Bearing His Sins

by Eve Langlais

  But the thing scarier still?

  What if she walked away?

  When Cole had first encountered Anja—was it only a few days ago?—he’d been simply a hired killer, doing a job, a job he found himself reluctant to complete. Working for money was fun, until he’d realized money didn’t buy happiness.

  All his life he’d scoffed at the idea of a true mate. How could there be one woman, one being, who was awesome enough he’d want to keep her forever? Impossible to imagine. Wouldn’t it get boring? Then again

  …

  I eat peanut butter on toast almost every single day and love it still.

  The feel of a thundershower on my skin never fails to delight.

  And that cracking of a can of fresh soda where the popping bubbles get up your nose and that first sip makes your eyes water. He still loved that feeling.

  Why couldn’t he have it for a woman, especially since what he felt toward Anja was so much more than anything he’d ever experienced before? She consumed his thoughts. Stimulated his mind. Ignited his lust. She was a part of him now. He’d licked her. She’d licked him back. They owned each other—body, spit, and soul.

  “I don’t know if I would want to live here. It’s not very inviting.” Anja wrinkled her nose. “And it’s old. Like probably missing-basic-conveniences old.”

  “We could tear the shack down and build something modern.”

  “Keep speaking, boy. It is obvious you do not want to live until morning,” Matvei remarked as he headed up the grand porch steps composed of layered stone slabs leading to the door. It swung open at his approach.

  “I heard that, Matty! Do not threaten my future grandson-in-law.” Blocking the entrance was Anja’s grandmother, wearing another voluminous black dress, arms crossed over her chest, a thick woven shawl around her shoulders. He wondered what the woolen covering hid today. A flamethrower, perhaps?

  “You!” Matvei spat. “What are you doing in my house? You have a lot of nerve coming here after what you did.”

  “After what I did?” Her voice rose in pitch. “You are the reason I had to leave. I wasn’t about to see my granddaughter’s life put in danger because you couldn’t let two lovers be together.”

  “Are you still harping on that, woman? Pyotr made a promise to another woman. A promise he chose to honor.”

  “A promise that should have never happened,” Nonna spat. “Helga deserved better than that.”

  “Perhaps she did, and perhaps things might have been different if you’d not taken Helga and the unborn child away.”

  “What else could I do to ensure no one would use Anja as a pawn? We both know Pyotr’s fiancée and her family would have never let the child live.”

  “She is my granddaughter. I would have protected her!” Matvei’s face turned a mottled red as he yelled, and Cole found it interesting how one little old woman with simple words could reduce him to a spitting rage.

  “Protect her how?” Nonna’s lips pulled into a sneer. “You are the problem. The fact she’s related to you is why these attempts would keep happening. It’s why I took her away, and would have stayed away if you hadn’t found us. You should have left us alone.”

  “What did you expect me to do? She’s my blood.”

  “Everyone is allowed a fault.” Nonna leaned forward and, despite her shorter stature, oozed more menace than a rabid bear on ’shrooms. “My fault was in letting you live.”

  “Maybe you should have killed me, because you certainly fucked me over when you left … wife.”

  Everyone could see the shock on Anja’s face as the realization that the man she’d heard about her entire life, her perfect dedushka, her supposed dead grandfather, was standing in front of her. Very much alive.

  Her shock was the only thing that kept Cole from clapping his hands at the shocking twist.

  Anja spun on her heel, ignoring her grandmother’s cried, “Lapushka, my sweet. Stop. Let me explain to you.”

  “Fuck you,” she yelled over her shoulder as she marched off down the drive. “Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck me. Argh.”

  When Matvei and Nonna started to go after her, Cole stopped them. “Don’t.” In her state of mind, no good could come of it. Cole would know. Betrayals by those closest to a person hurt the most.

  “I need to explain—” the old woman stuttered, looking all of her frail years for once.

