"Now leave me," Jakob said, running his hand over the golden blonde scruff on his chin, "I need to get ready."
Chapter 2
"No, Mom." Bree stepped out of her office building. It was five o'clock and she needed a latte. The phone burned against her ear as she hurried down the street. "No, Mom."
"But Bree," her mom persisted, "you're almost thirty. You need a man. Why don't you just meet Walter? He's cute."
Bree scoffed. ‘Cute’ to her mom usually meant someone either way too old or way too young for Bree. "He's probably rich too, right?"
"Well..." her mother said. "He could support you in a comfortable lifestyle. Then you could quit that God-awful job you have. I still don't know what you were thinking when you left law school. It was probably the worst decision you’ve ever made. Other than giving up your gym membership and indulging in a calorie-laden diet."
"I'm perfectly fine with my size, Mom. And I like my job." Both things were true. The curves of Bree's body were abundant, but she felt that they were fashioned from a certain type of sex appeal that she was proud of. She was glad she had avoided the stick figure and bird's legs gene that her mom had been cursed with. Bree was voluptuous and although she resisted most advances from men, that didn't stop her from appreciating the way men's eyes followed her as she moved across a room.
As for her job, despite feeling like the couples she counseled were all doomed, she also still held out hope that she could help them get through the encroaching darkness a little easier. She thought there were times she at least made the failure of marriage a little easier to take.
"Bree, are you listening to me?" her mom screeched into her ear. "What about our anniversary party. You need to—"
Bree slammed into something hard and bounced off it like a rubber band. She fell back on the sidewalk and felt her hands scrape pavement, her phone flying from her hand. Her mother's voice still screeched through the air from five feet away. She shook her head, dazed. What the hell. She felt like she'd just crashed into a semi-truck.
"Are you alright?" A voice, deep and dark and irresistible, spoke to her through a fog. She shook her head again and looked up into the eyes of a man who couldn't be real. He was too perfect. His eyes were layered with shades of gold and they bore into her with an intensity that had Bree wondering if he was trying to cast a spell on her.
"Are you alright?" he asked again, extending a hand. It was larger than most men's hands, and although her common sense told her she was seeing things, she could have sworn the muscles of his hand pulsed under his skin like a heartbeat.
"I... I'm fine," she said, finally finding her voice. She took his hand without even thinking. It felt natural to place her hand in his. His skin was hot—a few degrees warmer and he might've burned her. She wondered if he had a fever, but his golden-bronzed skin was too flawless. No infection could have survived in the body that delicious. Muscles bulged under his shirt, and thick golden-blonde hair fell into a slight shag over his eyes. For the first time in her life, Bree forgot how to breathe.
***
Jakob stared at the woman in front of him. He felt something stir deep inside him, slow at first, then quickly building to a towering monolith. His muscles contracted under his skin, and he felt a flicker of that familiar defiance as the lion in him tried to escape. He took several deep breaths.
What the hell is happening to me?
When he opened his eyes again he looked more closely at the woman who'd run into him. Her body was not the type he would have normally gone for, but there was something seductive about her soft curves and the pout of her lips. Her scent filled him and it was like tasting air for the first time in his life. Jakob could have any woman he wanted—and certainly enjoyed playing the field—but the second he laid eyes on this one, he knew she was the only woman he would want ever again. He had found her. His mate.
She took the hand he offered and when he clasped his paw, so much bigger than hers, around her delicate fingers, there was an undeniable spark. Bree felt it too, only instead of being thrilled as Jakob had been, it scared the bejesus out of her. Alarm bells screamed inside her head. Warning! Warning! Get Away From This Man! Run!
It wasn't that she thought of him as dangerous in a way that he might do harm to her. The look in his eyes as he helped her up told her otherwise, but the pull she felt towards him was unnatural. She'd never met a man she'd been drawn to before—not like this. Her insides twisted as she retracted her hand from his, it didn't want to move.
"Are you alright?" Jakob asked again. "Did I hurt you?"
Bree giggled. She couldn't help it. The school girl in her rushed to get out. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I mean, I bumped into you, right?"
Jakob smiled. Bree's heart was set aflame inside her chest as the corners of his lips twitched up. Was he a model? He certainly could be. He looked like a model. Her breath quickened along with her pulse.
Jakob's own mind was spiraling out of control. He needed this woman, and he'd never needed anything before. The meeting he'd been headed to—the one he'd planned for months—flew from his head and sailed to the clouds. It no longer mattered.
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
The words struck a distant memory of an overbearing mother demanding to know every detail of Bree's whereabouts, afraid she was hanging out with "the wrong crowd." Of course, to Bree's mother, the wrong crowd meant anyone who made less than a million dollars a year.
Bree looked at this man's suit and tie. They looked expensive. His shoes shined under the rays of the sun. The gold watch wrapped around his wrist—which was so large the band could barely fit—looked like a Rolex.
"Nowhere," she replied. Her voice was harsh, but she didn't care. This was exactly the type of man her parents would love, and the type she stayed away from. "Excuse me, I have to go."
She turned on her heel and left the man standing there, unaware of the twitching of his hardened jaw and the unnatural glow that burned behind his eyes.
