Inextinguishable Love: Firefighter and Interracial Romance

by Kathleen Bunker

  He didn’t wake when she cleaned his cut and stuck a plaster on it. He didn’t wake for several hours but, as the cloudy day progressed, she watched as his bruises changed color and several grazes formed scabs, healed, and created new fresh skin right before her eyes. She was pretty sure it had something to do with what happened to him when the thugs had tackled him.

  It brought back a memory from when she was a child. She had stayed at the cabin with her uncle when her parents went on holiday to Europe. She had stayed with him for four weeks and had the time of her life, running through the woods, climbing trees and building camps. Somehow she had forgotten she had ever been to the cabin and buried her entire stay with him in the recess of her mind. Now it was open and she could remember.

  They had been walking by a lake in the valley. They had a picnic and it must have been autumn because there were fallen crispy leaves all around. She had seen the big brown bear and her uncle had jumped up to stand in front of her. The bear had made a sound that hurt her ears and then fallen to the ground. That was when her uncle had tied the napkin around her eyes and told her not to peek. She had peeked and she must have thought she was dreaming because the bear had turned into a naked man with a terrible wound on his leg.

  She had seen Lewis turn into a bear, just like the man in the forest all those years ago. If she wasn’t going crazy for a second time, then Lewis was some kind of bear man and she didn’t even want to think about Brad turning into a wolf. If she had been dating a freaking werewolf, then it was seriously time to evaluate her life.

  She wished she could talk to her uncle but her phone had no signal and the nearest payphone was back in the village several miles away. She couldn’t leave Lewis when he was so badly injured and if what she’d heard was true, then this was all about Brad and his big con.

  “Wake up Lewis; we need to talk,” she said shaking him gently, trying to avoid obvious sore spots.

  “Mmm…”

  “Wake up,” she said.

  His eyes fluttered open, and he looked confused for a few seconds. She tried not to dwell on how cute he was as his brain tried to process where he was and what was happening. When he finally settled his gaze on her face, he looked like Santa had just kicked his puppy. She could stare at him for hours but time was ticking by and she needed to figure out what Brad was up to; she’d lost almost everything to him and now he was back and walking on four paws.

  “Get up already,” she snapped. Thinking about Brad had brought the bad mood back.

  He sat up quickly and winced from the pain. She handed him the pills and water and he took them before looking back at her. She wished she had more caffeine in her system but she hadn’t bothered to get the stove going, opting for a heavy cardigan against the cold instead. She was pretty sure there wasn’t enough coffee to fix their situation though.

  “Why did you change into a bear?” she said, taking the direct approach.

  “I wasn’t aware that you saw that,” he grumbled.

  “Well it explains why you kept turning up naked,” she replied. “I thought you were a pervert.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I’m not; I’m just a regular werebear.”

  “And what is Brad, a werewolf?”

  “Yeah, not a good one either,” he said sighing and shifting his weight on the sagging sofa.

  “I need to know everything,” she said.

  “Okay but I think we should go to my cabin where there are stronger pain meds, food, and coffee,” he replied sliding his legs to the floor.

  “Agreed,” she said and was really glad he mentioned coffee.

  “I think you should grab some clothes and stay at mine, it’s easier to defend,” he said.

  “Fine,” she said, but she was already packing a bag because he’d had her at coffee.

  She made food while he showered and shifted. She wasn’t sure if his hairy bear form needed a shower too but she wasn’t about to ask. She was just surprised that it didn’t freak her out more than it had. In fact, she wasn’t fazed at all about him being a huge great grisly but she was pretty annoyed about Brad having concealed his mangy wolf self for all that time.

  She felt instantly better with Lewis’s solid doors and shiny new locks. She brewed the biggest, juiciest looking coffee and had found a bake in the fridge that looked homemade.

  “Is this good to stick in the oven because it looks like I need to eat it,” she asked the minute he set foot in the kitchen.

  “Yeah, my mother must have dropped it round when I was at yours,” he said grinning.

  “Is she?” she pulled a bear pose and showed teeth.

  “She’s a werebear; my whole family are," he replied, laughing.

  When he laughed his whole face reverted back to pretty, even with the bruises, and she felt her heart skip a beat. His fantastic body might have been covered by cargo shorts and a t-shirt but she knew exactly what was under the clothes and had memorized it in detail. He must have sensed her hunger because he reached for her and pulled her against him, wincing slightly as she knocked his ribs.

  “I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” she said.

  “I can take it,” he replied.

  *****

  Karen was amazed at how gentle Lewis was. His size alone should have made him heavy-handed, but he wasn’t; his touches were feather-light and sensual. In fact, she wanted him to hurry just a little because his slow teasing was driving her wild. When he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom she’d tried to protest but he just held her tighter. He put her down gently on the bed and removed his clothes; she was transfixed by the sight of him.

  “You need to come closer,” she said and noticed the huskiness in her voice.

  “Why?” he said, grinning.

  “Because I need you inside me, right now,” she said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards her.