  Cole interrupted. “Explain what? That you lied to her? That you both majorly fucked up with no regard to her feelings and needs? I thought I had a messed-up childhood, but congrats, I think you made an even bigger mess of Anja’s.”

  “I did what I had to,” the old woman said, anguish pulling her lips down at the corners.

  “You were selfish keeping her from her family,” snapped Matvei.

  There was blame to share for everyone. “And you were an asshole for pushing Anja’s dad to be with another woman. She is right. You both fucked up. You both meddled when you should have left Anja’s parents to work things out on their own. Perhaps they would have stayed together, or perhaps not, but neither of you gave them a choice, and that girl”—he pointed in the direction she’d gone, the woods having swallowed her form as she stalked off in anger—“was deprived because of it. Now the question is: What will you do to fix it?”

  “Buy her something expensive,” Matvei suggested, only to spit out a curse as Nonna slapped him in the head.

  “Buy things. It’s always buying things with you. Jewelry and cars can’t fix feelings. Not everything is about money.”

  “You liked my money well enough when you were spending it,” snapped the elder Tygrov.

  “While you both hash out your obvious issues as a couple, I’m going to go find Anja before someone else does.”

  “What are you implying?” barked Matvei, his brows beetling. “She is safe here. She is on Tygrov land.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t mean shit to me. So I am going to hunt my woman down, and while I’m gone, smarten the fuck up, or I will kill both of you. For free.”

  A suave killer never allowed himself to run when in pursuit. A certain decorum was to be expected; however, within minutes of entering the forest, the almost barren branches creaking overhead, the air crisp, his gut clenched and his bear whispered, Danger. He couldn’t say why. There was no scent but that lingering behind of Anja’s passage. The leaves underfoot proved noisy when he stepped on their crisp carcasses, and yet his were the only steps he heard. It was if Anja had disappeared into thin air, and when he came to the stream, he realized what she’d done. Clever girl, using the water to mask her scent.

  She was good.

  He was better.

  She had a killer on her trail. Given her skill at hiding her tracks, he’d need to pull the big bear out. Cole took a moment to strip and folded his clothes in a pile that he placed on a rock. The brisk air pimpled his skin, but excitement kept him warm.

  We’re going on a hunt.

  It took him only a moment to coax his inner bear forth. The shaggy beast never hesitated at a chance to drive their body, and Cole had long ago gotten used to the pain of change. Every time, as his skin grew fur and his limbs reshaped, the agony reached a purity that stole the breath and then faded abruptly. Faded and was forgotten until the next time he swapped skin.

  Giving his big shoulders a roll, he lumbered into the chilly stream, the fur on his paws instantly soaked, but he wouldn’t have to stay in for long. Only long enough for him to catch his mate’s trail again. Despite her tricks, the faintest hint of her hung in the air, and he followed it.

  His mate had moved quickly, hopping out of the stream less than a quarter mile down onto some rocks, then climbing through some fragrant brush that did much to mask her scent. But he didn’t give up. He watched the ground, seeking the faint scuffs and bent foliage that would show her passage.

  During his pursuit, he found several bodies, their eyes staring sightlessly, their throats cut, but these were not dead by her hand. Someone with claws had k
illed the sentinels in these woods.

  The woods were compromised, and Anja was in danger.

  A copper scent brought him to another body, not a guard this time, he’d wager, given the camouflage clothing. He found traces of Anja here, a few strands of hair, a sharp burst of fear and anger still perfuming the air. A bloody blow to the head had downed the fellow on the ground, but she’d left him breathing.

  Sloppy.

  Cole fixed her mistake before moving on, her trail now easier to follow. But she’d moved fast, faster than he would have expected.

  Cole quickened his own pace, but he wasn’t quick enough. He burst from the woods and found a section of the road that wound into the property. The scuffing of the ground on the shoulder showed a struggle. He also found a body that he’d wager belonged to Anja’s enemies, yes, enemies, because, make no doubt, more than one had come to brazenly fetch her. He could tell by the scents and markings that she’d fought hard, but they were too many—and I wasn’t there to protect her.

