Bear’s Desire: Revenge of the Bears

by Hart, Juniper

  Well, I probably wouldn’t have lost my shit the way she did, Sage thought. Then again, Jessica didn’t boast immortality, either.

  Jessica had fallen into a blubbering mess of histrionics, pushing the passengers out of the way in a fight to get herself off the plane first. Sage often wondered if she would have had the same reaction. Probably not, but she was not designed like most people she knew. She had always had a collected head on her shoulders.

  Again, I can thank my Enchanted status for that, she thought with a twinge of guilt. She had no right to judge anyone when her circumstances were nothing like the ones of the mortals with whom she worked. She wondered why she was even thinking about the emergency landing, except that she did every single time they were coming in for one.

  The aircraft touched down seamlessly, as it always did, and Sage’s knuckles relaxed as a sprinkling of applause broke out through the economy-class cabin. She smiled at her co-workers, and they grinned back, their earlier bantering forgotten. Letting off steam amongst themselves was commonplace; where else could they do it in such closed quarters? Yet as they arrived safely at their next destination, they were all friends again, glad to have survived another journey with minimal emotional scarring. Even if Ricky was a certifiable pig.

  Once the plane lined up with the gate, Tracy rose to instruct the passengers while Ricky and Sage stood by the exits, watching for anyone who may require assistance.

  “You know, querida,” Ricky whispered in her ear. “My family doesn’t know I’m here. I could keep you company tonight instead of surprising them.”

  Sage smiled to herself, even though she was repulsed by the suggestion.

  The man is relentless. How many times has he tried to get me in bed over the past five years that we’ve worked together? The number seemed insurmountable. Not that she would ever consider sleeping with someone as sleazy as Ricky, but in a weird way, his consistency was oddly comforting. Not in my loneliest moments would I stoop to that level, she assured herself.

  “I already have company for tonight,” she replied bluntly, and she didn’t need to turn to see his look of disappointment. Sage had almost made the mistake of sleeping with Ricky once on a layover in Berlin, but it had been more a rite of passage than desire. The flight attendant life could prove to be incestuous, to put it mildly. It was difficult to maintain relationships within the jetsetter lifestyle with the hours and time changes. The divorce rate in their industry was sickeningly high. No spouse wanted to be married to a shadow who came and went in the night. It was difficult to maintain a meaningful relationship when you only laid eyes upon your partner eight days a month. Having children was even worse, and Sage often wondered how mothers in the business could stand being separated from their kids for such extended periods of time.

  The cabin crews often found themselves seeking comfort in each other’s arms, if not for long-distance relationships, then for a quick release between hectic days. The need for contact was a very real thing, with their biology being askew, and affairs started and ended as quickly as flight plans were changed.

  Thankfully, Sage had stopped herself from engaging with Ricky before it had gone too far. She was sure she would never be able to live with herself the following morning, and having to see him again… Well, the idea made her shudder.

  Ricky was handsome, with his silken, black hair and inky, intense eyes. He was the quintessential Spanish god, six foot three with broad shoulders and a dazzling smile, but his personality was enough to turn her off entirely to the notion of romance with him.

  He’s misogynistic and condescending, all recipes for being terrible in bed. I wouldn’t waste one night on a layover with him—pun intended.

  Sage refocused her attention on her co-host, reading the dismay in his eyes.

  “Anyone I know keeping you company tonight?” he asked, trying to keep the jealousy from creeping into his voice. Sage could still hear it clearly.

  “Nope,” she answered lightly, plastering a smile onto her face as the first passengers began to disembark from the plane. He didn’t need to know she only had eyes for a bottle of Spanish wine and a jacuzzi tub that night. It would only invite more begging, and there was nothing more unattractive to Sage than watching a grown man grovel.

  He really needs to learn to take no for an answer, anyway. Someone needs to put him in his place once in a while. She was grateful that the conversation was over when they were met with those trying to leave the plane.

