Bear Clan Complete Series Boxed Set

by Jenika Snow

  I turned my head to the right, not seeing her at first but knowing she was in this direction. I could smell her, the slight, floral scent that was mixed with the fear she felt. I walked further into the van, stepping on rolls of tape and squares of gauze.

  And then I saw her, pressed against the wall, an outcropping hiding her initially. She looked up at me with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face. Her fear spiked as she looked at me, this bitter scent that filled my head and instantly had me than my six-three height. She was so fragile … so human.

  But in this moment, right now as she stared at me, I was the one who made her afraid.

  I held up my hands in surrender and shook my head slowly. Her gaze darted to my hands, fear spiking even more.

  God, they probably looked so big and intimidating.

  “I have nothing else. No money, no drugs. Nothing.” She pressed her back more firmly against the wall and I growled low, not to frighten her further, which unfortunately was the result, but angry that my mate was upset and afraid.

  I wanted to kill the motherfucker who had made her feel this way.

  “I won’t hurt you.” I dropped my hands to my sides and tried to take a more nonthreatening approach to this. I took a step back, wanting to do the opposite, wanting to just pull her into my arms and hold her, tell her everything was okay. I also wanted to shift into my bear form, to hunt down the guy who had frightened her. Fuck, I wanted to tear his limbs from his body. I wanted to punish him for even looking at my mate.

  “Your eyes.” She whispered those two words and I internally cursed, realizing that my bear was a little too close to the surface, my eyes probably glowing, flashing yellow.

  I closed them and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. I pushed the fucker down, told him to be patient, that frightening her would only have her drawing away from us even more. And when I felt him retreat, understanding, submitting in this one moment, it was then that I opened my eyes and looked at her again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said even softer this time, calling out the gentlest part of me, but my voice was hoarse from the strong feelings bombarding me.

  Love, lust, protectiveness, possessiveness.

  It was all this whirlwind of feeling moving inside of me like a tornado, making a path of distraction, telling me that it wouldn’t subside until I made her mine.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It’s just an unavoidable side effect of my inner animal.” Shifters weren’t some dark secret hidden away in a closet. We weren’t keeping to the shadows. We were known, feared and misunderstood the majority of the time. But right now, all I wanted her to do was love me, desire me like no other.

  I wanted her to feel the same way for me as I did for her.

  And although I could see that she recognized me in some form, a mate seeing a mate for the first time, she was far too afraid to acknowledge how deep our bond ran.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I said in a softer voice, showing her that I was not a threat. Never to her. I looked around the trashed van, wanting to ask her exactly what had happened so I could hunt down the motherfucker who had done this, had made her scared.

  I stared at her, looked into her blue eyes, her long blond hair that was a tangled mess around her head, the ponytail she’d once had hanging off to the side.

  God, I hated she’d been hurt. I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides, forcing myself to appear … human. I didn’t want to frighten her more with the fact that I was now mated to her, that I would protect her at all costs.

  I was possessive … obsessed with her.

  She was mine, irrevocably, and I would never let her go.

  “I—I know you won’t hurt me.” She knitted her brows. “Although I don’t know how I know that.” She smoothed her hands over her face, exhaustion filling her expression.

  I wanted to hear her voice, wanted her to speak more.

  “Who are you?” she said in a mere whisper. It took a hell of a lot of self-restraint not to go to her, touch her hair, smell her.

  I wanted to bury my nose in the crook of her neck, get lost in her scent … mark her.

  “Have we met before?”

  Her fear started to lessen and that pleased me. But I wanted it to be completely gone, especially when she was with me.

  Everything in me was so tight, so possessive right now. I wanted to shelter her from the world.

  “No, we haven’t met before,” I said, but not telling her what we were to each other was hard as fuck.

  The air was thick, the scent of her fear dissipating, replaced with confusion and curiosity. It filled my head.

  She knew me but didn’t in the same breath. And that in itself scared her. But underneath all of that was her soul knowing mine, her body and mind recognizing me as hers the same way as she was mine.

  As I took a step toward her, I found myself reaching out, unable to stop as I took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between my fingers, I knew I needed to go slow.

  But as I leaned down and brought those locks to my nose, inhaling deeply and closing my eyes, the sweet, powerful aroma of her slammed into me, and there was one thing that was undeniable.

  I craved her like no other.

  Chapter Four

  India

  I couldn’t breathe, not as I stood there frozen and watched this man smell my hair. It was such an intimate act, his big body hunched over, his eyes closed as he rubbed those strands underneath his nose. This low rumble left him, a very animalistic growl.

  My throat was tight, every muscle in my body tense. I couldn’t understand how I knew him, how seeing him had my fear leaving, had that darkness in me, that black hole slowly starting to fill in. It was as if my body recognized him, as if this very moment had been planned from birth.

  He pulled back and straightened, his big body so masculine and powerful. I had to crane my neck back to look into his face. I should be screaming, terrified that he would hurt me.

