“It’s a date,” she said.
* * *
Scott tossed a pebble out into the waves pitching in front of him. It was a windy, cool night, which wasn’t saying much, because even the coldest nights on Grand Cayman weren’t too bad.
A part of him just wanted to walk out into the ocean and disappear.
He didn’t know why the emotions rolling through him felt so tumultuous, why some pieces of his heart felt stabbed through after making love with Mara. He didn’t know why it all felt threatening.
He was just grateful she’d agreed to change the subject. A dark resolution settled in him that felt much better than the helplessness of a moment before.
“So tell me about this man that’s been bothering you,” he said.
She sighed, and he could almost feel the air change as she considered what to tell him. He had an urge to put an arm around her and pull her close, but he didn’t.
He’d already had too much intimacy for one day. Still, he wanted to comfort her, and it was an odd feeling. After all, he’d given up his childhood trying to comfort his father and take care of his siblings, and he’d vowed as an adult he would stick to taking care of business rather than emotional matters.
Emotions were messy, awful things. He did his best not to have them.
“I guess it all started at my mother’s gallery. Back at the peak of my fame.”
“You were featured in a magazine, right?”
“Yes,” she said, but she didn’t go further. He had a feeling it was something she might have elaborated on at another time but now was just tired of discussing it.
“So anyway…”
She swallowed. “I feel like I’ve told this story too many times. And it’s never resulted in anything. But I guess I have nothing to lose by trying one more time. After all, who knows how much time I might have if I don’t?”
His stomach felt cold and he rubbed a hand over it. “Why?”
She shrugged. “It was escalating, and I don’t know… Something about it seems so hateful. People tell me it’s my imagination, to not take it so seriously, but when someone desecrates your art…”
“He what?” Scott sat straight up, staring at her in concern. All thoughts of her luscious body and the love they’d made were pushed beneath the surface as he considered the depth of the hurt she’d experienced. He wasn’t an artist, but he had a business and that was his life. If someone persistently worked to ruin it…
“He came into the gallery. Bought a piece. Was a little weird but offered to commission me to work for him as a personal artist. He was young, but I was given to understand he had the money for it. I was younger and more impressionable, but my mother knew better.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-five.”
He swore. “How long has this been going on?”
“Just hold on,” she said. “I’m not done. Anyway, after that, he disappeared for a few years. But then, the painting he’d bought appeared at my door. Carefully wrapped. I didn’t know what it was until I opened it.”
He swallowed, his throat tight and mouth dry. He’d seen the beautiful things this woman could create with her hands. The thought of something happening to those creations hit him at a very deep level. “Go on.”
She sniffled, and he realized her pause was due to her choking back tears. “It’s so silly. People said so, but… They don’t understand. It was one of my first pieces, so much work went into it.”
“What did he do?” he asked.
“He cut it. Shredded it. And then pasted pictures of violent pornography over it, obscuring it. You can’t imagine the shock of seeing that when I thought I was looking at my work. Just for a second, before it set in.”
“Then what?” he asked.
“I screamed. I called the police. They said they couldn’t do anything.”
“Why?” he asked, cracking his knuckles. He wondered why she hadn’t gone to her father or another alpha male. Shifters generally knew how to deal with weaklings like the stalker.
“I don’t know. Maybe because there was no proof. Maybe because he’s strong,” she said. “Has influence I mean.”
“Because you think he’s the person from the gallery?” he asked.
She nodded. “How else did he have that painting? The minute I got it, I remembered him. But anyway…”
“Yes. What happened next?”
She wiped her eyes, and his chest physically ached until he gave in and pulled her close. Surely a little comfort couldn’t hurt. And then, when he’d heard it all, he’d go end this man who hurt this beautiful woman so much.
It was the least he could do.
“It was hard to paint. Those awful images kept coming to mind, but I tried to focus on beauty rather than ugliness. But then every time a piece of mine would go up for sale, I’d worry something like that would happen again.”
“Did it?” he asked.
She nodded. “He became obsessed. Anything I made showed up at my house, covered in violent porn. At some point, I didn’t open them. I just left them on the porch. And that’s when it escalated.”
Scott swallowed against the rage that was nearly choking him. What kind of pervert wanted attention that badly? Sure, Mara was the type of sweet, talented woman any man would desire, but this guy’s way of going about it was truly disgusting.
“I mean, I’ve had some gross fans. Had some gross people I’ve had to work with in the art world. I’m not saying I’m not a sensitive person, but I’m not completely unaccustomed to harassment.”
He grunted. It was just another reason he wanted to wipe out mankind at the moment.
“But it’s like it was different. Seeing what he did to my work, feeling the raging hate emanating from it, seeing the awful acts and not being able to stop wondering if it’s what he meant to do to me. And then, as years went by, when I tried to sit down to paint, all I could think of was those images. And it felt pointless because no one would enjoy my art again. He would find them and destroy them.”
