Sheltered by the Alpha Bear: Alpha Werebear BBW Interracial Shifter Paranormal Romance

by Jasmine Wylder

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

  “Consider it, won’t you?”

  “Right now, the only thing I’m considering is returning to camp, crawling into bed, and sleeping the whole day through. I’m too exhausted for anything else.”

  A sharp whistle caught their attention. They looked over and saw Barto standing up in the back of the wagon; Kristof sat on the bench holding the reins and Velerie sat beside him.

  “Sun’s coming up.” Barto pointed down at Marten. “We also have a man slowly bleeding out, over here. You planning on riding back with us, or would you just rather walk?”

  “Be right there,” Ilyssa called back. She turned back to Alaric. “All right,” she muttered, “let’s do this. I just hope it’s not going to turn into the biggest mistake of all.”

  “It is whatever you choose to make of it.”

  Chapter Five

  The central city of Lobishome’s vast kingdom stood in the embrace of the Crescent Mountains, a semi-circle of high, mist-enshrouded peaks rising up from a valley now rich with the vibrant colors of autumn and reflected beautifully in the clear, spring-fed waters of Lake Amboadia.

  Ilyssa had always admired the sight of it in all the times she would travel in to visit the marketplace. But the splendor of Lobishome had always dimmed in her eyes when she would see the way the Werewolf residents had looked at her, noses wrinkled in disgust at the smell of a strange Human coming into their territory. She wondered what they would think of her, now.

  Of course, she did have Alaric’s scent on her. Two days ago, she had consented to sex with a man she did not know, allowing him to mark her before they rode into a situation that had ended as badly as she had predicted it would. She had killed a man, another Werewolf, to protect Alaric. And now, as they rode into his kingdom in the same coach she had found him in that fateful night, Ilyssa could feel the weight of one of her people’s greatest treasures resting upon her head.

  Ilyssa had awakened that morning to discover Kristof had sent Barto back to Lobishome with a message for Alaric’s personal driver, to request a ride back to the kingdom. Included in this request had been an order for clean attire, including the clothes Ilyssa now wore.

  “I still don’t know how you got my sizes correct,” she said, looking over at Alaric. “This dress is a perfect fit.”

  “That’s because I sent along the clothing you had been wearing the night before,” he replied. “I told Farndale to find something similar.”

  “You sent Barto off with my dirty clothes? The ones covered in blood from that Werewolf I ran through with a sword?” She snorted and shook her head. “I’d like to know what Farndale thought, when he saw that…”

  Alaric smiled. “Farndale is one of my most trusted men. If it helps, I did assure him it was not my blood.”

  Reaching over, he took her hand and curled his fingers around it. “Relax. Everything will be fine.”

  “Let’s see if you say that after I meet your father.” Ilyssa tugged at the silk skirt. “I haven’t worn a dress in years. My legs feel so naked right now.”

  “You’re beautiful,” Alaric told her softly.

  He lifted his other hand and swept her hair back off her shoulder to expose the lightly freckled skin. Ilyssa had to fight back the urge to shudder at the pleasant tingle that coursed through her with that simple, gentle touch.

  “Trust me, it will be all right.”

  “People who say ‘trust me’ a lot are usually the ones you should trust the least,” Ilyssa said with a smirk.

  She looked at him, his eyes just a normal amber color in daylight. “Trust isn’t something I give easily. I keep a tight grip on it. Normally, it takes a person weeks to earn it. But you?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it is about you. I’ve been trying to find some rational explanation but nothing comes to me.”

  “Maybe your friend is right.” Alaric arched an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I’ve bewitched you with my ‘dark magic.’”

  Ilyssa rolled her eyes and shoved at him. “Shut up,” she muttered, but she still had to smile.

  She felt so comfortable with him. She could push at him like she did with Barto whenever the tracker made one of his bad jokes. She could argue with him as she sometimes did with Kristof but not feel any long-lasting resentment.

