One True Mate 6: Bear's Redemption

by Lisa Ladew

  Decision made, he hoisted himself out of bed and smiled, feeling like a new bear.

  He selected new clothes from his dresser, carefully moved all the treasures in his pockets from old pants to new pants, then headed for the stairs, cocking his head for just a moment, thinking he heard knocking.

  He bounded up the stairs and grabbed his phone from the top step, shocked when he checked the time and realized the phone said Friday. He’d slept for three days? Blast it all. He hit his notifications. Fifty-five messages from Mac, four from Rogue, and one from Wade. None from any bears, not even Conri.

  Someone pounded on his door and Bruin jumped, then relaxed when Rogue yelled, “Come on Bru-Bru the Pooh! It’s hot out here!”

  Bruin opened the door, unable to stifle his grin at the sight of his friends. “How did you find me?” he asked as he let Rogue and Mac into the cool interior of his home.

  Mac grinned back and put out his hand. Bruin grabbed it and pulled Mac in for a bear hug. Rogue hit him on the arm as she pushed past them, her eyes greedily devouring his house, his stuff. His pictures and his hair mannequins.

  Mac let him go. “What, fucker, you knew no one knew your address? I was worried. Not cool.”

  Bruin hung his head. He’d never considered that. But then he’d never slept for three days before, either. “Sorry, wolf.”

  Mac raised an eyebrow. “The fire department claimed to not even know who the hell you are. That no one named Bruin even works there or ever has. And did you know I didn’t even know your last name? How’s that possible?”

  Bruin frowned. There were actually two of them at the fire department with his first name. And why would they try to say he had never worked there? What game was B3 running now? “Bloom,” he muttered.

  Mac stopped short on his own investigation of Bruin’s house and turned back to Bruin slowly. “Bloom, as in flower?” He stared as Bruin nodded. “Oh,” he finally said. “I guess that’s why you never told me.”

  Bruin nodded absently, although he rather liked his last name, he could see why a wolf wouldn’t. He headed for his fridge. After that powernap, he needed a lot of food and quickly. His pants were falling off him.

  Too bad there was nothing in the fridge except Conri’s favorite beer, Corona, plus one withered lime way in the back. Oh right, he’d been gone for a month.

  His stomach growled, the sound reverberating throughout the small house.

  Rogue made her way to his telescope that sat by the sliding glass door that led to the back porch. “I’m hungry, too. I would say we should order pizza, but I’d be embarrassed for the pizza man to see that welcome mat.”

  “Which pizza man?” Mac muttered.

  Rogue wrapped her hands around Bru’s telescope and moved her face to the eyepiece. “Any of them,” she said, head down, body compact as she sighted what Bruin looked at every day he was home. She stood straight and grinned, pointing at his ‘scope. “The beehives. I see them. That’s how we found you. You told Blake you watch a beekeeper on the backside of the bluff most days. I grilled him for anything you’d said about it and figured out about how far away you were and where your house had to be for you to see the back side of the bluff, and then we drove around till we spotted your car. Not too many houses out here.”

  Bruin nodded. Leave it to a cop matched with a criminal and they would figure out most anything they wanted to.

  Rogue twirled his telescope on its tripod, with an evil glint in her eye. “We’re thinking about the Honey Depot, if you’re hungry.”

  “Cub whiskers! Am I ever!” He started for the door, checking his pockets. He had everything, he hoped.

  Mac stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Hold up, Pooh-bear. First, did you just say ‘cub whiskers’? No, don’t answer that. Second, what’s with the signs of the apocalypse we see in your driveway? You know, the burnt out car, the bullet holes. You a part-time 007 out here in the sticks?”

  Bruin stared, not sure what to say. How to answer that. How to tell a cop someone is trying to kill you, but you don’t want him to do anything about it. Not really kill him though, just make him feel nervous enough to leave town.

  Mac’s eyes narrowed. “It’s that bad, huh?”

  Bruin shrugged. “It ain’t good.”

  “Who?”

  Bruin shrugged again and looked away. He couldn’t rat out another bear.

