Sawman Werebear (Saw Bears #4)

by T. S. Joyce

  He shrugged and looked down at the marks as if he’d forgotten they were there. “I don’t feel pain like you do. Not anymore.”

  His eyes were somber as he said it, and her heart ached for whatever had made him resistant to pain.

  “You won’t have the seizures anymore, as long as you Change often enough to keep your bear happy. You should be good for another week now.”

  “You said you were going to help me, and you did.” She nuzzled her face against his chest again and sighed. “You followed through on your promise. I thought I was lost. I thought my days were numbered and that I would only have a little time left here with you.” It was scary to get her hopes up about the pain and sickness really being over. “Are you sure I won’t have the seizures anymore?”

  His heartbeat was solid and steady against her cheek. “I’m positive.”

  A flood of relief washed through her, and her knees buckled. Brighton held her tighter as she squeezed her eyes closed and relished in the revelation that she was going to live. That Connor hadn’t killed her slowly like she’d thought. Brighton had been patient. He’d been tender when they’d made love and drawn her bear out of hiding. He’d made her animal feel safe enough to reveal herself.

  “You said Connor claimed me and whoever did that decided the crew I’d belong to.”

  Brighton’s heart rate bolted into a gallop against her cheek.

  “Will I belong to the Ashe Crew now?”

  “I suppose you can choose since your mate is dead.”

  “He was never my mate. Turning me didn’t earn him that title. Maybe by your laws or traditions, or whatever, but not to me. And if the choice is mine, I want to be where you are. I choose the Ashe Crew.” She chose Brighton, though she still wasn’t bold enough to tell him that out loud.

  The soft hum sounded, just barely above her senses, and she snuggled closer. He did that when he was satisfied, and now, she adored that almost-tone. Before she could chicken out, she pushed her toes against the pebbly river bottom and pressed her lips against his.

  Brighton’s mouth softened against hers in an instant, his fingers entangling in her damp hair as he spun them slowly in the gentle current. He reached underwater and pulled the back of her knee until her leg wrapped around his hips, and before she could even plead with him, he slipped into her. She gasped at how good he felt, at how well they fit together, and angled her hips so that the next thrust of his thick shaft bumped against the sensitive spot he’d discovered earlier.

  He cupped her ass, holding her as he pushed into her again and again. The water rippled with their movement, and her breasts mashed against his stony chest as he drew her firmly against him. Arms around his neck, she arched against him and met him stroke for stroke as pressure built inside of her, begging release. Soft, helpless moans escaped her lips, which only seemed to spur Brighton on faster. The muscles in his arms were flexed and hard, trembling as he tumbled toward orgasm with her. His breath came in pants as he kissed her shoulder, just above where Connor had bitten her back. Brighton’s teeth grazed her skin, and a mixture of pleasure and fear of that pain again consumed her.

  Brighton clamped down, his teeth pressing against her sensitive flesh, just shy of piercing her. She threw her head back and whispered his name over and over as release pounded through her. Brighton bit down harder as he came inside her, warmth filling her in pulsing streams. But just as she thought he’d sink his teeth into her neck muscle, he eased back and kissed her there instead.

  Everly trembled from scalp to toes as her body was wracked with aftershocks. And when she found her legs too wobbly to hold her weight, Brighton scooped her up and carried her out of the water.

  Water droplets clung to the ends of the dark hair that hung forward in his face. His eyes were the color of evergreens again, but they didn’t land on her. Instead, he stared straight ahead, as if he was throwing all of his concentration to where he walked. Everly frowned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “You wanted to bite me back there, didn’t you?” she asked softly.

  “No.” The tone of the word sounded odd, even as a whisper. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his shoulders relaxed as he carried her around an old mossy log in the middle of the path. “Yes. My bear wants to claim you.”

  “And I’m not really yours until you do what Connor did to me? Until you claim me?”

  “I won’t do that to you again. You’ve been through enough.”

  “Your bear wants me, but you don’t?”

