I Dream of Grizzly: A Werebear Shifter and Witch Romance (The Protectors Quick Bites Book 2)

by Keira Blackwood

  I took a step back.

  What was I supposed to do? I could clone myself or I could clone Deckard. I’d thought this time I could handle the snakes...I’d thought I’d imagined them. But instead of empowered, I felt helpless, and afraid.

  I blinked.

  Above me was a set of steely hazel eyes, and a tight jaw—Deckard, and he was pissed as hell.

  I sucked in a deep breath and took a moment to be thankful that he’d woken me before the snakes had reached me. And that he was giving me a moment before he berated me.

  “I’m going to start with I’m sorry,” I said.

  Deckard didn’t say anything in return. Instead, he scooped me up into his arms and squeezed me.

  My heart was still racing, and being so close to him—I didn’t expect it to stop.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

  “I know. I thought...I thought I was protecting you.”

  He pulled back and met my gaze, and I could see it wasn’t anger he was feeling. The vulnerability on his face told the truth—it was fear.

  “You don’t need to protect me by pushing me away,” he said. “Let me in, and we’ll protect each other.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Tears welled at the corners of my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. Damned if I was going to cry.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I think the witch is the snake,” I said. “We—me and fake you—”

  He grimaced.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said. “We followed the feeling of the orb. I thought it would lead me to him, and I think it did—kind of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I followed it to the pack graveyard. I think whatever he’s looking for is there, and with any luck, he hasn’t found it yet.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  I hopped up and threw on some pants. This time, I realized, I hadn’t been worried about Deckard seeing me in just my underwear and tank. This time, it was different.

  He rose from the bed as I rummaged through my dresser. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  He opened the door. “Oh.”

  “What is it?” I pulled out a long-sleeved pink top and glanced over.

  “Wafflick’s in the hall,” he said. “Come on, man, let’s wait downstairs. We have a mission.”

  Deckard shut the door when he left, and I finished dressing. Then I headed downstairs and met them at the door.

  “Good morning, Joey,” I said.

  He nodded but didn’t say anything in return. Maybe he was tired. I knew I was.

  “Let’s go.” Deckard opened the door, and I led the way outside.

  “Is it a long drive?” Deckard asked.

  “It’s a walk, actually,” I said. “And not that far.”

  I led them through the woods, on the path past where I’d found the journal. I couldn’t hear their footsteps behind me, but I knew the two of them were still there. The quiet was actually nice, without Joey talking the whole time. I was able to enjoy the tranquil scenery, from the red speckled toadstools to the moss-covered rocks. Birds chirped in the distance, and the air was cool and fresh. The colors were more vibrant in the shaded forest than they were out in full sunlight.

  And for the first time, I realized—what if Snakeman had already been to the graveyard?

  I walked a little faster, then faster still.

  “This way,” I called behind me. When the trees opened up to the clearing on the hill, I ran. I ran for the mausoleum at the top. I ran for my mom.

  The graveyard was partially fenced off from the forest, the grass between graves well maintained. This was a sacred place for those who came before us, a place to be close to them, to remember.

  There was no black fog like there had been in the dream, no snakes, but the thought clouded my mind. He could be here at any moment, or I could already be too late.

  I ran past dozens of worn gravestones toward the mausoleums where the alphas and their mates were kept. My mother’s was one of three, the others from generations before.

  When I reached the top of the hill, my legs burned, and I was out of breath, but I didn’t stop. I stepped inside the stone structure that housed my mother. A flood of memories filled me—baking cookies together, sitting in the tulip garden, the morning I’d found her and she didn’t wake.

  I looked in the corners of the small stone room, on the ceiling, along the pillars.

  “What are we looking for?” Deckard asked. “How can I help?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  But I kept looking, searching for something priceless, something hidden.

  The thing was, there wasn’t really anywhere to look.

  I fell to my knees in front of the stone tomb.

  “Show me what it is I’m supposed to find here, Mom. Please.”

  Nothing.

  There was nothing to find. Maybe I was too late, or maybe I’d been wrong about this place.

  I leaned my head on the stone.

  Deckard knelt beside me and touched my back.

  His touch was a comfort, but I still felt like shit. I’d been wrong.

  “Valerie,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know. I screwed up.”

  “No,” he said. “Look.”

  I opened my eyes, and on the floor in front of me was a white orb, small like a marble, just like the others.

  “That wasn’t there,” I said.

  “No,” Deckard said. “It wasn’t.”

  I picked it up, and it was cold, not like the stone floor beneath me. Like ice.

  A burst of blinding light flashed. And the world was gone.

  I was in the garden, and Deckard was with me. But the tulips—they stretched on for miles. I spun, taking in the bright morning light.

  “Valerie...what’s going on?” Deckard asked.

  “I don’t—”

  “Hello, Valerie.” I knew that voice. My heart ached—it belonged to my mother.

  I turned, and there she was, standing right in front of me. I reached out and threw my arms around her, and she felt real.

  She hugged me back, softly, gently, as she always had.

