by Amy Star
QueenCarrie: something good or something bad?
AEBarrows: I have no idea. But the girls know something. Especially Andy.
QueenCarrie: doesn’t Andy always know something? she seems sort of devious, just going by what you’ve said about her.
AEBarrows: That’s beside the point. Lily isn’t devious and Paisley is three but they all definitely know something. Malik’s late and Andy gave me a LOOK.
QueenCarrie: he ran off to Vegas. to spare the girls’ feelings he told them he’s getting them all ponies.
AEBarrows: Honestly, I think Paisley would be more disappointed by the pony than his absence. Ponies don’t have any sharp edges and they don’t eat suits of armor.
QueenCarrie: these kids are weird.
AEBarrows: You don’t know the half of it. They’re endearingly weird, though.
Just then, the front door opened, and though the lights were off, Malik’s silhouette was easy enough to recognize.
AEBarrows: False alarm, he’s back. Talk to you later!
She closed her laptop before Carrie had a chance to reply, setting it down beside her on the couch and pushing it away.
As she sat and watched the entryway expectantly, Malik seemed to be dithering, taking too long to take his shoes off and making sure they were lined up perfectly on the rug, when ordinarily he would just kick them off without a care.
As Ainslie watched, Malik dragged a hand through his hair and rocked on his feet for a moment, and he was mumbling something to himself, though it was too quiet for Ainslie to catch the words. Finally, he nodded once and turned to come into the family room.
“Good day at work?” Ainslie wondered, leaning her elbows on her thighs and leaning forward to prop her chin up in both hands.
“Yeah, it was fine,” he replied, and he sounded distracted as he crossed the room, each step careful and measured. He didn’t quite seem nervous, but he most definitely had something on his mind.
“What kept you?” Ainslie asked, tipping her head to one side slightly, though without lifting her chin from her hands. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine,” he assured her, and by that point he was standing in front of the couch. One of his hands darted into his pocket and curled around something in there.
Ainslie’s eyes narrowed slightly as she tried putting all the evening’s puzzle pieces together.
And then her eyes grew as wide and as round as dinner plates as Malik slowly dropped to one knee on the floor and pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket, his hand curled around it so tightly that his knuckles had blanched.
Ainslie’s mouth worked silently for a moment as she stared at the box, before she decided that talking was just not going to happen just then, and she closed her mouth with a click.
With a wry, crooked smile, Malik opened the box and held it out to her. “I’m fairly sure you know what I’m going to ask,” he pointed out, “just going by the look on your face.”
It was a fairly simple ring, and strangely, Ainslie was glad for that. Something huge and ornate would make it feel like she was trying to show off, and that wasn’t really in her nature. It was a thin gold band with a single diamond set into it, held in place with a swirl of gold on either side, and each swirl held a considerably smaller opal caught in the loops. It was sitting on a nest of black fabric, and Ainslie reached a hand towards it on autopilot, not even fully processing that she was moving.
Malik caught her hand in his free hand.
“Still,” he continued slowly, “I would at least like to get to ask properly. So, Ainslie Barrows. Will you marry me?” He looked so earnest, as if there was any possible chance she was going to say no.
Once again, Ainslie’s jaw worked and her mouth moved, but she didn’t quite manage words for a moment. Finally, she made a frustrated noise and managed, “Of course I will, you idiot. Did you think I would say no?”
With a burst of laughter, Malik’s grip on her hand tightened and he tugged her forward, until she scooted off of the couch and was kneeling on the floor in front of him. “I worry about these things sometimes,” he returned dryly, as he lifted her hand and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. “Needlessly, I guess,” he conceded.
Rather than waste any more time talking about it or needlessly worrying, Ainslie disentangled her hand from Malik’s and reached up, both hands cupping the back of his head so she could pull him towards her. Their lips met too quickly, so their teeth clicked together, but they both shifted until they found the right angle and their lips slid together easily. His tongue probed at her lips until they parted, and her eyes slowly drifted shut.
It seemed as if no time passed at all before the kiss broke and they parted, and she was opening her eyes once again. Foreheads resting together as they breathed, for a few moments neither of them said anything.
“Did you tell the girls about this?” Ainslie asked. There were probably better times to ask about it, but the words blurted out of her mouth as soon as they occurred to her.
Malik laughed gently. “I told Andy and Lily, since they’re actually capable of secrecy. Paisley just knew I wouldn’t be home in time to tuck her in.”
And just like that, Andy’s earlier question and Lily’s jumpiness made sense. Andy had been gauging whether or not Ainslie knew and Lily simply didn’t want to blow the secret. And that certainly explained the look Andy had given her earlier.
Laughing helplessly, Ainslie let her forehead thump down against Malik’s shoulder. What a day it had turned out to be. She could barely even process it.
*
It had been a long day, they decided shortly afterwards, and it was probably time to head to bed.