Chapter 3
Blake stood with his back against the limo, waiting with the driver on the side of the road like a servant.
I'm no servant! I'm second in command!
It almost sounded good. Almost sounded powerful. But there was that pesky word that just wouldn't go away—second. Blake had always been second best. Even in high school, when the change had happened, it had been Jakob who had turned first. Blake had followed a mere week later, but that still qualified as second.
"Damn him for this!" Blake hollered, beating his fist against the glass. He felt the window give slightly and pulled his hand away before it broke.
The driver looked up from his cell phone. "It's not really Mr. Moore's fault the limo had engine trouble."
Blake glared at him.
The driver tried to hold his gaze against Blake's. He'd never liked Blake—he was a kiss-ass and he'd be damned if he'd let that sonofabitch think he was better than him—but soon the driver's steel faltered. Something in Blake's eyes made the driver fear being alone with him. He looked like he could snap at any moment, like... like he wasn't entirely human. But, that was ridiculous. Blake grinned at him, revealing teeth that were too sharp and too long for convention. The driver turned back to his cell phone.
Blake laughed. Jakob would never have allowed him to mess with the driver that way, but Jakob wasn't here. He'd left Blake with this servant and went off to the meeting alone. The meeting Blake had helped plan. The one that could bring them millions and ensure the livelihood of the pride for the next decade—hell, the next century. And, here Blake was, cast aside like a piece of rotting meat. It made him sick.
***
Bree hovered in front of the counter at the coffee shop, her cheeks flaming red.
"It was declined," the barista said. "Again." The girl, so young she still had acne, gave Bree an exasperated look.
"But, I know there's money in it. Try again." The barista sighed but banged some keys on her register and the credit machine
reset. Bree swiped her card. It made a loud beeping noise and the screen flashed red: DECLINED.
"Do you have another form of payment ma'am?"
Ma'am? Did she just call me ma'am? Jeez, this day was getting worse and worse. First, there was the same tired struggle with her mother. Next, she crashes into a supermodel body builder who makes her skin tingle, and falls flat on her ass. Not to mention that as hot as he was, she walks away from him because she's too disillusioned to see any point in granting even a small flirtation. Now, this.
She vaguely wished she'd gotten his name. His eyes had been so intense. She felt them on her even now, those deep golden-brown orbs that had sucked her in, mesmerizing her like a magician. She knew she was probably idealizing him in her mind. No one was that perfect.
"Ma'am," the barista's voice rose. A line was forming behind Bree. "Are you gonna get the latte or what?"
"I guess not," she said, lowering her eyes a fraction of an inch. She could already taste the latte on her tongue.
"Allow me," a voice crooned from behind her.
Bree didn't need to turn around. The voice was unmistakable. It was too deep, too sultry to be anyone other than the model she'd left on the sidewalk only ten minutes prior. Her blood pressure shot up twenty points as he stepped towards her.
His shoes made soft clunks on the ground as he moved through the crowd. They parted for him like he was a celebrity coming down a red carpet, and he seemed to accept, no—expect it. Bree turned her head and saw the jaw on the girl behind her drop open and begin to salivate. He handed the barista a fifty. "Please, add the change to your tip jar." The girl blushed.
The supermodel smiled at Bree and when his arm brushed hers she felt her heart skip several beats. She took a great gulp of air and said, "You don't have to do that."
"I insist."
She couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curving up.
"Did you follow me here?" she asked.
"Yes."
His honesty startled her. She wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or frightened.
"I'm Jakob Moore." He stretched out his hand and she took it again without thinking. It was almost as hot as the latte he handed her.
"Now," he said, leading her away from the crowd. His eyes followed her as she walked, watching her ample hips swish back and forth over her shapely legs, crafted, no doubt, to entice him. "Tell me your name."
"Oh," she said. "I'm... I'm..." Her brain wasn't working for some reason. "Bree," she finally spit out.
"Bree," he repeated. Her name rolled off his tongue like sugar. "Now that we've been introduced, you must do something for me."
Bree hesitated, searching his face for the telltale signs of a serial killer, but seeing none. "Yes?"
Jakob gestured towards her latte. "An exchange. Coffee for companionship."
Her reaction confused him at first. She looked angry.
"You want my companionship?" she shouted. Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed. "What do you think I am? Some kind of prost—" But Bree couldn't get the word out. The taste was too vile in her mouth.
Jakob immediately realized the miscommunication gaffe. "No," he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I only meant—"
She threw her coffee on the floor. It splattered against his legs and singed his skin, for a shifter a mere a bee sting that would heal in minutes. Bree was already to the door. He moved to follow her.
"Bree," he called. "Stop." His tone was commanding, the roar of a king, and she did as he said. Good.
She turned to him. "If you follow me again, creep, I'll rip your balls off."
She pushed the door open and left Jakob standing wet and alone, more startled than the crowd of coffee drinkers.
Chapter 4
Blake stared at Jacob, horrified. "You missed the meeting?"
