Bearing It All (Grizzly Affairs Book 1)

by Magenta Phoenix

  “Looks like I own you a few massive, hardcore hickeys, Baloo.” Crawling to her feet, snagging her thong and bra she strode past him to the bed room dressing as she went. His speechless eyes followed her until she disappeared from sight.

  She liked it?

  Hell yes! Our mate enjoyed it! Told you so! His bear moaned with delight. His bear was right about one thing their mate was incredible.

  * ~ * ~ *

  Fastening his pants, Doyle found himself drawn to follow behind his mate. No sooner than he had stepped over the threshold of the bedroom. Standing by the bed, Aria was in the process of pulling a fresh sweater over her head when her eyes met his.

  “I can be ready in a moment to leave if you wish. What's the plan?” she asked while reaching for a pair of black jeans that lay across the bedspread.

  Her words were emotionless and Doyle found he didn't like it, or the fact that she refused to look at him. Watching her dress he could practically see the invisible armor that she used to keep him and everything else at a distance. His mate tended to deal with things on her own instead of sharing her burdens with her mate. Such as her fear that she was not a simple human or that soon she would become more.

  “Don't ask questions you don't wish to know the answers.” He warned, slowly taking a step further into the room. Zipping up her jeans with a jerk, her face was a mask of stone—showing no sign of weakness or emotion. Narrowing her eyes at him, she took a bold step forward bringing them nearly within touching distance.

  “I don't care what you say or think about this matter, Doyle.” she bit out stubbornly. Planting her hands on her voluptuous hips she lifted her chin in challenge. As his massive arms crossed over his naked chest, she could tell his resolve on this would be the same as his body language— unrelenting. “I have to do this. I need to see this through.” she plead, her eyes searching his beseechingly.

  “This isn't up for discussion, Aria. I am your mate. You need to let me handle this.”

  Throwing her arms up in heated frustration, she paced away from him. Spinning around to face him, she glared daggers at him. “Do you know what Malca did to me in those labs?” she hissed out, hatred seemed to flood her eyes as her face flushed. Keeping a motionless stance, he quietly watched and let her follow where her voice would lead her. “She used to dissect people—while they were alive and helpless. She tortured those of us that wouldn't obediently do as she wanted. I was constantly tied down to a table as Malca and her minions studied me. I will not let her get away with what she has done. I will be going after Malca and showing the world what she's done to people. I will fight you on this if I must.”

  “It will be a fight you will not win, mate.” he venomously promised. As much as his bear rebelled at the images invoked by her words and how it unsettled him, he refusing to bend even a little on this issue. He couldn't—wouldn't risk his true mate. He would seek justice for her and uncover the truth. Letting his arms fall to his sides, a heavy sigh escaped him as the weight on his heart increased.

  “I'll go make us something to eat, come in when you’re ready. Don't forget to pack a bag. You'll be at the compound for a few days.” Turning, he left his mate yelling after him in anger that she would be going with him and wouldn't be staying behind. Every step he took away from her seemed to make her heated words grow in strength. She threatened to leave and go off on her own. She threatened to fight him, but it changed nothing. He wouldn't allow some faceless villain to take his mate from him—no matter the cost in the end.

  * ~ * ~ *

  Grumbling under her breath she found herself pacing back and forth across the room. Her words had not had the desired effect on Doyle as she'd hoped. Instead he seemed more determined to keep her from assisting on Malca's downfall. Part of her wanted nothing more than to give him the cold shoulder, but it wouldn't help her cause any. Refusing to cower behind her pride another moment, she entered the kitchen.

  She could tell that Doyle was aware of her presence the moment she came up behind him at the stove. She watched him silently as he poured two bowls full of some type of hot soup. The scents hit her empty stomach like a punch as her mouth watered. Turning to look over at her he gestured at the small table by the kitchen window.

  “Take a seat, the food is almost done.” he stated as he set a steaming bowl down on the table for her.

