Husband Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire Book 1)

by Joyce, T. S.

  “How do you know who he is?”

  “Small town,” he answered mysteriously.

  But that didn’t make sense. Miller didn’t live in Galena. He lived near Naluto, closer to where Josiah lived.

  “Where are you going?” she called.

  “To check on the animals.”

  Huh. Elyse leaned against the open doorframe, arms crossed over her chest as she frowned so deeply her face ached with it. It wasn’t uncommon for Ian to check the animals right before they went to sleep, but they would likely be up for a couple more hours still. Josiah’s admission that Miller had been asking about her had rattled Ian badly, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. Cole wasn’t a threat to either of them, seeing as how he was cold and buried, and Miller could ask about her all he wanted. That butt-faced moocher wasn’t laying a hand on anything she owned ever again. She was Ian’s now, and he was the biggest, baddest man there was. With everything going on around here, a drunken McCall brother should be the least of her mate’s worries.

  Gooseflesh rose in waves across her skin, and she grabbed her coat off the rack before she shut the door behind her. Shrugging into it, she made her way carefully over the dark yard, but when she got as far as the tree with the rope swing, Ian suddenly appeared out of the dimly lit barn. His nostrils flared slightly in the warm glow of the lantern light, and his eyes were dark as pitch, as though his bear was right there, just below the surface.

  “What is it?” she asked, drawing to a halt. Chills rippled up her spine.

  Slowly, Ian lifted his face to the sky, and in that moment, she felt it. Something cold, as if the finger of a corpse brushed her cheek. No. Elyse gasped when a snowflake floated down in front of her face. Before Ian, snow hadn’t meant anything. It was a way of life and expected, but now? Suddenly the small, cold flake melting on her cheek stung like acid. Dread seeped into her as she wiped it off and shook her head in despair. “It’s too soon.”

  Ian’s chest was heaving as he watched her. She could see it in his eyes—he was rocked to the core by the early snow, too.

  “It’s too soon!” she repeated louder, walking toward him. She picked up her speed, then bolted into his open arms.

  “Shhh,” he said against her hair, hugging her so tight she couldn’t breathe.

  Or perhaps it was the crushing realization that her time with him was growing so short.

  “I’m not tired yet. I’m not. Elyse, it’s okay. Shhh. Don’t cry.”

  She was gasping, holding in her sobs and trying, but failing, to be strong for him as more snowflakes floated down to the ground around them.

  “I’m not going to sleep on you yet, woman. I’m not. Listen.” He eased back and cupped her cheeks. “We’ve still got things to do together. It’s just the first snow, and it’s not even warm enough to stick yet.”

  “I’m not ready, Ian. I just got you.”

  “I know.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers. “I know, and I’m not ready for it either. We’ve still got time.”

  “How much?”

  Ian shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know.”

  Warm tears streamed down her cheeks. “Will it always be like this? Dreading the winter, dreading the snow?”

  Heartache slashed through his dark, inhuman eyes, and then he pulled her in close again. His lack of an answer was answer enough. Clutching onto his jacket with trembling hands, she watched the soft snowfall over his shoulder. She had to do this better—appreciate more the time they had together. She could see exactly how their years would progress, six achingly short months together, and then six that dragged on for eternity as she waited over his body for him to wake up for an hour every day. She had to figure out a way to savor every second he was awake.

  “Ian,” she said on a frozen breath, clinging to him tighter. “I love you.”

  A wrecked sound wrenched from his throat, and his mouth crashed onto hers. He pushed his tongue past her lips and gripped the back of her hair. With a growl deep in his throat, he yanked his jacket off and tossed it to the ground, and then his hands were on her again, reaching into the open zipper of her coat, lifting the hem of her shirt. Fingertips brushed up her ribcage, over her bra, then slipped in to cup her breast. How was he so warm when the rest of the world was so cold? Nipping his lip, she pulled his shirt over his head and reveled in how touching his chest thawed her frozen fingertips.