As Ainslie walked up the stairs, everything sort of felt like it was going in slow motion. Not in a bad way, but as if the world was still trying to catch up with everything that had happened.
As she got to the top of the stairs, she could see Andy peeking out of her bedroom, only her eyes and her forehead visible from behind her door. Ainslie arched one eyebrow and lifted a hand, pointing to her own eyes with two fingers and then jabbing those two fingers in Andy’s direction, silently saying ‘I’m watching you.’
Andy leaned out of her room just enough to grin and stick her tongue out before she ducked back into her room and closed the door. Ainslie continued along down the hallway.
When Ainslie got to her room to change, she still felt like she was moving in a daze. Her door was open a crack when she got there and Christopher was curled up on her bed when she stepped inside, sulking at her from behind his tail. Ainslie supposed she could understand why; she had been spending the last few nights in Malik’s room. She supposed the cat was lonely. While she did feel sort of bad about that, she didn’t actually feel bad enough to do anything about it. Her comfort came before the cat’s, as far as she was concerned.
Besides, wouldn’t it be strange if she lived with her fiancé but didn’t sleep with him?
She couldn’t quite hold back a high, tittering giggle as she thought the word “fiancé.” Like a small child being given exactly what she asked for on her birthday. It was a good feeling, though. She wasn’t particularly inclined to feel bad about it.
She changed into her pajamas slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed. As the mattress dipped, Christopher shuffled closer to her, and she reached back to absentmindedly scratch behind his ears with one hand. With her phone in the other hand, she dialed in Carrie’s number.
“That was quick!” Carrie greeted after three rings, chipper and slightly too loud. Either the roommate didn’t mind the noise or she was a heavy sleeper with an early bedtime. “Was there a crisis? Do I need to call in the cavalry?”
Ainslie was sort of tempted to say yes just so she could see who the cavalry was (though she was pretty sure it would just be Carrie with a sharp stick and a getaway car, and the most flamboyant masks she could find), but she shook her head briefly, ushering that thought away.
“Nothing like tha
t,” she replied. “But I do have a question.” Reality was
re-solidifying around her at that point, and a slow, impish smile began to curl on Ainslie’s lips.
“Ooooh, sounds ominous,” came the cheerful reply. “Alright, shoot.”
“I’m going to need a maid of honor,” Ainslie stated, as casually as she could manage. “Are you up to the task?”
There was silence at first, stretching across the line. And then it broke stupendously.
Ainslie wrenched her phone away from her ear, a grin plastered on her face from ear to ear. She was willing to assume that the high-pitched, nearly inhuman shrieking coming from Carrie’s end of the line most likely constituted “yes.” ’
Which was good, really. Ainslie was going to need all the help she could get planning her wedding.
Because she was engaged now. She was getting married. To Malik.
She held that thought close as the call ended and she sauntered back down the hallway to his bedroom.
After all, they needed to celebrate their engagement.
* *
Hiiii
Thanks so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it. If you are a WereBear fan and want to read more WereBear books then just check out my author page to see all of them!
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Amy x x
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P.S It is one of my previous bestsellers! xx
BEAR MEETS BRIDE
AMY STAR
Copyright ©2015 by Amy Star
All rights reserved.
About This Book
Dylan had finally come of age. He was now a fully fledged member of the bear clan that reside on a secluded island in the middle of the Pacific.
Now, the first thing he had to do was choose a mate.
But with no women to choose from on the island the bears had no choice but to send for a mail order bride and Dylan picked the curvaceous Sarah.
When Sarah arrived on the island she had no idea what to expect.
She knew she was going to be married to someone but she had no idea just who, or what, he might be. Will she like him? Will he like her? Will she be able to please him the way he wants? There was only one thing that was guaranteed for certain.
When Bear meets Bride, sparks are certain to fly and in this case the sparks fly in more ways than one...
This is a Bear Shifter romance with elements of fun, love, romance, sex along with adventure & excitement. The perfect mixture for the perfect escape!
CHAPTER ONE
Dylan couldn’t help but let a low growl escape from his muzzle. His muscles twitched with anticipation, causing the dark fur over his shoulders to ripple like wind over a wheat field. His dark beady eyes tried to focus on the sparkling clear water that rushed past his legs, cooling him during in the hottest part of the day. The sun cast its reflection on the creek, causing the whole tributary to glint, making it all the more challenging to discern the slick black-spotted rubicund salmon that seemed to hover in the middle of the current. Pushing their way home, one final time, Dylan thought, and the short nubs of his ears flinched. The water drowned out all other sounds and he let it carry him into a kind of trance as he focused.
There. His head dipped down in a flash, lightning reflexes plunging his long bearish snout into the cold water. It was a thrill as he kept his eyes open. Chris had forced the habit – it was like shooting a gun, or an arrow. You didn’t want to close one eye and you certainly didn’t want to close both. When you’re hunting, use all your senses, don’t diminish them, his patron’s harsh tutelage echoed in his head. Dylan had his mouth already open and he could taste the pure water fleshing itself against his tongue, even before his jaw snapped shut again and he tasted something salty, soft and wriggling. He lifted his head and a dark red salmon thrashed wildly in his mouth, even as he waded back to shore and dug into it. Sweet meat; hard earned.