  “I have to tell you.” She pulled away. “The tome you seek, it holds the power to change dreams to reality, trap reality in dream.”

  “What does that mean? Mom, is that what happened to—”

  “Find it first, Valerie.”

  “Before what? What’s going to happen? Where is it?”

  “In the land of dream, of course,” she said. “Find your father. But you have to go.”

  “Wait, not yet. Tell me what happened to you. It’s been so long, I don’t want to go—”

  “He needs you, now.”

  She shoved my shoulders, and cold air filled my lungs. The world dimmed, and I was back inside the mausoleum. And my mother was gone.

  The loss hurt, an ache in my heart. But she wasn’t real, I’d never gotten her back. It was just...was it a dream?

  Deck groaned behind me. I turned. Joey was on top of him, his attention locked on me. He sat on Deckard’s chest, holding him down by the throat like it was nothing, and clawed at the air between us, his eyes black as night.

  Chapter Ten

  Deckard

  Wafflick’s cold fingers squeezed my throat. The shock of being tackled to the floor was nothing compared to the vacant look of his blackened eyes.

  I tried to break his hold on me, but his grip was unnaturally strong and I couldn’t get his fingers to budge.

  Darkness threatened the edges of my vision as I gasped for air.

  I tried shoving his chin upward, but nothing would dissuade him. I knew the look in his eyes. This wasn’t Wafflick anymore, not really.

  Nothing but death would stop him.

  Movement flashed behind him, and the sound of a distant voice met my ears. I knew it was Valerie, but beneath my thrumming pulse, I couldn’t understand her words.

  His grip loosened
as he shifted his weight.

  It was only then that I realized—Wafflick’s attention was on her.

  A fire lit inside of me, an instinct not just to ensure my own survival, but hers.

  With all the strength I could muster, I shoved Wafflick in the chest. His body recoiled, but he held fast to my neck and kept his sights on Valerie.

  I hit him again and rolled my shoulders.

  It was enough.

  His grip loosened. With a sharp breath, my lungs filled.

  Wafflick reached for Valerie.

  I shoved him off of me and rose to my feet, putting myself between him and my mate.

  “Are you okay?” Valerie asked.

  Wafflick threw himself at my legs. Pain seared through my thigh. I looked down.

  “He bit me.” I fell back, into the wall, as Wafflick’s teeth burrowed into my flesh. I tried to pull him off, but he only clamped on harder. “Let...go…”

  I hit him in the head, and again.

  Valerie jumped on his back and pulled his head away from me.

  My leg gave out, and pain radiated from the wound, down to my calf, and up. I hit him again and again.

  “Stop,” Valerie said to him.

  With a closed fist, I punched his face.

  Valerie grabbed my arm. I froze and looked at her. She didn’t mean him, she meant me.

  The pressure eased in my leg, and Wafflick sank down to the floor.

  His eyes were closed, and it was over.

  I looked to Valerie. She held a small black orb in her palm.

  “It was in his pocket,” she said.

  Such a tiny thing to do so much damage. A fissure skated across the smooth surface, cracking the glass. Broken.

  Wafflick curled up on the floor in a fetal position. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell. That was because of Valerie. I could have killed him, but I didn’t because she’d stopped him. She’d stopped me.

  “We should get him home,” Valerie said. “Put him somewhere safe in case he wakes up hostile.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I stared down at Wafflick. He was annoying, but he was my partner...and I’d almost killed him.

  “I will be,” I said, though I didn’t know if it was true. “Are you?”

  Her green eyes sparkled. “Yeah.”

  I scooped Wafflick up in my arms.

  “I still can’t believe he bit you,” Valerie said.

  I glanced down at the blood on his lips—my blood. Given he’d just had his mouth attached to my thigh, I wasn’t thrilled about having his face so close to my chest. “It wasn’t his fault,” I said. “But he better not do it again.”

  Valerie’s father snapped the lock shut on the cellar door.

  Wafflick hadn’t woken since our return. He’d slept through the day, and now was looking to remain asleep through the evening. I hadn’t left his side, even after Mr. Carlisle had offered. It wasn’t until Valerie had brought me dinner and asked me to return to the house to speak with her that I relented.

  I turned to Mr. Carlisle.

  “I know,” he said. “You want to know when he wakes.”

  I nodded. “And—”

  “And you don’t want Roger to take a turn on watch. Don’t worry, he won’t. I am capable.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  The sun had set sometime while I’d been in the root cellar, but bright lights around the manor lit the massive yard. With each step, I felt uncertainty. Wafflick could still wake under the control of the witch and harm himself or someone else. Or he might not wake at all.

  We had yet to find a survivor of the black orbs.

  By the time I reached the front door, my discontent was tempered by the knowledge that I’d soon be with Valerie.

  In the foyer she was there, waiting for me.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “Come with me.” She took my hand and led me up the stairs.

  I followed, taking comfort in the warmth of her touch.

  When we reached her bedroom, she shut the door behind us and took a seat on the edge of her bed.