  Sage willed the passengers off the vessel quickly. The thought of sprawling on the cool, crisp sheets was proving to be intoxicating and almost unbearable, and she shifted her weight from one pump to another in anticipation. She hadn’t even realized how tired her legs were until that moment, knowing that the end was so tantalizingly near.

  Soon, the cabin was almost empty, and her eyes lingered on one final straggler.

  Come on, honey, she silently called the single man at the back of her section who remained in his seat. From where she was standing, she could see his dark head was bent down, and Sage surmised he was looking at something on his phone. There were only two people left on the opposite side of the cabin, pulling their carry-on bags toward the exit, but the man made no indication of moving. Sighing, Sage started toward him. Of course it couldn’t just go seamlessly. There was always one who had to ruin it for everyone. Come on, buddy. Move along now.

  “Want me to go?” Ricky offered when he saw her moving, and she shook her head.

  “No, I got this. I’ll see you later,” she replied, nodding for him to go. He was heading to Cairo in the morning, and he would likely need a few shots of anis to drown the pain she had inflicted upon his ego. The least she could do was throw him a bone.

  Without waiting for Ricky to respond, she headed down the aisle to confront the lone passenger at the back. The others had wrestled their bags from the overhead and made their way out of view.

  “Excuse me, sir, do you need some assistance?” Sage asked as she approached. The man did not look up immediately, and she felt her heart begin to thump suddenly, a sense of alarm shooting through her. As she drew closer, she could make out his swarthy complexion and black stubble against a chiseled jawline. He seemed nervous and jittery. His raven hair rested against his high cheekbones, and he stared intently at something in his hand. Sage could hear him muttering to himself in a language she didn’t understand.

  What the hell is he doing? she wondered, dread filling her gut like a tsunami. And what is that in his hand? Her instincts on fire, Sage suddenly found herself unable to move, despite her desire to spring back up the aisle. Oh, my God… Is he going to blow up the plane?

  2

  I told him I’m not doing it, and he made me come anyway. How did he think this was going to play out?

  Cruz closed his dark brown eyes and rested his skull against the headrest, swallowing hard to clear the pressure from his ears. The flight was proving to be unbearably long, despite his frequent traveler status. The last thing he wanted was to be on that flight to Madrid, yet there he was. He wanted to be home in his flat, forgetting any of the unpleasantness he was about to encounter.

  It doesn’t need to be difficult. Just pick up the phone when you land and tell him you’re not going through with it.

  Instinctively, his long fingers reached into the inside of his suit pocket and touched the device hidden within the cloth. He had been detained at customs for hours, causing him to miss his original flight because of what he was carrying. He had been lucky the officers had returned it to him, reluctantly accepting his explanation.

  Idiots, he thought angrily. You should have held onto it. You have no idea what the outcome of giving it back to me will be.

  But how could they know? They wouldn’t know the power of what he held unless they were in the inner circle of the Enchanted. All they saw was a piece of microtechnology that they didn’t understand. They had no reason to keep it.

  Cruz opened his eyes and looked about the cabin, gu
ilt wracking his muscular body.

  This is wrong. You’re ruining lives, lives of the innocent. It is not too late. You can say no and go home. What’s the worst that can happen? He knew the answer. They would just send someone else in his place and ensure that the rest of his days on earth were miserable. And that was a lot of days. There had already been so many. Why is this an issue after all this time? Is this a test to see if I still have it in me to fight?

  Cruz was not sure he did.

  “Can I offer you a drink, sir?” A woman’s voice filtered into his deep thoughts, the back and forth between his two problems batting through his mind like a bad tennis match. He turned his chocolate eyes up to the speaker, and he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. The speaker was a beautiful redhead with sparkling blue eyes and a becoming smile. And she was a shifter, too. Cruz could smell it on her, the succulent scent of her pheromones filling his nostrils in a flood.

