Unbearable Fear

by ML Guida

  Blood pulsed through her body, unleashing a hidden fire within her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her breast. One hand sunk into her jeans, his fingers stroking her pussy. God, it had been so long. His fingers teased her, stroking her, building a desire.

  “You’re so wet.”

  Desire swooshed through her veins, beating the gong, waking up buried senses. Her body was alive underneath his touch, his kiss, the caress of his hair on hot skin.

  He moved down her belly, kissing and licking her, until she was a panting mess. He explored her belly button as if he were trying to mesmerize every wrinkle, every ridge, every sensitive nerve.

  Her fingers threaded through his thick silky hair, drawing little circles over his scalp.

  He pulled down her jeans and panties in one swift motion. She sucked in her breath, eager to feel his lips on her wet pussy. She spread her legs wider to give him more access. He edged his tongue down, rolling over her skin. His hand caressed her thigh then he stopped.

  He lifted his head. “What is that?” His disgusted voice killed everything in a single swipe.

  Her breath. Her pleasure. Her pride.

  Heat flamed from her face to her toes. Like always, the cruel night came crashing through her destroying any pleasure.

  Stupid. She knew better.

  “It’s nothing.”

  A lie. A shameful lie. A skeleton in the cupboard lie.

  She turned away from his demanding gaze and dropped her hands. She wanted to crawl inside the closet and disappear.

  He put his hands on either side of her hips, imprisoning her. “What the hell is that?”

  She immediately moved her trembling hand to her inner thigh. She glided over lines of bubbled raised skin. “Get off me.”

  He put his hand overs her and attempted to move her shield. “Skye, is that a tattoo?”

  She jerked her hand. “Stop.”

  “Skye?”

  “Stop. You said you’d stop.” She glared, daring him to break his promise.

  He rolled off her. “Okay, I’ve stopped.”

  She pressed her trembling thighs together, hiding her shame, and curled up in a tight little ball. Tears flooded her eyes and her throat closed up. She grabbed a blanket and covered herself. “Please, please, leave me alone.”

  “Skye, talk to me. What was that?” His pleading voice almost melted her heart.

  “Could you just leave?”

  He stroked her gently. “Not until you tell me what that mark was.” The disgust was gone from his voice replaced with concern.

  He laid on the other side of her, his piercing gaze never leaving her face. “Please tell me.” He wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

  The memory of the night slammed into her––his smile, the smell of burning flesh, the sweat rolling down her body. She trembled violently. It was why she hadn’t been with any man. “It’s Hector’s ring. He lit the ring with a cigarette lighter. Then he…he…he branded…me.”

  “Shades!”

  She cringed, wishing she’d kept her darkest secret to herself. “Just leave.”

  The dam she’d desperately been trying to keep back, broke.

  He gathered her in his arms. “I’m sorry. I swear I’ll never let him hurt you again.”

  Another lame promise.

  “You can go. I know I’m damaged goods. Find another mate.” Her words choked out between sobs.

  “Never.” His strong arms held her tighter as if he was afraid he’d lose her. “You’re mine.”

  She lifted her head and looked into his fierce eyes.

  “Hector used to say that.”

  “Shades…I didn’t mean…Skye.” His eyes widened, and his face turned pale. “I promise you I would never hurt you.”

  She thought a shine glistened over his eyes. She laid her head back down on his chest, listening to his thundering heart.

  She wanted to believe him. God, she’d wanted to so bad, but everyone she trusted had betrayed her.

  Chapter 13

  The quietness of the master house sent Walfea’s nerves on edge. Sandra was across the hall in another bedroom and his mate was curled next to him. But he couldn’t shake the feeling they weren’t alone.

  He held Skye close, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head until she fell asleep. She’d insisted on putting all of her clothes back on. Her clothes weren’t the only thing keeping him at his distance.

  His damn reaction had doused their passion. He wished he could undo that moment to erase the shame in her eyes, the stiffness in her bones, the torment in her heart.

  But it was too late.

  Drops of tears wetted her long eyelashes. Deep worry lines marred her beautiful face. The grandfather clock chimed in the living room. He cursed, worrying the damn thing would wake her up, but she released a loud sigh.

  “Sleep, warrior woman, sleep.”

  He stared at the white ceiling unable to even rest his eyes. Hector had branded her, fucking branded her. Shades, what the hell was wrong with him?

  His bear was wide awake, keeping him on alert. The memorizer wasn’t enough to keep Hector away, but he was certain that Hector wasn’t doing this on his own. Someone was feeding him information.

  The key to stopping Hector was discovering his accomplice. Skye didn’t want to believe it was anyone close to her, but all avenues were leading back to Steve Walker. He pulled back his upper lip and his fingers extended into claws. His bear wouldn’t be denied. He transformed into a bear and curled his large body around hers. She snuggled deep into his fur.

  No one would ever hurt her.

  Not unless they wanted the flesh ripped from their bones.

  The king-size bed creaked and groaned beneath him. He reluctantly transformed back to a man. He pulled the blankets around her and kissed the top of her head.

  What if she was right? What if he had underestimated Hector? He wiggled out from under her slumbering body.

