Loved by The Alpha Bear (Primal Bear Protectors Book 1)

by K. T. Stryker

  “I’m going to make breakfast.” The dark-haired man turns and starts to go.

  Clara panics. She can feel the moment fading, slipping away with every second. Desperate to cling onto his warmth, she calls out. “Nathanael—”

  Jolting at the use of his full name, he stops in his tracks and turns. Clara opens and closes her mouth, trying to think of what to say. “What if it didn’t mean anything? What if you just…what if you let go of whatever’s hurting you, just for a moment?”

  She sits, swinging her legs over the side of the couch. Shakily, Clara forces herself to stand. Legs wobbling and in pain, she braces herself by clinging to the edge of the couch and then the table. Nathan watches, eyes wide. He seems shocked and takes a step back as she walks toward him. She’s got the worst pins and needles she’s had in weeks, but she swallows it down until she staggers into him, falling into his body.

  “I don’t know why I trust you because I shouldn’t,” she pleads, feet slipping. Clara clings to Nathan’s body, wrapping her arms around his back and shoving her face into his chest. “But I do. Please don’t run from me. You’re not the only one who’s struggling. I feel something, and I think you do, too—”

  Her legs buckle. Her heart jumps in her chest. At the last second, Nathan catches her, pulling her up, his arms steadying her around her back and waist.

  “You’re right,” he breathes into her neck, making her shiver. “I do feel something.”

  It feels natural when Nathan kisses her. They mold together. His lips are soft, and he tastes like mint.

  Melting into his arms, she clings to him. Before long, he wraps his hands under her ass, lifting her up and bringing her back to the couch. When he sets her down, she folds her arms around his neck. His touch is so warm. Nathan’s hair falls into her eyes, tickling her forehead. When he looks down with those deep-green eyes, it feels like her heart is being slowly strangled in the best way possible.

  He breathes in short gasps, almost like he’s panicking. Worried, Clara furrows her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid,” he blurts out, voice low and gravelly. “My last partner—”

  “—she isn’t here,” Clara fills in gently, bringing her right hand to his face and running her thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m here, Nathan.”

  He nods slowly, maintaining eye contact that she could drown in. When he exhales, she can feel the warmth on her face. “You’re here,” he murmurs, echoing her words.

  He leans his body into hers, his closeness and heat making her feel short of breath. Nathan looks down at her, pressing his hand to her open hip where her shirt is still open. “I…still need to clean the wounds on your legs.”

  Gently, intentionally, he slides his hand down to Clara’s thighs. “Go ahead,” she breathes, shivering. He drifts his lips over her jaw to her neck. There, he leaves tender kisses where there are no bandages. Nathan’s mouth is slightly parted—Clara can tell from the way his breath stimulates her skin.

  Slowly, he drifts his kisses down, over her collarbone. As they get closer, he reaches his hands behind her back and unclips the bra. To get it off, he slides the shirt off her body first. Clara shivers under his touch on his arms, relishing the warmth of his skin and the way he’s firm and gentle with her at the same time.

  When her breasts are exposed to the air, he cups one in his hand before letting go. Drifting those godly lips down her skin, Nathan leaves fleeting kisses that sting and make Clara’s breath hitch. “Nathan—”

  “Quiet,” he breathes, voice lilting. “I need to focus on first aid, love—” The pet name makes her shiver, but she complies nonetheless.

  He slips both hands to the hem of her pajama pants, pulling them down her hips slowly, then over her knees and, finally, off her body. Left in just her black and white polka-dotted panties and the bandages around her neck, arm, legs, and across her chest, Clara shivers.

  This doesn’t slip past Nathan. He rubs his hands up and down her torso and then grabs a blanket and wraps it around her shoulders as she sits against the couch.

  Intimately, carefully, he unwraps the bandages and puts them in the small trash can near the couch. He gets a new washcloth. When he comes back, it’s still dripping. He rings it out over Clara’s shoulders, hips, and legs. Laughing, she brings her uninjured hand to his hip and runs it under the hem of his shirt.

