My Curse to Bear: Standalone BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance (The Everson Brothers Book 1)

by Alana Hart

With a dazed expression, Craig nodded at his brother. “Yeah, two steaks and wine sounds good, man. Thanks.”

  He turned back to me, resting his hand on the bar so our fingertips grazed. “So, Merrie. Tell me all about you. I want to know everything.” He pinned me with his gaze once again, and I could have sworn I felt a strange twinge in my chest, right above my heart.

  ***

  Craig

  Magical Gifts - the little witch shop on Main? She owned it? My head spun with unanswered questions.

  I stroked my thumb across the back of her hand — her skin was so soft, delicate. Would she be this soft all over? My bear rumbled in pleasure, urging me on.

  Focus, Craig! Who was she, and why was she running a witch shop?

  “Well…you know my name. I’m 22 years old.” She shrugged, her free hand twirling a curl hanging loose at the nape of her neck. “Moved here a couple of years ago, to get away from family and the pressure…” She hesitated, looking unsure.

  “The pressure?” I asked, pressing. I had to know her story, what secrets she held.

  “Yeah, the pressure of living up to expectations, I suppose. I never felt like I fit in. Like I wasn’t good enough, or something.” A confused expression clouded her face. “Why am I telling you all this? None of that matters, not now. I have my own business, which is doing okay most of the time. I must be blathering on because my sister is visiting tomorrow,” she said, giving an embarrassed chuckle. “Now, my sister — she is perfect. The perfect marriage, the perfect daughter, the perfect wit—” She stopped short, clamping her jaw shut.

  Bingo. “The perfect witch?” I asked, straining to keep my tone light.

  She sat up straighter on the stool.

  “I’m not ashamed of what I am, y’know? But, it’s not something I would normally bring up on a first date…”

  “I think we’re past that, don’t you?” I said, forcing a comic leer. Dammit! I couldn’t scare her off — she was my only chance. The only woman I had a chance with, thanks to that damn curse.

  The only mate I want, my bear growled. Down boy, I sent back. We’re both on the same page here.

  A giggle erupted from her, the sound caressing my nerves like liquid fire. Bless the Mother, what the hell was that? Every hair on my body had stood to attention, skittering over my skin. I needed to make her laugh again. Like — now. So, she was a witch. I could work with that, couldn’t I?

  “You’re probably right. After the bakery…” She trailed off and looked down, heat staining her cheeks.

  “Yeah. I know. I can’t stop thinking about it…” I ended on a growl, my bear shifting my vocal cords. Coughing, I tried to disguise it.

  I said, down boy! I sent furiously. Do you want to scare her off?

  Just get on with it…or I will…

  She shifted on the stool, leaning closer. The scent of her filled my senses — a meadow at night, the perfect garden.

  “I know! I don’t usually act like that, I mean I’ve never…”

  “What we have is different, can you feel it?” I could tell her now. Tell her I’m a shifter. She’s a witch and I’m a shifter. So what? Tension coiled in me like a spring.

  She looked up at me through thick lashes.

  “I can feel it. It feels like I know you. Like we have a connection…”

  Two plates clattered onto the bar in front of us, bringing with them the mouthwatering aroma of perfectly grilled steak.

  Right. Later, then.

  I squeezed her hand, wanting to pull her to me, onto my lap.

  “We do have a connection. I have something to tell you. But first, let’s eat.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Merrie

  I licked the last of the cherry pie from my spoon slowly, savoring the tartness of the fruit, which contrasted beautifully with the sweet buttery pastry.

  “You’re bad for me, you know? Encouraging me to have dessert. I already ate one of those bear claws I swiped from you earlier.”

  “It’s one of life’s little pleasures — to enjoy good food with good company. And that—” Craig pushed his plate aside, patting his stomach emphatically, “—was good food. My brother certainly can cook.”

  “Your brother is the chef?”

  “Not all the time. Not now that Ralph’s is so busy, but he does like to keep his hand in. He trained in the city a long time ago, before coming home and opening the restaurant. I can vouch that was definitely his pie, though — he got the recipe from my mom, who is also an excellent cook.” He smiled, his teeth flashing white under the muted lighting. “Do you want anything else? A drink?”

