by Eve Langlais
At the mention of family, he could have slapped himself. “Where is your grandfather? We should contact him and let him know you’re alive.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Poppa is dead. Fucktard killed him. He killed my poppa so he wouldn’t raise any alarms about my disappearance.”
“I’m sorry.” The sadness emanating from her couldn’t remain unacknowledged. He drew her close for a hug, only to feel another set of arms wrap around as his sister Persephone cried, “That is so fucking sad. Don’t worry, baby girl. The boys will make that bastard pay.”
A nice sentiment, but Stavros wasn’t willing to share Becka quite yet, not with her so fragile and finally opening up to him. “Do you mind giving us a moment?”
“Actually, I do mind.” Persephone let them go and stepped away before tossing her hair. “No way am I leaving you down here alone with your new mate and the couch we conceived Jarrod on.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
“If it prevents you from soiling that precious memory, then I’ve done my job.” His sister patted him on the arm and winked at Becka.
“Your family is demented.” Said in an almost wondering tone. “So wonderfully demented.”
And Stavros could tell she absolutely adored it. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he liked his sister much at the moment.
Persephone pinched a bare cheek. “Oho, someone lost his knickers. Don’t let Ma see you misbehaving with our guest. She’ll give you a few swats for sure.”
“You’re naked?” Becka sounded so surprised.
“When did you expect me to dress? Who do you think caught you before you face-planted?”
“It wasn’t my fault I fainted. There was a bear.”
“Still is, sweetheart. Right here in front of you.”
“Is that why you’re so hairy?” He gaped at her, and her lips turned down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” She scrambled off his lap and backed away, a hint of fear in her expression, and even though he hadn’t done a thing, he felt absolutely horrified.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, trying to make himself seem as least daunting as possible. “Sweetheart, don’t be scared. Never. I would never ever hurt you for teasing me. Or insulting me. You could hit me with a two-by-four or nail me in the sack and I would never do a thing to retaliate. Try it. Hit me.”
Her head shook violently.
“Really. I don’t mind.” He thumped his chest a few times, but it was his sister, with a “He’s tough, look,” gut-punching him that did the trick. Suddenly Becka went from looking terrified to smiling and even chuckling.
Persephone grinned, quite pleased with herself. “See, no harm. No foul. And no retaliation.”
“Wait until Christmas,” he growled. “I see your boys getting a drum set under the tree.”
His sister’s eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“I won’t, but only if you give me some privacy.”
“Fine. I’m leaving, but if you’re going to get frisky stay off the couch.”
“With cymbals.”
His sister fled, and he sighed. “I told you my family liked to meddle.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? The fact my sisters have no boundaries?”
“No, for being so much trouble.”
“What did I say about apologizing?”
“Am I allowed to say thank you?”
“For what?”
“For being you.”
For some reason, the soft words brought heat to his cheeks. “I should probably get dressed before we have more company.”
At the reminder, her gaze dropped from his face to under his chin. Red stained her cheeks, and she whipped around.
The shyness didn’t hide her interest, not from him. He could smell her arousal. Totally wanted to taste it but knew he wouldn’t have time to truly savor it. He located his clothes and pulled on his pants. When he finished zipping, he then approached her, lightly touching her shoulder to let her know it was safe to turn.
She whirled, careful to keep her gaze on his chin. “Despite the whole bear thing, I meant what I said before. We shouldn’t stay here. If you feel a need to stay with me, then fine. But I don’t want anyone else in your family involved. Please, Stavros.”
The “please” did it. Took the last bit of his balls and shredded it.
That’s it. I’m a goner. A man about to do anything this woman asked.
“I’ve got oven-fresh cookies!” his mother yelled.
Yeah, he’d do anything after his snack.
CHAPTER 11
Ditched for cookies. It was the most adorable thing, especially since Stavros grabbed Becka by the hand and tugged her up the stairs, insisting on sharing this extravagant delight. Hot cookies made from scratch.
A surreal set of hours passed as Becka experienced her very first large family gathering—a much noisier event than her past dinners with her poppa. Her fervent desire to leave proved hard to enforce, Stavros’s cocky confidence keeping her in that kitchen, nibbling on all kinds of things, including those blessed cookies. Supper came and went with a potluck of dishes, so much food that her belly felt round and full for the first time since her capture. Nightfall came, then bedtime, and she was still in the house. Her escape foiled by good food and well-meaning folks.
As the evening hour waned, most of the sisters had departed, leaving only Becka and Stavros, Persephone, plus, of course, his mother and father—a gruff man, or so it seemed at first. He quickly made Becka feel welcome and comforted with his booming laughter, teasing, and he even gave her a big hug before he and Momma Lulu went to bed.
Eventually, Persephone wandered off to read a book, which left only Becka and Stavros awake for the most dangerous time of day. No point in warning Stavros once again. He just wouldn’t listen. He didn’t understand. He truly thought he could handle the situation.
Maybe he can. But she feared more finding out he couldn’t. The door he showed her on the second level opened into a girl’s pink paradise. Becka walked in to find dark pink shag, complemented by white furniture and light pink walls.
