Don't Judge a Bear by His Cover: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (Honeycomb Falls Book 6)

by Cassie Wright

  I feel a flush of heat across my face at the memory. "Us." It feels so good to say that. How many years has it been just me? Alone in café diners, in motel rooms, driving lonely roads and shunning all friendships, all company that could lead to false hopes and broken promises? Our eyes are locked. The future, always a mystery, a blank space I had no idea how to fill, suddenly has a center, a core, around which everything can be built: us.

  Slowly, a smile turning up the corners of his lips, Torben leans down and kisses me. I feel like I'm floating, his fingers on my chin the only contact to the world, his tongue gliding across my lower lip, into my mouth. I lift my face to his, close my eyes, and allow that sensation to become my world.

  Even as I find myself sinking into bliss, a thought hits me. "Wait," I say, pulling back.

  "What's wrong?"

  "The Bear's Book Cave." I suddenly feel distraught.

  "What of it?"

  "We're selling it to my dad. To Universal Books. What will you do?"

  "What will we do," he amends firmly. "And - your dad?"

  "I - yes." I hate it. How my past reaches up like sucking quicksand to pull me back down. To sully the purity of the moment, to remind me that I can't wish away my history. It's there, waiting for me, faithful and patient and never, ever going away.

  "So Universal Books is a family business?"

  I can't quite read his tone. Wry, perhaps even teasing, but beneath that a layer of tension.

  "No," I say, vehement. "I work for him, but I told you, it's against my will." I cross my arms and hug myself, stepping to the window. I hate this. I hate how I'm not free. How my past sins are coming back to ruin this moment, to claim Torben's store, to prevent us from riding into the sunset like a perfectly happy couple.

  "Saira," says Torben, stepping up behind me. "I love you."

  The words send a shiver through me, hitting me like a blow, and I want to protest. No, you don't, I want to say. You don't know me. You don't know the first thing about me. My favorite movie, my favorite Indian dish, what my high school was like, my favorite flavor of ice cream. But I stop. I don't say any of that. Because even though we're just starting to get to know each other, even though there's so much to learn, I believe him.

  I turn to him. "I love you too." I see the same reflexive doubt in his eyes, and I can't help but smile. "I never thought I would say those words so easily. So quickly. But then, they didn't come easy." I trace his healing wounds with my eyes, seeing how they've improved even during the time we were talking. "You've shown me what kind of man you are. Loving. Honorable. Good-hearted. Generous beyond measure." My voice drops to almost a whisper, and I can't meet his eyes. "When you said you'd give me the Book Cave to free me, and told me I could go, that I was free, I knew then and there everything I needed to know about you. And what I felt when I saw you, standing there against Cassius, calm and confident and totally yourself despite all the pressure and conflict."

  I look up at him, and damn it, there are tears in my eyes. I smile through them. "I love you. And I think as I get to know you better - as we get to know each other better - I'll love you even more."

  "Saira," he says, voice raw.

  "And!" My smile turns into a grin. "It doesn't hurt that this animal attraction thing we've got going makes me want to attack you every single time I see you."

  His grin widens, and he pulls me close. "What's holding you back?"

  "Very little," I say, lips inches from his. "Mostly the fact that you've just recently been attacked for real."

  He snorts in amusement. "I told you I love you for a reason."

  I quirk an eyebrow. "Because you do love me?"

  "No, silly. Because whatever has happened to you in the past, it's in the past. The woman I'm holding is real, and I love her. You. Today. Now. Don't let your past control you."

  Immediately I want to push him away. I want to change the subject. But I can't. Not with him holding me like this, being so open, so honest. I force myself to swallow. I feel shaky. "It's hard," I say at last. "It's controlled me for so many years."

  "We'll give your father the Book Cave. That was his condition for your freedom, right?"

  I nod slowly, reluctantly. "Yes. But I don't want to. I don't want to take that from you. I want -" Even now, after all we've been through, I'm shy about speaking so openly. "I want to run the Book Cave with you. Make amends for all the bookstores I've helped sell."

  Torben shakes his head, smiling kindly. "It's just a bookstore. It's not irreplaceable. We'll give the store to your father. He can install his kiosks and upgrade the software and whatever else he wants to do, and then he'll have to close it in six months."