  The medic van had just been ransacked, two drunken men coming in here and destroying the place, looking for money and drugs, anything that they could sell.

  I was shaken up, having been shoved against the wall so hard the breath had been knocked out of me. Even now I felt a bruise forming on my arm from when one of them had held me, pushed me back.

  But as I stood in front of this shifter all I could feel was … lust.

  It wasn’t just any kind of arousal. It was bone-breaking, soul-sucking, heat-inducing desire. It was the kind that took everything from you, that left you a broken mess on the ground unable to breathe.

  He had a couple days’ worth of scruff covering his jaw and cheeks, and his hair was on the longer side, tied back in a man bun. He wore a white T-shirt, the material a little bit damp, the scent of salt water covering him. He’d come from the ocean. Maybe he was a surfer?

  He had tattoos covering his arms, gray and black designs that meshed together to form intricate patterns. Those designs moved up his neck, and I could see them underneath the light fabric of his shirt. I lowered my gaze to his hands, seeing the dark ink covering those as well.

  “What are you?” I whispered those words, feeling my breathing increase, not because of my fear but because of his close proximity.

  I felt everything in me come alive. My nipples hardened underneath my scrub top, this tingling moving through my legs and arms. I started to become wet between my thighs, the sudden reaction having my face heating from embarrassment.

  Never in my life had I felt arousal, nothing like this, nothing that stole my breath and had my pulse racing. The way he flared his nostrils, the low sound that came from him, as if he could smell me, turned me on even more. And he could smell me, I knew that with certainty.

  “I’m yours,” he said in a distorted voice, one that wasn’t human. His eyes flashed yellow again, whatever animal that was inside of him trying to break through.

  “Mine?” Saying that word, hearing him say I was his, felt so … right. I licked my lips and pushed away
from the wall, my fear leaving me slowly, confusion taking its place. He took a few steps back, and I knew instinctively that he was trying to ease me, not wanting to frighten me further.

  I didn’t know how I knew that, but I felt it as if it were my own emotions.

  I looked around the ground, medical supplies scattered everywhere, cupboards open, glass jars broken, the contents inside strewn about. Defeat filled me.

  “They wanted money, stole things that they could sell for drugs.” I said that out loud, and looked over at the mystery man. His presence, the very size of him, seemed to take up the whole interior.

  “I’m sorry,” he said and I heard sincerity in his voice, knew he was genuinely upset for me that this had happened.

  I closed my eyes and breathed out roughly, shaking my head at how shitty the situation was. I opened my eyes and looked back at him. There was something inside me that told me this was right, that this was what was supposed to happen, that it was how things were supposed to play out.

  Although I wasn’t looking at him anymore, I could feel his gaze on me as I made my way through the van, looking around, trying to figure out where I would start. He kept his distance, which I appreciated given the situation. I should’ve told him to go, that I had enough to deal with without some strange man crowding me, saying he was mine.

  But then something in me snapped and I found myself sitting down on one of the chairs, the tears coming, my shoulders hunched forward, my whole body shaking from the force of my emotion. I heard him come closer but I held one hand out, the other covering my face as I cried.

  “Please,” I said softly, hating that my voice shook. “Please don’t come any closer. This is bad enough.” I needed to get myself under control, needed to focus on keeping my shit together. Life was hard and me breaking down in front of a stranger was only making a bad situation worse.

  But it was hard being strong all the time. It was hard trying to be the rock everyone around me constantly saw.

  He didn’t come any closer, but after a second, I heard him shuffling around the van.

  He was cleaning up.

  I dropped the hand covering my face to my lap and looked at him. He said nothing as he got on his haunches and started picking things up off the floor, never saying anything, never looking at me.

  I should have gotten up and helped, but I was shocked, something in me so rooted to the spot.

  He looked up at me then, his gaze seeming to look right into me.

  I felt that sadness leave me, felt it being replaced with this warmth that started to form from the inside out and spread to every single inch of my body.

  “What’s your name?” the shifter asked.

  I felt that darkness, that numbness, trying to take control. But being in this man’s presence was like a bucket of water on that dark fire inside of me.

  “India,” I found myself saying.

  “India.” The way he said my name had my breath hitching.

  He said it as though it was the greatest thing to ever pass his lips, as if he’d been waiting his entire life to utter that single word.

  I opened my mouth to ask him the same question, but nothing came out, as if I weren’t strong enough to say it.

  “Oli,” he said without me having to ask, and hearing his name was like a lightbulb had been turned on inside of me. That light grew until there was no more darkness, no more bitterness.

  “Who are you?” I asked again, whispering the question, not sure what was really going on but realizing that I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted him to hold me and kiss me. I wanted him to show me that I wasn’t alone anymore.

  He straightened, packs of gauze in his hands, his body so big and powerful, so muscular that my arousal renewed, causing this electricity to move through my cells and take root in the very center of me.