“I won’t be able to stay in here with you,” he mentioned. “My mother”—a glare shot down the hall—“has certain ideas about boys and girls. One involves being married before sharing a room.”
“Oh. Um. But we’re not, um—”
“Having sex? Not yet.” He winked as he leaned against the doorframe.
How many more times could she blush before she looked permanently sunburned?
“I guess this is good night.” More like good-bye. But she couldn’t tell him that; he’d probably tie her to the bed if he suspected what she planned.
“That’s not a good night.” He wound an arm around her waist and drew her close. “This is a good night.” He proceeded to give her insomnia by shooting sexual caffeine into every atom she owned until a thump on the far wall led to him pulling away.
They drew apart slowly, her cataloging every inch of him to remember. She wished she could stop time and live in this moment forever. I don’t want to leave.
“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.” He dropped one last soft kiss on her lips, and then he was gone, the door shutting softly after him.
A sigh escaped her. I’m going to miss him. A shame she’d never see him again. She rather liked him. He made her believe in good guys. Almost made her believe in a happily ever after.
The only way that would happen was if she did the right—and yet so very hard—thing. Still fully dressed, she sat on the bed, reading a book she found—involving the pairing of a bunny and a bear that had her smiling—waiting until the house went silent.
Midnight came with a dark cloak of silence. Time to leave. She stood and moved in her bare feet to the door—her shoes were, she hoped, still by the front entrance. She pressed her ear against the wood-grain panel and listened.
Nothing but the frantic thump of her own heart. She exhaled, then brea
thed deep again before gripping the knob and turning it ever so slowly. The door pulled inward on well-oiled hinges. She took a step and hit something.
“Eep.” She flailed as she fell and landed on something unyielding and welcoming at the same time.
“Sleepwalking, sweetheart?” Stavros asked, his arms coming around her in a cage.
Caught! So she lied. “I needed a drink of water.”
“There’s an unopened water bottle on the nightstand.”
“Fine, I was trying to leave,” she hissed. A part of her couldn’t believe his lack of trust in her, sleeping on the floor outside her room. Really?! Then again, apparently he knew her better than she’d suspected.
“I knew you would, hence my comfy spot. Why don’t we continue this conversation in your room before we wake the whole house?”
Moving to her room would mean getting off him. A shame, because she was quite comfortable where she was.
“You’re bossy,” she grumbled as she rolled off him. She made it back into her room and paced by the bed as he entered, softly shutting the door behind him.
“I’m only bossy because you’re trying to do something stupid.”
“Taking responsibility is not stupid.”
“It is if you’re just planning to offer yourself up like a sacrificial picnic basket.”
“Isn’t the expression ‘lamb’?”
“Gross.” He made a face. “We don’t eat anything cute. Most of our meat is bacon and fish. Maybe the occasional crustacean.” He shrugged. “But we’re killers when it comes to berry season.”
A lightbulb went off, and she blinked. “Oh my God, I just realized all those comments you keep making about bears … it’s because you’re a bear.”
“Well, yeah. It would be odd to compare ourselves to other animals.”
“I never asked before”—mostly on account she was in shock—“but is your whole family bears?”
“Only the men.”
“And you’re born that way?”
“Nope. We’re one hundred percent human at birth, but once we hit our teens we go through a ritual whereby our father turns us.”
“But only the boys? I’m surprised your mother and sisters are okay with that.”
“They don’t have a choice. The virus that is transmitted via the saliva of a bite only works on men, and even then, not all men will change. Direct family has the best chance of conversion, but even that’s not foolproof. Poor Julio has been bitten a dozen times now to no avail. For a while, my uncle thought my aunt cheated on him, until the DNA test came back proving Julio was his. However, it turns out he’s immune.”
“This is all very strange to me.”
“Yet you believe in vampires.”
“Because I lived with one.”
“And now you live with me. A bear.” He grinned, white teeth flashing.
“For now. But I can’t stay with you forever.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? Because it’s not your responsibility to take care of me.”
“What if I wanted it to be? What if I said I wanted to date you and do deliciously decadent things to your body?”
“I’d say”—Do me. Yes. Now. I’m yours.—“that you’re insane.”
“I get that from my father’s side. We’ve got a bit of grizzly in our line.”
“And what about your whacked-out sense of humor? Is that from your father too?”
“Probably, although I’d say that’s more the panda in me. Apparently, we’ve got a great-ancestor who visited China.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and flopped on it, closing her eyes and covering them with her arm. Perhaps by blocking him out she could think clearly, because he seemed determined to muddle her mind.
The bed dipped alongside her. “No hiding, sweetheart.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you to see me when I do this.”
“Do what?” She opened her eyes and removed her arm as she turned her head to see him. He took that moment to draw her close and kiss her. A soft and sensual kiss. A kiss meant to melt.
It worked. Her mouth parted, and she welcomed the foray of his tongue.