  He kissed her damp cheek. “I’ll be back.”

  Safety was his number one priority. He opened Sandra’s door that was across the hall from theirs. Her bedroom was smaller, but filled with antiques. Sandra was fast asleep on a canopy bed and was softly snoring. He checked her bay window. It was locked.

  The back of his neck itched, which was never a good sign. He checked her closet, underneath the bed, and her bathroom––no Hector.

  But he still wasn’t satisfied.

  He double checked the locks on every door and on every window. He rechecked the Arian security alarm inside, but it wasn’t enough. What if he’d missed something?

  He slipped outside and transformed into a bear. He sniffed the grounds around the main house and the caretaker’s house, but he didn’t detect Hector’s stench. Once he got a whiff of something, he never forgot it.

  He lumbered around the master home, looking for footprints, or anything else amiss, but nothing stood out.

  He sat in front of the door, daring anyone to attack a giant white bear.

  A few hours, a loud feminine screech made his heart stop. He immediately transformed back into a man, cursing himself. He’d missed something. He hurried down the hallway to Skye’s room, ready to rip Hector apart.

  Wide-eyed, Sandra was on the bed, shaking Skye.

  “Skye, Skye, I swear it was out there. What are we going to do?”

  Skye lifted her head, sleep still in her eyes. “Sandra, calm down.”

  “No, we have to do something. Something’s happened to Walfea! We–” She was one minute away from going berserk.

  Walfea walked into the room, pretending that he hadn’t overheard the conversation. “Good morning.”

  “Where were you?” Sandra walked backward and almost fell off the bed.

  He stuck his thumb out. “Outside. Why?”

  “Did… did… did… you see it?”

  He folded his arms across his chest, desperately trying to hide his smile. “See what?”

  She stretched out
her arms wide. “A huge, white bear! I swear it was bigger than a grizzly.”

  He cocked his head toward the large bedroom window. “In these parts? Really? A white bear?”

  Skye cast him a disapproving look. “Sandra, if Walfea was outside, do you really think he would have missed it?”

  Walfea tried to be serious. “Maybe you saw a big white dog.”

  Sandra glared. “I know the difference between a dog and a bear.”

  Skye rubbed Sandra’s arm. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

  “Maybe.” Sandra’s voice didn’t match the doubt in her eyes.

  “Coffee.” Skye yawned. “We need coffee.”

  “I’ll go make some,” Walfea said, hoping to get back in Skye’s good graces.

  He quickly made the coffee. On Aria, they didn’t have this bitter brew, but he’d definitely acquired a taste for it.

  “Mmmmm.” Skye limped into the kitchen with a new T-shirt and the same pair of jeans she’d worn last night. She had on heavy socks. Her red hair was rumpled and sleep tainted her bright eyes, but he could see the darkness brimming around her pupils.

  He frowned. “Where are your crutches?”

  “My ankle’s getting better. I’m tired of those dumb things.”

  “You’re going to make your ankle worse.”

  “No, I won’t. Don’t worry.” She curled up on the sofa and snuggled into a blanket.

  He poured her a cup of coffee. “Cream?”

  “Yes, please, but no sugar.”

  He handed her the steaming cup.

  “Thank you.”

  “Where’s Sandra?”

  “She’s taking a shower.” She glanced down the hallway. “You shouldn’t have teased Sandra like that. I think you hurt her feelings.”

  He sat across from her in the recliner, holding his own black mug. “I’ll apologize if you want.”

  “Why were you a bear?” Her face paled slightly. “Did…did you sense something outside?”

  “No. I just wanted to secure the perimeter.” He sipped his coffee, pretending that he hadn’t stayed up all night, because something evil lurked outside.

  “Good.”

  Her telicator beeped. She picked it up off the end table and turned her back to him. “Hi Steve.”

  Walfea choked on the bitter drink. He immediately jumped out of the recliner and sat next to her on the couch whether she liked it or not.

  She glowered and turned her body away from him, but what she didn’t know was he had superior hearing. He could hear a whisper a mile away.

  “Skye, are you up at Frisco?”

  Walfea clutched his fists tight. His voice was filled with concern, but it could be just an act. Like he didn’t know exactly where Skye was hiding.

  “How did you know this? No one was supposed to know where I’m staying.”

  “Skye, I’ve been out of my mind with worry about you. I tried calling Sandra and couldn’t reach her. I called again and her mother answered. She said she thought Sandra had gone up to their place in Frisco. I put two and two together and just guessed.”

  Walfea frowned. So, Sandra had told someone.

  “Why were you so worried?”

  “Because Hector’s up there. He had some attack at Bagalis and was taken to Centura Hospital.”

  Chills gripped Walfea’s heart. He pulled back his upper lip and his talons edged out of his hands. “How did he know that?”

  Skye motioned with her hand as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut. “Steve, how did––”

  “A detective up there contacted me.”

  “Why would they contact you and not me?”

  “Because your damn phone wouldn’t answer. He tried calling you all night.”

  Walfea winced. He’d hadn’t thought of that. The telicator wouldn’t accept any calls that Skye hadn’t voice activated.

  “My phone’s been with me. The whole time.”

