” Ambrose let his words fall and Eva stayed put. “He has found the perfect woman, a perfect mate. The woman, Lucretia, has an amazing gift, her voice, but she finds she has problems with her voice. She is an innocent, not of the darkness and not of the light, but she is being pursued by dark forces that steal her voice from her, leaving her without her most precious instrument…song.”

  Eva felt her stomach squeeze. Goose bumps rose over her arms and a shiver ran from the base of her spine over her entire body.

  “The creatures that take her voice will also take her life,” Ambrose looked directly into Eva’s eyes. “But she finds that she is safe in the presence of the king. When she is with the King of the darkness her voice is restored and the creatures of death cannot get at her.”

  Eva’s head began to spin, she needed air, she shouldn’t be in Ambrose’s apartment, what was she doing here?

  “How does the story end?” Eva heard her voice, shaky and scared.

  “There are two possible endings, she may give over to the creatures who bring her death, or she may be inducted into the world of darkness to sit with her king. She will choose a world of eternal song with the King of the darkness or she will choose to drift into a different darkness, the darkness of death, without song or voice…”

  Eva stood up, the stool she’d been sitting on clattered to the floor but Eva did not turn to pick it up. Her head was full and spinning.

  “I have to go,” Eva walked from the room. In the back of her head she heard Ambrose following her to the door.

  “Let me walk you home,” Ambrose’s hands held Eva’s shoulders.

  Eva pulled away, “No.” She walked out of his front door and stood in the hallway. She could feel Ambrose’s eyes on her back.

  “I’m not sure I want the role of Lucretia anymore,” Eva heard her voice fill the hallway. She did not turn to look at Ambrose. “I’m not sure…” Her thought faded and she walked down the steps, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

  Chapter Six

  Eva left the building, her body weak, her mind trying desperately to make sense of what she’d just heard.

  It’s an opera, a story, it isn’t real , she told herself. But the sinking feeling, the tightening of her muscles didn’t go away.

  What would the world be like if she weren’t able to sing anymore? People started over every day. Professional athletes lost their ability to perform, artists lost their muse… they survived, didn’t they? Wasn’t that the foundation of the human condition, survival? To take what they were given and make the best of it?

  Every day people were faced with stark realities, every day people had to learn how to live without the possibility of their dreams, why should she be the exception? Eva exhaled a tenuous breath. Who was she kidding? There was nothing else for her.

  Eva stopped walking and sat down on a bench in the park. Without even testing out her voice she knew it was already gone. She could feel the constriction in her throat, the clawing, scratching sensation that climbed nimbly through her vocal chords. If she tried to speak or sing now it would only come out as a frog’s rasp.

  What was on the other side for her? If she left this opera, turned away from Ambrose then what would she have?

  Nothing.

  The answer came upon her like a cold rush of water washing over her. Despair found her. The same feelings she’d had when she left the doctor’s office arose. Her life was over. She had come to the end of a craggy cliff and now she was looking over.

  Inhaling very slowly, she opened her mouth and exhaled. She had to think, had to clear her mind.

  A gray mist had begun to settle over Central Park as Eva sat. She tiredly looked both ways down the path. The memory of the two men from the other night brushed against the back of her mind, the fear and panic they’d first inspired when she’d seen the knife the one man had brought with him. Despite the memory of her fear for bodily harm, Eva felt too tired to get up.

  She felt another fear overwhelming her every heartbeat. The fear of losing her voice. A fear that numbed her and made her want to sink into the bench she sat upon, never to get up again.

  With a force of will that the action hardly warranted, Eva pushed her body to the edge of the bench, then pushed herself to stand.

  A bridge stood off in the distance, she couldn’t see it through the fog but she knew it was there all the same.

  A world without a voice, a world without a song, her mind rolled the words around, trying to imagine such a world. But all she could see when she looked into the silent world of her future was a dark gray sludge. The sludge covered everything, the walls of her life, the dreams she’d had as a little girl, it suffocated the life right out of her. Then, an inkling of something surfaced, there is always Lucretia…there is Ambrose… it is possible… the thoughts tapered off.

  Eva moved slowly through the park. She heard a dog barking in the mist but the mist was too thick for her to see any dog or owner. A light rain began to fall as Eva moved forward. There was a sound behind her and Eva turned to look into the mist but saw nothing.

  Leaning over, Eva grabbed a heavy rock the size of her hand. She looked it over then put the stone in her pocket. She plucked another one from the side of the path and filled her other pocket. She picked up several more and put them into the pockets that lined the inside of her jacket. She buttoned the coat to the top and pulled the sash tightly against her body before stepping onto the base of the bridge.

  Her shoes were the only mark of sound around her, a hollow and lonely sound.

  As Eva got to the middle of the bridge she felt a tight hold on her body, but there was no one there.

  She grasped at the rail and leaned over, looking into the water that seemed to open its arms to her. How easy it would be to let herself fall in, she would be like a stone herself, drifting to the bottom where she would never have to live a life without her voice.

  Eva didn’t want to stay around long enough for the gray sludge to take over her life. Without music, without her voice she didn’t even want to be
alive. Eva stepped up, pushing herself on top of the stone wall. She moved her legs to the other side and looked again into the water below her.

  The rain was racing down onto her face. Her hair began to stick to her neck and cheeks. Her body was feeling at one with the water and she hadn’t even entered it.

  She felt the tight grasp of hands on her shoulders, but saw no hands there. Then, just as she began to wonder, she felt a push.

  Her body sprang from the bridge and in the snap of a moment Eva knew she didn’t want the water. She didn’t want eternal oblivion. She wanted to live.

  Her fingers reached wide and her hands grasped for the stone. Her fingers held tight, but her body was heavy, so heavy, too heavy to hold. The rain poured down and her hands began sliding down the stone.

  Just as she was about to let go, to give into gravity, to the rain, and to the water waiting below, she felt another grip.

  A real hand was holding her wrist. She looked up and found Ambrose leaning over the wall. As if she weighed nothing at all, he pulled her up by the arm, grabbing the rest of her body with his free hand when she was close enough for him to hold.

  Eva fell sobbing into his arms.

  Heavy, full breathes of panic pulled into her lungs and she shivered all over as Ambrose moved a hand over her head.

  “I was just…” She looked up at him. “I didn’t… I just felt this awful silence…this…”

  “Don’t explain, you can tell me everything later.” Ambrose held her close again then lifted her off her feet. “Right now I think we should get you home.”

  Ambrose walked with Eva in his arms, across the bridge, across grass, across the park. She laid her head on his shoulder and let herself be held, let herself be carried. It felt like a complete abandonment of her worries, at least for the moment.

  When he reached the edge of the park she put a hand to his chest, “I can walk now.”

  Ambrose put her feet down. They could barely see outside the thick mist. He kept a hand around her body as they walked across the street and to her building.