“Did you think about just not selling them?”
She shook her head. “If I can’t share them, what’s the point? I want the world to see my art. I enjoy creating and then thinking about people enjoying it afterward.”
“That makes sense. Couldn’t they find out it was him and stop him from buying?”
“It’s not like he admitted it. And there were no prints on the paintings. Not to mention, someone sending crazy paintings isn’t exactly the top priority of a New York policeman.”
“It should be,” he muttered under his breath. After all, this was his mate they were talking about.
“What?” she asked. “I didn’t hear that.”
But Scott didn’t answer. He was frozen speechless at the thought that had just gone through his mind. An icy chill shot through him, reminding him of a part of himself he pushed deep below the surface.
“You okay? What did you say?”
“Nothing,” he choked out. He couldn’t have just said she was his mate. He couldn’t have. He didn’t want that. He’d seen what that brought.
Screaming. Pain.
He felt her soft, warm hands turn his face to hers. “Hey, where’d you go on me?” she asked gently.
He could feel how wide his eyes were, how tight his jaw clenched. He searched for words but couldn’t find them.
“I’m sorry if I said something to upset you,” she said, looking crestfallen as she released him. Her hurt was enough to pull him from his shocked trance.
“No, it’s nothing you said. Something just came to mind. It had nothing to do with you,” he lied. She didn’t know he was having a mild heart attack over the thought that she might be his mate. That wasn’t exactly something she’d probably find complimentary.
“Just keep talking,” he said. “Distract me. I still want to hear more about your stalker.”
“Not much to say. I haven’t been able to paint, so he hasn’t been able to do much. Oh, I was going to
say things escalated when I ignored his packages. One morning, I woke up to a slamming sound against my window. When I got up and ran to look, I saw a painting with a broken frame, like someone had been smashing it against the window. The window was fractured.”
She put a hand up to her face and sighed in anguish. “I just don’t know why he hates me so much. When I moved, he found me. He doesn’t ever confront me directly, but he’s this ever-present threat. I don’t think he’s ever going to stop. All I was hoping for here was a break. And maybe to be able to paint again with him gone.”
He growled. Something deep inside him wasn’t going to let this go on for another minute. His bear was thrashing beneath the surface, and he hadn’t felt him in a long time. There weren’t a lot of threats around that drew out his animal.
But this definitely had, and based on the strength of his reaction, he’d say at least his bear definitely thought she was his mate. Dizziness washed over him again at the thought, making him literally want to keel over. He steadied himself with one hand on the sand.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Please tell me. Am I triggering something?”
“No,” he said. “I’m just… so angry. But I need to ask you to do something. I know it’ll be hard.”
“Sure,” she said hesitantly.
“I need you to paint for me. Just one thing to draw him out of the woodwork.”
“What for?” she asked, cringing away as if to make herself small.
“So I can kill him.”
She gasped. “You can’t.”
“If you say so,” he said calmly. “But in all seriousness, this has to stop. You deserve a life. Fuck, this has been going on for years. This sick—” He lost his train of thought and shook his head. “It ends now. But we need a painting. When it’s done, I’ll post about it online to lure him out here to buy it. He gets off on acquiring everything you have and scaring you with it. A painting is the best bait. Can you do it, or do I need to hire someone and have you sign it?”
She blinked and bit her lip but then nodded. “I think I could. The last day or two, I’ve been wondering if the beauty here would be enough to pull me through and help me paint. Combined with the fact that this gives me a chance to end it all… Yes, I think so.”
He put an arm around her as relief rolled through him. He stood and reached out a hand to pull her to her feet.
Then he looked into her eyes for a moment as the ocean breeze blew around them, ruffling the light-blue shirt she wore and lifting little tendrils of hair around her face.
She looked beautiful in the moonlight.
He couldn’t keep her, but he could protect her. He was going to get the bastard who was scaring her.
And then he was going to make him pay.
* * *
Mara raised her hand above the canvas, floating lightly, trying to decide where to start. It would be a seascape of the view from her room.
She’d never thought of painting something just to pull in her stalker, but she supposed it made sense.
That is, it made sense when she had a huge bear backing her up. Scott was in the room with her, working on a laptop. She was hoping having him close would make her feel safer. Make it easier to paint.
But every time she looked out at the dreamy colors in front of her, she just couldn’t bring herself to mix them and start painting.
It wasn’t coming. Something felt bottled up inside her. Maybe she just had to accept her career was over. Maybe in a few years, everyone would forget who she was anyway. Still, the thought of no one enjoying her art ached.
Scott had been quiet most of the morning while she procrastinated, alternating between getting snacks, sitting quietly in front of the canvas, or staring around the apartment.
“Is it that difficult?” he asked.
She sighed and gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, obviously.”
He scratched his head. “When I want to work, I can just work.”
“Well, you don’t create art.”
“That’s true,” he said. “But right now, you aren’t either. Maybe lower your standards.”