  She never recalled how her spoon ended up in her hand or even how she came to be sitting down, all she knew was that she couldn't get the bowls contents into her mouth quick enough. The soup was nothing like she'd ever had before. A mixture of thickly diced vegetables and cuts of meat made her stomach hum with delight. Grabbing his own bowl and two cups of tea he'd made Doyle joined her at the table. Pushing a small mug at her he caught her look of confusion as she looked down curiously at the steaming amber liquid.

  “What's this?” She asked inspecting the cup of tea more closely as she inhaled its sweet scent.

  “It’s honey tea, my mother used to make us on cold days. It will keep you from getting sick.” he answered not looking at her.

  Shrugging her shoulders she quickly downed her tea as she turned back to the remainder of her soup. The tea was indeed sweet, so sweet in fact she nearly found her eyes squeezing shut against the heavy sweetness. Not one for sweets she bared with it until the taste of the soup overcame it. Glancing up, she nearly shot her spoon full of soup out of her nose as laughter swelled unexpectedly. Across the table Doyle had grabbed a large jar of honey and began pouring nearly all the contents into his soup. He looked up at the sound of her muffled laugh only to shrug his shoulders.

  “Bear's like sweets.” he explained with a secret grin. Blush stole up her face as she shook her head.

  A hot meal had never felt so welcoming on her stomach and yet so strange as well. Her head suddenly felt fuzzy and heavy. Shrugging the feeling off, they finished their meal in silence. After demolishing his soup off, Doyle couldn't resist dipping a finger in the honey jar and licking it clean. As she caught his action he held the jar out to her in offering.

  “Want some honey?” Smiling softly at him she shook her head as she felt content with a full stomach. “I'd be willing to lick it off you if you'd like.” he teased while screwing the lid closed on the jar.

  “I don't like sweets.” she answered with a princess of the manor tone. Standing, she carried her dishes to the sink only to pause at his next words.

  “Today...didn't turn out as I'd hoped.” he murmured as he turned his face to look out the frosted up window. Leaning her hip against the sink she crossed her arms under her full breasts.

  “I didn't really picture one of Malca's goons breaking in and attacking me either.” she mumbled as a wave of dizziness suddenly hit her, causing her to grasp the edge of the sink for stability. Immediately Doyle's head snapped around to her as she raised a hand to her head. Cupping the sides of her head she closed her eyes as her entire body began to feel weak all of a sudden. No sound was made as Doyle's comforting presence was suddenly beside her. His arms wrapped about her waist in a protective embrace.

  “Are you alright?” he asked as he hunched down to look directly into her eyes. His eyes held intense concern but also she swore guilt of all things flashed across his face. Slowly nodding, Aria found her hand clutch at the side of his arms that held her tenderly.

  “I'm fine. I don't know why I’m so dizzy all of a sudden.”

  After a reluctant pause he straightened still maintaining his hold on her. “I do.” he admitted truthfully. Looking up at him with disbelief she felt ice burn into her chest. What had he done? Bending his knees, she was swept up into his arms as her head begun to spin.

  “What do you mean...” her words trailed off as another wave of weariness fell over her. This couldn't be normal as her tired mind worked to process the source of her dizziness the answer came tumbling down like a ton of bricks. The tea! She'd trustingly drank hers, but with a quick glance over at the table she saw that his was still untouched. He'd drugged
her.

  Weakly swinging her arm at him in anger, she fought for him to lower to onto her own two feet. Once on them she didn't know what she'd do, but she'd make sure it would hurt.

  “What did you do?” her voice growled out in anger. Her feeble attempts to strike him seemed to go unnoticed by him entirely. Ignoring her struggles, Doyle moved into the living room stopping as he neared the couch.

  “I did what I had to do. This was all I could think of doing to protect you.” Slowly, he lowered his still struggling mate into sitting position on the couch. Most of the fight in her had drained out of her as the sedatives he'd slipped her began taking full effect.

