Bears of Burden: THORN

by Candace Ayers

  “We were unable to find anything, sir.” A girl from the back said.

  He finished his search anyway, and I knew it was because it would be unlikely to find a cabin this far out without some sort of emergency kit.

  In the end, though, he wasn’t able to turn anything up either.

  “Alright, team, we’re going to have to hoof it back on our own. Keep your eye out for the missing bag full of gear. I’m sure the base is waiting to hear from us.”

  We’d left most of our things in the hurry to escape the storm, but apparently that wasn’t pressing because Chad was leading us down the other side of the mountain, away from the mess we’d left behind.

  Away from everything that had happened in that little cave. Everything I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Chad

  We’d made it back unscathed.

  At least, the cadets had.

  I could have used one or two less injuries, but I was on the mend, too.

  The biggest damage done was that Brenna knew.

  I’d done my best to avoid her finding out. I’d done my best to redirect the conversation after she’d put the pieces together.

  And in the end, after we had reached the campus and the cadets had departed, I had been quick to escape her presence.

  I couldn’t be near her and not think about the cave — her body hot against mine, writhing, exploding.

  The thought of her had my dick hard all over again.

  And if one thing was beyond evident, it was that it would never be able to happen again. She already knew more than she should. More than was safe for either one of us

  My solution was juvenile and faulty, but I figured the best thing I could do, at least for the time being, was to avoid her.

  At all costs.

  And that meant no going back to the bar where I’d run into her that first night. Even though I told myself I wasn’t going there to look for her, and it wouldn’t make any difference to me whether or not I saw her car in the parking lot.

  Of course, avoiding her was only going to do me so much good when we still had weeks of classes left.

  I gave the cadets a week off, figuring they’d earned the time after the experience they’d had. I asked them to reflect on it and write me a paper, and I thought that was probably enough to justify the lack of class.

  I knew it was mostly so I could put off seeing Brenna. I also knew I wasn’t going to be able to do that for much longer.

  But, to my surprise, the Monday after the week off, the cadets trickled in.

  And no Brenna.

  I thought at first, maybe she was running late, that she might feel awkward about our tryst in the cave, how I’d touched every inch of her and would sign up to do it again in a heartbeat.

  But, no Brenna. I even dragged my feet, making sure to double check my files and sort through papers that didn’t need sorting. Class commenced, class was dismissed. Still, no Brenna. She hadn’t shown for class that day at all.

  Or the next day.

  Or the day after that.

  In fact, I didn’t see her again until Friday, back on the green where we usually met.

  The cadets had already gone, preparing for their next practical experience — a week-long trip we were hosting next to a lake, in the hopes that we would be able to foster some different kinds of skills in that landscape — when I spied her walking across the field toward me.

  She looked just as good as she had when she’d been naked and pressed against the wall of that cave, her body hot against mine, searching for the same thing I had been.

  Brenna was flipping through a sheaf of papers she had in her hand, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was in them, especially if her expression was any indication of what it might be.

  “Major,” she said tartly.

  “Doctor,” I said, stepping in toward her even though her body language told me it wouldn’t do any good.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  “Brenna,” I corrected myself, my voice low.

  She was pressing the papers in to my chest. “This is your blood work. I pulled samples from your clothing.”

  I looked down at the charts in front of me, the vague numbers attached to valued I didn’t understand.

  “And?” I finally asked when it became clear she wasn’t going to provide me with any more information.

  “And, it’s not good. In fact, it’s probably the worst news you could ever get. Because you’re not human. According to these values, you just aren’t human.”

  She was stabbing at something on the paper, something I was to understand must be the defining thing that made me not human.

  I caught her hand in mine.

  “Stop,” I growled, not wanting her to go on, knowing I was in a horrible, vulnerable position with her acquisition of that knowledge.

  “Do you know what might just be worse, though?” she asked, and in the bright day light her eyes were inky and endless, and I wanted to get lost in them, not talk about my deficiencies as a human being. “It’s that you’re a bear.”

  “That’s not possible,” I said flatly, not knowing what else I could do, desperate to end the conversation and find a way to put it all behind us, to wipe the knowledge from her mind. “Do I look like a bear?” I asked instead.

  “No,” she said, her eyes fixing on mine. “You don’t look like a bear. Now. But I imagine sometimes, you do. I’m not an expert on things like that, but Major, I think that makes you a werebear.”

  I froze. I suddenly felt exposed and naked with the truth laid out there like that.

  “And?” I asked.

  “And,” she clipped, “I want to know more. How? Why? I want to ask all the questions and have all the answers.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I have those for you.”

  That part, at least, was true. There were so many unknowns in it, even for me.

  She was reaching out for me suddenly, her hands twisting in the fabric of my BDU. “I need to know, Chad,” she said, and there was a rawness in her voice, a hunger, that had me thinking of that moment back in the cave. “I need to know how I can care so much, want someone so much, when he’s not even human.”

  That, I definitely didn’t have an answer to.

  Brenna

  I waited impatiently.