  “Didn’t say that, Ever,” he rasped out. With a long, steady breath, he added, “I want you, too.”

  “Someday, if I asked you to claim me…would you?”

  Trouble shadowed his eyes as he stared straight ahead. “It’ll hurt, and you’ve been hurt by our kind enough. We’re fine the way we are.”

  “Fine,” she repeated.

  But she wanted to be more than fine with him. She wanted to nurture the love that was building between them. Brighton looked upset now, though, and whether it was from the thought of an uncomfortable conversation about a commitment that was more than he wanted, or at the idea of sinking his teeth into her and causing her that type of pain again, she couldn’t tell.

  All Everly knew was that, suddenly, fine didn’t seem like enough.

  Chapter Ten

  In the following days, Brighton’s cabin became a sanctuary. It was an escape from the hard parts of real life. Everly could ignore the fact that she couldn’t afford her rent or that a payment on her medical bills would be due soon. She could ignore the twenty missed calls from Momma and the texts that called her names and then begged forgiveness in a never-ending cycle that spoke volumes about whether she was drunk or sober at the time she sent them. Everly could ignore everything when she was tucked away, safe and sound, in Brighton’s arms and home.

  That was, until it became painfully apparent that Brighton had bigger problems with his bear than he’d let on.

  As time wore on, she began tracking his Changes. It wasn’t because she wanted to pry into his private life, but because she was worried. The first night they’d spent together after her first Change, he’d left her bed in the middle of the night and returned an hour later. She was a light sleeper and was concerned, but he smiled grimly, kissed her on the forehead, tucked her against his chest and fell asleep, so she thought nothing was amiss. He’d said he had to Change more often, so this was something she would just have to get used to.

  But the next night, he left her bed three times, and the next night, four. And during the day, when she wanted to spend that time getting to know everything about the man she was falling in love with, his eyes would churn silver, and he’d slip into the woods without a word of explanation.

  It was apparent that quiet Brighton was battling demons she hadn’t any guess at.

  She offered to wash breakfast dishes, hoping that if he just relaxed while she worked, she would get a few extra minutes with him. Brighton plucked beautiful notes from an old guitar as he reclined in a dining chair. It was a song she recognized from the radio, so she hummed the tune along with the music as she threw a bowl of orange peels he’d used to squeeze fresh juice this morning into the wastebasket. She didn’t have an amazing voice like his brother had when she’d heard them play at Sammy’s Bar, but she could hold a tune. She used to sing lullabies to Momma when she was drunk as a skunk and begging for them. It struck her as backward, the child having to sing to the adult, but that was just how it had been growing up.

  Everly frowned into the sink as she rinsed their plates off. She’d been weighed down with Momma’s disappointment before she’d met Brighton, but she felt differently about that relationship now. She was more confident in herself and suspected Momma only said heinous things to make herself feel better. Brighton didn’t like her, though he’d never met Momma. Everly could tell. His eyes would go dead every time she mentioned her, and yesterday he’d told her that Momma was wrong about her. That she wasn’t a failure or a dis
appointment. She wasn’t a whore. She was just someone who got the short end of the stick as far as parental units were concerned.

  Everly had thought about it all day yesterday when she’d been waiting for Brighton to come home from a long Change. Perhaps he was right. The insults she’d absorbed from Momma for all these years had altered the way she saw herself. Everly had grown up feeling useless, but she wasn’t. Brighton had showed her she was worthwhile. And his unending compliments rang much truer than Momma’s veiled insults ever had. With her shifter instincts, she could tell the difference now.

  Someday she was going to call Momma back, but when she did, that relationship would be different, or it wouldn’t be anything at all. Brighton made her feel strong enough to lay down boundaries, and never again would she endure insults or let anyone step on her just to make their shitty day better. Nice people didn’t act like that, and from here on, Everly was bound and determined that she would only allow nice people to play a part in her life. Her near death experience had taught her a lot, and one of those lessons was that life was too damned short to be a leaf in someone else’s storm.