  Taking her cue, he strips off the shirt. Underneath, the bruises are barely visible anymore. If Clara thought she’d gotten used to his looks, his body, she was wrong.

  Nathan tosses the fabric to the side before kneeling once more. He runs the washcloth over the nearly closed lacerations on her legs. There’s not much damage there, and she knows he doesn’t need to be as thorough as he’s being.

  That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want him to be, though.

  Clara chokes on her breath as he smooths ointment over the skin. Next, the new bandages. When he wraps them around, he’s meticulous and slow. They feel snug around her legs. Looking down, Clara is struck over the head again by how truly gorgeous this man is.

  She brings her hand to his face, brushing some of the messy, black locks behind one ear. He stares at her through narrowed eyes, a playful smirk on his face. “What can I do for you next, my mistress? I aim only to serve.”

  Nathan runs his hand over the side of Clara’s thigh, dancing his fingers and leaving lines of fire. Clara tries to think of something witty to say. Her mind totally blanks under the weight of how much she wants him, and she’s left staring dumbly into his beautiful, stupid, breathtaking eyes.

  “Please,” is all that comes out when she opens her mouth. She can feel desperation under the surface.

  Nathan laughs, leaning his head into her thigh. It’s quiet, but it’s a real laugh followed by a real smile. “OK, Clara.” Her name sounds like liquid gold out of his mouth.

  He slides a hand to her panties, gently sliding his fingers over the thin fabric. He touches her over and over until the light touching hits a spot near her clit that makes her breath hitch. She bucks her hips slightly, but Nathan shoves them down with one hand.

  Teasing with his eyes, he slowly increases pressure. He rocks his hand back and forth, grinding into her most sensitive spot. As he does, he leans into her neck and leaves a trail of breathy, sensual kisses.

  When Clara thinks she can’t take any more, he sinks to his knees and pulls her hips closer to the edge of the couch. She slumps back, succumbing to the smooth, warm touch of his hands. Nathan pulls Clara’s panties to the side and leans in, flicking his tongue against her clit.

  She whines, legs shaking. Nathan presses her thighs down and brings his mouth closer. Teasing her with his tongue, he flicks his tongue against her and sucks her clit. He drifts his mouth down a little, pressing his tongue against her opening. Falling into the sensation, Clara moans and weaves the fingers of her right hand into her hair. “God, Nathan—” she breathes.

  Riding the sensation, she lies back and lets him pleasure her in the sunlit living room. His mouth feels so good, his technique impeccable. Clara’s mind goes into a fuzzy, warm space. He rolls his tongue against her skin, teasing. As soon as she gets close, he backs off.

  Eventually, she whines at him. “Nathan, please—” He looks up, detaching his mouth.

  “Hm?”

  Grabbing him by the face, she brings him up to her level and pulls him into a deep kiss. All the while, she grinds her hips up into his hardness. Nathan takes the lead, kissing deeper and reaching one hand down to undo his fly.

  When he finally pulls away, he’s gasping. The sound of his voice, breathy and needy, makes something pulse between Clara’s thighs. Once his pants are off, Nathan pushes Clara down with her back on the couch cushions. Nathan’s eyes are soft, but she can feel a glimmer of the hungering beast inside of him.

  “Are you OK with this?” he asks, voice gone lower than normal. There’s almost a purr to it, and Clara feels an electric shiver run up her legs to her hips and what’
s between them.

  “Yes,” she practically groans. “God, yes. Please, no more teasing.”

  He nods, his smile turning into a sly smirk. He leans down, kissing inside of the crook of her neck. “You’re lovely, Clara.”

  He positions his length between her legs. Slowly, carefully, he pushes in. His breath hitches against her skin, and Clara moans in a quiet murmur. She didn’t get a chance to see his length, but as he pushes all the way inside, she gets a pretty good idea of the size. Clara gasps, clutching onto him.

  “This OK?” he asks into her ear. She makes a nondescript half whine, half nod, and he laughs quietly, almost nervously. “I’m glad.”

