Spawned By The Bear: A Paranormal Love & Pregnancy Romance (The Spawned Collection Book 2)

by Amira Rain

“Okay.”

  “I really think he can do this, and so can you. You can be there for him. Just give him a chance.”

  Kevin reluctantly agreed, and we soon got off the phone after he’d promised to call or text me frequently with updates. After wiping my eyes one final time, I kissed Sam’s soft little forehead with the lightness in my chest continuing to grow.

  It grew even more that afternoon, when Dr. Bailey told me that Sam was perfectly healthy and right on schedule as far as growth and development. After the doctor’s, she smiled and cooed her way through a grocery store trip, drawing many admiring looks and comments about what an adorable baby she was.

  I pulled out of the grocery store parking lot in Warren’s Jeep, smiling, completely unaware that my upbeat mood was about to sink like a stone.

  CHAPTER 13

  Lost in my own little world of happy thoughts about Sam, and hopeful thoughts about my family back in Michigan, I took a wrong turn out of the grocery store parking lot, going right instead of left, and not even realizing it until I was maybe a quarter-mile down the road, which went south through dense woodland, toward FDS territory.

  Suddenly realizing that all the businesses in the center of town had long since passed me by, and I wasn’t on the short, gravel-covered road that led back to the cabin, I slowly began braking, intending to do a U-turn.

  Before I could, though, before I even came to a complete stop, I watched while bears seemed to come out of nowhere, at least a dozen of them, several of them blocking the road up ahead and others coming out of the forest land on either side.

  Assuming they were shifter bears and wondering what was going on, I came to a complete stop, rolled down the window, and asked one of them, feeling just a little bit funny directing a question to a large brown bear.

  He immediately shifted into human form, strode over to me, frowning, and spoke with his expression one of grave seriousness. “You can’t leave town. Chief Alexander’s orders. He’ll be notified that you tried to escape.”

  Shocked, I just sputtered for a second. “What? I—”

  “We’ll tell him that you at least didn’t try to mow us down in your escape, though. We appreciate that.”

  With my shock giving way to anger, I narrowed my eyes. “You tell the chief to meet me back at home as soon as possible. I’d like to have a word with him. Tell him he’s a criminal, too. Tell him that I specifically said that. Now, move out of the way before I really do run all of you down.”

  I drove home absolutely fuming. I nursed Sam and put her down for a nap. Once she’d woken up, I bundled her up in all her winter gear, because although the early spring day was sunny, the temperature was in the thirties, and I took her out for a late afternoon walk around the property, still absolutely fuming.

  I’d hoped that a walk in the tranquility of nature might help me to release some of my anger and cool down a bit, but once Sam and I had circled the cabin once, I found I was still nowhere near “cooling down.” However, while I pointed out birds and the tiniest green buds on the trees to Sam, I tried to keep the anger I was feeling out of my voice, so that I wouldn’t give her a sense of unease.

  While she cooed and kicked her little legs happily in her carrier, facing forward so that she could see everything, I continued walking with her, presently walking us over to a structure I’d started thinking of as the “mystery box.” It was on the east side of the vast property, just at the edge of dense woodland, and what it was, exactly, was an enormous square-shaped structure with stone walls at least twelve or thirteen feet high.

  I wasn’t quite sure how big the area was inside; I could only guess it was maybe the size of the floor space of the cabin, probably a little bigger, which was saying something, since the cabin itself was extremely large. A deep recess in one of the thick stone walls, the wall that faced the cabin, specifically, contained a heavy, well-weathered wooden door with a rusted keyhole. One day during a winter walk with Sam in February, I’d tugged on the door, curious about what was inside the massive stone “box,” but the door had been locked. I’d asked Mary what was inside, and she said nobody had a clue.

  “Nobody knows what’s inside it now, although what’s inside it is probably nothing, and nobody knows what used to be inside it, or what it was used for. It was sitting where it’s sitting long before Greenwood was ever established, maybe even a hundred years before, by the looks of that ancient-looking door.