  Happy with the revelation, she sang a few words and soaped up a sponge, then scrubbed a bowl. When she looked up from the drying rack of dishes to ask Brighton if he wanted to go for a walk with her later, he had the most peculiar look in his eyes. He sat frozen except for his fingers, which moved gracefully across the frets of his guitar. His head canted and a curious smile ghosted his lips.

  You have a beautiful voice, he mouthed. His voice had gone after a long conversation over breakfast.

  She beamed as heat flooded her cheeks. Dropping her gaze, she wrung the sponge out into the sink, rinsed the suds from her hands, then leaned her back against the counter. “Flatterer.”

  Would you sing that song if Denison and I played it at Sammy’s Bar one night?

  “Me? Oh, no. I can sing in front of you, but in front of a crowd is…well…I can’t imagine myself doing that.”

  Even if I was right there with you?

  Everly shrugged, flattered that he thought she was good enough. Just the idea of preforming in front of people made her veins run cold. It sure was nice that he’d asked, but it wouldn’t ever be something that would come to fruition.

  Brighton jerked his chin, beckoning her, and settled the guitar against the wall beside him. He held out his hands, and she sank into his lap.

  Do you know how special your bear is?

  She shook her head. “She’s albino. I’ve never seen pictures of an albino bear. I’ve seen blond ones, but not pure white, like me. Makes me weird, huh?”

  Brighton pulled over the scribbled up notepad that sat waiting on the table, then wrote, Not weird, no. But you’re special in other ways. You’re submissive. That shyness you feel around other people? That personality trait manifested in your animal as well. I think that, coupled with the trauma of how you were Turned, is what made your bear afraid to come out. All of her ideal conditions had to be met, and she had to feel safe before she revealed herself.

  “Submissive?” That didn’t sound good. She wanted to be strong—a strong partner for Brighton, who deserved nothing less.

  His smile deepened, and he brushed a strand of her hair from her face. He swallowed hard, then forced a whisper. “Submissive isn’t a bad thing. You’ll be the only one in the Ashe Crew. Tagan will shit himself, he’ll be so happy. He’s got his hands full of a crew full of dominant bears. You’ll bring balance to us.”

  “What does submissive mean? Weak?”

  “Never weak.” He shook his head and leveled her a serious look. “Never. You just won’t want to fight like the rest of us do. You’ll keep your head during skirmishes. Your bear is a peacemaker.” His voice lowered to nothing. I knew the first time I smelled you that you would be a balm. My bear settles around you, and he’s a monster.

  “Not a monster,” she murmured, brushing her thumb down the short, dark stubble on his face and along the scar on his throat. “He’s perfect for me.”

  Brighton dropped his gaze, but not before she saw the shame in his eyes. Carefully, he pulled the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed it for a long time. When he looked up again, his eyes roiled with liquid silver, and she knew she was losing him to the woods again.

  Pursing her lips, she hugged him tight, resting her chin against his shoulder and wishing for a few more minutes. “You hold too much inside, and for what? Whatever you’re going through will only make me respect you more. You are full of poison because you don’t talk about what makes your bear like this. I can see you getting worse. I can see your pain, but you refuse to share it with me.” Her eyes rimmed with tears as she eased back and cupped her hands around his neck.

  Brighton wouldn’t look at her anymore, and his mouth had settled into the same grim line he’d worn the first day she’d talked to him at that diner.

  Her heart was breaking into pieces, just like it did every time he was forced to Change because of the ghosts he was fighting.

  “I’m here, Brighton. I love you, and I’ll always be here.”

  He shook his head slowly back and forth, in denial of the relief she offered. If he’d only tell her what was wrong, and how she could help him, she’d gladly take on any burden he would allow her to. He gripped her wrists and pulled her grasp from his neck, then stood and left the kitchen. The front door slammed closed a moment later, and she strode for the window to watch him leave like she always did. Pushing back the curtains with her fingertips, she followed his escape with her eyes as tears spilled from them and streaked down her cheeks. He removed his shirt, putting his scars on display. His muscles worked and flexed under his skin as he moved, too graceful to be human. At the edge of the tree line, he paused and turned back. His chin was lowered and his gaze steady, as if he could see her through the kitchen window, all the way from across the clearing. Heartbreak swam in his eyes, and he gritted his teeth. In the final moment before he turned back for the woods, he looked sick about leaving her like this.