Of course, fishing during spawning season wasn’t exactly hard work. Not like hunting big game, like elk or deer. But it took skill all its own. It was something definitive to who he was: a bear. A bear against the rolling pin of water and with the reward of fish; all this, the cycle of life and death in which he was a part of. There was almost something innately cultural about it. I’m waxing on again, he realized, even in bear-form. He must have been spending too much time around Chris.
He choked down the last of the salmon and left the tail and head and skeleton on the beach. Above, in the high cedars, perched like iconic sentries, adolescent bald eagles watched him with precarious eyes. He knew that those broad-winged scavengers would almost certainly devour anything he didn’t finish. Enjoy, he said, with the tilt of his head and a whooping bark at them. He clambered back up the damp bank and shook vigorously. The large hump on his back flexed, and he stretched his long claws into the mud. That was enough for today.
He slumped out on all fours and closed his black eyes. In his mind, he pictured his human-form again, and slowly his will began to fuse with it. The hair fell off of him, leaving a shaggy carpet of brown and black like a circular halo all around him. Pale flesh began to replace the dark under-skin of a bear. His hair fell backwards, and his face caved in, arching toward a human shape.
He let out a sigh and stood up. At six feet, Dylan Clover was a strapping young man even by his own standards. Although he was humble enough never to point it out. His naked torso shivered, still damp from the plunge into the creek. Have to remember I’m more susceptible to the elements in this form, he said, more to himself than anyone else. He used his right hand to slick back the heavy growth of black hair that caved down over his forehead and gave the creek another boyish grin.
Even though he was only twenty-five, his muscles rippled with promise. His training hadn’t been for naught; his chest was slim, tight and knotted with the hard muscles of an athlete. As he bent over, looking for his clothes he’d stowed in the bushes earlier, his abdominal muscles cramped over, standing out against his leanness. He frowned at a long vertical scar that gashed up the back of his arm and over his shoulder. It was the only part of him that didn’t seem sculpted, a reminder of how hard his training had been. Never underestimate an opponent. That was the lesson.
In human-form, he’d been blessed with incredibly vivid green eyes, and they sat in his skull like emeralds, dancing in the sunlight. His thin hawk nose lifted, breathing in deep, and he pursed his lips, feeling the sharp angles of his cheeks catch a grip of wind, easing in off the coast.
He tugged his pants back on and threw the threadbare T-shirt over one shoulder, eager to let the sun dry him out the rest of the way. It felt good to have the yellow light cascade onto his bare skin and he tied his hiking boots together by the laces and threw them over the other shoulder. He knew that when he returned to the mansion, it wouldn’t seem appropriate to go barefoot. He wanted to relish his time on the island as much as he could, and took off at a leisurely walk back to the cabin.
In the six months he’d been on the island – he could scarcely believe it had been that long already – he had had ample time to explore every square inch of it. It wasn’t huge, five kilometers at its length north to south and about three kilometers wide, but all of it was west coast rain forest, unaltered by humans. Aside from him and Chris, he hadn’t seen another person since they’d arrived, save for a poor lost fisherman that had blown up on the docks during a storm the month before. It was somewhat of a relief. After the crowded life he’d spent at the estate, being on his own for a while had let him appreciate his own inner workings. He’d never been fond of Chris’ meditation exercises but he’d found his own way to pass the time, to settle his mind, to explore the inner bear-thought.
It was like a candle, he thought. Glowing in the darkest recess of his being, a small imperceptible light, shrouded with blackness. But as you focused on it –
on the bear – it grew larger, brighter. Filling your vision, until you could not imagine anything but that pure undiluted light. Every day he closed his eyes and let himself grow closer to that imaginary candle, and everyday, his transformation became easier and more uninhibited.
Six months. Soon, his training would be complete and he would return to the mansion and the estate, to his own kind again. But he would no longer be the boy that had left, he would be a man, a true bear in every sense of the word. The thought filled him with a mixture of dread and excitement; excitement because he missed his friends, and especially his sister, Lilah, but dread, because he knew it meant his life would change, for better or worse, and that more responsibilities would fall in his lap. Not the least of which was presiding over his own family line.
Wood smoke cleared away his rambling thoughts. He jogged across the low bridge that hedged the cabin to another smaller creek, this one always dark with bled off tree tannins that filtered out of the cedars, turning the water a darkish color. Like steeped tea. He could see the cabin up on a clearing, above the creek, its rafters bleached by tidal rain and sunlight. The roof was in need of repair. It was definitely rustic but it was just one of the many things that Dylan had gotten used to, something he didn’t even notice, like his own heartbeat, or breathing.