  His first real job as a protector, and he’d failed. The enemy had carted her off through a short section of woods to a road bisecting it. They’d left in a car, the faint traces of exhaust still lingering in the air. She was gone, and Cole had no idea where they’d taken her.

  But I will find her. As soon as he got his hands on his phone. The dress Anja wore wasn’t just sexy. He’d installed a tracker inside.

  Time to go hunting. And kill, because Cole was done playing nice.

  CHAPTER 12

  In the movies, the heroine usually woke in a cell and could wail about her fate while gripping the bars of her window.

  In reality, Anja woke tied to a chair, needing to pee, with something cottony stuffed in her mouth. The gag wasn’t as disturbing as the white gown billowing around her legs, legs she could only kick. A futile gesture since all it did was cause a ruffling wave effect in the crinoline.

  Who the hell wore crinoline? Add to that the horrendous gown had an awful fit that strained over her breasts and gaped at the back—not by design, she’d wager. The dress appeared made for someone smaller. More disturbing than the wearing of someone else’s clothes, though?

  Someone dressed me. Not just any dress. They had the nerve to put her in taffeta.

  What was the problem with denim? Did no one believe in letting a woman wear comfortable jeans?

  Then again, this was her wedding day, or so the man in the tuxedo seemed to indicate as he stopped in front of her. Tall and reed thin, with a hairline that had receded past the point of return, she recognized his hawkish nose. The ever-annoying Sergei. Just the man she was looking for. Of course, when she’d imagined this moment, she was usually straddling him with a knife at his throat and a knee in his man parts.

  But the day was young. Or was it late? She had no idea how long she’d spent knocked out after those thugs accosted her in the woods.

  “About time you woke.” He had the nerve to look annoyed that his drugs had worked. “We can begin.”

  Begin? The thought didn’t even fully percolate before hands gripped her chair on either side and lifted, carrying them both to the front of the church, past wood pews, their empty rows polished and lacquered a dark gleaming brown. Stained-glass windows filtered in daylight, illuminating the space in a rainbow.

  They’d brought her to a church. A holy place, and despite apparently being descended from the disciples of Satan—both her grandparents deserving of an award for their subterfuge—Anja didn’t burst into flame. Neither did the guy waiting impatiently at the altar.

  Personally, if Sergei was in a rush, he should have chosen someone other than the decrepit old man in the cassock who wavered on his feet behind the altar. She was pretty sure the priest was almost asleep, hard to tell with those bushy white brows.

  If Anja were naïve, she’d expect this man of God to show some concern that the blushing bride was bound and gagged, but without even the slightest glance in her direction, he instead made the sign of the cross and began the marriage ceremony in Russian, using the slowest cadence she’d ever heard.

  And she meant slow, enough that she glanced around and cataloged the old church. It was empty if she discounted Sergei and his two men. Given he’d sent more guards than this to kidnap her, she surmised he had more of them stationed outside.

  How brazen of him to kidnap her from her grandfather’s property. Her own fault for stalking off alone after finding out about her grandmother and the lies.

  So many lies.

  Did the fact that babushka was a Tygrov mean she had more family on her mother’s side? Her grandmother had always claimed she was the only family Anja had left, but it turned out her word was worth shit.

  People all around her lied. Cole doesn’t. He had a bluntness to him that she appreciated. He didn’t hide what he thought. Or felt.

  And he feels something for me. He wouldn’t allow her to remain a prisoner of this asshat.

  At any moment she expected Cole to come riding to the rescue. No, he wouldn’t ride in like a hero. He’d find that emasculating. He’d come in guns blazing. Except, he didn’t have a gun on him that she knew of. But he could probably get one.

  Then again, why get a gun when he could turn into a bear and maul anyone in his way? Such a big, shaggy beast with thick, lush fur, impressive strength, and—

  “Are we boring you?” Fingers snapped in front of her eyes.