  She removed the rest of her clothes and wrapped herself around him; he teased her core with a cock so hard it made her cry out with desire. She lifted her hips to meet his and it was his turn to hiss with pleasure. His tanned, freckled skin looked beautiful against her dark chocolate skin; he looked like he belonged in her arms and that was such a turn on.

  He brought her to a climax quickly and it was deep and long, growing with intensity. When Lewis finally deposited his load, she felt the sudden warmth hit her still throbbing core. She felt a release that was different from the orgasm she was coming down from. Her body suddenly felt in tune with his; it was as if they had connected on a deeper level, internally.

  “You're my mate,” Lewis said in a breathless voice. “It’s supposed to only happen with werebears.”

  “What do you mean? Don’t be telling me I’m going to have cubs because I’m not ready for that,” she said giggling.

  “Not yet, but as my bonded mate you will bear my cubs one day. Although, they will be half-breeds,” he said.

  “Lewis, I just had the best sex of my life, I can’t talk about babies of any kind right now,” she said, wondering if he was joking.

  “My bear and my human soul have given themselves to you, forever,” he said tracing a fingertip along the curve of her breast.

  “So, that means we’re dating?” she said grinning.

  “Hell yeah!” he said with the promise of more great sex in his voice.

  “Lovely as that was, what are we going to do about Brad?” Karen asked.

  “I’d forgotten about him. Before they got handy with their fists, he told me he wanted his necklace back,” he said.

  “Seriously? He took everything else, he can have the stupid necklace too,” she said.

  She knew exactly what necklace he meant because it was the only necklace she owned. It had been a peace offering from him when he’d upset her and she had wondered where it had come from. He’d just taken it out of his pocket and handed it to her and she had assumed that being that it was second hand it was his ex-girlfriend’s, or worse. She’d placed it in her makeup bag and that’s where it had stay
ed since.

  She got up and pulled his shirt and her panties on while he watched her every move. She’d left her bags by the door having been consumed with the desire for coffee. The necklace was there, and she saw nothing special about it. When she held it up for Lewis’s inspection the look on his face told her it wasn’t just the gold that Brad was after.

  “Wow, that is the offering a pack-master would give to his bride. It’s handed down through generations of pack-masters. They’re all slightly different but it has the pack inscription there,” Lewis pointed to the swirly design. “My guess is that he stole it and now he has to give it back and I wouldn’t be surprised if he is sent off with his tail between his legs. No one would trust a wolf that steals something so sentimental.”

  “If I give it back will he go away?”

  “I’m sure he will, whether he wants to or not,” Lewis said.

  The wolves arrived shortly after dark and Karen hid upstairs but she could hear every word thanks to the window vent being open. She didn’t want Brad to see her so she stayed out of sight but his voice alone made her cringe. She knew that there were more than just wolves in the area because Lewis had spent an hour talking to his relatives.

  “I’m glad to see you have it,” the deep voice she knew to be the pack-master’s came through the window loud and clear.

  “I hope it gets back to where it belongs,” Lewis said. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  “I see this territory is taken,” the pack-master said. “I had my eye on it but I’m not about to lose half my pack fighting for it.”

  “What about Karen?” Brad’s voice made her shiver.

  “Smells like she ain't your woman anymore; she’s mated to the bear,” the pack-master said. “Anyway, you’re not in a position to be wanting anything.”

  Karen sneaked a peek through the window when she heard Brad’s voice whine as he turned from human into a mangy wolf. She hoped that she’d seen the last of him. Lewis appeared at her back and slipped his warm strong arms around her, pressing his growing manhood against her. Her heart did a little back flip, and she turned around to face him.

  “You want to know more about being a werebear’s mate?” Lewis asked.

  “Sure, later. But first, you need to do exactly what you did to me earlier,” she said leading him to the bed.

  “Exactly? Can I mix it up a bit, try some new moves?” he asked giving her a sexy grin.

  “New moves? Ooh, I like the sound of them, I’m all yours,” she said pulling the shirt over her head.

  “Oh, you most definitely are,” he replied.

  THE END

  Another bonus story is on the next page.

  Bonus Story 43 of 44

  When Gods Die

  Ever since she was a young girl in the blush of her first real romance, Frederica had fallen in love with the Champs de Mars. She had lost the boy, but her affair with Paris was forever. And so when the first hints of the season poked about, she was always lured back.

  The grand park had been so much lovelier in those days, before they erected that hideous tower. It was a quieter time. People would picnic, children would play, their silvery laughter filling the lilac scented air, boys would woo girls, and kites would fill the sky while crocuses blossomed on the ground. There was a general feeling of peace.

  Over the years, Frederica would return as often as she could to watch as gentle Persephone would work her magic, and her magic always brought that wonderful sense of serenity. Even during those awful wars, the place was a refuge. It was as if antagonists and defenders alike understood its sacred nature, and while armies would march in triumph, they would never ruffle a leaf.

  But the people of France had always recognized their special nature in the scheme of the universe. They had long ago beaten their swords into plowshares, horseshoes and hair-pins, and they strolled slowly and carefully behind as the world ran forward. Time passed, but people still picnicked, children still played, boys still wooed girls or other boys, girls wooed girls, and kites still filled the sky while blossoms bloomed bathing the park with the scent of hope.