  Some people say it might have been used as some sort of a limestone receptacle, for all the limestone that was mined in this area at the turn of the last century. It might have also had something to do with the copper mining industry. It also might have been the foundation of some sort of a very odd-shaped, perfectly square house someone started constructing and then abandoned.

  Probably no one will ever know for sure. I don’t even think the chief himself has ever even been inside, unless he’s scrambled over the walls, because, of course, the key to the door is long gone.”

  I’d sort of developed a mild fascination with the mystery box, and I liked just walking around it, imagining who might have started building such a funny-looking house, if that was indeed what the intent had been. I liked thinking about some eccentric wealthy miner intending some grand stone castle right smack in the wilds of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I liked thinking about what the castle might have looked like if it had been completed.

  On this particular day, though, I was too angry to do much imagining. In fact, I’d walked Sam around the stone box twice, although what I was doing was more like stomping, before I even noticed that the keyhole in the box’s heavy wooden door wasn’t rusty anymore. The old steel key plate, or whatever material it had been made from, had actually been completely replaced. Now one of shiny brass, it looked like, was in its place, with a more modern looking key hole designed to be unlocked by a modern cut key.

  Having come to a dead stop when this caught my eye, I now took a few steps closer. “Look, Sam. Look at the shiny, pretty new key plate.”

  Reaching toward the shiny brass glinting in the sun, Sam gurgled and cooed, and I wondered just why Warren had installed a new key plate, because I knew it had had to have been him, or at least one of his men directed to do the job by him. I didn’t have long to ponder this, though, because just seconds after I’d said what I had to Sam, I heard the sound of Warren’s truck pulling into the driveway. After turning around, I narrowed my eyes at his truck, then began marching toward the house. Time to talk, Warren.

  Catching sight of us as he got out of his truck, he waited until we reached him before breaking into a smile, a smile that was clearly directed at Sam only. “Hi, Sam. How’s Daddy’s baby girl?”

  Seeming to recognize him and remember him perfectly well, she burst into a series of excited squawks, waving her arms and kicking her legs.

  Smiling, Warren stepped closer, dipped his head, and kissed each of her chubby cheeks. “Daddy missed his baby girl.”

  This put Sam into hyper drive, making her actually squeal, straining her arms as if wanting to pull Warren to her. I wasn’t sure if she’d ever even been so overjoyed to see me before.

  Grudgingly glad that she already loved her daddy so much, even though I was still absolutely furious with him, I told him he could take her out of her carrier and carry her in the house if he wanted. Grinning at her, he lifted her out and placed her in the crook of his arm, where she babbled and cooed, as if excitedly telling him about her day.

  Without even a glance in my direction, Warren carried her in the house, and I followed behind, glaring at the back of his head while trying my damnedest not to let my gaze fall to his broad shoulders and tight rear, which, I’d seen the day before, was quite an attractive sight.

  Once in the house, Sam and Warren’s love fest continued in the kitchen while Warren got her out of all her winter-weather gear, periodically kissing her cheeks the whole time, making her giggle and squeal.

  Once he got her down to her tiny baby jeans and sweatshirt, he
tucked her back in the crook of his arm, smiling at her. “Daddy’s baby is so tiny without her big coat on. She’s so tiny.”

  She did look absolutely miniscule in Warren’s large, muscular arms, held to his broad, well-defined chest, and I couldn’t deny that the sight was pretty precious, and it almost made me want to smile. Just almost, though. I was still far too mad to muster any semblance of a genuine smile.

  Finally speaking to me, Warren asked how Sam’s checkup had gone, and I said great, and that Dr. Bailey had said she was developing just perfectly. While I poured a glass of iced tea for myself and then sipped it, leaning against the island, he continued to talk to Sam, walking her around, and she continued loving his attention, reaching her tiny hands up to touch the day-old dark stubble on Warren’s face. Stubble that, although I was loathe to admit it, was almost painfully sexy.