  I swear, my stomach groaned in protest. “No!” I said, laughing. “I can’t eat another bite, or take another sip. I think I’m going to slip into a food coma any minute now…”

  “Well, I’d just have to carry you home if that were to happen…”

  “Tell you what — I’ll let you walk me home if you like?” I suggested, keeping my tone light. He was the first man in ages that I had wanted to invite home. Maybe invite home. I dithered with indecision. Jeez, I was out of practice.

  “Sure thing. Ralph will put this on my tab. After you.” He smoothly rose to his feet, with an agility that was surprising for such a large man. But he always seemed confident and at ease, traits I found very attractive.

  We strolled out onto Main Street and turned toward my shop. The air had grown a little cooler, but was still balmy enough to enjoy a slow meander. Except for customers spilling out of the restaurant we had just left, the street was nearly empty. Just a few couples walking hand in hand, or arms wrapped around each other, enjoying the last of the summer. Craig fell into step beside me, shortening his loping stride to match mine. His hand drifted next to mine, brushing in passing, each touch raising goose bumps of longing.

  “Ah, crap,” he muttered, looking at me. “I feel more nervous than a school boy on his first date. Why the…”

  “Just kiss me, then. I think…”

  My words were cut off as he gathered me into his arms — raising me up onto tiptoe and securing me firmly against his broad chest. Everything I had been about to say flew out of my mind, the heat of him burning any questions and inhibitions away. His mouth hovered above mine, eyes piercing mine — as though trying to see into my soul, a whimsical thought whispered — then was gone as he sealed his lips to mine.

  His arms anchored me to him like steel, while his mouth plundered, kissing and nibbling with exquisite fervor. With a groan he shifted me sharply, pressing me up against a rough, brick wall, his hands moving up and down my body, exploring.

  Moaning, I shuddered beneath his searching touch, fisting my hand into his hair, the silky locks slipping through my fingers as I tried desperately to drag him closer.

  His hand traveled up my ribcage, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, until he firmly cupped my breast, stroking and caressing through the thin fabric. Desperate to touch him, I ran my fingers down his chest and pulled hard at the fabric tucked into his jeans, sighing with relief as my hand finally touched warm skin.

  “Meridith…” he groaned, voice hoarse. “I’ve waited so long for you…”

  ***

  Craig

  Sweet Mother of All, she was killing me! If I didn’t get inside her soon…I groaned aloud as her dainty fingers skated dangerously close to my cock, which was proudly standing to attention — and had been all bloody night. It had certainly made for some painful sitting through dinner, but the sight of her, her scent…so close. It had been rapturous torture. And now I was about to take her in the street. Rut on her like a wild animal. One more minute, and I wouldn’t be able to control…

  “Meridith, stop. Please…”

  She stilled, looking up at me from heavily lidded eyes. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, and her previously tamed hair mussed up into disarrayed perfection. Her fingers floated to a stop, hooked into my waistband. One more inch and I was going to make a damn fool of myself. I gritted my teeth — I was 112 years
old, not an untried cub.

  “Meridith, let me walk you home. I don’t want to disrespect you and…” I glanced around the near empty street, “…this is not how I think our first time should be.”

  Or second. Or third. Hell, I had a lot of catching up to do.

  She looked around, appearing dazed.

  “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you, Craig. What are you doing to me?” she said, flushing even more, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

  “Not enough,” I muttered under my breath, watching the hypnotic rise and fall of her breasts through the sheer fabric of her dress. Gentleman, remember, Craig? Right. I gave myself a mental shake. Just how far from the shop were we?

  “Just down here,” she replied.

  How much had I said out loud? Taking her hand, we walked in silence down the rest of the street, coming to a stop in front of an old fashioned looking shop, with trinkets of silver and bronze, and swathes of richly colored fabric in the window. Flourishing script-style writing adorned the sign, and a bell tinkled charmingly as she unlocked and then pushed the open the door.