Jakob barely looked at him as he shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it onto the cherry wood bench lining the entrance hall of his pride’s home. All he could think of was Bree. How had he blown it? He didn't think that was possible. Once established, the connection with your mate could never be severed. Yet, she had run from him twice already.
Blake's anger overwhelmed him. He felt his body wanting to shift. His eyes glowed a golden orange and his fingers extended towards the floor.
"Pull it back in," Jakob ordered. "Now is not the time."
Blake forced himself to concentrate. Soon his breathing normalized and his eyes were once again a very average looking hazel. He was embarrassed at such an outburst in front of Jakob.
"Did you hear what I said," Jakob growled, "or are you so focused on money you can think of nothing else?" Blake did not respond so Jakob continued. "I found my mate."
Blake knew Jacob shouldn't be faulted for what had happened—when you found your mate, there was nothing so important as solidifying the bond—but he didn't care. If Jakob couldn't do close the deal himself, he should've sent Blake in his place.
Jakob sensed Blake's anger, and it unsettled him. Blake had always been loyal, but was that loyalty wavering lately? It upset Jakob to think that Blake, his oldest friend and second in charge, could show signs of wanting a blood draw. If Blake persisted, Jakob would have no choice but to put him in his place. Even if that meant banishment from the pride—or worse.
"Next time, I'll go to the meeting." Blake said.
Jakob's growl grew deep in his throat. "You are still second, Blake. You do not make demands. You ask permission." He paused and let the strength of his will wash over Blake's own. All alpha's had the ability to force their will onto the male lions in their pride. It was for the safety of the pride this was possible—contradiction in a lion pride could quickly lead to death and destruction.
Blake tried to fight the power of Jakob's injunction, but it was stronger than his own.
"Forgive me," Blake finally said, because he had no choice. The words were bitter on his tongue.
Jakob nodded, dismissing Blake. He would deal with him later. For now, there were more important matters to take care of.
***
Jakob was hunting Bree. He found her scent easily in the air. Even from miles away, it could not hide from him. There was something else... a gentle tugging at the back of his brain that told him where she was. He'd heard the stories, of course, of sharing a connection with your mate so strong it was sometimes as though you were one person. He'd thought the stories were exaggerated. He knew now that they weren’t.
Jakob left his house early and followed Bree on her Saturday morning routine. She'd stopped first at a convenient store and come out carrying a bottle of water. She'd seen him, but he'd disappeared quickly, knowing it wasn't the right time to reveal himself.
Next, she stopped at the bank. She'd seen him again, and he smiled at her through the window and continued on his way, as if the meeting were mere coincidence.
Now he stood outside a coffee shop. Not the same one as last time. This one offered chocolate mocha volcano cups, whatever those were. He watched through the window as Bree placed her order.
***
Bree knew Jakob was outside. He'd been following her all morning. She didn't know if he thought she was too dumb to notice, or so confident that he didn’t think it mattered.
She tried to gather her thoughts. Call the police? No. Despite his trailing her everywhere, she didn't feel threatened by him. She felt flattered. A wealthy, sexy man was giving up his Saturday morning to follow her around as she ran menial tasks like going to the bank and buying coffee.
She looked at the latte in her hand—coffee was her one vice. She couldn't live without it—and knew she shouldn't spend the money on it. She'd had to transfer money from her savings to her checking account yesterday after work. Her savings was almost completely gone now. A couple hundred dollars and she'd be dead broke.
She watched Jakob pace outside the shop. He sent tingles up her spine, even as he stalked her. She couldn't stay in here all morning. She stepped outside. "Are you following me?"
&nbs
p; "Yes." Jakob watched for her reaction. He didn't want her running off again, but he also refused to lie. There was weakness in lying, and Jakob was not a weak man.
"Why?" she demanded.
Jakob shrugged. "Because you're my mate."
His mate? Was he for real? However, as strange as the words sounded, they were kind of titillating. She'd dreamt of him last night. It had been a very vivid dream, charged with a sexuality almost as unreal as the muscles under his clothes.
"I want to explain about yesterday," Jakob said. "When I asked for companionship, I only meant the pleasure of your company." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "In a public place," he added. "I only wished to talk to you."
"Why?" Bree asked. She couldn't believe a man like this would have anything much to say to her. A man like him could have his choice from half the women in the city. Ok, his personality was a bit arrogant, but with looks like his, and his obvious wealth, Bree would be surprised if he didn’t have women falling over themselves to talk to him, or do anything else he desired.
Jakob could not believe how beautiful, yet how stubborn, this woman was. He knew she felt what he did. Why was she resisting? "I told you. You're my mate." Bree's heart thumped in her chest. "Go to dinner with me," he said. "Tonight. I want you to know me."
Bree felt herself giving in. "I have work stuff…," she murmured. The excuse sounding lame even to her own ears.
Jakob's eyes went black then lightened to an almost unnatural degree of bright yellow-gold. "This is more important," he said. "It's the weekend, anyway."
She couldn't fight the electricity that zipped over her skin just being near him. Her pulse was racing and in that moment, her heart overruled her brain by a miniscule margin, and she gave in. "Alright," she said, and gave him her address.
Bears of Burden: WYATT Page 66
