by Elsa Jade
Somewhere beyond the privacy of the Victorian’s overgrown yard, someone started a lawnmower, probably eager to get the work done before the real heat of the day. The humdrum thrum of the two-stroke engine broke the spell Gin was weaving with her words.
Or maybe in some strange way underscored it.
Thor looked down at the potion and recoiled. Did he finally see what Gin was saying?
From his angle, Ben realized the silvery emulsion within the glass was acting like a mirror. All Thor was seeing was himself in his most twisted shape.
With another junkyard snarl, he coiled the jug into the crook of his arm and backed away from them, toward the sidewalk.
“Cuz.” Ben hauled himself to his feet, wondering if he had the strength to tackle his cousin before some unsuspecting neighbor caught sight of a fucking werebear. Everyone in the Four Corners knew Angel Rest was extra peculiar, but they had to maintain plausible deniability. “Stay here. We’ll figure this out. Not because you’re our king, but because we love you.”
For a moment, he thought his words added to Gin’s would do the trick. Thor glanced over his shoulder at the cobblestone walk leading to the street.
Then he spun back and charged.
With a strangled curse, Ben ripped Gin out of his path.
But in a single bound, the bear-man cleared them both, racing for the backyard.
Which skirted the open desert beyond.
Holding one arm against his ribs which felt like they wanted to pop through his chest and go running off too, Ben scrambled after his cousin. “Thor!”
If possible, the Victorian’s backyard was even more charmingly, uncontrollably overgrown than the front, as if it wasn’t bothering to keep up even the pretense of appearances. Only the sway of leaves brushed free of the strange night’s dew showed where the bear-man had passed.
Ben caught himself up against white pickets before he accidentally impaled himself. The sharp transition from witchy garden to empty wildlands made his head spin.
Or maybe that was blood loss.
Or losing a king.
Because there was no sign of his cousin, not in bear shape or man or anything in between.
“Holy cow,” Gin breathed beside him. “He just…disappeared.”
“Rex ursi,” Ben said, as if that explained everything. Which it sort of did.
Through a rustle of bushes, Rita bustled up beside them. “I thought we had him.”
Ben looked at the gun still in her hands. “Thanks for not shooting him.”
The eldest Wick witch narrowed her eyes as she stared out to the desert, the sands shifting caution-yellow under the rising sun. “Not yet.” She cut her glare to him. “Get inside, before you bleed out.”
“Come on.” Gin took his non-bleeding elbow.
He’d been trying to get everyone inside for what seemed like an eternity, and now they were telling him? His bear followed meekly, silent evidence of how much they hurt.
Not just from a few broken ribs and one lacerated arm—and a few other injuries he was starting to notice only now that the immediate threat was gone, somewhere into the Four Corners. He’d lost a king.
Gin tightened her grip on him and he realized he was swaying. He tried to extricate himself. “I’m fine.”
“I say that too,” she murmured as she led him through the back door into the kitchen.
Rita engaged the safety on the rifle and tucked it into a gun safe in the pantry. “Let’s see how bad you are. Take it off.”
Ben scowled at her. “You’ve seen enough.”
Rita snorted. “I’m a doctor. Or as close to one as you’re going to get.”
Gin guided him to the sink and nudged the flannel off his shoulders. Somewhere in the fight, the front had been ripped open—along with his flesh—so there wasn’t really any point in fighting her. Also, he was bleeding on the elegant house, which like any grand old lady felt respectably disapproving about the mess he was making.
Gin’s hands were achingly gentle as she washed his arm. “Is this the worst of it?”
“Ribs too, I’m guessing.” Rita slapped a first aid kid on the counter. “Anything else internal?” She fixed him with a gimlet stare.
“Just the ribs, I think, ma’am.” He grimaced when Gin scrubbed a little deeper. “Shifters heal quick.”
From physical wounds anyway. As for the rest…
But Thor had run away with the potion that would take away that other pain.
“I tried to catch him.” Mac stood in the kitchen doorway, his arm looped around Brandy, who clutched Aster at her thigh. Their little trio looked at Ben, stricken.
Ben frowned at his cousin, casting a meaningful glance at the boy. “Morning, kiddo,” he said lightly. “You sleep good?”
Aster rubbed his eyes. “I dreamed it was Christmas.”
“Probably because you get a present this morning.” Rita rummaged in the aid kit and handed him a giant roll of gauze. “One of the oak branches broke, and you get to climb up with Mac and help fix it. After breakfast though.”
Aster gripped the gauze with one hand and Brandy’s nightgown with the other, but his gaze was narrowed on Ben. “Why you all bloody? Cuz of the tree?”
“Sort of. Just had a little accident.” Ben held tight to the edge of the sink. “But your auntie’s patching me right up.”
Aster screwed his lips to one side. “You gonna fall into dif’rin parts like the monster?”
All the adults winced.
“Nah.” Ben winked at the boy and held up his arm to let Gin wrap a compression bandage around his chest. The wrap wouldn’t do much for his tortured breathing, but just having her close took the edge off the pain. “See? Aunt Gin is holding me together good.”