  “Well, the cops can’t reach you. Are you sure you’re okay?” He didn’t sound convinced, as if he thought Skye were being held prisoner.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Skye’s voice was soft, but strong.

  “Is Sandra with you?”

  Walfea narrowed his eyes. Steve was fishing.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think you should be alone. Please tell me where you’re at. You’re very important to me. I’d die if anything happened to you.”

  He was playing on her emotions.

  “I’m at–”

  Walfea had had enough. He clasped Skye’s arm and squeezed.

  Anger flashed in her eyes. He had no doubt when she got off the telicator she’d ring his neck.

  He didn’t care.

  As long as she hung up.

  She broke free of his grasp. “I’ll call you later, Steve. I gotta go.”

  “Skye.”

  Luckily, she hung up. She turned around, the daggers in her eyes making him scoot back. “Were you listening?”

  He shrugged. “It’s one of my abilities. I’m keen of hearing.”

  She lifted up her chin. “My conversations are private.”

  “I agree, but when your safety is at stake, that’s where I draw the line.”

  “The minute Steve called, I knew you’d arrest, convict, and hang him. You’re not even giving him half a chance.”

  He gave her a hard stare. “And you’re not looking at him with your eyes open.”

  “You’re extremely paranoid.”

  “It’s what keeps me alive.” Walfea slammed the mug on the table. “In my business, it’s not the strangers that hurt you. It’s the people you trust.”

  “Is that what happened with your brother?”

  His throat closed up, and he couldn’t answer her. Hate burned in his gut like acid. He thought of the Arian who betrayed them, watching each crew member be eaten one-by-one.

  The room was too close. The air too hot. He couldn’t breathe.

  He hurried outside to the wide deck. The morning sun couldn’t warm his chilled skin. Cold sweat drenched him as he thought of his dreary cell back on Sutois.

  Chipmunks scampered across the ground, playing hide and seek in the firewood. Blue jays and crows hopped around the pine branches.

  He held onto the railing, his arms trembling, trying not to go back.

  But the pretty mountain scene wasn’t strong enough to block out the memory that haunted him every night...The night Dech died…

  His brother looked at him stricken with fear. “Do you think Tash is looking for us?”

  He didn’t have to say what would happen if Tash didn’t rescue them in time.

  “Maybe.” He couldn’t lie. Captain Tash would never leave a man behind, but so far, the Arians had been outmatched. “We need to transform in case they’re coming for us.”

  “We were bears when they caught us,” Dech grumbled

  Walfea clutched his brother’s shoulder. “Listen to me. It will harder for them to take us down if we’re bears instead of in humanoid-form.”

  “It doesn’t matter, brother. If they have weapons…”

  “Don’t give up hope.”

  Someone slid open the patio door behind him and he jumped. He whirled around panting in terror, ready to do battle.

  Skye stood in the doorway with worry etched on her face. “Walfea, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” His shaky voice wouldn’t fool her.

  He sat on a patio chair and tried to push the memory away.

  She scooted a chair next to him. She pushed his hair back. “You’re sweating. I woke old wounds.”

  “No. They’re always there. I don’t sleep at night.”

  She picked up his shaking hand and kissed his knuckles. “Can you tell me what happened? Sometimes talking helps.”

  His tight muscles unwound a notch.

  “Sometimes it doesn’t.”

  “I know. You saw…you saw…my scar. That night…was my worst memory.”

  She was offering a way for him
to mend his stupid mistake from last night. He took a deep breath and held on tightly to her hand. Truth was, he never talked about Dech.

  Not to his family. Not to his friends. Not to the captain.

  “We were in our cell. No light. We heard footsteps outside our cell and immediately transformed into bears, poised to attack if the door even slid an inch. We were stronger and meaner than most Arians.”

  The darkness and the hopelessness closed in on him, and he struggled to breathe.

  “Walfea, I’m here. You’re safe.” She rubbed his hand. “Go on.”

  He nodded, trying to be strong, but he was losing ground fast.

  “Chains ground and clanked. The door rose. Light peaked through, along with an ugly Gog’s hairy foot. I was so angry, so scared, I didn’t think.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I bit him, tearing off a hunk of flesh.” He remembered how the Gog had howled, the sour blood gushing into Walfea’s mouth and how he had choked on a clump of hair.

  “And then?”

  “The door slammed shut. I really thought they would leave us alone. Think twice before coming after us. I thought they’d go to another prisoner.” The words surged out of him faster than his beating heart.

  She caressed his back and leaned her head against his shoulder. He gulped for air, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent that helped him stay grounded.

  She didn’t rush him.

  A hawk flew overhead looking for its morning breakfast. Wind bristled through the trees. He took another deep breath of clean mountain air.

  “We transformed back into humanoids.” He put on a trembling smile. “Dech was so pissed. He said I just made things worse. He actually punched me in the shoulder.”

  “Sounds like he was just like you.”

  He lowered his head. “He was. He would have pissed you off, too.”

  She lifted his chin. “I like you pissing me off.”

  He hadn’t expected that. He kissed her fingers, needing to taste her, to forget the ugliness of that night.

  They huddled together. The warmth of the sun and her body eased the chill in his heart.