Brenin

by Skye Jones

She shook her head. “Let me go,” she shouted back.

  “Not like this. Get out of the car. We’ll talk, and then, I swear, I’ll take you back.”

  Don’t trust him. He’s a liar and he shifts his form, a nasty little voice whispered to her. What could be more dishonest than a creature that sheds its skin and takes on a different one? They’re all evil. The shapeshifters are demons sent to try your mind.

  What was happening to her? The voices crowded her mind, some telling her to go, others asking her to stay. The ones suggesting she stay were sweet…musical. Mozart had nothing on those voices. But the ones telling her to go were spiteful and mean. She should listen to the sweet voices, but then again, they may be a trick. Better to pick the bitter, nasty voices and go with what they told her. It’s what all fairy tales taught children, right? Not to be fooled by sugar, spice, and all things nice?

  Go.

  No, stay.

  Evil, evil, evil.

  Your mate, your lover, your match. No one will treat you as good as Brenin. He needs you and you need him. We used much magic to bring you here. Don’t leave now.

  He’ll swallow you whole, consume you until nothing of yourself remains.

  “Oh, God. Shut up. Shut up!”

  The car door cracked wide open, ripped clean off its hinges, and cold air from outside rushed in, chasing the voices away. She slumped forward onto the steering wheel, crying. Real, ugly crying, with snot and everything. She hiccupped and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her top, beyond caring now.

  “Hush, baby. Don’t cry.” Bren reached for her and unclicked the seatbelt. He gathered her in his arms and carried her into the house.

  “I’ve gone mad. I’ve always dreaded this. There’s a lot of it on my dad’s side.”

  She shook from having her biggest fear come true. Madness. What could be worse than losing your mind? Her father’s sister, and her grandfather on her dad’s side, had both spent long spells of time in psychiatric units. Her auntie thought the government was watching her through the TV, toaster, kettle, and radio, and she covered her appliances in towels all the time so no one could see her.

  “You haven’t gone mad.” Aiyana followed them, stuck right by Brenin’s side. “It’s the fairy folk. They’re making mischief.”

  “Fairies?” She laughed. The tears still flowed but this time accompanied by hysterical laughter.

  “Fuck me,” Bren swore under his breath. “Kyle, pour a big fucking shot of brandy, will ya?”

  He took her into a room she hadn’t seen before and placed her on a couch with a view out over a snow-filled garden.

  “I can make it stop. We need a ward. Something to keep the fae away.” Aiyana paced the room. “Something made from iron.”

  “I can make something from iron,” Justin said. He hadn’t spoken much in Charlotte’s time at the house, but his calm demeanor now gave some comfort. “What, though?”

  “Needs to be something she can wear all the time. A bracelet. Or a ring.”

  “A wedding ring,” Eric put in helpfully, and Brenin huffed out an annoyed breath.

  There he went again with his clear irritation at her. He didn’t want her. Didn’t like human women. She’d heard Aiyana say as much. And Charlotte didn’t need anyone’s charity. Not that she wanted him, either. Of course she didn’t. She might want him physically—the intense yearning for him grew stronger every moment—but nothing beyond. She stood on shaky legs and crossed the room. Picking up the brandy glass, she knocked the contents back in one smooth movement. The fire burned a path down her throat and into her stomach, soothing her and calming her.

  “You don’t need to do anything.” She smiled at Aiyana. “I appreciate your help, but it’s clear he doesn’t want me here.” She jabbed a finger at Brenin. “So I’ll be on my way.”

  She pushed past Kyle and out of the room. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her.

  Brenin. She knew as much without turning around. How, she had no clue, but she’d recognize his tread anywhere.

  “You’re not fucking well taking the fucking car again,” he snarled at her back.

  “You’ve the mouth of a sailor,” she shot back, somewhat pathetically upon reflection. She needed to come up with better comebacks.

  “And you are frustrating and keep doing ill-advised things. You can’t leave. The fae have you in their sights.”