  To be honest, I didn’t have much of the virtue of patience, and today I was especially lacking.

  I hadn’t meant to storm away from him, not really, but I couldn’t stand to look into those cool grey eyes a second longer. I couldn’t stand knowing what I knew and having him deny it to my face.

  And I didn’t want him to see how much he affected me.

  By the time I’d thought better of it, it was too late to go back. I knew he would be long gone.

  I headed back to the hospital, thinking I might be able to find something there to occupy my time, but there was nothing in my office or in my paperwork that could capture my attention enough to draw it away from Chad Matthews.

  Not long enough, not completely enough, not exciting enough.

  It took just a moment to find his current address in the hospital’s database, and then I was on my way to temporary housing.

  I’d stood outside his door. Walked up and down the hall. Perched on various inanimate objects, waiting for his eventual return.

  I had barely processed his arrival before I was leaping to my feet and moving toward him, the small space that moonlighted as a window seat at the end of the hall, disappearing behind me.

  I knew the minute he saw me, his step faltered, as though he was weighing whether or not he should continue forward, or whether he should turn around and run. Could he could move away from me more quickly than I could move toward him?

  “What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly.

  “I came to see you,” I said with just as much tact. “I shouldn’t have left earlier. We weren’t finished. There’s still so much more I need to know…”

  “Look,” he growled, h
is voice filled with gravel and laced with angst, his hand reaching out the grab my upper arm, his fingers biting into the soft flesh there, a reminder of his physical strength. “I don’t know what you think I can tell you. I’ve given you everything I have to give.”

  His touch had already sent me back to that moment in the cave, and now with those words on his lips, I was melting into him, a veritable puddle of emotions and desire.

  His mouth came crashing down on mine as he roughly hauled me up against him, his tongue teasing against mine, his hands moving over my body like he already owned me.

  And I was thinking he already did.

  Somehow he managed to open the door to the little suite while kissing me, a feat I was going to have to marvel over later, and we were crossed the room toward the bedroom at the back.

  I knew exactly where we were going, and I had no qualms about going there at all. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since the first time I’d let him slide his hard cock into my body, and now, I wanted him back where he belonged.

  I was moaning against him, saying his name, because I knew it was something he liked, and something I’d tried so hard to hold back from him.

  But now I was putty in his hands, turning into whatever kind of pliable thing he wanted me to be, desperate to have him.

  “Does it matter?” he asked, his teeth nipping at my lip. “Does it really matter?”

  I twined my arms around his neck, letting him carry me the rest of the way to the bed, moving eagerly against him.

  “No,” I heard myself say, and my voice was ragged, pleading.

  It didn’t matter, I suppose. I thought it had, but the truth was, it didn’t matter at all.

  The only thing that mattered was that I was here with him, our clothing being pulled from our bodies one piece at a time, exploring one another with a sweetness and an urgency and a desperation that reminded me of our time in the cave all over again.

  Would it always be like this?

  And I was certainly going to look forward to finding out.

  THE END

  SCREWED

  STORY DESCRIPTION

  I hate Jett Lang.

  I’ve hated him for six years- ever since college. I was a shy, awkward freshman and he was a cocky, arrogant football star.

  A.K.A. the a-hole who made my college days a living hell.

  It figures he would be the one to come to my rescue

  Now he’s a better-paid, cocky, arrogant NFL star.

  Still steaming hot, panty-meltingly gorgeous. Still an a-hole.

  And, here he is in front of me with a proposition that I’m in no position to refuse.

  Damn him.

  ***************

  Claire Donnelly.

  Sweet, mousy little Claire Donnelly.

  My bad boy rep is hurting my career and Claire is just the sweet thing that can help me change that.

  Besides, she makes my d*ck harder than any woman I’ve ever known.

  I will do anything to get me a piece of Claire.

  The one thing I didn’t expect was to fall head over heels in love with her.

  Chapter 1 CLAIRE

  Another night, another bar. Jesus Christ.

  I blow my hair out of my eyes, and wrap both arms around my drunk boyfriend. The idiot is, as usual, totally shitfaced, which means I got a call at home from the bartender about 10 minutes ago hollering about Aaron picking fights with some poor college freshman over a game of darts, and how I needed to come pick him up.

  “Get that asshole under control, Claire.” the bartender barks at me as I drag Aaron, still screaming, out of the bar.

  Yeah, I want to shout back, I’ll get right on that.

  No one can get Aaron under control when he’s been drinking, which is pretty much all the time anymore. Tonight I have no doubt I’ll be repaid for the kindness of keeping him from pounding those scared kids into the floor with a lovely black eye that everyone at work will avoid asking me about.

  My co-workers have already heard all the stupid, repetitive lies; they aren’t interested in hearing them again.

  “Aaron, please try to calm down,” I try to talk comfortingly. I’m too exhausted to be scared of what I know is coming when we get home. I never thought I’d feel this exhausted at the age of 24.

  “Those little fucks cheated me out of my money!” Aaron bellows, still scrambling to get around me and back into the bar. “They fucking hustled me!”