  She couldn’t force him to open up, though.

  All Everly could do was hope that someday he would trust her enough to share his burdens.

  ****

  It slayed her that Brighton had to spend so much time alone in the woods just for a few hours in his human skin. She’d begun to form an idea over the time she’d been here, and this morning, she’d had enough. Everly followed the scent trail Brighton had left. She couldn’t just sit in the cabin waiting for him when she knew he was hurting. Not anymore. She was in this too deep, cared about him too much not to take desperate measures.

  This was the second attempt of the day to Change. This morning, she’d been terrified and stank of fear as she’d followed him into the woods, then attempted to Change when he was in sight. Brighton as a bear had been worried, pacing frantically as she forced herself through the pain of an unnecessary transformation. It had taken a long time, and she was only able to remain a bear for half an hour at most, but she’d done it. And dammit, she was going to continue doing it so he wouldn’t be alone with whatever he was carrying anymore.

  Brighton stood beside a young spruce tree, shaking his head as if he’d just Turned and was trying to rid himself of the last tingles. Tugging at her shirt, she pulled it over her head and folded it neatly. Her jeans and panties followed, each folded into the pile that sat on a flat boulder. Hopefully, the bugs wouldn’t find them, but just in case, she’d try to remember to shake them out when she Turned back and redressed.

  Brighton’s eyes landed on her, still silver from Turning and not yet settled into the almond color he donned when in his furry form for a while. He approached slowly, shaking his head like one of those caged bears at a zoo.

  She wouldn’t be warned off, though. Closing her eyes, she imagined her bear, called to her, opened her mind and her middle to allow a metamorphosis she was only beginning to understand. Her bear, not yet ready after this morning, fought the transition, and the pain was excruciating.
Sweat beaded her forehead, and she gritted her teeth and grunted at the invisible blows she received. Her insides were on fire, but she fell to her knees and arched her neck back, hands out and palms to the sky as her bones began to break.

  She lay crumpled on the forest floor, prickly pine needles poking her muzzle when it was done. She’d slept well last night, but now she felt as if she were exhausted. Weakly, she pushed herself up onto all fours and stumbled toward Brighton.

  He was frozen, and a look of utter confusion had morphed his features. He blasted steam from his mouth in the cool air. When at last she reached him, he bowed his head and rubbed his body down her ribs, and then around to the other side. A silent question that asked, why would she bother for me?

  Everly bumped his shoulder and tried to put on a brave face, but her body was revolting, and there was no masking the scent of her pain. Brighton circled her tightly, but there was no danger to protect her from. He scanned the woods around them, eyes intense as if he was preparing himself to defend her. And within moments, her Change began again. The birds in the canopy above flocked into the air at her roar of agony. And when the tingling in her nerve endings dulled, she redressed gingerly and followed Brighton numbly through the woods until he turned back into the man she loved and carried her back home.

  He didn’t say anything. Hadn’t all day, but when he settled her onto the porch, he whispered, “I’m no good for you, Ever. I never will be.”

  “That’s horseshit, Brighton. You’re mine, and I’m not giving up on you. You can’t live your life like this alone. So until your bear gives you relief, I’ll follow you, and I’ll Change with you until I can’t anymore.”

  His chest rose as he inhaled deeply and searched her face. “I need time alone.”

  His need to escape ripped hurt through her middle. Those were the worst words she’d ever heart-strung together. She knew what it meant. His first step in letting her go. Maybe she was pushing too hard, too fast. Or perhaps he didn’t feel the devotion that she did. He’d saved her, after all, and she owed him everything. She, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything for him.