  “Yes, well.” She whirled on him. “When I am out of here, they won’t have any reason to bother with me, will they? It must have been the strange hill I sat down by to watch the squirrels. They live in hills like the one I saw, right? Fairies.”

  “Fucked if I know.”

  “Do you say fuck in each sentence?”

  “Not every fucking sentence, no. Only when you’re around.”

  “Is it because you want to fuck me but are too chickenshit to admit it?” Oh, shit. Where the hell had that come from?

  Heat raced up her spine, up her neck, until her face burned with it. What a stupid, arrogant, coarse thing to say. As if he would. Yeah, he’d kissed her but nothing more, and she wasn’t the sort of girl to inspire such passion in men. Not even those supposedly meant for her.

  In this topsy-turvy world of magic and mayhem, she didn’t understand the rules.

  “It’s true, I want you. Bad.” His voice rumbled in the space between them. “But beyond the sex, there’s no hope for us.”

  “Fine by me, because I don’t want there to be anymore. You might turn me on for some godforsaken reason, but you drive me mad, too. God, I need to go home.”

  “I want you gone, too, sweet cheeks. Cool your jets and let Aiyana sort something out, and then you’ll be gone. Like a bad headache.”

  Something snapped within her. All her anger and fear and the strange, tumultuous emotions coiled within, and she raised her hand to slap him, hard, across the face. But he caught her wrist with lightning-fast reflexes.

  They stared at one another. So close now, they were touching. Both of them breathed heavily, and on a dime, her anger turned to something much more troubling. All the desire she’d been feeling, it had coiled in her gut, all warm, heavy, and erotic. Now it unfurled into something even more intense. Burning hot flames of lust stroked her skin, setting her on fire.

  She licked her lips, and he followed the movement. His features hardened and yet softened somehow at the same time. His lips parted and his eyes grew hooded.

  He snaked his arm out and traced her lower lip with his thumb. Before, in her ordinary life, Charlotte hadn’t known what to do when men did things like this. She always felt as if she were on the outside looking in when having sex. Often she became nothing but an actress, pretending to be beside herself with pleasure. Sure, she got off sometimes, but not often. And mostly, it was a miracle she got outside of her own head long enough to do so.

  All her ugly thoughts about herself would rush to the surface whenever she got down and dirty with anyone. She’d hear the names she’d been called at school. The things even her family said to her: clumsy, silly, careless. Don’t you think you should put the chocolate away? Don’t eat that, Charlie. You ought to buy some hair oil, tame that frizz. Maybe contacts would suit you better than those glasses?

  Not now, here in this small space with this big man. Now, she acted on instinct. Each part of her hummed like a well-oiled machine, tuned to one end. To mate with this powerful man in front of her. Odd choice of words, she mused. Not make love or have sex with or fuck, but mate. Elemental and animalistic, it perfectly described her emotions in the moment. Her need to become one with this magnificent male.

  His thumb dragged across the sensitive skin of her lower lip, and she set her newfound instincts free, acting on them. She let her tongue slip out and sample his skin. Salt and sweet burst on her taste buds, and she gave a soft moan before sucking his thick thumb inside her mouth. He watched, fascination written all over his face.

  She brought her hand up to his, let his thumb go, and turned his hand over, kissing his palm. He,
in turn, did the same to her, but he shot his tongue out and licked at her inner wrist, nibbling and tasting the skin there.

  “Fuck,” he groaned.

  “Let’s,” she said without thinking. The word tripped from her tongue before she had time to stop it. She wanted to, but the thought terrified her, too. Her body wanted him so badly, but her mind told her to stop this idiocy and go home.

  Bren gave a devilish grin and grabbed her hand. And the world spun on its axis.

  Chapter 6

  Everything went still. Even the air seemed to cease circulating at Charlotte’s words. Brenin didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a long moment. Let’s. A single word, but one with so many possible complications. He wanted to. More than anything in his life, he wanted to be with this female. And not simply to take her and revel in the carnal act, but because he wanted to get close to her. To know her on a deeper level. One only found by mating and joining with another person. He took her wrist and pulled her to him. Her body against his felt so damn right.