  “Welcome to my domain,” she joked, her tone a little nervous, as she led me through the shop, toward the back.

  It was like an Aladdin’s cave, or a middle-eastern Bazaar — items adorning every available surface. Some were obviously touristy-type souvenirs, but some — dotted here and there — looked like the real thing. Or, real enough to me.

  “Are they?” I asked, indicating what looked to be a rack of potions.

  “Real? Nope. I keep the genuine stuff locked behind the counter. Earth magic has a very limited shelf life, so most need to be made fresh. But there’s not much call for it, not in Craggstone anyway.”

  “And, is that what you are? An earth witch?” I asked, curious. Lotions and potions, I could deal with. Gibberish words with serious side effects…

  “I know some spells, of course. But, I haven’t really had much practice, or call for it. My sister is the real witch,” she replied, bitterness staining her words. “Mom said I didn’t have much aptitude for it — the real stuff — and that I should just concentrate on herbs and white.”

  “Herbs and white?”

  “Earth magic and harmless spells. Ones that don’t affect the balance of the soul.”

  “Ah, right.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to get it. It’s just who I am — a part of me. Like my red hair,” she said, laughing at my confused expression. “Come on, I’ll make you a coffee if you like?” She threw me a sultry look over her shoulder, before continuing to wind her way through the shop, toward the back.

  Watching her curvy behind disappear through the doorway, I decided – coffee can come later. Much later.

  ***

  Merrie

  Whoa, I gulped as I made my way into the kitchen. Crammed into my tiny shop, Craig had appeared larger than life, exuding a vibrancy and sheer rawness that stole my breath away. My hormones danced a merry jig as I flicked on the kettle.

  “Merrie? Who’s this?” Craig asked, his baritone rumble acting like a tuning fork between my thighs. Mother of All! I clenched the worktop to steady myself, before turning to look.

  He stood in front of the family portrait wall, staring intently at one of the older pictures. Generation after generation of Havencrofts adorned the wall. I might be the runt of the family, but I was damn proud to be called a Havencroft.

  “Which one?” I asked, moving forward to peer around his wide shoulders.

  “Well…any of them…” he replied, encompassing the whole wall with a wide gesture. “They all look…”

  “Yeah, the family resemblance is strong, isn’t it?” I knew what he meant. Every picture was filled with women, who each bore a striking resemblance. My mom had told me that we didn’t have twins per generation, we were twinned with previous generations. That it was a witch thing, something to do with the magic being strong.

  “I look like my grandmother, and she looked like her grandmother, and so on. Same goes for my sister, and Mom. Bit spooky I suppose, but hell, we are witches.” I choked back a nervous laugh. He was going to run screaming any minute, thinking he’d picked up a mad woman.

  “So, this lady is your grandmother?”

  I peered closer, following his finger.

  “Yup. Granny Meridith. Which is why I like to be called Merrie. Not very original with names, our family.”

  Craig made a strange gargling sound, as if he couldn’t breathe. Startled, I stared at him. He was turning pasty white again, like before in the bakery.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, peering at him, concerned he was going to suddenly keel over.

  His eyes flitted from me, back to the pictures, then back to me again, a slightly crazed look glazing them.

  “Ah, no. I’m suddenly not feeling too good. Must be something I ate…”

  “But we ate at your brothers…”

  “Rain check?” he blurted out, already lurching toward the door, his long legs eating up the short distance.

  What the hell?

  “Okay,” I called, as the door slammed shut behind him. “Hope you feel better soon.”

  “Five bucks I won’t see him again,” I muttered to the silent shop.

  ***

  Craig

  Racing down Main Street at a run, I crossed over, following the road out of town toward my cabin. My lungs felt like they were on fire as I tried to force the night air in and out, trying to free the tightness that threatened to suffocate me. Pulling off my shirt, I quickly shucked out of my jeans and kicked off my shoes. With a roar of frustration, I let the change wash over me, stretching my skin and remolding my bones, until I dropped down onto four paws, shaking out my thick pelt of fur.