  Mac got in close. Right up in his face. “Just tell me one thing. Did you really roll my car cuz you saw a bee nest? Or did someone burn it up cuz they were trying to get to you?”

  Bruin shrugged one more time. Three’s a charm. And he really didn’t know. He’d seen a nest, but he might have told Mac a little lie about not being able to resist it. He did that. Told lies sometimes. Especially when the person he was talking to didn’t want to hear the truth. The last thing Mac wanted to hear was that there was a chance someone had been trying to kill Bruin by shooting out his tire and that’s why Bruin had wrecked his Corvette. Oh, and Mac wouldn’t want to hear that Bruin wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it, except let whoever was doing it keep on…

  “Tell me who it is. I swear I’ll fix this for you. I’ll make it stop.”

  Bruin only shook his head and stared at the floor.

  Rogue shooed them both with her hands. “Let’s discuss this over food.” She headed for the door.

  Mac glared at him and shook his head, then followed his mate out the door. Bruin grabbed his stuff and headed out with them.

  Dodged a bullet there. Hopefully there weren’t too many more coming for him today.

  He wasn’t a cat, just a bear, and who knew how many lives bears had.

  Chapter 9

  Bruin rolled down his truck window and breathed deeply, the scent of wildflowers waking him up like coffee. It was almost evening, but his body still felt heavy and groggy, like he’d slept for a week or a month. Mac drove and Rogue filled Bruin in on the pup-saga as they covered the twenty miles to the other side of town, where The Honey Depot sat nestled into the base of Blue River Bluff. He’d only gotten to eat there once, but he remembered it fondly. He craned his neck trying to see behind the restaurant, looking for the beehives, but the greenery was too thick. Blake had said that whoever owned the Honey Depot had started selling honey locally. Could she be his beekeeper?

  The last time he and Mac had been to the Honey Depot-that seemed like a lifetime ago, back before Mac had found his mate-they’d talked to a woman here in the parking lot. Lucinda. Bruin had liked her immediately. No nonsense. Short, but straightforward. She’d asked him if he was an angel and been serious. He smiled at the memory and the strangeness of the question.

  Mac pulled into a parking stall and Bruin jumped out first, unable to contain his excitement. He felt like a child on Christmas morning, and up those stairs and in the front door was his present… something better than honey and jam and pie.

  Rogue pushed at him, making Bruin realize he’d stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “Come on,” she said, and Bruin obediently followed.

  The place was busy with the dinner rush, and they followed the sign instructions to seat themselves, heading for an open booth near the windows. Bruin tried vainly to sort through honey smells, but there were too many of them. He bet that all the baked goods on the menu used only honey for sweetness, and someone who knew their honeys had been the one to decide to use so many different types. Sunflower honey. Alfalfa honey. Buckwheat honey. The scents overlapped each other, creating something new, something mouth-watering.

  Bruin didn’t realize when he first started to purr, stopping Mac’s fist neatly as it came crashing back toward him, thinking Mac was messing with him. “Oh,” he said, as the low-engine-idle came from his chest and he realized what Mac had been trying to do.

  Rogue cocked an eyebrow at him, then at Mac. “Explain.”

  Mac shrugged. “I don’t know. He did this the last time we came here too. Purred until I whacked him in the chest a good one, then he stopped.�
�

  Rogue eyed him, smiling sweetly. “You wanna stop purring, Bru-Bru?” She was the only one who could call him that.

  Bruin nodded, sticking out his chest for Mac to hit, but Rogue stepped in front of Mac. “I got this,” she said, then shot her hand out and twisted Bruin’s right nipple.

  “Ouch,” Bruin yelped, pulling out of her grasp and cupping his nipple with his hand. But it had worked. He wasn’t purring anymore. Good deal. Time to eat.

  They seated themselves in a corner near the windows. Bruin pushed immediately back to his feet. “Nature calls,” he said, spotting the restroom sign over a dim hallway. He headed that way, leaving Mac and Rogue to look over the menu.