  "He will? Why?"

  "Why do you think my store is doing so well?"

  "I honestly have no idea. It's been the biggest mystery to me."

  "My clients aren't on the internet. Most of them don't even own a phone."

  "Your clients... are you selling books to retirement homes?"

  Torben laughs again, eyes flashing. "No. My people. There's a large and important Cairn near Honeycomb Falls. That's a place of mystical energy. Shifters from all over come to commune there with Mother Nature. Just recently there was a change in leadership. The old Cairn Elder was replaced by his son, a werelion called Alexander. He's been doing amazing work. A bunch of people have been coming through, as a result, staying at Honeycomb Hall and visiting the Cairn."

  "And buying your books?"

  Torben nods. "You'd be surprised. Werelions and werebears and werewolves like nothing so much as just lying out on a large rock basking in the sun. When we're not hunting or mating, we're pretty damn lazy. And a good book comes in very handy during those times."

  "Hunting, mating, and reading. Is that what life is going to be like with you?"

  Torben smiles. "Does that sound so bad?"

  I shake my head. "Oh, no. That sounds just about perfect."

  "So when your dad buys the Book Cave, we'll open a new place of our own. I can get some seed money from Alexander, maybe even from a few other shifters in town, like Soren. Nobody will go to the Book Cave, and after a while your dad will have to close. We'll be fine. I promise you that."

  I can't quite believe it. Open a bookstore with Torben? Pick the name, the layout, stock the shelves, create a kids' corner - all of it? I can barely breathe.

  Suddenly, I have to tell him. I can't keep it back any longer. The words spill out, all in a rush. "When I was twenty-two, I killed a woman. I was drunk, driving back home from a club, and I ran a red light. I hit her car, and she died in the hospital." I'm clutching his arms with a claw-like grip. "Her name was Marybeth Howards. She had two children and a husband. She was thirty-four, a nurse." The tears are coming, dark wet wings of panic are opening in my throat. I can't stop, the words pouring forth. "She was on her way to the hospital. She worked in the damn pediatric cancer section. She must have been wonderful. I mean, she worked with kids with cancer, and I killed her because I was drunk, I was stupid. Like that, I ruined everything, her life, her family -"

  I stop as suddenly as I began, trembling like a leaf, all the self-loathing and disgust welling up inside me like tar. Torben's eyes are wide. Will he hate me now? Feel as disgusted by me as I am by myself?

  "My father used his connections to reduce my sentence to six months house arrest and community service. It was ridiculous. I killed a good woman, and my punishment was to stay home crying in bed. Then my dad forced me to work for him. He said - he said if I didn't, he'd go to the judge and make sure I got the full sentence."

  Torben's eyes darken, and I feel a growl rumble deep in his chest. "You're kidding me."

  I hang my head. "That's why I've been doing this for the past three years. He made me swear I'd work for seven more. That's why I came to Honeycomb Falls, why I agreed to come north with you. I wanted my freedom, but..." I trail off. I rest my forehead on his chest, closing my eyes. I'm so tired, all of a sudden. Drained completely of energy. "I never kne
w what I was going to do once I was free. Travel? Disappear? Go somewhere far away and do penance, maybe."

  Torben puts his arms around me and pulls me close. I feel numb. Hollow. "I'm no good," I whisper. "I don't deserve to be happy."

  "Shh," says Torben, stroking my hair. "Yes, you do."

  I pull back, suddenly angry. "What, you're going to tell me it's OK to do what I did?"

  "Of course not." His handsome face is impassive. "Never. But forgiveness is possible. Self-forgiveness is possible. Necessary."

  "How would you know?" My bitterness makes me speak before I can think.

  "How would I know?" Torben shakes his head. "I ran with the Claw for years, Saira. I did things that I'll never forget. But I have forgiven myself."

  "How? How did you do it?" I search his face, as if the answer, the end to my self-loathing, can be found there.

  "How? Slowly. By accepting that I was young. Stupid. By deciding to try to make a difference in other people's lives. Balance the bad with good. By becoming a different person, a hopefully wiser, better person." His voice resonates, and I can hear his own pain there, hidden deep. "It never goes away, not completely. The guilt. The regret. But that's good. It shouldn't. I use those memories to keep me on the right path. Just as you can."