  He did not know why he was surprised to see such a lovely face. The airline employed the most attractive people in the world. It was one of the many benefits of the company. Their food was cooked by world-renowned chefs, regardless of the class, they boasted only the finest liquor, and the seats were spacious. Northeastern had a strict no-overbooking policy, and the prices were steep for such luxuries. No one seemed to mind, for the prestige attached to flying the world’s skies in an Airbus A380 was the next best thing to riding in a private jet.

  Not that there aren’t a few of those at our disposal, Cruz thought grimly. But this trip was not a private jet affair. This was a combination of disastrous problems that he had to deal with once they landed in Madrid.

  “Sir? A drink?” the flight attendant asked again, cocking her head to the side with mild confusion. Cruz focused on the woman’s nametag. Sage. He cleared his throat and looked at her.

  “Yes,” he answered in a thick, cultured accent. “Club soda, please.”

  Sage nodded gracefully and turned toward the cart before her, busying herself with real stemware and ice. Cruz wondered if she could sense who he was, too, but judging by her nonchalance, she didn’t seem to notice. She probably dealt with a thousand shifters a week and just as many billionaire heirs.

  Cruz found himself looking to her left hand for a wedding ring. To his relief, he saw that her ring finger was bare. Not that it meant anything in this day and age, but he couldn’t help feeling ridiculously pleased by the absence of jewelry on her hands.

  What are you so happy about? he chided himself as she set the beverage before him on the tray. Are you going to ask her on a date? He sighed, discontent, and nodded appreciatively before she continued down the aisle. He had much bigger things to think about than a striking ginger attendant, shifter or not.

  Still, as the voyage carried on, Cruz found himself straining his neck to catch a glimpse of her. He was fascinated by the way she moved, her simple hand gestures, and her patient nature. Cruz was aware of how unruly some of his fellow passengers were acting. Sage and her crew were contending with the drunk, the boisterous, and the lewd with equal, quiet dignity. Soon, he found himself captivated by the behind-the-scenes story of inflight staff, something he had never bothered to observe in his hundreds of hours in the air.

  This is a thankless job. I wonder how they manage to keep themselves so poised under these circumstances. Cruz admitted to himself that he was growing angered merely sitting in his window seat in quiet contemplation as the flight ensued about him. I’d never be able to do this.

  As darkness settled into the cabin, the other passengers seemed to wind down somewhat, but his mind was still awhirl. The closer they flew to Madrid, the less certain he was about his mission.

  At some point, he needed to relieve himself, stealthily slipping over the sleeping form of his seatmate and making his way toward the center of the aircraft for the toilet. As he approached, he heard a soft conversation from the galley.

  “—four days this time. I’m going to rest up until Dayna comes on Thursday, and we’re heading to the island to let loose. How long is your layover?” He already recognized the mellifluous voice of the flight attendant, Sage, and he paused to listen to the conversation.

  “I’m only there until tomorrow, then back to New York for two days. I wish I could stay longer,” another female replied, a wistful note in her voice. “You and I never get a chance to hang out together.”

  Sage made a regretful sound, but even from where he stood, Cruz could hear a note of insincerity in her tone. “I know. I think the scheduling gods are conspiring against us, Trace. Maybe we should allot our vacation time to hit Mali this summer.”

  The other flight attendant chuckled as if she didn’t believe her companion. “I like the way you think, but we both know you’re full of shit. You and Dayna will plan your vacation together like you always do. You two are like two peas in a pod.”

  Is Dayna her lover? Cruz found himself wondering, a stab of unexpected jealousy sweeping through him. He questioned the stability of his mental health at that moment. Are you losing your mind? What do you care if the woman with the perfect red lips has a lover? You are looking for distractions. You must focus on what lies ahead. Forget about Sage and this flight. You have more than enough on your plate without adding to your endless stock of stress.

  Shaking his head, he slipped quietly into the lavatory, locking the door. Before unzipping his Gucci pants, he once more touched the small, black case in his breast pocket and exhaled slowly.