  He entered the hallway, passing the ladies room first. The men’s was almost at the end, near another door, which opened and the most exquisitely beautiful woman Bruin had ever seen pushed out of it. Bruin stopped in his tracks and stared. She was petite, short in stature but tall in presence, her brown hair flowing down her back with the same waves that her skirt made down her body. Bruin swallowed as a rush of heat filled his chest. Love smacked him in the face, leaving him no free will, no conscious choice. Her dark, soulful, exotic eyes met his and he was instantly and irrevocably lost. He’d been waiting his whole life to meet this woman and now he loved her, would eat nails for her, would fight dragons for her, or demons, whichever was bigger.

  He scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and tried to think of something to say. Something worthy of her. Nothing came. He would have welcomed even a lie. Still nothing came, and she dragged her feet and slowed so as not to run into him, her eyes locked on his, her brows knitted together and he knew he looked scary if he didn’t smile but his face wouldn’t obey his commands and he was done for, over, completely incapacitated. She stopped in front of him, then smiled at him, a small smile, barely curling the corners of her lips, but it unfroze him and he was able to smile back. Color rushed into her cheeks and her own smile slipped a bit. She looked like she wanted around him, and he wanted what she wanted so he stepped to the left, but at the same time she stepped to the right, and there was no room in the hallway to get around him anyway, he was too darn big, but she wanted to edge by… he moved the other way, but so did she, spiking something sweet inside him.

  She laughed, the sound light and pretty, like her hair. He relaxed enough to be able to think, then moved in and put his hands on her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the air, moving back a few steps out of the hallway, then turning his body, so her back was to the restaurant and his was to the hallway.

  Bruin had lifted her easily and his body obeyed the command that had flashed through his mind before he picked her up, but the moment his fingers had touched her, things had gotten weird. Her eyes had widened, then her hands had grasped his wrists and her smile had bloomed, turning warm and amused, while he tried to keep his head.

  He’d seen something. An image. A neat little projection of what he could only assume was the future, and he had no idea what it meant or how it could possibly be true, but it made his actual vision blurry and his thoughts thick and muddy so all he could do was stand and stare as he lowered her to the floor, released his hands from her waist and let her go. She curtsied slightly, and smiled as if she were making a joke they were both in on.

  “Why thank you, sir, for your courtesy,” she said and her voice was light, sweet, feminine, and so perfect, but he didn’t know if the southern accent she said the words with was real, or part of the joke, and he couldn’t quite find any words to respond with and he knew he looked stupid, just standing there staring but he was overwhelmed, over his head, and overheated.

  She turned and walked away.

  All he could do was stare after her.

  ***

  Bruin drifted back to the table, unable to remember why he’d gotten up, glad that he’d been able to find the table again. Rogue snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Bru-Bru, you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I met a girl,” he said, his voice quiet.

  Mac squinted at him. “And she liked you?”

  Bruin nodded hopefully. “She might have.”

  Mac leaned forward. “Was she blind?” He slapped himself on the knee and sprayed laughter.

  Rogue groaned and put her arm around Bruin. “Don’t make fun of Bruin, he’s handsome.”

  Mac growled in warning, his eyes locked on Bruin’s.

  Rogue smacked Mac on the arm. “Knock that shit off, Cujo. I thought you were over your jealousy issues. Wait, not Cujo. I’m gonna call you Fluffy until you get over yourself.” But Mac’s growling only got louder, and he leaned across the table toward Bru. He and Rogue hadn’t had a mating ceremony yet, and sometimes Mac got silly. Bruin ignored him. Mac would never hurt him. He looked around the room slowly for her. Would he see her again? Was she a customer? He needed her number. What was he even doing sitting down? He had to find her-There she was, near the bar. He wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe she had just come out of the kitchen. Bruin stared at her, that rough idle erupting from his chest again, but he couldn’t pay attention to it. His eye traveled her curves, the bounce of her hair, the smile on her lips as she spoke to a man at the bar, dropping a hand to the marble there and rubbing it lightly as she spoke. Bruin groaned and purred at the same time, his rough-idle getting louder. What he wouldn’t give to be that marble. Mac growled louder to be heard over his purring. Rogue stuck her hands out and twisted both their nipples.

  The two males yelped and pulled out of Rogue’s grasp, both covering their throbbing nipple and Mac throwing Rogue a hurt look while Bruin stared at the love of his life.