  I hang my head once more. What he says sounds so good. But can it work for me?

  "Saira," says Torben. I look up. "You're a good person. You made a terrible mistake. You have a debt to pay. But you're worthy of love. We all are." Tears fill my eyes again, and Torben repeats himself, saying the words I can't believe. "You're a good person, Saira."

  "I don't know," I whisper. But something feels different. Not quite a weight lifting, but a weight being shared. I've never told anybody since the accident. Never allowed myself to have friends. To relax my vigilance. But for the first time, I feel like maybe I can. Lower some walls. Trust. Love. Be loved.

  And it also feels right, what Torben said. That pain will never go away, and it shouldn't. I just need to use it, allow it to motivate me to do better, make a difference. Not allow it to break me, drive me into the ground. Ruin me forever.

  "Thank you," I whisper.

  "Hey," says Torben, lifting my face to his again. "I love you."

  "I love you too." And it's true. It's so true. I realize that that lust, that passion, that animal instinct I fought from the beginning wasn't an artificial force, a twisting urge, but a true sign that we're right for each other. Something deeper and wiser than our minds has been trying to tell us from the beginning that we're the perfect match. Only now do I see that it didn't need fighting from the beginning. That it was right all along.

  We kiss, and Torben pulls me close, his strong arms enveloping me. I hold onto him as if he's a rock and the world a raging ocean, trying to pull me from his safety and drown me in its darkness. We kiss, our lips locked, and when Torben lifts me in his arms and turns to the bed, I make no protest. My need for him is suddenly raw and painful and shockingly immediate. I need him on a soul level, beyond the physical. I need his love, his strength, his fire.

  He lowers me onto the bed, and we kiss, holding on to each other, his arms crushing me to his chest. I moan, and his lips move to my neck, my cheeks, my eyelids. My hands reach down for his belt, and in moments I have his cock in my hands, thick and heavy and rigid.

  "I need you," I whisper. I don't want foreplay. I don't want to be teased, aroused, tantalized. "I need you inside me. Now."

  Torben rises to his knees, removes his pants, and then pulls mine off. I'm burning, so wet I can feel drops running down my inner thighs. I spread my legs wide for him, and he leans forward, guiding his cock with one hand till its head nestles between my lips. I raise my hips and push up as he falls slowly upon me, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, devastating plunge.

  I gasp, unable to breathe from the intensity of it, and when he lies down over me I hug tight, pressing against him, not wanting him to even fuck me yet. "Just hold me," I whisper. "Like this. For a moment."

  His cock fills me. Stretches me. I feel him inside me, pulsing and huge, and I squeeze my inner muscles so that I grip him tightly. I wrap my legs around his naked waist, interlocking my ankles. Something within me is shifting. A knot is finally being untied. A clenched fist is finally opening. My past is losing its hold on me. I rock my hips gently, eyes closed, and focus on my love for this man. For his largeness of spirit. His nobility. His wisdom. I focus on his patience with me, his ardor, his need. I think of a life spent by his side. Of finding a way to make reparation for my crime. Of making a difference in the world. Of honoring Marybeth Howards.

  "Oh, Torben," I sigh, lust and sorrow mingling within me.

  He kisses me in return, moving us beyond words. In the end, nothing I can say, nothing he can say, will really make a difference. It'll come down to actions. To a life lived purposefully. And here, in his arms, filled with an aching love that makes it almost impossible to breathe, I believe at last that I can have a future. I can live a life with joy in it, I can be a whole person once again.

  I open my eyes. His own are only inches from mine, the now familiar golden eyes of an animal, a shifter. I see understanding in their depths, tenderness, compassion. I clench my pussy tight around his cock and something more shades his gaze: need.

  Slowly he withdraws, the control it takes making it even more erotic, then he pauses and pushes his cock head just slightly into me, past the tight entrance, then back out. Once, twice, three times he teases my pussy, and then at last he slides all the way home once more.