  But that spring something felt wrong.

  Perhaps it was her, she thought.

  Just that winter she had clashed with a coven of witches who had a ludicrous notion to steal the New Year, as if a sidereal orbit was a thing to be stolen. She had wormed her way through time-lines, and at last had to battle bureaucrats to get there. She was tired. She just wanted to relax in the Paris spring.

  And so she nestled her favorite corner of grass and waited for the magic.

  But it didn’t come.

  She sipped her tea from a styrofoam cup, remembering a time when she would make it herself and bring a thermos. She watched the children play. Their laughter was still silver and their kites still danced in the sky. People were still laughing and happy, but many sat alone, laughing and happy with their little black mirrors, their thumbs more animate than they were.

  And then a shadow crossed her cup. She looked up.

  “Uncle Jon,” she said shutting her eyes.

  The after image stayed behind her eyelids. He was standing in front of the sun, but his silhouette was stark; his curly hair, his broad-shoulders, his stance, even the tails of his morning coat.

  “Hello Fred,” he said. “May I join you?”

  “What if I said no?”

  “I brought scones,” he said making himself at home on her blanket. “Fresh from that bakery you love so much, the one on Rue Sedilliot.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Oh my,” he said. “I want so many things. I want Gilda to get her head out of her ass and consolidate the wizards in the Baltic States. I want Trilby to take over in America. I want those idle-brained Leonites to come to their senses and stop fighting among themselves. But most of all –”

  “But most of all,” Frederica said smiling. “You came to Paris because you want me.”

  “More to the point,” he said. “I want springtime.”

  His words were sharp.

  “It takes time,” she said. “The planet is warming. You’ve read about this climate alteration thing. If the goddess is somewhat befuddled by strange changes then— “

  “It is different than that.”

  Frederica sat up. She sipped her tea. She looked to her uncle. In the sky, kites lazed.

  “Persephone,” the man said, “is not herself. I believe that she is depressed, ergo no crocuses or lilacs.”

  “Depressed?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s depressed,” Fred said, “and so we are deprived. I could smack that snotty entitled bitch.”

  “I would advise against that,” Jon said, munching his scone. “Snotty and entitled as she may be, she is still a goddess and so must be placated. And that, my dear Fred, is what you must do. I’d like to send you on a job.”

  “No.”

  “A quest of sorts,” he said. “You might actually find it amusing. You see, every year when she returns to the Underworld, Hades celebrates her homecoming with a gift. Last autumn, he gave her an orb in the form of a pomegranate.”

  “A pomegranate?”

  “I understand that the little pips inside are rubies.”

  “How is she supposed to open it?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest,” he said. “I’ve never seen the thing. But you will.”

  “No I won’t,” she replied.

  “Word on the wind is that the bauble has been stolen. It’s in the South Seas somewhere. Vanuatu, I hear. The islands are lovely this time of year. So what I’d like you to do is pop down there, have a look around, find the sacred pomegranate and return it to her. Shouldn’t take you much more than a week or so. Then we can all get back to enjoying the season. Have another scone?”

  “What if I refuse?” she asked.

  “Then I’ll eat it.”

  “Moron,” she said. “I mean what if I refuse to go tramping about on your silly quest? What happens then to spring? What h
appens to me?”

  “Well,” he said. “As to the spring, I suppose I’ll need to find someone else to help bring back the lilacs.”

  “Then do so.”

  “And as to you, well my dear nothing will happen.”

  “Nothing will happen?”

  “Ever.”

  She took up the scone.

  “You are going to need a little help on with this,” he said.

  “I work alone.”

  “Not on this one. Time is a thing here. You’ll want a boat for starters.”

  She sipped her cold tea and wondered where her passport was.

  *****

  Mia Elverelli was arguably one of the most beautiful women in the world. The term supermodel was far too vague to describe her. The magazines tried to portray her curves and figure with words such as ‘Amazonian’ and ‘shapely’, but the words rang hollow in her presence; she defined the word ‘woman’. Her firm round breasts grew so naturally from her graceful nymph-like form and her flawless Mediterranean complexion was like a gift to the sun. Her nougat-brown hair waved over her perfect shoulders, framing a face that was at once angelic and devilish. And when she smiled at you, it was as though the gods themselves had absolved you of all transgressions.

  And Scott Winsted had her.

  She lounged on the aft deck of his yacht Sea-Esta. He had met her at a party the night before. She wasn’t the guest of honor, but she might just as well have been. In her metallic gold gown that clung to her curves like water, she out-sparkled every woman there, and her silvery laugh was more tinklingly delicate than the champagne fountain. She had arrived alone and left with Scott. And while he liked to think that it was his boyish looks, his short rakish beard, his surfer blue eyes and his fetching charm that won her, he knew it was really his money. But that didn’t matter.

  That night as he and Mia lay in their afterglow, she had idly mentioned her dream of being stranded on a deserted island with a handsome virile young man, where all they had to do was to make love day and night. By ten o’clock the next morning. the two new lovers were alone on the Sea-Esta sailing the placid waters of the Vanuatu Archipelago in search of isolation.