  Alaric possessed another quality Ilyssa admired: compassion. When they had returned to camp following their skirmish with Karolyn and her men, the tribe had gathered around to mourn the death of one of their own. Alaric had been the one to carry Simm’s body down the path to the place where they conducted their funerals, and had placed him upon the pyre with the reverence one shows a fallen warrior. He had stayed with them as they had lit the fire and bowed his head in respectful silence as the tribe had joined in singing a dirge to send their comrade’s spirit on its way. Upon returning to camp, Ilyssa had offered him to join her in her hut, knowing he had to be tired and in need of rest, but Alaric had given a polite refusal before making his way back to the storage room that had been his holding cell. Ilyssa had checked on him once and found him asleep on the bedroll.

  He confused her as much as he moved her. Maybe it’s instinct, she realized. Maybe we really are descended from the Mother Goddess’ children, and it’s the ancient forces drawing us back together and making us trust one another.

  She looked at him, so handsome in his blue brocade coat and pale gray breeches, his black hair tied back with a ribbon the same shade of emerald green as her dress. She had heard that Werewolves could only see a limited number of colors, green being one. She had to wonder if he had asked for it specifically when he made the request.

  Farndale drove the carriage up to the front gates of the palace, which the guards opened to let them pass through. Ilyssa had seen it before from afar; now, getting her first real look at it, she found it to be one of the most magnificent structures of all the kingdoms she had ever visited, combined.

  The coach stopped in front of the main doors. Ilyssa reached up and pulled down the veil of cream-colored lace that covered her head. According to Alaric, Lobishome custom decreed that a woman being presented before the king for the first time be covered and then later revealed at the appropriate moment.

  “I hope that’s another practice you’ll abolish, once you take the throne,” she had said. “Workers aren’t property to be branded like livestock, and women no matter how beautiful are not works of art to be unveiled before an audience.”

  “Duly noted,” Alaric had replied. “You see? You were born to wear that diadem. You’re already restructuring the laws.”

  Farndale opened the door and Alaric climbed out first. He offered his hand again, and this time Ilyssa accepted it without hesitation. Together, they ascended the steps. Servants lined the polished marble and gold corridors, bowing in respectful greeting to their returning prince. When they reached the Great Hall, six trumpeters announced their arrival. Warm autumn sunshine filtered in through tall windows, and a cool breeze from the mountains caused the court banners to curl and dance as though in celebration. As they passed the courtiers, Ilyssa could hear them whispering.

  “A Human!”

  “Who is she?”

  “Where is she from?”

  Ilyssa looked up through the lace and saw King Mardell. A swarthy, older man with raven hair and a neat black beard shot through with silver, he wore robes of black accented with the same blue as Alaric’s coat, and a gold crown upon his head. Ilyssa could see Alaric in his father’s features, but she could also see them in his late mother, represented by a beautiful tapestry on the wall behind the throne. Mardell rose from his ornate chair and descended the dais steps, arms open to receive Alaric.

  “My son,” he said, smiling as he embraced the prince.

  “Father.” They separated, still holding onto each other’s arms. “Forgive me for not telling you of my departure from the kingdom, but I had wanted this to be a surprise.”

  He ste
pped back and turned, motioning Ilyssa forward. “Father, may I present to you the woman I have chosen to be my bride.”

  The king looked at Alaric, his thick brows coming together in a frown. “While I have waited many years for this day,” he said, “I must admit I am somewhat…perplexed.”

  Because your Werewolf son has come home with a Human woman, Ilyssa thought, smirking behind the veil. She knew they could all tell by her scent that she wasn’t one of their kind. She glanced around, noting all the possible exits, as well as the number of guards she would have to fend off if the king decided his son had to be out of his mind and ordered them to seize her.

  Mardell moved toward Ilyssa. For her part, she stood her ground, just as she had during her first conversation with Alaric. The king reached out for the veil’s hem, lifted it up and draped it back over her head. His eyes, a darker color closer to smoky quartz, widened when he saw what she sported.