  He pulls out most of the way, then slowly pushes back in. Leaving teasing, desperate, heated kisses all over her shoulders, collarbone, jaw, and mouth, Nathan starts to push in and out. He grinds inside of her. He brings a hand back to her clit, teasing her both inside and outside.

  Somehow, he manages to be careful of Clara injuries. He rocks into her, their bodies close. Clara doesn’t feel cold anymore. Her open lips brush against Nathan’s shoulder, breath dissolving into desperate gasps.

  She can feel herself getting closer and closer.

  “Fuck,” he says. “You feel so good.”

  His voice is once again a quiet purr but more needy. Clara clings onto it, onto him, letting herself fall. His body, so much larger than her, feels like a protective barrier between her and the rest of the world. She doesn’t need one but right now, her body shielded by his, his length inside of her, it feels nice.

  When she comes, she digs her nails into his back. She cries out. Clara can hear Nathan’s breathing stop, and he thrusts deeper before releasing with a low, vibrating groan. The effect of his climax rolls through her, and she gasps quietly with the vibration of his body.

  Nathan pulls Clara close, lying with his back to couch so he’s spooning her. She relaxes into him, letting herself melt into his form. Her warmth pulses through her.

  Clara starts to drop off in no time, lulled into a feeling of comfort she can’t recall having with a man in a long, long time.

  Chapter 3

  Nathan can never keep the thoughts at bay for long. Lying there, arms wrapped around Clara, he breathes into her neck and tries to relax. Of course, it doesn’t work. Before long, the ugly memories creep in.

  Gently, he sits. She doesn’t wake up immediately, and Nathan stares at her. Clara’s face is so distant when she sleeps. He doesn’t actively watch her, but most of the time Nathan’s up before she is.

  The early morning sun makes her warm features glow. Reaching down, he brushes her bangs out of her eyes. Clara’s hair is soft, almost ridiculously so. It fluffs around her when she sleeps, and even when it’s messy it looks nice.

  Wincing, Nathan pulls away his hand. Didn’t he run just to get away from all this? Didn’t he specifically tell himself that he wouldn’t mate again? She’s human, though—would she still count as a mate, or just…a girlfriend? He’s not sure. Naomi would know the specifics, but he doesn’t want to ask her. It’s all just shifter-specific linguistics, anyway.

  Clara was right. This doesn’t have to mean anything long-term. Still, he needs to leave this house as soon as he can. Hell, he should probably leave now, but he’d feel guilty. Clara’s got more movement ability than he’d originally thought, but he’s seen how hard it is for her to use her wheelchair with one hand out of commission.

  Obviously, even these defenses are excuses for the fact that he knows this shouldn’t be happening. There isn’t anywhere else for him to go. Home? No, he’s seen the news. He knows they’re looking for him. Nathan’s members of his shifter blood clan will try and drag him back home any minute now.

  Ultimately, isn’t what’s happening with Clara closer to what he wants? All this running has just been to try to find a place where he doesn’t have to shift and can live as human without other shifters harassing him into their lifestyle. Very few of them understand his situation. Being a shifter has always been harder for him than for other shifters, and that’s something Naomi and Luka and the others have never understood.

  The sticky, post-sex feeling overrides the oxytocin release, and he struggles to his feet. Nathan bends and picks up Clara in his arms. Shaking awake, she looks up at him. “Mm?”

  “Need to clean up,” he murmurs, and her tired brain accepts this answer. Holding her tighter, he carries her to the bathroom and turns on the water for the large bathtub.

  He’s going to have to rewrap all her injuries. Sighing, he pulls off all the bandages and tosses them in the trash. Once the water is warm and filled up high enough, he lifts Clara and helps her sit up in the water. Her eyes open, and she reaches a hand up, brushing her thumb over his lips. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be, are you?”

  Ignoring that comment entirely, he gets a washcloth and helps her wash. Once she’s clean and wrapped again, he jumps in the shower himself. That show is equipped with a seat in it, which is nice because his body’s still aching from the effect of shifting.