  His voice was tinged with desperation as he gritted out, “Touch me.” Then he pulled her hand down the mounds of his abs and into the front of his jeans. He shuddered when she gripped his thick, hard shaft and pulled a slow stroke.

  She understood this—the desperation to be close. To connect. Soon, this wouldn’t be an option for them. He massaged her breast harder, dumping warmth into her middle and pooling wetness against her panties. He could always do this. Ian had the uncanny ability to rev her up in seconds. She pulled his erection again and again, until his hips rocked with the pace she set, all the while kissing him as if she would never get the chance to be in a moment like this again.

  She was on fire. Writhing, gasping, panting his name as he slid his hand down the front of her pants and drew his fingers through the wetness he’d conjured there. The soft growl in his throat turned feral. He leaned forward enough to pick her up by the backs of her knees, and then carried her toward the barn. His shoulders were hard as steel under her hands as she gripped the muscular curves of his body. Tears still warm on her cheeks, she slipped her tongue past his lips. Ian opened for her, daring her. Tempting her, and she lost herself as she tasted him. The snowfall outside was just like the rest of the world right now. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was here, safe with the man she loved. Treasured and adored by the man she respected most.

  The barn was warmer without the wind brushing a chill against her cheeks, and he strode directly for a work bench and raked his arm across it, scattering all of the tools onto the splintered wood floors. Ian was breathing ragged now, and he sucked hard in a line down her neck as he set her on the table and pushed her jacket off her shoulders. Eagerly and with trembling fingers, she unsnapped the button of his jeans and pushed them down just enough to unsheathe him. Ian’s hands and lips were everywhere, setting her on fire with every touch, every kiss. He pulled her sweater smoothly over her head as she kicked out of her boots and shimmied out of her pants. She needed him. Needed him inside of her, filling her, giving her silent promises that no matter what kind of separation they would face with his hibernation, he still adored her.

  As he unsnapped her bra and exposed her breasts to the cold night air, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes just to focus on how good his hands felt against her skin. A moan pushed past her lips as he pulled her taut nipple into his mouth and brushed his tongue against her. His kisses trailed lower as he pulled her pants from her ankles and tossed them onto the ground.

  “Ian,” she pleaded as he lifted her up and shoved her jacket between her bare backside and the rough table. She didn’t even know what she was begging for. He wasn’t denying her anything.

  Ian’s eyes were as dark as the night sky, and the sound in his chest said he was half-wild and rutting right now. His teeth were rough on her skin as he sucked and bit his way down the center of her stomach. He lifted his gaze to hers, a dark challenge in his eyes as he went to his knees and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. They hadn’t done this before, not that he hadn’t let her know he was willing. She hadn’t been ready to give herself so completely to a man before, but as he grazed his teeth against her inner thigh, her back arched instinctively in a silent plea to keep going. His focus drifted from her eyes down, down to between her legs. When he leaned in and kissed her, brushing his tongue against her slit in a sexy tease, she came undone. She moaned loudly and ran her fingernails against his scalp while he took his time slowly laving his tongue against her. God, he was beautiful, bobbing between her legs. The pressure in her middle
was already blinding by the time he sucked gently on her clit, and when he directly followed it by thrusting his tongue deep inside of her, she cried out helplessly.

  “Fuck, I’m coming already,” she gasped. “Ian, I’m coming.”

  He thrust into her harder, and she exploded from her middle out. She came so hard and so fast, she gripped his hair and yelled his name.

  “Want to feel,” Ian growled out, pulling her from the table until her feet were planted on the floor. He spun her until she faced the table, but the dizziness didn’t last long as he jammed his knee between hers and spread her legs wider.