  Rogue followed his gaze. “Hey, I know her. She’s really nice. Her name is… ah, Willow I think.”

  Bruin could barely think. What had Rogue said? Willow? He’d heard the name before. When? Why? The woman was heading for the front door, she was going to leave, but she would have to pass a few feet from them. Holy smokes, what should he do? He flung himself against the back of the booth, carefully arranging his legs and arms, crossing one ankle over a knee, then wrists over each other-no that was stupid. He put his hands on the table, drumming them, still watching the woman.

  “What are you doing?” Mac asked, his eyebrows scrunched up like Bruin was being very weird.

  “Shh.” Bruin shook his head at his friend stiffly. Act natural, act natural. But the brown-haired woman in the pretty skirt breezed past him like he wasn’t even there, her eyes on the parking lot, a distracted smile on her face, her expression far away.

  Rogue watched her open the door and pass through it, then turned to Bruin. “That was her?”

  Bruin nodded, lifting himself a bit to see out the window. What was he doing? He had to follow her!

  “I totally met her the last time I was here,” Rogue said. “If you want to meet her say the word.”

  Bruin grabbed Rogue’s hand. “Word, word,” he told her, unable to convey the frantic need in his soul to talk to Willow. To say even one word. But no, he didn’t have time to wait for Rogue to introduce him. What had he been thinking, letting her walk away like that? He would run after her, catch her, force out the words that filled his brain about how beautiful and perfect she was and then she would take it well, he bet. She wouldn’t pull out her emergency whistle or scream stalker into the street. Hopefully. Indecision wracked him. No, better to wait for Rogue to intro them. He shot to his feet, but Mac was already at the window, looking out.

  “Uh oh,” Mac said.

  Bruin rushed to him, unable to get out a word as Rogue came up beside him. “Oh no,” she said softly.

  Willow was next to a car, a squat, sleek sports car that screamed money and power, a man in a suit standing next to her with his back toward them. He opened her door, then ran around to the other side to get in, as a truck backed out of a parking spot, blocking their view. By the time they could see again, the sports car was backing out of the space, and Bruin’s stomach was a shriveled, hard ball in hi
s stomach.

  Eat? No way. Never again. Willow was taken already.

  A black pit opened up in his mind as he realized there was no meaning left in his life.

  Chapter 10

  Willow walked out to the car in a daze, unable to see or process the people around her. Her thoughts raced. She had to get out of the restaurant. She was so distracted by what had happened that she couldn’t block the thought-forms of the people around her. They pushed at her, begging her to examine them. If she hadn’t already promised Soroush she would go out with him, she would have been running the other way to think, to get some alone time with herself, at least for a few moments, and try to figure out what had happened.

  That man she had met in the hallway by the bathrooms, he’d stolen her ability to function. He’d been so big, so… strong, so vibrant, like he was the splash of color in a black and white picture.

  Short as she was, she knew she shouldn’t like men as big as him, but she did. The bigger the better. The brawnier, the sexier. Give her a man who could lift her over his head with one hand, and she was done for. Not that she’d met any men like that. Seen a few on TV, yeah. She always made her mother watch every country’s strongest man competition with her. The baser the competition was, the more she loved it, like she enjoyed it more when they picked up boulders than when they flipped tractor tires… or tractors.

  Men should be simple, even primitive. They should like to eat and to work and to have a cold beer in the evening. They should know how to hunt and dress an animal for dinner with their bear hands. They should like women, all women, and never, ever raise their voice to one. Willow liked intellectual discussions too, and philosophical ones, but she’d never met a man who could pull off both the brawny badass and the bookish brain. So she chose the muscles, every time.

  That guy who’d just picked her up? She wouldn’t have been able to span his bicep with both of her hands. The thought made her weak and tingly in several places on her body. He’d been tall and so broad he’d filled the entire hallway. With dark brown hair trimmed close to his skull and a neatly trimmed beard that framed his face in the most delicious way, he’d been gorgeous, and when he smiled, he had dimples, and they were lopsided. She sighed. Dimples. She loved dimples.