  However, after a few minutes, Sam suddenly ceased her happy giggling and made a disgruntled sort of squawk, followed by a weak little cry, frowning.

  I set my glass of iced tea down and went over to her and Warren. “It’s been a while since she last nursed. I’ll feed her now.”

  After giving her one more kiss, Warren passed her off to me. “All right, and then we need to talk, Tara.”

  His expression was decidedly stony, but I was sure mine was, too.

  “Yes, we certainly do, Warren.”

  “But like I said last night, I’d like to keep things civil when our daughter is around.”

  “I will if you will.”

  “That will be no problem.”

  While he remained in the kitchen, I took Sam out to the living room, nursed her on the couch, and then changed her diaper. Before I’d even finished powdering her little bottom with cornstarch powder, she’d fallen fast asleep, and I put her in her playpen to continue her nap.

  When I came back out to the kitchen, Warren took one last bite of an apple he was eating and then tossed the core in the direction of a trash can at least a dozen feet away. It went in like a slam dunk.

  Wearing a frown, he chewed and swallowed the bite quickly, then spoke in a voice that almost sounded menacing to me. “I heard you tried to escape Greenwood earlier. This, after I’ve already fallen head-over-heels in love with Sam. How could you?”

  Standing a few feet away from him, I stood up from a lean against the island, folding my arms across my chest. “How could I? I didn’t. Your men have a great way of jumping to conclusions.”

  “Then why did they stop you from driving out of town in the Jeep? There were about a dozen witnesses, Tara. They all saw you.”

  “Yes. They did. They saw me on the road heading south, out of town. They did not see me making an ‘escape’ attempt, though. What they did see was a woman who was in a good mood from some things happening in her personal life, and a woman who was distracted because of this, which had caused her to take a wrong turn out of the grocery store parking lot. That’s all.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I shrugged, livid. “Well, tough shit.”

  “I should remind you that you agreed to keep things civil between us, Tara. Even when Sam isn’t immediately nearby, I think we should try our best.”

  I was currently trying my best trying to keep my gaze on Warren’s face as a whole, and not locked on his full, delectable lips. Momentarily stunned even in my anger, I realized that I wanted nothing more than to kiss those delectable lips and feel them on mine, maybe while being held in Warren’s arms.

  Disgusted with myself and experiencing a wave of vague dread at the same time, I gave my head a quick shake. “No. Screw that.”

  “So, you refuse to try your best to be civil?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”

  I was really having difficulty focusing on what we were talking about. Now that the thought of kissing Warren had entered my mind, I just could not get it out. I couldn’t stop looking at his mouth, either, try as I might to lift my gaze to his eyes and keep it there.

  Forcing myself to do the action, I turned my gaze down and to the side, struggling to recall what we’d been talking about before the thought of kissing Warren had entered my mind. “I was not trying to escape today, Warren. I swear that on Sam. I simply took a wrong turn out of the grocery store parking lot. That’s all.”

  “Look me in the eyes and say that. Look me in the eyes and tell me you swear it on Sam again.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ve heard all I need to. You were trying to escape.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “Then look me in the eyes and swear on Sam again.”

  “No, but not because I’m not telling you the truth. I just don’t want to look at your… your…”

  I’d said too much. It had just kind of tumbled out of my mouth, but now that I’d caught myself, I certainly wasn’t going to finish by saying lips.

  Warren took a step closer to me. “You don’t want to look at my what, Tara?”

  “Nothing. Just let it go.”

  “No, please tell me. What don’t you want to look at?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Well, I have to admit, you’ve made me a little curious. What don’t you want to look at?”

  Knowing he wasn’t going to let up, I ground my teeth briefly, then spoke with my gaze still down and to the side. “Your lips, okay? You happy now? I don’t want to look at them.”

  Warren took his time in responding. “Why?”

  Obviously, I didn’t want to say.

  “Because I….” I hesitated, at a complete loss. “Because I just can’t stand them. No offense, but I hate them, even. They’re just the kind of lips I hate.”