  “Sit.” She patted the comforter beside her.

  I did as she asked.

  She took my hand in both of hers and turned to me. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she said. “I don’t need shifter senses to know it, either.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m shitty.”

  “Great, now we’re getting somewhere.”

  I smiled.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said.

  “I think...you saved me.”

  “You mean from Joey?” Her brows furrowed.

  “I mean from me.”

  She leaned her head on my shoulder and pressed her body against my arm. I wanted to hold her, I wanted to kiss her, and I knew she deserved better. She deserved the kind of man who didn’t kill anyone, who wouldn’t consider it, one who would see when his partner was under a spell. A better man.

  “No matter what happens to him, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I wouldn’t have stopped,” I said, forcing her to meet my gaze. “If you hadn’t found the orb, I would have kept hitting him. I could have killed him. I might have. We still don’t know if he’ll wake up—”

  Her lips crushed mine and she closed her eyes. She tasted as sweet as her scent, and for a moment, I forgot everything but Valerie.

  She broke away and sucked in a deep breath. I leaned my forehead against hers.

  “He’s supposed to be my partner. Just like the others...I didn’t save them either.”

  “What’s done is done,” she said. “And I saw your dream, your memory. It wasn’t you who killed your team. Just like it’s not your fault that someone did this to Joey.”

  “I should have seen it. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t himself.”

  She cupped my cheek in her palm. “I didn’t see it either.”

  “Whoever did this was close enough to reach both Wafflick and Ms. Albright,” I said.

  “It’s not Roger.”

  “You’re right that he could have gotten the book on his own,” I said, “but it doesn’t rule him out as a suspect. Maybe he was going to take it, and Ms. Albright stopped him. He had access to both victims.”

  “It’s not him,” she insisted, and sat up straight.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because when I’m holding these”—she pulled the black orbs from her pocket—“I can feel the other witch. And if he was here, I’d know.”

  She seemed so sure, from her tone to the set of her jaw.

  “I’ll show you. Tonight,” she said.

  “His dreams?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why not?”

  If Roger was the dream witch or helping the witch, we could find proof.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  But if she was right and it wasn’t Roger, we still didn’t know who was pulling the strings. That was worse.

  “Something good came out of today’s craziness,” she said.

  “It did?”

  Valerie pulled the white orb out of her pocket. “I know what comes next.”

  “Can we be sure that your mother was telling you the truth? Or that it was really an imprint or dream of her at all?”

  “It was. I’m sure.”

  “You’re growing a whole collection of those.” I pointed to the orb.

  “I am. And you know what? I think they suit me.”

  They really did. She was meant to be powerful. I just hoped she paced herself and considered her own safety. And that she never pushed me away again.

  But she didn’t push. She pulled—her hands on my collar, my lips to hers.

  Chapter Eleven

  Valerie

  He tasted like winter, like frosty peppermint and hot chocolate. His lips heated me—from my mouth to my toes, my body was fire.

  Mayb
e all I’d get to keep were memories of him, but if that was it, I was damned sure going to make our time together worth remembering.

  I climbed onto Deckard’s lap and straddled his legs. A deep rumble reverberated through his chest.

  He grazed his palms over my thighs, up my hips, to my sides. He tugged me closer, so my breasts pressed hard against his firm chest.

  “You make me crazy,” he whispered against my lips.

  “You make me hot,” I whispered back.

  He captured my lips with his and delved his tongue deep into my mouth, claiming every inch. I wanted to be his, in every way possible.

  His hard cock pressed up against me, fueling my desire. The sooner the fabric between us was gone, the better.

  He reached between us and cupped my breast. I arched my back and leaned into his palm. He kneaded my breast, but I needed more.

  He broke our kiss and met my gaze. His eyes were dark, dangerous, and full of unspoken promises. “You’re sure you want this?”

  “Since the moment we met in my dream.” It was true, I’d wanted him then as I wanted him now.

  He pulled my shirt gently up over my head. I did the same to his, then spread my fingers over his bare chest, exploring every muscle, every freckle, every hair. Seeing was one thing, feeling was another. His pecs were firm, his abs, too. I could spend the rest of my life touching him and it wouldn’t be enough.

  He reached behind me and unclasped my bra. The straps fell over my shoulders, the cups to my lap.

  Deckard looked me over with those dark eyes, and for a moment I was nervous, nervous of what he’d say, of what he’d think. But then a grin crossed his face.

  “You’re even better in real life. Fucking perfect.” He cupped my breasts in his palms, gently exploring, squeezing.

  I closed my eyes and reveled in the feel of his rough hands. They were perfect, rugged like the scruff on his jaw, brash like his personality.

  He kissed my collarbone, my shoulder, nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. His stubble scratched, as did his teeth.

  “So beautiful,” he said.

  I pulled back, rose to my feet, and slid down my pants and panties. Every moment he wasn’t inside of me was delicious agony. He devoured me with his eyes, then ripped his jeans off in half the time it took me to remove mine.