  I groan and throw back my head. His arms are muscled pylons on either side of my head, holding him up, triceps snarled and thick, and I wrap my hands around them, holding tight as he fucks me with long, hard strokes. It's the perfect blend of passion and love, of tenderness and tight, hard desire. I open to him, spreading myself wide, wanting all of him, wanting to give him all that I am and all that I have.

  Slow, deep, and hard. His strokes gain in urgency, and still our eyes remain locked. Our connection makes our lovemaking too intense to believe, and even though we're moving slowly, not giving way to the madness of lust, it feels even better than last night. We're both completely present, united in this moment, nothing hidden, our souls completely bared to each other.

  I feel my orgasm approach, feel his cock grow even harder, larger. Still he doesn't accelerate his strokes. Still he just pounds into me, his strength and power such that my whole body shakes under each pistoning slide. This is beyond anything I've ever felt. The slowest, hardest fuck of my life. I'm crying out now, whimpering with each pump, overcome, overwhelmed. He rears up onto his knees, lifting my hips off the mattress, and at last, oh, at last he lets go, slamming home, over and over and over again, and I'm crying out, my breasts shaking, my head tossing from side to side as with a roar he comes and sweet, blessed oblivion sweeps me away into the dark tides of love, acceptance, and bliss.

  Chapter 15

  We spend the day and night in the motel room. Healing. Recovering. Enjoying long, delicious bouts of lovemaking. The next morning we shower, dress, and after hitting a restaurant for breakfast point the pickup truck south and soon after cross back into Vermont.

  After fifteen minutes of staring out the window, I finally summon my resolve to call my father. Torben, already keying in to my moods and thoughts, stays quiet, giving me space. I dig out my phone, frown at it, then dial the number from memory.

  "Report," comes the dry voice. As always, I feel a wave of revulsion and love at the same time. It would be so easy to hate my father. But his willingness to let me go makes it hard to do so.

  "I'm done. The owner of the Bear Book Cave is willing to sell." I don't want to say Torben's name out loud. Doing so would feel like sullying it.

  "He is? Excellent. I must admit I'm surprised. I pegged him as a hard sale. Well done."

  "Thank you." The words are bitter. I don't want to be thanked for this. "So we're done? We're quits?"

 
"Well, not quite."

  Those words make me feel like I've swallowed a quart of vinegar. "What? What do you mean, 'not quite'?"

  "Saira, you've shown yourself to be incredibly competent when you're motivated. You're a natural saleswoman. You can read and turn people to your point of view like no other. I can't afford to let you go. Instead, we need to work on your motivation."

  I can't think. I can't breathe. "You're kidding me."

  "What if I begin donating a percentage of our profits to a charity of your choosing? Would that spur you on?"

  I don't answer. My face has turned to stone. I've gone numb, through and through.

  "We could arrange a flexible work schedule. Generous vacations. Or if you like, I could pony up some starting cash for you to start a side business of your own. By the time you retire from Universal Books, you could have your own thriving business to turn to."

  "You bastard," I whisper, tears finally forming in my eyes. "You promised."

  "Grow up, Saira." His voice hardens. "Stop talking like a child."

  "No, you promised!" I almost yell, leaning forward, clutching the phone so hard the plastic protests. "You promised!"

  Torben pulls over onto the shoulder, his face alarmed, but there's nothing he can do.

  "Let me remind you, Saira, that you are only free due to my intervention. Do you enjoy watching the sun rise? Do you enjoy choosing what to eat, where to go, how to live? I only have to snap my fingers, and your life will be ruined forever."

  "Bastard," I whisper. "I should never have trusted you." I don't say this last to my father. I whisper it to myself.

  "Saira, you're clearly emotional right now. Call me when you've calmed down, and we can talk like adults."

  "No." I sit up straight, pushing back Torben's hand as he goes to comfort me. "I don't trust you. I never should have trusted you. I never should have turned to you for help. I should have faced justice for my crime. Well, you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and your money and your 'friends' who helped me out. Turn me in. Do what you have to. If the judge reinstates my sentence, I'll do my time. And I'll do it gladly. Because I earned it. I've been living on borrowed time. But I'll be damned if I'll work for you for one more second. You hear me, Dad? Loud and clear?"