  “You're the only one that's going to need protection.” she hissed out as she fought to keep her eyes open. “I...promise you, I will kill...you...for...this...” Her words escaped in heavy pants as she struggled to fight off the warm lethargic state that sapped all her strength. Her head fell weakly against the back of the couch as his expression softened.

  “I have no doubt you will try but at least you will be alive to do so. I can't risk losing you.”

  Cupping the sides of her face, Doyle pressed a soft kiss to her parted lips before resting his forehead against hers. She found she was able to shoot him a final look of anger before she succumbed to the black void around her. As she began slipping away on the endless tide of oblivion, a warm voice echoed off the walls of her mind.

  “I love you, my mate.”

  16

  Warm light caressed her skin as the sun shone through to large bay windows near the bed. The harsh touch of sunlight had her wince as it struck her slowly opening eyes. Sliding up into sitting position she brought up a hand up to shield her eyes against the brightness of day. Blinking a few times she found she was able to tolerate the morning light a couple of moments later.

  Tossing the heavy blue quilt that covered her to the end of the bed, she groaned as the beginning of a headache from hell hit her. Memories of—what she could only assume was yesterday—began coming back to her. One of those memories consisted of Doyle drugging her with some suspicious tea. This meant she was currently at the one place she refused to be left—his pack’s compound.

  Soon-to-be-dead rat bastard!

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she stood on shaking legs. Leaning against the bedside table she shot a sweeping glance about the room. The room consisted of a lavish queen size bed and a tall five drawer dresser. To the left of the uncovered bay windows near the bed was an attached bathroom—much to her relief. Making use of the newly discovered bathroom, Aria relieved her demanding bladder with a sigh of relief. After washing her hands and splashing some water in her face, it was then that she noticed something missing. Her metal cuffs were gone! Her heart lifted with relief with them gone. Had Doyle done this while she was asleep? Before she could ponder about it something caught her eye on the mirror in front of her.

  Taped to the mirror before her was a folded paper with her name scrawled in masculine handwriting. Ripping the note off the mirror, she unfolded the note with barely controlled anger. He drugs her, dumps her somewhere and then leaves her a note? That makes it all so much better —NOT! Struggling not to clench the thin note in her hands too tightly her eyes quickly swept over the words with narrowing eyes.

  Aria,

  Please understand I did what I did to protect you. Mark, Robert, and I have gone after this Malca person. Wait for me there at the pack's compound—I will come for you in a few days when this threat to you is gone forever. Forgive me and remember that I love you.

  -Doyle.

  Half of her wanted to shred the letter to appease her rising temper, while on the other hand the small girly part of her wanted to hold it near. It was the third time he'd told her that he'd loved her—despite one of the times being after he had roofied her. Deep down she was beginning to soften toward her annoying, male chauvinist, sexy bear. Even more clearly she knew she had been using Malca as an excuse not to get attached to any happiness or permanency where Doyle was concerned.

  Mentally slapping herself away from such thoughts, she found the need to physically slap herself as well. What was wrong with her? She was in way over her head. That’s what she got for trusting a honey-holic bear. Love? Did she love him? No. She shook her head against the possibility. Lust after him? Yes. Trust him? Debatable. But never would she say that she loved him.

  Reentering the bedroom she moved across the room to another door, this one was closed. Holding a breath she tested the door knob. It turned without difficulty allowing her to sigh with relief. Easing the door open the sounds of a busy household greeted her ears. Children shouted and giggled while adult voices spoke with hushed and serious tones. The floor boards creaked under rushing feet and unrushed ones.

  Moving on soft steps she entered a wide hallway. There were four other closed doors on either side of her and stairs leading downward. Without seeing any other option she eased her way down the polished wooden steps. The closer she got to the bottom of the stairs the more clearly the conversing voices became. At the bottom of the stairs she came to another hallway. To the right was several more closed doors. To the left the hallway opened into a massive dining area with numerous polished oak tables and chairs. Moving across the large space her feet guided her closer to the low conversing voices. Hiding her body along the side of the open doorway, she waited and listened.