  He’d fucked before. Bear shifter females, along with human women. Females he’d liked and got on with, dated in some cases, but the sex always seemed…mechanical. None of it went beyond the physical act. It had been scratching an itch and nothing more. He did this, though, and he’d do much more than scratch any itch. They did this and he would not want to let her go. The idea terrified him.

  When she’d collapsed into a heap of sobs in the car, it tore his heart out. He’d destroy the whole world to stop her crying if that’s what it took. But he didn’t know her. They didn’t seem to get on too well. If the fairy folk had been involved in this, they had not picked well. Yes, on a physical level, he burned for her, but she annoyed him to no end at times. What with her determination to leave despite the risks and her way of pushing back at him. Although, maybe he liked that too, a little.

  Fucked. He was so utterly fucked. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.

  Because he knew one thing with certainty, if she walked away and they took this no further, he’d always yearn for her. He’d scented her. Held her. Tasted her, if only briefly. Matings weren’t like human courtships. The bond happened much more quickly. It came based on taste, scent, touch, and other, harder to define things. His bear wanted her already and so did Bren’s instinctive side. His brain still fought against it and tried to take control.

  She’d likely be feeling the same things. Their scents matched, their hearts even beat at the same speed when they stood close. These things cemented mated pairs together super quick and carried them through a lifetime of difficulties. Mates argued like any couple, but they always came back together in the end. They had no choice. Their biology primed them to want only one another, for as long as they both lived. Of course, it meant any bear shifter who lost his or her mate ended up a sad and broken creature. And he came right back around to why he shouldn’t do this.

  Shouldn’t, be damned. Her hand in his fit to perfection. Small encased in large. Soft in rough. He acted mostly on instinct. Not thinking, but instead guided by his body, he climbed the stairs with her in tow. Her breathing rate increased, but she didn’t resist. She let him guide her, and his bear rejoiced at the small victory.

  When he opened the door to his room, she gave a gasp of delight. She walked in and straight up to his photos, which adorned the walls.

  “Where did you buy these? They’re the most beautiful photographs. Wow. This person has talent.”

  He blushed. Actually fucking heated in his neck and face, which must be a first. “I took them,” he said.

  “You?” She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “You’ve got an incredible eye. But more, you’ve put real emotion into these pictures. Each one tells a story. Says something unique about the landscape. They’re kind of sad.”

  He didn’t want to go into the feelings behind his mournful black and white shots of the local landscape so he asked a question. “You an art fan?”

  She smiled then—a proper, wide smile, and it hit him like a tornado, taking him up before settling him back down in a different reality. One where a simple smile from a pretty female cracked his heart wide open.

  “I took a photography course myself, a long while ago now. I’ve always loved it, but a few years ago…some bad things happened and I became agoraphobic to a degree, I suppose. My mum bought me this camera and it helped. I became more focused on things to take pictures of than my own stupid fears. I used to take it wherever I went. On nights out with friends, I’d be the sober one in the corner, taking snaps of people having fun. I don’t have talent like you, though.”

  “I’d like to see your pictures sometime.” He realized immediately what he’d said. Saw the moment it registered with her, as her eyes widened and her lips parted at the suggestion they might have some sort of future.

  She walked to the window and let her fingers trail over the end of his bed frame. Just the sight of her touching his bed made him hard.

  “What made you agoraphobic?” He hated to think of her becoming locked in on herself, scared of the world.

  “It wasn’t full-on or anything. More like bad social anxiety, I suppose. A guy I was seeing, he did something cruel. I let it get to me.”

  “Did he hit you?” Violence swept through him, heating his blood, turning his muscles molten. He’d kill anyone who hurt her.

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  She turned away from him and looked out of the window, so he walked up to her and put his arms around her from behind. He inhaled her now familiar scent and marveled how, in mere hours, she’d become so recognizable to him.

  “Tell me what happened.” His words came out low, gentle. He wanted to hear her story, but he didn’t want to push.