  Soon it will all be over, he thought tersely. Consequences be damned.

  * * *

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in Madrid in roughly fifteen minutes. At this time, we would ask you to please place your seats and tray tables in an upright position and fasten your seatbelts until the seatbelt light on the overhead display is no longer showing red. Thank you for flying with Northeastern Airlines. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we bid you the most pleasant visit and hope you will join us again soon.”

  Cruz sat up suddenly, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. He had inadvertently fallen asleep to the rhythmic motion of the plane. He looked around in stunned confusion.

  We’re in Madrid already. I slept for hours! Troubled, he realized how much time he’d wasted when he could have been planning his two-pronged approach to handling the issues waiting for him. First the Council, then my father. I’m going to need all the help I can get.

  He looked up at Sage, who was strolling slowly through the aisles, smiling sweetly and offering her assistance to those she passed. When she reached the end of the row, her eyes passed over his face fleetingly, and Cruz was once more overcome with a flutter of anxious jitters.

  I wonder what she would do if I told her who I was, he thought idly, watching her turn to walk toward the galley. How would she react?

  Although a part of him was grateful that she didn’t recognize him, he couldn’t help considering exposing himself, just for a reaction. He didn’t deem her to be someone to display undue emotion, but he could be wrong. Everybody had different ways of handling awesome responsibility. An overwhelming urge to tell her crossed over him, and he arched his back as if to keep himself planted in his seat. Quickly, he glanced at his neighbor, who had slept through most of the flight and was only stirring awake.

  “Are we here?” the twenty-something girl mumbled, yawning, and Cruz nodded.

  “We will be landing soon,” he told her. She smiled sleepily and rubbed her eyes.

  “Sorry, I took a sleeping pill as soon as we boarded. I’m not good with flying, what with turbulence and all.” She eyed Cruz speculatively for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Do you live in Spain?”

  “Yes,” he lied, not wanting to get into the details of his life.

  Her crooked smile widened, and she straightened up in her seat.

  “I can tell. I have always wanted to go to Spain, and I am finally getting to live my dream. The food, the islands, and of course, the tall, dark, and handsome men.” She wink
ed coyly at Cruz, and he gave her a tight smile.

  Now, this is a woman who would react hysterically if I told her who I was, he thought, turning to look out the window. His seatmate seemed disappointed by the rejection and popped earbuds into her ear cavities when he didn’t turn back to her.

  Effortlessly and without issue, the aircraft landed. Cruz waited as the rest of the passengers disembarked, specifically the woman at his side. When she finally rose, he pulled out his cell phone and powered it on. He stared at it for a long moment as the screen blinked, showing a picture of him and his brother, Matin, standing proudly in their graduation gowns.

  The graduation was one of hundreds they had attended over the years, and yet Cruz couldn’t help thinking they looked so young, despite the picture only being taken five years ago.

  “Excuse me, sir, do you need some assistance?” While Cruz heard Sage’s voice, the words did not register as his thumbs poised against the now unlocked keypad.

  Do it. Do it now, before you lose your nerve. You have to do this. Show them that you still have the gall. With trembling fingers, he began to type, vaguely aware of someone cautiously approaching him through his peripheral vision.

  “Sir, what are you doing?” This time, the words filtered through his subconscious. Startled, Cruz looked up at Sage, his face a mask of consternation and guilt. Immediately, he took account of his surroundings and grinned self-consciously. He hadn’t realized that he was the last one left on the plane.

  “I’m keeping you. I apologize,” he realized, shoving his cell into his suit pocket. She eyed him, and he suddenly recognized a spark of fear in her eyes.

  She thought I was up to something dangerous, he concluded, rising to his feet, embarrassed. She had every right to think so; he was the last soul on the craft, acting furtive. Still, he was slightly offended that she’d considered it. Now you’re being overly sensitive, he thought, rolling his eyes. Let the woman go home. You’re holding her up.