The embrace didn’t last long enough. He pulled away and stared at her. “I want you, sweetheart.”
She wanted him too. “But—”
He silenced her protest with another kiss. A longer one with dancing tongues that brought her blood to a boil and left her slightly breathless.
Again, he pulled back. “I understand you’re worried, which is why you can’t think of a future with me yet. But don’t worry. I’m going to fix that.”
“Fix it how?”
“Don’t you worry ab—”
He cut off what he was about to say. His brow knitted, and an instant later he was off the bed and moving to the door. Much like her, he put an ear to it.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought I heard something. Stay here.”
Before she could protest, he’d ghosted out of the room, quickly and silently, latching the door behind him.
“Stay here,” he’d said. But he wasn’t the one waiting, straining to hear what had roused his attention. She rose from the bed and paced, pausing a moment before the window, only a moment before cursing her stupidity. With the lamp on behind her, she cast a perfect silhouette if anyone watched outside. She whirled and clicked it off. She moved to the bedroom door again and pressed her ear against it.
Nothing.
For a moment her fingers lingered over the knob. No, he’d asked her to stay. She owed that to him. She whirled around in time to see a shadow against the window a moment before it crashed through the glass. Her mouth opened on a scream, and she turned to fumble at the door.
Only in her clumsy haste and panic she couldn’t get it open. An arm clad in black fabric wrapped around her upper body, cinching her tight. Something pressed against the side of her neck and …
CHAPTER 12
The alarm system showed green, and yet Stavros’s bear radar insisted something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He stripped before letting himself out the side door, a quick glance outside showing nothing, the motion sensors not activated at all. Are they working?
It wasn’t hard to test. As he padded past them, nose lifted, scenting the air, they came to life, bathing the yard in a soft glow. Nothing appeared amiss. Yet still a sense of unease lingered.
Always trust your gut. Something taught by his father at a young age. He put his nose to the ground and moved toward the edge of the yard, meaning to patrol, but a scuff of sound on the far side of the house attracted his attention.
Becka!
With his fur bristled, he turned around and bolted on four legs to the side where Becka’s bedroom resided. Bursting around the corner, he looked up in time to see a body, clad head to toe in black, rappelling down from the roof and kicking the glass window leading into the bedroom.
He roared, which didn’t do much considering his enemy was two stories above. The intruder emerged from the window, sitting on its edge, a limp Becka over his shoulder. The fucker gave him a wave before jumping and swinging to the side, his harness pulling him back to the roof. But where did he plan to go from there?
How did he get here? Stavros raced around the building, looking for the intruder’s ride. Unless he could fly, he needed some wheels. Sure enough, on the far side, behind his own car, he found a vehicle that didn’t belong. He charged at it, wondering where his backup was. He’d called in some family favors to cover the outside, and yet he seemed to be the only one acting.
If they hurt anyone …
Grawr!
His bear charged at the SUV, whose driver threw it into reverse and burned rubber as he tried to escape. Much like in an action movie, it suddenly spun, tires screaming, ass end fishtailing before it gripped asphalt and shot forward, only to crunch as something big and furry barreled into its side. The SUV tilted on two wheels, and
Stavros’s grizzly cousin stood on two legs to finish its tilt.
Despite the vehicle lying on its top, the wheels spun, and Stavros left the driver to Damian. He turned back to the house and noted the guy standing on the roof, Becka still draped over his shoulder.
Got you trapped, you bastard.
He roared a challenge.
The guy lifted a gloved hand and gave him the finger. That took some fucking balls. Then again, the guy thought himself safe on the roof. He apparently didn’t know Stavros’s daddy climbed that roof every December to put up Christmas lights.
Stavros’s father stood on the far side and bellowed, “Put the girl down and I might not kill you.”
The intruder didn’t even turn to face Stavros’s father. Bad move, since Stavros’s daddy, with no regard for his pj’s, burst into his bear. However, his roar was overshadowed.
A strange whup-whup sound filled the air, and Stavros could only look on in disbelief as a helicopter swooped into view over his house, flying low. Too low, as it dropped a ladder. The intruder shifted Becka on his shoulder and grabbed hold of the rungs and began to climb.
Oh hell no. Who the fuck are these guys? Stavros’s father charged, but he would never make it in time.
Bang. Bang. Stavros swung his shaggy head and noted his sister Persephone—an excellent markswoman, much like the goddess—taking aim at the helicopter. The helicopter dipped, and the guy clinging to the ladder swung, his legs losing purchase, one arm tearing free. Of more concern, he lost his grip on Becka, who fell several feet and hit the rooftop, then rolled.
Rolled like a snowball gathering speed right off the fucking edge!
Shit.
Stavros’s claws left furrows in the ground as he raced toward the house, running faster than he’d ever run in his life. He stood at the last possible moment to catch her in his arms.
She roused enough to crack one eye and say a slurred, “Saved by a teddy bear.” Then passed out again, safe in his arms.
As for the helicopter and the dude hanging from the ladder, they disappeared from sight.
But good news. The bears still had the car and its driver.