  They were related. I couldn’t think — no, I wouldn’t think about it. I just had to escape. In silent truce, I let my bear charge to the foreground. We had long since come to an understanding. Sometimes I just needed to let go, to join with him and enjoy the simple pleasures of the forest.

  Lumbering up to a tree, we rubbed our fur against the rough bark, leaving our scent, and marking this part of the forest as our own. As one, we turned in the direction of the small river that ran past our cabin.

  Fish! My bear decided, and given that I had put him in charge, I decided to just tag along for the ride — even though we were full of steak and pie — he had a one-track mind, my bear.

  They’re related. The thought bubbled back to the surface — I couldn’t switch it off. The unfairness of the situation poked at me, prodding for a reaction.

  So what? My bear thought at me, his mind already filled with the thought of fresh fish jumping into his eagerly awaiting jaws.

  So, her being a witch was one thing. Not a good thing, but workable…maybe. Her being related to the woman who had cursed us…

  You. I was happy just waiting for my mate. And we’ve found her, my bear thought.

  Yeah, well, I wasn’t happy with it. Not one bit. You can’t go around cursing people, just because you aren’t their mate — there should be fucking rules about that sort of shit! They can’t be trusted, I told him.

  Why did you want someone who wasn’t our mate, anyway? My bear snorted through our nostrils, signaling his disgust. As if I couldn’t already feel it, the bitterness burned on my tongue.

  Because I was young. Because I was lonely. Because I was scared that I wouldn’t find her! How am I meant to trust her? Merrie?

  It doesn’t matter if you do, or not. She is our mate. I won’t let you drive her away.

  She doesn’t know about you…

  But she will. She is the only one who can connect with our souls. I want that…I need that. His thoughts had dropped to a growl as we padded under the leafy canopy, climbing over fallen trees, traveling deeper into the forest — our home.

  I supposed I needed her too — If I ever wanted to have sex again. The curse had ruined me for any other woman. And I had tried, much to my embarrassment�
��and their amusement. But that was a long time ago.

  But…maybe there was a way to break the curse? The original Meridith had said I was bound with my bear, to only mate when he was ready. The words were etched in my memory, forged with pain. Well, he was ready to mate. Maybe once he had, then I would be free?

  I won’t let you hurt her…Pin pricks of claws inside my skin. A warning.

  I won’t, I promised.

  And I really didn’t want to, there had to be another way. I couldn’t live like this, and this — she — was my only chance.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Merrie

  I adjusted the spell book stand for what must have been the hundredth time, and took a step back to survey my shop, my pride and joy. It looked perfect — to me, anyway. I shook my head, wiping my hands off on an old rag. It didn’t matter if she liked it, or what she thought, anyway, I decided, glancing at the clock. The minute hand moved slowly, creeping toward 9:00 a.m., like a ticking bomb just waiting to end the peace and quiet I had enjoyed all morning.

  After Craig had left so abruptly last night, I went to work, tidying and dusting like a woman possessed. Setting up the spare bed in my tiny living room, my mind replayed his abrupt departure, going over and over what could have spooked him so badly. He was hot as hell one minute, and an ice bath the next. If he were a woman, he’d be labeled a cock tease. I had tried repeatedly to shrug off the strange feeling that had been bugging me since yesterday, a yearning for a man I hardly knew. It was just frustration. Hell, a lot of frustration.

  Ding. I hastily shoved Craig to the back of my mind and the old rag behind the shelf. Out of sight, out of mind — I wish.

  “Merrie! Wow, you look great! And isn’t this little shop a darling? It’s so nice that you found something to keep you busy…” Cassie called, exploding through the door, a whirlwind of vibrancy and poise.

  Bracing myself, I turned and opened my arms to receive the incoming hug. Cassie was a natural blonde, a platinum shade usually only bestowed by the best hair salons, and lots of cash. With pale blue eyes, generous lips, and the same elfin shaped face as my own, as a child I had often thought of her as beautiful fairy princess. I still thought she was beautiful. And perfect. And the favorite…