  “The Diadem of Akara,” he breathed. “Said to have been worn by the Mother Goddess herself when she first walked on this world.”

  His gaze snapped down, meeting hers. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Lifting her chin, she replied in a steady voice. “I am Ilyssa of Emberi.”

  “Emberi!” Mardell looked over at his son. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing more than to guarantee peace between our kingdom and the kingdom of our long-sworn enemy,” Alaric said smoothly.

  He moved to stand beside Ilyssa. “I know what you were planning, Father, so I sought another means of opening lines of trade to the resources Lobishome so greatly requires and which only Emberi can provide. Together, Ilyssa and I intend to bring about great changes – first and foremost, a truce between Werewolf and Human.” He shook his head. “It’s time to put the old ways to rest, Father. If we don’t, we will all perish.”

  Mardell regarded Alaric for a long, silent moment. At last, he began to chuckle, a low rumble of amusement.

  “You have shown admirable Alpha initiative, my son,” he said. Looking at Ilyssa, he sighed. “While I am not thrilled that you have chosen a Human bride, because she wears the diadem I have no other recourse but to give this union my blessing.”

  “Your blessing is accepted,” Ilyssa said, one corner of her mouth curving upward. “Although knowing your son as well as you do, I’m sure you are aware that we would have proceeded without it.”

  Mardell lifted his eyebrows at her statement, without a doubt unaccustomed to being addressed with such audacity by anyone – particularly a Human. He gave a bemused snort.

  “It would seem you have found a woman as worthy of being Queen as your mother had been,” he told Alaric. “Strong, bold, outspoken.” He nodded. “Such a woman is not only worthy, but also to be respected. Even if she is Human.”

  Returning to the throne, the king motioned for Ilyssa and Alaric to turn and face the court.

  “My people,” Mardell said, addressing them in a loud, booming voice that carried through the large hall. “Behold your future King and Queen! Let the proclamation be issued and the preparations commence for the marriage of my son Alaric, Crown Prince of Lobishome, to Ilyssa of Emberi, beholder of the Diadem of Akara. Long may they reign!”

  “Hail, Alaric!” the court cheered as one. “Hail, Ilyssa!”

  I can’t believe this is happening, Ilyssa thought, looking around the room at all the Werewolves chanting her name. She saw the Human servants standing in uniform at their posts; one, an elderly gentleman with silver hair, caught her eye. He nodded, and she could swear she saw him mouth the words ‘thank you.’ Any doubts Ilyssa may have continued to harbor dissipated in that moment, and she acknowledged the old man with a smile.

  With King Mardell dispatching couriers to every kingdom, Ilyssa allowed Alaric to drag her away from the crowds to a more secluded area of the palace. They wound up in a small, private courtyard filled with fragrant, late-blooming flowers and trees heavy with seasonal fruit. Alaric led her to an ivy-covered gazebo at the garden’s center.

  “That was exquisite!” he said. “Oh! I could not have been more proud as I was in that moment when you told Father we would have done this even without his consent.” He laughed. “It would seem as though the Mother Goddess and The Fates have come together at last, and I thank their guiding hands for delivering us into each other’s lives.”

  He took her face between his hands and gazed down into her eyes. “You, Ilyssa, are a remarkable woman…and I will honor you every day of this journey we have chosen to make together.”

  “You talk too much,” Ilyssa said.

  Reaching up, she hooked him around the back of the neck. He offered no resistance as she pulled him down, their lips coming together in a passionate kiss. Alaric tore his mouth away and began to lick and gnaw his way along her jaw to her throat. Ilyssa tipped back her head to give him access, groaning.

  “Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this. I know the first time was more or less for business purposes, but I couldn’t stop hoping it would happen again.”

  “I will be more than happy to see that it happens every night,” Alaric breathed against her neck. He kissed her shoulder and then pressed his mouth beside her ear. “After all, we are to be wed. I believe this is one of marriage’s many perks.”

