by Lily Cahill
"Yes," she said, kicking herself as the word came out of her mouth. She wasn't supposed to tell him that. In fact, it was the last thing she was supposed to say. That's what the spray was for. Her father had spent years perfecting it to help their family hide from other shifters. But somehow, Max had known. And somehow, it had been as easy as breathing to tell him the truth.
"Then you know about ...?" his voice trailed off, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to say what he was about to say.
"About what?" she asked, terrified she knew what his next words would be. She felt her heart thumping wild in her chest. She felt her lungs go shallow and weak.
"Annika, do you believe in love at first sight?"
Annika bolted outside.
Chapter Three
Maxwell
Max raced after Annika.
When he found her in the tangle of trees behind the bar, his mate was practically quaking. Max wanted to believe it was because of him, but he wasn't that naïve. It was something else.
"What's the matter, Annika?" he asked, worried, his voice like gravel.
"You can't--you didn't, right?" she asked. "Please tell me you didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"Bond. With me." Her ice-blue eyes looked up at him, pleading.
He didn't understand. Finding a true mate was supposed to be rare. It was special. Wasn't this a good thing? Wasn't this the best possible thing that could ever happen to a person? It was to him. It chafed that she didn't feel the same way.
"Sorry it's such disappointing news," he quipped.
"No," she said, doubling over. "No, no, no, no, no."
Was she crying? Jesus. He'd never been a fragile person, but this was too much for even his ego.
"Look, nobody's forcing you to be with me," he huffed. "You can do whatever you want."
"No shit," she said, still doubled over.
"You don't even know me. So what is it about me you find so fucking terrible?"
She straightened and looked at him, her eyes desperate.
Shit. Was she ...? Because of him? For fucks sake.
He'd felt that feeling before, could see it in her face. He'd had to train it out of himself in order to become a SEAL, and it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
She was moments away from losing control of her bear.
Perfect. He was so repulsive to her that she couldn't even control her bear under perfectly normal, non-threatening conditions. He had half an impulse to let her do it--let her do it and scare the shit out of anyone who happened to leave by the back door--but she looked at him with those icy blues again and he couldn't.
He grabbed her elbow and tugged her farther out into the woods, up the hillside where the trees grew thicker.
"Okay, honey," he said, the eye-roll evident in his voice. "Do what you need to do. Then we'll talk." Now or later, he was going to get answers from her.
Her eyes were panicked, but she wasn't moving.
"I can't," she said.
Only he could see that she could and she would any second. He wasn't exactly keen on helping her figure out how to get back to her hotel without any clothes.
"Come on," he said with a sigh, unbuttoning his shirt enough to pull it over his head. There were still patches of snow on the ground, but the bright afternoon sun warmed him. "I'll do it with you."
But that only got her breathing heavier, practically hyperventilating.
"If you have to do it, then do it, Annika," he said, irritated. "But I'm sure you don't want to ruin your outfit, so--"
"I can't," she said, frantic. "I can't. Not with you watching."
She didn't want him to see her naked. Of course. Why would she? It wasn't like she had feelings for him. This was a strictly one-sided attraction, after all.
Immediately, he turned his back, and heard the rustle of her clothes coming off. He had to fight every urge in his body not to turn around and take in her lovely figure against the newly melting spring snow. He knew she'd be stunning. But it wasn't what she wanted, so he kept himself in check.
Still, just the idea of her alabaster skin against the white of the snowdrift had him very glad he'd be shifting before he turned around again. Shifting always had a way of focusing his physical energy elsewhere.
He undressed quickly, folding his clothes and tucking them into a high branch of a tree. It was an old habit, and a useful one.
He heard a noise behind him, a soft cry and that turned into a yelp. Without thinking, he shifted too.
He felt the familiar sensations: the stretch of his muscles over thicker bones, the point of his teeth pressing sharper against his tongue, the warmth of hair covering his naked body. To outside eyes, he knew it happened quickly, but time always froze for the one doing the shifting.
When he had changed completely, he turned around to look at her.
She was a polar bear. A big one. Lean and lanky and pure white. No man who met her in the wild would test his luck--he'd run.
Then, in a flash, she was off.
Oh, hell no. There was no way he was letting her disappear on him. Maybe she wasn't psyched about having him as a mate, but she didn't even know him. And he wasn't letting her go without at least an explanation.
He dashed after her, but found it hard to catch up.
Damn, she was fast. He was at least twice her size in his bear form and in peak physical condition, and still he couldn't outpace her. He'd never seen an animal move so quickly, much less a shifter, much less a female shifter. She must have been clocking thirty miles an hour or more. And this forest was dense. She was dodging and weaving through trees at an unbelievable pace. It was damn impressive to see.
He hated to admit it, but his heart swelled watching her. He loved it. He could watch her like this all day. She was more carefree in her bear, more sure-footed. Back at the bar, she'd seemed skittish, like she was ready to bolt at any second--which she had. But here, she was in her element.