  A deep inhale of breath made her soft belly push against his arms. He loved the feel of her. Her warmth, her softness, the temptation of her curves. He wanted to lose himself in her. Bury himself deep inside and hold her tight to his body.

  “I dated this guy in college. He was way out of my league.” She choked out a sad-sounding little laugh. “All the girls liked him, but he took a shine to me. At first, I do think he liked me, but when the teasing started about his big girlfriend, well, I think he took the coward’s way out. He decided to join with the bullies and not stick up for me.”

  She drew in another breath, and a soft tremor ran through her body. This story was difficult for her to tell. About to say she needn’t go on, he paused when she straightened her spine and continued. “We were out at this night club. He and I, no friends for once, and we’d been having a few drinks. The place played lots of cheesy seventies and eighties pop. All the stuff I love. So I danced away, for once free as a bird. ‘I Will Survive’ came on and I danced and sang, feeling beautiful. The dick filmed me on his phone and sent it around to all his friends with the title ‘Fat Girl Limping.’ Anyway, it kind of broke my heart. Not because I loved him or anything, but because, for once, I’d felt normal. More, I’d felt beautiful, on top of the world. I was out, dancing with a gorgeous guy by my side, but it was an illusion and...”

  She stopped midsentence, and he wondered why. Turning in his arms, she met his gaze. “Erm. You’re growling.”

  Bren realized with horror that with each exhalation, a low growl rumbled its way out of his chest. Jesus. He had it bad. One momentary image of her with some handsome, but cruel dude and his inner bear popped out of hiding.

  “I’m sorry. I suppose my bear doesn’t like the thought of you with another male. Especially not one who hurt you.”

  She smiled, a cute dimple popping in her cheek. “Oddly enough, now I know it’s not aimed at me, I like it. Makes a girl feel wanted, you know?” She laughed.

  “Trust me, you’re wanted. I’ve acted like a dick at times. But you need to know, it’s not you. It’s me. Cheesy as fuck maybe, but true. You’re gorgeous. Everything I’ve ever imagined. But you’re also human and it presents a problem for me, one to do with family stuff and my own bagga
ge.”

  She sighed. “I know I’m not beautiful, Bren. You don’t have to pretend I am. I’m not hideous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not so messed up as to think myself ugly. But no one would call me beautiful.”

  “You so fucking are.” He tipped her face up with his hand until her eyes lifted to his. “You’re absolutely stunning, sweetheart. All curves and hair and miles of pale, soft skin. I want to drown in you.”

  She sighed again, but this one held a wistful tone of longing, not the sad depression of the earlier exhalation. “I hardly know you, and this is probably messed up, but I’d like to lose myself in you, too. Even if only for a little while.”

  “Come here.” He walked to the bed and pulled her with him, sitting down on the mattress and pulling her onto his lap.

  They ought not to let this go too far, but no reason they couldn’t make out. He brushed her lips with his own and then kissed her.

  She whimpered into his mouth, and the sound, the desperate little mewl, undid him. His bear roared with need and refused to listen to any more of Bren’s caution.

  Taken over by his inner animal, Bren struggled to at least remain gentle as his hands roamed her body. They skimmed down her side to where her waist dipped in, then out over the flare of her hips. He palmed her full ass and groaned into their heated kiss.

  A hesitant hand skimmed his chest, mapping the planes of muscle and sinew. “Let me see you.” She whispered the words against his neck.

  Not needing to be asked twice, he lifted her to his side of the bed and stood. Blood pulsing in his veins, he stripped his T-shirt, to stand before her in only his sweats and socks.

  “Oh my God.” She shook her head and giggled. “You’re amazing.”

  In that moment, with her looking at him with big eyes, he believed it. His chest puffed up with pride, and he enjoyed her hungry gaze eating him up.

  “Your turn now.” He made it sound playful, but Lord, he needed to see some skin.

  She fidgeted and looked down at her knees. Shy suddenly, and heaven help him but it only turned him on more.