  Lost in the aftershocks of her release, Elyse gripped onto the table and arched her back for him. Ian had always been controlled and gentle in their bed, but this wasn’t like before. Now, everything was different. Now, they were on borrowed time, and he was letting her see the real him. The feral animal side she’d only seen glimpses of before now. With a snarl, he slammed into her from behind. One arm around her stomach, holding her to him, and one hand on top of hers on the table, gripping her, intertwining their fingers as he slid into her harder. His body was strung tight, iron against her back as he pumped into her faster and faster. God, he felt good inside of her, slick as he eased back by inches, then back in. The snarl in his throat was constant now, and the second she cried out with her second orgasm, he rammed into her so hard the table creaked under her. His teeth brushed her skin again, but this time he didn’t hold himself in check. This time, as he swelled inside of her and bucked into her again, he bit her hard.

  Bowing back, she squeezed her eyes tightly closed as pain warred with pleasure. Warmth shot into her over and over until it became too much for her to hold and trickled down her inner thighs. With a snarl of her own, she pulled away from him and spun, then gripped the back of his hair. His eyes went from dazed to shocked the instant before she clamped her teeth against his chest as revenge for him marking her.

  Except when she bit him, Ian didn’t seem angry as she’d been. Instead, he tossed his head back and gritted out her name, then slid into her from the front. Hand cupped against the back of her head, he pulled her closer and in a low, gravelly voice demanded, “Harder.”

  And she did. So hard, she could taste blood. Something instinctual bloomed within her. Some impulse to claim her man that had long been buried. His shaft throbbed inside of her, but he was moving more slowly now, heaving breath as she pulled her teeth from him.

  With a slow, savage smile, he pulled the back of her hair and angled her face up to his. There was red on his lips when he murmured, “Good mate, letting the world know who I belong to. I’ve wanted to put my mark over Cole’s since the first night I saw it.”

  Elyse clenched her teeth at the memory of the awful night Cole had given it to her. He was drunk and had hurt her. “You can see it?”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Not anymore. You were never meant to be McCall’s claim, Elyse. You were meant to be mine.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ian poured the last pot of hot water into the tub near Elyse’s feet. The heat must have been too much because his mate scrunched up her knees and clasped them to her chest, avoiding the steaming front of the tub.

  She hadn’t said much since their coupling in the barn. Instead, she’d drawn into herself and allowed him to pamper her in silence. He’d cleaned her gently with a cloth, then had given into his need to care for her by drawing her a bath.

  Josiah’s admission about Miller earlier had Ian’s bear roaring for blood, but he couldn’t explain that to Elyse. Not now. He would tell her everything on Afognak when he showed her his burned den and explained all the secrets he’d been keeping from her, including the note he kept hidden in his things—the one Cole had asked him to deliver.

  Ian needed to tread softly so he didn’t lose her.

  “Did you not like it?” he asked low, kneeling down near the edge of the tub. “I won’t be that rough again. I’m sorry.”

  Elyse rested her cheek against her knees and gave him a shy smile that buckled his insides. “Don’t make that promise, bear-man. I liked seeing the real you.”

  “If I’m ever too rough—”

  “You weren’t.” Her gold-green eyes were sincere in the flickering light of the candle he’d lit and placed on the sink.

  With a relieved sigh, he ran a washcloth gently around the torn skin on her shoulder. She winced when he got too close, and he hated himself. Hated that he wasn’t human and better for her. She shouldn’t have to deal with an animal’s whims.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you could see Cole’s bite mark?”

  “I thought you hadn’t mentioned it because it hurt to think about. I hated it, though.” Ian shook his head to ward off the new wave of rage that threatened to take him. “Elyse, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you. Not ever.”

  As soft as a breath, she asked, “What does it mean?”

  “My mark?”

  She dipped her chin once.

  “It’s a claiming mark. I never thought I would give a woman one, but then…”

  “Then you met me?”

  “Yeah. You’re important.”

  She reached across the porcelain ledge and drew a wet finger gently over the half-healed bite mark she’d made on his chest.

  Ian swallowed hard and closed his eyes against how good her touch felt on his skin. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “I was so fucking proud when you bit me back.”

  “You’re proud of me?” Why the hell did she sound so baffled by that? Could she not see she owned him, heart and soul?