  “So it is.” Ilyssa laughed and then shuddered as his strong hands moved over her body, caressing her through the gown. Then he turned her to face the other way and began unlacing the back. Alaric guided the dress off her arms and down over her hips until it pooled around her ankles and left her wearing nothing but the diadem and a smile. He pulled her back around to face him, looking her over in the afternoon sunshine filtering down through the ivy. Bending, he kissed her lips before dipping lower, lifting one of her breasts to meet his mouth. Ilyssa watched him suckle; she could feel him hold her nipple between his teeth while flicking it with his tongue. One of his hands roamed down over her belly. He stroked her mons before pressing a finger down along the crease in search of her damp center. Ilyssa’s thighs quivered. She clutched at his hair with one hand and his coat sleeve with the other, holding onto him for support.

  Just as Ilyssa thought he would bring her to peak with those wonderful long fingers alone, Alaric released her altogether and stepped back. He stared at her as he began stripping off his own clothes.

  “You are a bountiful woman,” he told her, his voice low and husky with need. “I want to lose myself in you in every way. You’re so soft but you can be so hard, so strong.”

  Naked, he stood before her, his cock already at full mast. “Once I had that first taste of you, I’ve craved you every moment since. I want to do more than just mark you – I want to make you mine.”

  She smirked. “What’s stopping you?” she asked.

  The next thing she knew he had her in his arms, lifting her off her feet effortlessly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his narrow hips. His hands supported her under her ass, fingers digging into the fleshy mounds of her buttocks as he shifted her and pulled her down onto his cock. Ilyssa let out a delighted cry.

  Alaric carried her over to a marble bench and lowered her down onto her back while still buried inside her. Bracing one hand above her head, he grabbed her under one knee and hoisted her leg up over his shoulder. He began to drive into her with deep, powerful thrusts. The whole time, he stared down at her, watching her. Ilyssa writhed and arched against the cool stone beneath her. She covered her breasts with her hands and began plucking at her own nipples. Looking at Alaric, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and gave him a coquettish smile.

  “Fuck me,” she ordered. “Give me the wolf!”

  Her commands served their purpose. Alaric began to pound into her, careful not to hurt her but powerful enough to make her whole body sing. He moved faster, and she flowed wet around him, but just before she could finish he pressed himself deep inside her and let out a broken wail to mark his completion. He lowered his head to her shoulder
as his body trembled. Ilyssa held onto him, stroking his hair and his sweaty back. Alaric kissed her neck. She felt him slide out, leaving her with a dull, unsatisfied ache.

  To her surprise, Alaric moved down along her body. Kneeling on the gazebo floor, he caught her hips and dragged her toward him until her ass rested at the edge of the stone bench. Ilyssa’s eyes widened as Alaric grinned before bending to bury his face between her thighs. His hot tongue danced around her clit, occasionally darting down to lap at her swollen labia. Ilyssa flailed for something to grab onto. She wound up with one hand clutching the bench beneath her and the other fisted in his hair.

  “Oh! Oh, you dirty boy!” she gasped and then laughed, delirious with arousal. Her toes began to curl. “Alaric – oh, I’m there, I’m there!” She broke off with a lusty cry, her hips shaking from the force of her orgasm.

  When she opened her eyes again, she saw Alaric standing over her in full wolf form. Surprised, Ilyssa grinned, delighted by the sight of him.

  “I know I told you to give me the wolf,” she said, “but I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.” Sitting up, she reached out to touch his sleek, black pelt.

  “Turn around so I can see the tail.”

  He obeyed, and Ilyssa giggled as she ran her hands down the length of the bushy mass.

  “It occurred to me you only saw me this way in battle,” he said. He glanced down at her over his shoulder. “We can take this form at will, not just during great bursts of adrenaline-fed rage.”

  He pivoted to face her again and bowed down so she could touch his ears and trail her fingers along the length of his snout to his cold, damp nose.

  “I wanted you to see both sides of me.”