  “How long should we let her sleep?” A soft feminine voice asked with concern. “She might be hungry. I could go wake her if you want.”

  “No.” An older female voice assured. “She doesn’t need help waking up.” Both seemed to pause before the older sounding woman spoke again. “You can show yourself, Aria. I know you're there.”

  Surprised and slightly ashamed that she'd been caught Aria moved from her hiding place and walked through the doorway. Entering the kitchen; a.k.a. every woman's wet dream caused her eyes to widen in surprise. A stainless steel stove and double fridge caught her attention instantly. Wide gray marble counters circled along the walls of the room. A large prep-station and bar covered in the same marble sat in the middle of the wide space.

  “Hungry?” The even tone of the older woman's voice drew her focus from studying her surroundings to the woman speaking. A tall and curvy woman eyed Aria with a critical eye. Standing beside her was a slightly thicker and shorter woman that looked her way with a shy glance. As the older woman cleared her throat, slightly annoyed she inquired again, “Are you hungry?”

  Her head bobbed slowly in agreement. Walking further into the kitchen she came to stop in front of the prep-station and bar. Pulling a bar stool out she raised herself into the cushioned seat while enduring the watchful eyes of the other women. The older woman moved away from the prep-station to the stove and began heating up left over’s from breakfast. The other woman watched her with a quiet curiosity.

  “How are you feeling?” The older woman asked her, turning away from the stove to look at her.

  “Other than a headache, I'm fine.” Her hand reached up to touch her pounding temples in indication. Without noticing any movement, two hands suddenly appeared in front of her. One held a tall glass of water and the other held out two small white pills.

  “Here,” the younger woman offered kindly. Call her crazy but she was a little skeptical about accepting drugs from others after Doyle's loving-drugging. She made no move to accept either from the woman with a trusting smile. “It's just aspirin, I swear.” Not seeing how any threat could come from the gentle face before her, she reluctantly accepted both with a friendly nod.

  “Don't trust us?” The older woman asked, unsurprised with Aria's slow acceptance.

  Swallowing the pills down with some water, she shook her head. “I do not really trust anyone with drugs after my encounter with a furry imbecile.” She mumbled disgruntled. An explosion of loud laughter erupted from near the stove as the older woman dished some eggs and pancakes on a plate.

  “I've never heard a girl call Doyle
that before.” Setting the full plate down before Aria, the older woman grinned. “I'm Celia, Doyle's mother.” Celia gestured toward the young woman that had given her some pain pills. “That's Rebecca, she nannies for one of the families here at the compound.” Rebecca nodded her head in acknowledgment. Her braided light brown hair waved behind her with her movement. Taking a moment Aria studied the one named Rebecca. Rebecca was voluptuous like her and also seemed around the same age. Her eyes looked haunted as she looked cautiously around her every few minutes. Every once in a while, Rebecca would tug at the collar of her turtle-neck, making sure that it covered her as if she was making sure that something was kept hidden.

  “How did you know my name?” Aria asked turning her attention from Rebecca to her food.

  “I'm psychic.” Celia replied with a deadpan expression. Rebecca scoffed in amusement as the two women shared a humoring smile. “Not really. Doyle told me your name and about you.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she fixed her watchful gaze on Celia. “What did he tell you?”

  Turning to Rebecca, Celia's expression softened. “Could you give us some time alone?”

  Nodding Rebecca smiled softly. “I need to go check on the children any way.” Without another word, Rebecca left the two of them alone. Once she was out of ear shot, Celia fixed Aria with a serious look.

  “You need to be careful about what you say around her. You are a special exception—Rebecca is not.”

  Curious, she pointed after Rebecca. “You mean she's not one of you? A shifter?”

  Slowly and with sad eyes, Celia shook her head. “She must never know even a hint of what we are. It would mean her life if she did.”