  “Elyse, whatever Cole made you feel about yourself, he was wrong. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You’ve been dealt blow after blow, and still you are here, fighting and clawing to keep the life you love. You’re a badass.”

  “A badass,” she repeated dreamily. “You know, I think I like that compliment even more than if you told me I’m beautiful.”

  He smiled and ran his fingertip across her soft cheek. “You’re both.”

  “I think I’ll grow to hate the snow,” she whispered.

  The moisture that rimmed her eyes split him open and laid him bare. For the first time in his life, he hated the snow too. Snow meant change. It meant winter was on its way. The cold, white powder was Mother Nature’s reminder that they would be separated by sleep soon. “I wish I was different for you.”

  A single tear slid from the corner of her eye and dropped into the bath water that rippled around her. Elyse slid her hand up the back of his and pressed his palm against her cheek. “I don’t. You’re perfect the way you are.”

  Ian let off a shaky breath and leaned his chin on the tub just to be closer to her.

  “Ian?”

  “Hmm?”

  “When you wake up next spring, I’ll still be in this. I’ll still want you to be my husband.”

  This woman… Ian swallowed hard and brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She was everything good about his life now. How anyone so brave, determined, loyal, and beautiful had picked a man like him, he wouldn’t ever understand. All he could do was try his best to make her happy when he could because that right there, her slow smile, was the thing he coveted most in this world.

  He pulled her left hand to his lips and kissed the gold band on her finger. “Big wedding or small?”

  “Small. And I want it to be here.”

  “Done,” he promised.

  Elyse leaned her cheek onto the bathtub ledge, right near his, so he let his lips linger on her wet hair and ran a light finger up and down her spine.

  She bore his mark now, and he bore hers, and he would do anything to keep her.

  And now, while he was awake enough to be of use to her, he would give her the tools she would need to protect herself from what was coming.

  Elyse didn’t understand yet, but she would. Miller asking Josiah about her meant she hadn’t ever really es
caped the McCalls. That crazy werewolf had killed one of her cows. It wasn’t vengeance that made him hunt her herd.

  Miller was marking his territory.

  And Ian would be damned if he went to sleep without teaching Elyse how to defend herself from the wolves.

  Starting tomorrow, his beautiful badass would become a weapon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Again,” Ian murmured.

  Elyse lifted the rifle to her shoulder and put the scope on the target of the wolf Ian had sketched out on brown butcher paper and nailed to a tree a hundred yards off.

  “Tighter to your shoulder. Even tighter. Spare your body the kick so you won’t be sore.”

  “Ha,” she muttered. Tomorrow was going to suck. No doubt she would be black and blue since she hadn’t listened to Ian’s advice the first hour, and now her shoulder ached like she’d taken a solid kick from Demon’s hoof.

  “Remember what I said. Repeat it in your mind, and with enough practice, it’ll become second nature.”

  Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Sight on the target. Focus on your muscles. Don’t shake. Hold the gun tight and steady. Three slow breaths, and on the third, hold it, and brush your finger on the trigger. Don’t jerk it. Brush it like paint on a canvas.

  Boom!

  Reload in case the animal needs a second shot.

  Ian had been working with her for six straight hours on every gun she owned. She now knew the name of each and its ammunition, and what gun was best for each situation.

  “Good,” he said low. “You want to see the damage?”

  “Yeah.” Not because she needed to see if she’d hit the mark. Bark had flown with each shot so she knew she’d been on target, but her shoulder needed a rest. Ian didn’t have to know that little tidbit, though.

  Elyse turned the gun back over and shoved the bullet back down out of the chamber and safely into the magazine, then slid the bolt in place with a satisfying click of metal to keep the bullet out of the chamber. This was the first layer of protection, and the second was when she physically clicked the safety into place. Chambering the bullet was as easy as pulling her bolt handle back, slamming the bullet forward, and releasing that safety button right before she pulled the trigger. She and Ian had worked on that over and over until it was as natural as breathing. He seemed just as determined to have her constantly aware of gun safety as he was of working on her marksmanship.