He'd seen the type in the SEALs before--guys who never said more than three words during a card game, but killed it in training, never breaking under even the hardest conditions. Some people were talkers, but his mate was physical. She spoke through her body. The realization had him salivating to shift back and explore all aspects of her physicality.
Hoo-yah.
Only it seemed like he was the last person in the world she wanted mooning over her, much less wanted to have sex with. Again, the thought stung.
The one person he was supposed to be with forever wanted nothing to do with him.
Try beating that for irony, Alanis, he thought.
But he didn't have time to dwell. Again, she was putting distance between them.
Max chased Annika for over an hour, never quite able to catch her. In fact, he had the sense that she was going slower just to let him keep up. She would look over her shoulder at him from time to time--hurtling forward at the same pace as though she had an instinctual knowledge of the landscape and didn't need eyes at all--just checking to see if he was there.
Did she want him to follow? Was she only running because she needed to run?
He wasn't sure, but he liked the idea of it. His pride was a little hurt that he was slowing her down, and he was dying to see her run full-out, but his heart beat faster thinking that she might actually want him nearby.
But every time he increased his pace, so would she. She remained elusively out of reach, and he wasn't sure how long he could last like this.
Eventually, even Annika seemed to tire out. She finally stopped when they reached a stream, lapping at it full and hungrily, not bothering to hide her need. He liked that even more. It had him seeing visions of her in his bed. It had him coming up with plans to convince her to need him as much as the water on her lips.
Then Max noticed something else. Maybe it was his irritation that had blinded it to him before, or maybe it was her speed. How could he have not seen them? There were long, pink scars on her back and some that seemed to wind up from her be
lly too.
The rage he felt was as unexpected as it was instantaneous. He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill. Who had done this to her? Who had dared to hurt his mate?
Possibilities raced through his mind, none of them good. Whatever had happened to her had been intentional and malicious. It looked like the work of another bear, and the image of what she'd been through hurt him like a physical pain. He let out an angry, anguished howl.
She stopped drinking and looked up at him. Her pale eyes seemed to examine him, study him--and warn him at the same time. What was she searching for?
Pity? Disgust?
His stomach turned at the idea that she would even have to worry about that kind of reaction--especially from him. She was perfect. A few scars couldn't change that.
He looked her straight in the eye.
Something in her expression changed.
She stood up on her hind legs, and Max saw fully what he'd only gotten a glimpse of before. The delicate patchwork of scars on her stomach was far worse than it was on her back. He could see now that some of them were more fully healed than others. He could see that whatever had happened to her had been happening for a long, long time--and recently, too.
Again, his anger flared. But this time, he held it in. He wouldn't let her see how upset he was. He wouldn't risk her thinking that he had anything but love for her.
He locked his eyes on hers and kept them there. He was telling her that he knew she'd been disfigured and he didn't care. He was telling her that she was beautiful, no matter what had happened to her in the past. He was telling her she was perfect.
Annika let out a single huff.
Then, in an instant, she was standing in front of him in her human form--completely naked, and completely breathtaking.
Chapter Four
Annika
Annika had already broken so many rules.
She wasn't supposed to tell him anything about herself, but she had. She wasn't supposed to go anywhere but the bar without checking in, but she had. She was supposed to call her father over an hour ago, regardless. But instead, she was out in the middle of the forest with Maxwell Rex, the rightful Emperor of all shifterdom--and probably her mate.
She was pretty sure the Emperor part was a fact that neither her father nor Maxwell knew with certainty. If Maxwell knew, he wouldn't be here. If her father knew, she wouldn't have been sent alone.
But she did know.
Only the royals took the form of bears like his. They were big and black and different from any species still roaming the earth. It was the signature of the crown. She'd known it the moment she saw him shift, and that was dangerous. It was part of why she'd run so fast. Not her fastest--he needed to keep up, after all--but fast.
For all she knew, her father might already have a spy on them. She couldn't smell one, but that didn't mean much. She wouldn't put it past him to test her, and the spray blinded her nose just as much as every other shifter's. But all her siblings were busy training the new recruits for battle, and it would be difficult to spare anyone. Besides, if they had seen Maxwell, he would have already been captured.
She'd have to hope for the best. It was the only chance she had to survive this.
She would have to call her father very soon. She already knew exactly what she was going to say--the only thing she could say. She was going to lie.
If her father knew the truth, she'd never be free of him. He would latch on to her, force her to spy on Maxwell, maybe even kill him.
If her father thought she was lying or if he wasn't true to his word, she'd be dead by morning--and so would Maxwell.
Her only chance was if her father believed her lie--and did as he'd promised. Then she would be free. But she could never see Maxwell again without putting both of their lives in danger.
Which meant right now was her only chance.
He was her mate. She refused to do anything that would endanger him. And she refused to do anything that would risk her father taking the throne.
But in refusing, she was refusing herself too. She was turning away from her only chance at true, fated love. She wasn't a woman who could make promises. But she wasn't made of stone either. If today was her last day with Maxwell--or her last day at all--she wanted to know. She had to know.