  I knew what I’d said had been so ridiculous that Warren would never accept it as the truth, but I didn’t care. I was determined not to admit that I didn’t want to look at his lips because I’d become fixated on kissing them.

  Again, he didn’t answer right away, then took another step forward and spoke in a lower voice than he’d been using. “That’s funny… I have to wonder if you hate my lips as much as I hate yours. From their delicate pink color to your upper lip’s pretty Cupid’s bow, I couldn’t possibly hate your lips more. In fact, they nearly turn my stomach whenever I look at them.”

  With my pulse quickening, I recalled what he’d said the night before, about me being beautiful even without makeup.

  “In fact, let’s do an experiment, Tara. Let’s see exactly who hates whose lips more.”

  *

  Before I knew it, Warren had lifted my chin and brought his mouth to mine, kissing me so tenderly I immediately made an involuntary little sigh. Firm and warm, his lips felt just as good as I’d imagined they would, and actually, even a little better.

  However, maddeningly, he pulled them from mine after just a few seconds. “What’s your hate level of my lips, Tara?”

  His kiss, although very brief, had left me nearly breathless for some reason, and I drew in a deep lungful of air before responding.

  “My hate level is about a ten, but that was far too quick of a kiss to really judge.”

  “Okay. We’ll try again.”

  He brought his mouth to mine once more, moving his strong hands to the small of my back while he did so. Drawing in his woodsy, masculine scent deeply through my nostrils, I wrapped my arms around his neck, having to rise on the balls of my feet a little because he was so tall. Soon I was in heaven, feeling as if I were melting under his touch and the feel of his lips.

  However, although he kissed me longer than a few seconds this time, when he pulled away after maybe half a minute, I found that the length of the kiss still wasn’t long enough.

  “Now you’re just teasing me.”

  A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and when he spoke, amusement was evident in his voice as well.

  “I said we were going to do an experiment, and I need to check in. What’s your hate level of my lips?”

  “It’s at a
hundred… and steadily climbing.”

  “Well, I guess I’ve got you beat, because my hate level of your lips neared about a thousand instantly, the first moment I kissed you. Now I couldn’t possibly hate your lips any more than I do.”

  “Then keep on showing me.”

  He did, bringing his mouth to mine again, and this time, he kissed me for far longer than half a minute, presently parting my lips with his own and beginning to explore my mouth with his tongue. At the same time, he pulled me a little closer, and soon I was lost in a world of pleasure, pressing my body against the hard length of his own.

  It was the sound of the dishwasher beeping repeatedly, five times, signaling the end of its wash cycle that pulled me out of my reverie. I’d heard Warren turn it on to run a load of dishes while I’d been out in the living room, feeding Sam.

  I suddenly remembered what Warren and I had been discussing before we’d somehow started kissing, and just as suddenly, I pulled my mouth from his and extricated myself from his arms. “How dare you.”

  “What?”

  “How dare you kiss me after accusing me of trying to escape Greenwood with our daughter.”

  “Look… I believe you now, that you weren’t intending—”

  “Oh, and I have a bone to pick with you. No matter why you ordered me to be abducted and taken here, it became crystal clear to me today that you’re still actively holding me captive, as evidenced by the fact that one of your shifters told me that I’m not allowed to leave town.”

  “Not with our daughter, you’re not.”

  “And what about me, alone? What if I just want to hop in the Jeep and drive myself right out of Greenwood, right this very second. Would I still be stopped?”

  “You’d really just leave Sam like that?”

  “Please answer my question. Am I free to leave Greenwood if I feel like it, or am I not?”

  Sighing, Warren raked a hand through his hair. “Can you just try to give things a chance? Please?”

  “What ‘things’? Me being held captive things? You know what? Don’t even answer. I’m done. I’m so, so done. Like I told your shifter today, you’re a criminal. I don’t care if Sam can hear me say that out in the living room. You are. If ordering someone to be kidnapped and then holding them against their will doesn’t make a criminal, then I don’t know what does.