  I lean into his body trying to nonchalantly block him with mine. The car is in sight. “I know, baby,” I lie, placating him, “but you can’t just go after them. The bartender said we have to leave.”

  “I can’t?!” Aaron whips around to face me, his eyes wild and bloodshot.

  Oh crap! I said the wrong thing.

  “Did you just tell me what I can’t do, you little cunt?”

  Oh, God. I hoped he would have at least waited until we were in the car. “No, baby, that’s not…”

  “Not what? Not what?” He grabs my hair and starts yanking me around by it, bringing me to my knees. “Not you trying to fucking control me? You little lying bitch, that’s all you ever do. You just want to fucking control me.”

  “No, I swear,” I can feel eyes on us from all over the parking lot. No one will intervene. No one will try to stop him - they never do. Most will look away or leave. Some will watch in disgust. Those who watch will be more disgusted by me taking a beating than by him giving me one. I will just have to endure it, as always.

  “I’m not trying to control you. You’re in charge, okay, baby? You’re the boss. Please, let’s just go home, I’ll give you a massage and you can relax -”

  My words are cut short by a slamming punch to my jaw. I’m sent reeling backwards, knocked flat on the ground. I lie sprawled out on the pavement with Aaron ranting and screaming above me, but I’m not listening. I want to fucking kill him, the tears in my eyes are from humiliation rather than pain, although my jaw throbs. But I know my 5’2” frame springing up and throwing lame punches at him won’t diffuse the situation, it will make it worse for me.

  Just keep breathing, I remind myself, trying to swallow the fear that crawls up my throat like bile. I’ve been through this before, and I will make it through this time.

  Just keep breathing, stay still, don’t fight back, don’t talk. Don’t make this last longer than it has to. You’ll get past this. I wince when I feel his kicks on my back, legs, and stomach, but I just curl into a ball with my arms over my face.

  $623.52.

  As the kicks continue, sharp painful blows with his boot, I just keep reminding myself of the $623.52 that I have stashed under the false bottom of my sock drawer. Soon I’ll have enough to get away from this psycho-asshole, to go somewhere else, start a new life, become a new person.

  I just need a little more money.

  I am suddenly aware of another male voice, and the kicks abruptly cease. I peek out from beneath my arms. A heavily-muscled man with dark blonde hair has Aaron by the shirt collar. He delivers a vicious punch to Aaron’s stomach.

  “The fuck is wrong with you?” the guy bellows, his voice is deep and smooth but I detect an underlying tremor of rage. “Think you’re such a big man, beating up on a little woman, you piece of shit? That make you feel strong?” The larger man throws Aaron against the hood of my car. “Come on, man, show me how tough you are now!”

  Aaron doubles over, coughing, and I almost feel like laughing. Aaron is an intimidating presence, but this guy is huge. His back is to me but from the way it looks, he is solid muscle. I don’t think of myself as a particularly vengeful person, but knowing Aaron will have bruises tomorrow too feels unbelievably satisfying. Unfortunately, it will also mean he’ll become more enraged, and more rage means more taking his anger out on me.

  With Aaron reduced to a groaning pile on the gravel parking lot, the big guy turns and reaches out a hand to help me up.

  “Hey, lady, are you oka- ” He freezes mid-sentence, an
d when our eyes meet, I know why.

  Jett Lang.

  Jett fucking Lang… Lord, this can’t be happening to me!

  “Claire?... Claire Donnelly?... Is that you?” he asks.

  I groan. Of course, the one guy who so honorably comes to my rescue has to be Jett Lang, who used to be the biggest fucking douchebag college football player, and is now the more famous, better-paid fucking douchebag NFL player. Also known as the asshole who made my college days a living hell.

  When will I catch a break?

  “Yes, it’s me,” Using the hand he offers, I pull myself to my feet, and dust off my jeans. “Hey, Jett.”

  “Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s you.” He motions with his thumb at my mess of a boyfriend. “Who the fuck is that guy?”

  “My boyfriend,” I sigh. “And if you’re done playing white knight, I have to get him home. Thanks, though.”

  “What?... Oh, hell no. No, no, no. Don’t you tell me you’re driving him home?” Jett was never the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “Well, we do live together and I do have to deal with him sooner or later.”

  Jett is standing in front of me shaking his head. His eyes scan my body from head to toes, and I feel myself shrink. Then, he grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards a nearby Lexus.

  “That dick can take a cab.”

  “Wha-- Were are we going? Where are you taking me?”

  “We’re getting dinner.”

  “Says who?” I snap. I realize the guy just saved me from getting a worse beat-down, but I’ve had about all the arrogant control freaks I can stand tonight, thank you very much.

  “Says me,” he snaps back, and then his voice softens, “Think about it - do you really want to deal with that idiot right now?”

  I don’t answer, but when he turns and continues toward the Lexus, I follow, mostly because my jaw stings like a mother, my body aches, I’m exhausted, and he’s right; I need to regroup for a few before dealing with Aaron again.