  “I’m your mate.”

  And as he said those three words, I knew in that moment that everything would be okay.

  Chapter Five

  Oli

  I knew as she looked at me she questioned how she’d found herself in a diner with me at midnight.

  She kept glancing up, catching my gaze but quickly looking away. She was human, that sweet smell of fragility making me even more protective of her.

  After we’d cleaned up the van, something I’d found myself doing instantly, hoping the small act would ease her pain, I’d asked her to have coffee with me. I’d expected her to refuse. It would have been natural. She didn’t know me, and although she was my mate and I felt as though we’d known each other for our entire lives, it was slightly different for a human. Her body recognized me.

  She knew there was a connection, felt it. Her realization of it was strong, smelling like the crisp winter air in my nose. But she was confused, not quite sure what was happening.

  I wanted to clear it up here and now, tell her everything, lay it bare.

  I leaned back in the booth and watched her raise her mug to her lips and take a slow sip. She didn’t drink coffee, and instead liked tea with just one packet of sugar, although she’d asked for honey first.

  Her nails were painted this powder pink, her fingers delicate almost. She was a healer, helping people because it made her feel good, gave her purpose. I didn’t have to be a shifter to have sensed that, to see it. It was in her dedication, how she’d reacted as she’d looked at the trashed van.

  And on the heels of that, I thought about the motherfuckers who’d hurt her. My gaze landed on her upper arm, where her sleeve had lifted up slightly. I saw the bruise forming, the black and blue mark in the shape of a hand.

  I had to stop myself from growling, had to push my bear down because the bastard wanted out, wanted to hunt down the fuckers who’d hurt their female and tear them from limb to limb.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her soft, sweet voice pierced the fog of rage starting to consume me. I looked at her, realizing I was seconds away from shifting right in this diner. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Fine.” Her brows knitting told me she didn’t believe me, but I knew she wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t pry.

  But everything I was was because of her. Everything I did was for her. I was born to be her mate. I’d left my home in search of her.

  Did she know I’d gladly give my life for her? Did India understand just how much I already loved her?

  “My bear wants out,” I said honestly. There would be no secrets between us. She would know every detail about me, every little thing I was thinking. I would never lie to her. “My bear wants out because I want to find the fuckers who hurt you.”

  She licked her lips and glanced down at her coffee mug for a second. When she lifted her head and looked back at me, I could see the question was on the tip of her tongue.

  I answered before she could ask.

  “When I find them, which I will, I’m going to make them realize exactly what it means to feel pain. They’re going to know what happens when they hurt the mate of a shifter.”

  She didn’t say anything after that, but I could see she had a lot of questions. Her expression spoke loudly.

  “Do you understand what I mean when I say you’re mine, that we’re mates?”

  The pulse at the base of her neck beat wildly, and it took her a couple seconds before she nodded.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Although I don’t think I fully understand it.” She glanced up at me from underneath her dark lashes. “I understand that what I feel when I’m around you is confusing me and it scares me.”

  I found myself reaching out and taking hold of her hand in mine. She didn’t pull it away, but I did hear her inhalation of breath, as if she were startled by the contact.

  “We were born to be together, to find each other at this exact time, at this precise instant.” I ran my thumb over the back of her hand. “I’ve been searching for you my entire life.” I could see the realization in her face. “You’re mine, India. My fated mate, the one and only female that will eve
r complete me and my bear.”

  In that moment, it was just the two of us. We weren’t surrounded by the rush of conversation from others. There wasn’t the scent of cooking food coming from the kitchen. There was only me looking at my mate and knowing that everything in the world was fucking right.

  I just needed to convince her of that, because letting her walk away wasn’t an option. Not having her in my life was not how our story was going to end.

  India

  I heard what he said, understood it, but I guess the reality of it wasn’t sinking in. Although knowing I was his mate seemed like the most natural, right thing in the world, the clinical part of my brain, the one that lived in the real world, saw real things, found it hard to believe.

  I knew about shifters, although I’d never actually met one in person—or maybe I had and hadn’t realized it. This all seemed a little surreal.

  The heat from the coffee cup seeped through my hands and I looked down at the translucent caramel-colored tea inside. “So this means you and I are ...bound together in some way?” I looked at him again to see his focus trained right on me.

  He leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table, the scent of his cologne, or maybe it was just his natural aroma, filling my head. I felt intoxicated.

  “It means you’re mine, forever, India.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled. I knew he was taking in my scent. I wondered what I smelled like to him.

  “Like the crisp air of an ocean breeze. Like the flavor that lingers on your tongue after you eat something sweet.” His voice dropped lower, his eyes going half-mast. “You smell like everything fucking good and right in the world.”

  God, I was getting wet.

  “And it makes me wonder what you’ll smell like when I’m deep within you, claiming you, marking you.”