  When he gets back to Clara’s room to bring her breakfast, she’s asleep again. He pulls the blanket over her torso and leaves the room. He puts her food in the fridge and finishes his in silence.

  Tired as he is, sleep is unappealing. Instead, he pushes Clara’s wheelchair back to her room so that she can use it once she wakes up. Nathan finds gardening gloves by the front door and takes them outside to weed her garden.

  Kneeling, he lets himself dissolve into the work. Pulling weeds, he digs in the garden and thins some of her flowers so that they don’t choke each other. Nathan’s so distracted by the work that it takes his ears to register that someone’s speaking to him. When he does, he whips around. The woman shrieks, jumping back a few feet. Nathan finds himself in a defensive, territorial position—one that’s far too close to his shifter roots. Relaxing, he slowly stands.

  She’s skinny and blond and taller than Clara. Her eyes are wide, wobbling, and Nathan gets a feeling of terrified prey from her. This must be Alice, the friend Clara mentioned. He relaxes his form. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Alice’s mouth snaps open and closed. After a moment, she manages to speak. “Who are you?”

  Shit. He tries to think of a reasonable answer. “I’m a friend of Clara’s.” He brushes dark hair behind his ear and gives her his most charming smile. “She didn’t tell you? I thought she had reached out to let you know I was visiting. You’re Alice, right? She’s told me all about you.”

  A blush tints Alice’s face. “I must have forgotten if she did tell me.” She trails off. “Is she here?”

  Nathan gestures a thumb at the bedroom. “Yeah, but sleeping. Is it urgent?”

  “Oh!” Alice’s eyes light up. “No, I just wanted to come say hello and talk to her, but if she’s asleep, I’ll go.”

  “Yeah, maybe for now.” Nathan smiles. “Come back and we can all have coffee. You can tell me about your novels. Clara says they’re very good.”

  This makes Alice absolutely light up. “Of course!” She looks away. “I’ll be going, but it was nice meeting you, uh…?”

  “Nathan,” he answers.

  “Nathan,” she affirms. “Well, bye!” Backing up, she darts down the hill.

  Once she’s gone, Nathan relaxes. Sighing, he gets back to work. He’d heard about the anxious author neighbor, but she’s much flightier in person. Nathan digs in the garden for a few more hours before returning inside.

  Clara has managed to roll herself into the other room again, even with her injuries. She’s on the couch when he walks in, computer on her lap and headphones plugged in. She looks up and waves as he walks in. Nathan waves back, but his heart pangs as he drifts to the kitchen to reheat her food.

  His heart shouldn’t flutter when he sees her, not after everything that’s happened and certainly not this soon after meeting her. He brings her the food, but after then Nathan stays pretty detached. Focusing on chores is emotion
ally easier than focusing on whatever the hell is happening with Clara, which is a door he doesn’t want to open.

  Later that evening, while he’s sleeping on the couch and Clara is back in her room, he smells them. The scent hits him like a truck, dragging him from his rest and making his eyes snap wide open. It rolls over him, making him shiver. If he was in bear form, his fur would bristle. In human form, the hair on his arms and legs stands up.

  He sits, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch. Fuck. Nathan doesn’t want to face them, but Naomi will absolutely break in if he doesn’t. The less commotion there is, the better.

  Nathan. There’s her voice, invading his mind. Open the goddamn door.

  Grinding his teeth, he throws the blanket off and steps across the smooth wood floor to the entryway. Throwing open the door, he stares at his older sister. She’s standing with arms crossed over her chest, pitch-black hair pulled into a ponytail. Next to her is Luka, who looks as bored as usual and won’t even make eye contact. His bronze hair is messy, cowlicked, and falling in thick locks around tan skin.

  Naomi grabs Nathan by the arm, yanking him outside and closing the door. “Whose goddamn house is this? Are you breaking and entering now?”

  “No!” he lies just a little, omitting the fact that he absolutely did break into Clara’s house the first time. It’s a good thing she can only project her thoughts into his head and not hear his thoughts. “A woman is allowing me to stay here.”