She harrumphed. “Right, because that’s what I’m known for. Low standards.”
He walked over to her, and the minute he stood beside her, she could feel his heat, his towering presence. When he wanted something done, he just did it. She envied him.
Then he snatched her brush out of her hand, dipped it liberally in some blacks she had mixed on her palette, and swiped it right across the canvas.
She gasped and yanked back the brush, but it was too late. A large, dark streak ran across the entire fresh, white canvas.
“You ruined it,” she said.
“Or did I?” he said, stepping back with folded arms to look at the canvas. His handsome face was slightly mocking as he considered his work. “I think it looks infinitely more interesting than a blank one.”
She let out a frustrated huff and set down her tools. If she didn’t get away from him, she was going to slap him.
He caught her by the arm and easily whirled her against him, holding her to his chest. His large arms circled her, keeping her safe. She exhaled, trying to relax. It was just a canvas. There would be more.
“Let it out,” he said. “There’s too much pent up in there. When are you going to get angry?”
She let out a low growl from some place deep inside that was aching to be free.
“That’s right,” he said. “When are you going to take vengeance?”
Her growl quieted. There was nothing she could do.
“No,” he said, running a hand over her arm, soothing her. “You’re a bear. You’re strong. No one gets to do this to you. We’re going to catch him; we’re going to end this. We’re going to show him no one can mess with you.”
She nodded, wishing she felt as sure as he did.
“Believe me,” he said. “I’m an ass sometimes, but I know right from wrong, and I don’t just sit by when something is really wrong.” He stroked her hair softly, and she shivered at the feel of his touch. Already, she just wanted to go back to the bedroom with him and get lost in the pleasure and forget all of this.
“Damn, I want you,” he said. “Like I’ve never wanted anyone. But that’s not what you need right now.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You need your bear.”
She frowned. “I can’t. I could ruin things.”
“What about at night? How about we wait until nightfall? Perhaps after you’ve let out your bear, your anger, you’ll be able to paint again.”
She felt something inside her growl in approval, so she nodded. “Fine. But we have to find a place where no one will realize two bears are running around.”
He nodded. “Leave it to me. You don’t think we never shifted growing up, do you?”
She shook her head. “I doubt you do it often, though.”
“Right,” he said. He looked at his watch. “I need to get some things ready. Stay in the room and relax. You have a balcony pool you could use, but keep your phone close and call me if you need me.”
She didn’t like the idea of him leaving, but she needed a break to deal with the emotions that came from trying to paint and not being able to. When he’d swiped black over the canvas, he’d made it seem so easy. Made her feel like a joke for not being able to do it.
But her whole life, she’d been the meek little artist. Snarky inside, polite outside. Perfect with fans or her family. Never out of line. Never rude. Never savage like the bear inside her that was screaming for vengeance.
Her bear hadn’t been out in so long she felt when it did release, it would be out of control.
She went into her room and changed into a swimsuit to go out on the balcony. Storm clouds were gathering overhead, turning the perfect blue sky to a beautiful lilac. The world was darkening all around her.
She just wanted to get lost in it, so she set her phone by the side of the pool and sank in.
When her ph
one buzzed, she checked the messages, trying not to get it wet.
I’ll be there around sundown tonight. Wear something comfortable.
She blinked. She couldn’t believe the man who hadn’t even wanted her around now seemed to be going out of his way to arrange things to help her.
6
“Where are we going?” she asked, looking out around them as they drove. The tropical foliage was getting thicker and more frequent on the sides of the road as they went up a hill and took a long curve toward a large house in the distance.
It was set slightly apart from anything around it, and as they pulled up on a paved driveway, she noticed it was completely surrounded by a hedge and tropical gardens behind it, with lush palm trees rising over it. When they stopped, he got out of the SUV they’d driven out here and went around to open the door for her.
As she got out, the sweet, fresh smell of tropical plants surrounded her. They were farther from the ocean here, far from the crowds, and it felt secluded and almost sacred.
“Did you come here as a kid?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “I sort of changed our plans, but I thought this would work well.” He led her around the side of the house, which was large and built into an L shape. It was white with white trim, and in the backyard there was a huge square pool with glistening, pale-blue water framed with beautiful tiles. Also, a Jacuzzi stood not far away.
But the garden behind the house intrigued her most. She looked toward it, and he nodded. Her bear had been pacing inside her ever since he’d mentioned letting it out as a possibility, and now something inside her was growling fiercely to be free, even for a moment.
Free from the pretty, comfortable silks she wore. Free from the politeness. Free from the Mara who acted like everything was fine, because it didn’t matter if she told them things weren’t fine.
Even when she’d met Leah and reunited with her cousin Kim, she’d acted like she was just hoping to paint. She hadn’t told them anything about the stalker. It was too painful to risk someone saying she was taking it too seriously. Making too much of it.
One in a Bear-llion (Polar Heat Book 3) Page 5