  She cocked her head and tried to tell Sergei an eloquent fuck-off with her eyes. Apparently he’d prefer to hear it, as he tugged the gag from her mouth.

  If he expected her to beg or plead, he’d wait a long time. “Untie me.”

  “Later. First, you will say ‘I do.’ Make it loud and clear. It’s being recorded.”

  “Bite me.”

  “Oh, I will bite you, among other things. A bitch like you must be put in her place. And I will record it so that I have all my proof the marriage was consummated. But first, you will say ‘I do.’”

  She leaned forward. “Fuck.” She smiled. “You.”

  “I’ve had enough of your antics.” Sergei’s lips peeled back over his teeth, teeth sharper than they should be. His arm reeled back, and she noted his nails elongating into claws. Another shape-shifter? What the hell? First her neighbors, then Cole, and supposedly her grandpa. Now this twerp?

  His hand turned furry, not that the soft layer would matter since the claws on his mutant hand would probably cause some damage. He started to bring his arm forward, except his hand never connected because it developed a perfect coin-sized hole. It took only a moment before the blood began to stream and the screaming started. Not by her, of course. She laughed.

  Her bear had arrived. With a gun. She was only a little disappointed he hadn’t brought out the bear.

  “Who dares?” Sergei yelled, spittle flying as he held his wounded hand to his chest.

  “I dare.” Cole vaulted down from the balcony on the upper level, landing with knees bent, his eyes never leaving them. “You know, I was willing to let you marry her, but I have to draw the line at hitting.”

  “You meddle with things you shouldn’t.”

  “No, you touched someone you shouldn’t have. She’s mine.”

  “I am,” she confided to Sergei. “He licked me.”

  “My men will kill you,” shouted the other man as he backed away.

  “Yeah, about your guards.” Cole shrugged. “They’re kind of dead, which you really should thank me for because they sucked at their jobs. I mean, none of them even saw me coming. Then again, few people ever know I’m there. Just like you never knew I was watching almost right overhead.”

  She blinked as his words filtered. “If you killed them all, then what were you waiting for to rescue me? I was like only an ‘I do’ away from marrying him.”

  “I know. I was watching the whole thing and then Ser-dick had to pull a dumb move and try to slap you. He just couldn’t wait until the priest was done.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You were
going to let me marry him?”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I was going to. Unlike your crafty grandpa, douche bag over here doesn’t have a will. He’s a straight inheritance case, enough for an island I’ve been eyeing.”

  “Hold on. Let me see if I understand. You were going to let me wed him and then what, kill him and marry me?”

  “I see you understand the brilliance of my plan.”

  “I can’t believe you would let me marry someone else.”

  “For money.”

  “That does not improve my state of mind.”

  “How about the fact I gave up the money so he wouldn’t slap you?”

  “Poor financial decision. He was too weak to really hurt me.”

  His brows rose to an impressive height. “Are you now berating me for not letting you be slapped? Should I perhaps, next time, just stand by and allow him a few little taps? Maybe give him some pointers?”

  “How about you stick to your original plan. There’s still time for us to get married and widowed. Grab him before he escapes.”

  Perhaps another girl would have wasted time asking Cole how he’d found her, or was he serious about marrying her? Except … none of those things mattered.

  He’d come, ergo he wanted her. He also left her tied to a chair as he took off after Sergei. Since being a damsel who waited for rescue didn’t appeal, Anja wobbled in the chair, tilted it right over until it fell and hit the stone floor.

  The sturdy chair didn’t break. Her arm, on the other hand, would sport a lovely bruise.

  Uttering a frustrated growl, she thrust with her legs, seesawing and thrashing, trying to loosen her ropes.

  She finally managed and stood with a triumphant, “Aha.”

  Only to find a gun jammed in her face.

  CHAPTER 13

  The tiger slammed into Cole’s side as he went out the door, but he didn’t mind. He kind of wanted to slap the little prick a few times before dragging him back inside to lay at the feet of his woman.