What did love feel like? What did his love feel like?
It was the only question in her mind, the one thing she didn't want to die without knowing. Even if they got out of this alive, she knew she'd regret it her whole life if she didn't find out.
And so she had slowed down enough for him to catch up. She had let him see the worst of her--the ugly scars that marred her body.
She had looked into his eyes and done the one thing that was the most dangerous of all: She had allowed herself to hope, to believe that his love was real, that it was something she could have--even for just a moment.
She stood naked in front of Maxwell--scars and all.
He still towered above her in the form of a giant black bear.
She was completely vulnerable to him. With one swipe or a single laugh, he could annihilate her. With one kiss, he could answer all her burning questions. Which would it be?
In a flash, he shifted.
He stood in front of her, just as vulnerable, just as naked. And it took her breath away.
He was absolutely perfect, like he had stepped right out of a movie. He was all man--chiseled abs and tapered waist and thick, muscular thighs. His hair flowed long and wild. Even his smell drew her in. It was musky and untamed, like a root growing savage under the earth.
Then her eyes fell to his cock. He was huge, and hard, and his desire was aimed directly at her.
She looked up at his eyes again. He'd caught her staring, and it made her feel shy, even though he didn't seem to be embarrassed at all. He seemed proud of his body, completely confident and self-assured.
He took a slow step toward her. When she didn't back away, he took another. Soon, only a breath separated them. She felt her nipples harden with his proximity, felt her core tighten too.
"Do you want me to kiss you, Annika?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
She nodded, words her nemesis at the moment.
But it didn't matter. He leaned in and took her mouth with his, twining his strong fingers into the hair at the base of her scalp to draw her closer.
She moaned, opening her lips to accept his tongue as her nipples brushed against the hair on his chest.
She let her hands find him, skim his rippled muscles. Then farther down, down to his cock, her shyness losing over her desperation to feel her mate in her hands, to let him feel her too. She grabbed his thickness and stroked.
"Fuck," he moaned against her lips.
She tightened again knowing that he liked her touching him that way. But then his hand was on hers, stilling her.
"This is more than a kiss, sugar," he said.
"Please?" she asked. It was embarrassing to beg, but she wanted him so badly, and it might be her last chance.
"You don't have to ask," he said, his voice a low rumble that spread from his chest to hers. "You never have to ask. You only have to tell me what you want and I'll do it."
"I want--" she said, her voice breathless. "I want you to love me."
In an instant, he'd picked her up like she weighed nothing at all and was cradling her in his arms. His mouth covered hers, and she draped her arms around his neck to kiss him deeper.
"Then I will," he rumbled into her hair. "I'll love you forever."
Chapter Five
Maxwell
Max felt so aroused he could hardly see straight. His mate was in his arms, and she wanted him to love her--to make love to her. It was the easiest thing anyone had ever asked him to do.
He'd had flashes of what she might look like naked since the moment he first saw her, but the real thing was so much better than anything he could have imagined. She was full-figured and soft everywhere. Her body blossomed out at her breasts and at her hips
, making his hands want to explore every inch of her supple flesh.
And he would. He would map her body with his lips, his tongue.
He carried her over to a patch of soft grass growing in a pocket of sunlight between trees. Gently, he set her down there, kneeling next to her to unbraid her hair.
Annika's hand went to the braid, a question furrowing her brow.
"I want to feel it, " he whispered. "Your hair."
Slowly, she dropped her hand back down, nodding once to signal her permission.
Max let the braid loose, and tangled his fingers through the warm cornsilk strands. It was the softest thing he'd ever felt.
"Beautiful," he said. Then he kissed her again, slow and deep, as he lowered her to the ground.
She looked angelic. Her blond locks fanned out around her and her creamy skin made her seem pure as a milkmaid.
She was his Eve, his woman. And he would strive to be worthy of her in every way.
That began with worshipping her body.
He straddled her, then bent down and took her breast into his mouth. She had thick pink nipples that curved up with the line of her breasts, begging to be sucked. He obliged.
He nipped and licked and suckled her, keeping a firm hand on one breast while he mouthed the other. She whimpered in response, breathing sharp with every flick of his tongue.
Her hands searched for him greedily, landing again on his cock to pump it--and damn, it felt good. But he wasn't about to let her please him, not yet. He wouldn't allow it until he was sure she'd been satisfied completely.
He took her hands and pinned them above her.
"Stay there," he commanded.
A look crossed over her face like she was afraid she'd done something wrong.
"It feels too good, baby," he said gently. "And I want to make you happy first."
She let out a little whimper at his words, and when he let go of her hands, she kept them above her head. God, she looked sexy like that, so exposed to him, so yielding.
He kissed his way down her lush body, stopping at the apex of her strong thighs. When he tongued between her folds she gasped and cried out, like she was surprised. It was the most delicious sound he'd ever heard, so he did it again.