After a moment, Aster looked up at his mother. “Can I have a nilla scone for breakfast?”
Brandy huffed out a breath. “Yeah, I think this morning is a good morning for something sweet.”
Ben jerked his chin at his cousin. “Hey, Mac. Here a minute.”
Mac was at his side in two steps, and they turned to look out the sink window. “I saw him break from the fence and I tried to triangulate on him.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair. “He was too fast, dammit.”
“But he was arrowing for the plateau?”
“Yeah, not the mesa.”
They both grimaced. The mesa had its own dangers, but it was a lodestone to all shifters. For Thor to avoid it meant…nothing good.
Ben exhaled heavily. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Course.”
“Can you carry me into the parlor? Cuz I think I’m going to pass out.”
After a moment of surprise, Mac grabbed his arm. “C’mon. Not in front of the kid.”
“Yeah.” Aster would figure it out soon enough. He was a bear shifter, after all. But Ben wanted him to believe all was right in his world for as long as possible.
With Mac half holding him upright, he managed to saunter into the front parlor as if they were just granting the kitchen to the female folk.
Mac dumped him on the couch. “I’ll get Rita.”
“Just…wait.” Ben draped his bandaged arm over his closed eyes. Blood pulsed through the torn flesh. But it wasn’t just blood. “Thor got me deep.”
Mac was silent so long, Ben thought he’d left. “The king bite.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t bite him back, the fangy bastard.” How his bear had managed to hold back from the challenge, he’d never know.
No, he did know.
It wanted something more precious than a kingdom.
He dragged in a ragged breath that smelled of old wood, lingering dew, blood and vanilla.
And Gin.
He’d follow the dark, mysterious fragrance of her anywhere. Except she’d told Thor she was done, leaving.
Even with his eyes closed, his head spun sickeningly. “Was I going to be your best man?”
“Nah. Aster is. Then Thor. Then you.”
“Hey. Who
gave you advice on how to win your mate?”
“Not the guy lying around in his own blood and self-pity.”
Ben peered under his elbow. “Harsh.”
“Truth so often is.” Mac crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you gonna do?”
Ben closed his eyes again. “Whatever she wants.”
But then he passed out.
***
It was too hot. No, it was too cold. No, definitely too hot.
He couldn’t find a place to rest his aching body, and his head pounded like something was trying to get out. The bear roared its misery. It wanted…needed something…someone.
But he was alone in an empty badlands of fire and ice and longing.
He finally woke with the tiniest sliver of new moon peeping at him through the front window of the old Victorian. Even as he watched hazily, the angle changed, and the crescent of silver slipped between the oak leaves to rise above the porch roof, shining elsewhere across Angels Rest.
Across the desert where his rogue king roamed.
Or maybe it roamed inside him now.
With a groan, he tilted his head, and the light sheet over him slipped down his bare chest. Even without the moonlight he could see the dark bruises mottling his skin. Thor had gotten him good.
A gentle hand, bigger than seemed quite balanced on such a slender wrist, eased the blanket up again. He wrapped his fingers around Gin’s hand and felt the leap of her pulse under his thumb.
“Oh, you’re awake.” She scooted her chair, which had been out of sight behind him, closer to his shoulder. “Good. How are you feeling? I have an unguent for your arm. And a poultice for your ribs. And a draught for general, all-over, mauled-by-a-bear pain.”
He tightened his grasp. “Just need you,” he rasped. When she stiffened, he released her. “To tell me how long I’ve been out,” he amended.
She cleared her throat. “Just one day. The fever was intense, but it burned itself out.”
Like her extinguishing potion. “I don’t need anything else.” He might not like the pain, but it meant he’d survived. Which was more than he could be sure of for Thor. “Any sightings?”
She shook her head without asking what he meant. “Mac went to the alpha of the wolf pack. He wanted to wait until you woke up, but Rita said she’d go if he didn’t.”
Ben clamped his jaw. “She wasn’t wrong.” A rogue rex ursi was going to be a problem. He pushed himself upright.
“Wait,” Gin fretted. “Let me—”
He avoided her fluttering hands. She never fluttered; obviously she didn’t really want to touch him. “Leave it,” he said brusquely. “I’ll live.”
She settled her hands in her lap, fingers knotted. But she never dropped her gaze from his, and her eyes shone even in the dark. Tears, he realized. The sight twisted his heart like claws. “Ben, before anything else happens, I have to ask…”
His bear tensed, as if it knew this was an attack they wouldn’t come out of in one piece. “What?”
“Could you still love me?”
The old house seemed to hold its breath. Or maybe that was just him.
“After everything I said or did—or didn’t do—when you opened up to me, after I made one magic spell more important than…the rest of my life, could you still love me?”
“Love you,” he repeated like the big dumb bear he was. How many times could he open up, hold out his heart, and be shot down?
Forever, his bear informed him stubbornly. Bullets weren’t really that effective on a big dumb bear anyway. Not like bear spray.
“Is that what you want?” His husky voice was almost a growl, and his bear rolled its eyes. They might not have the voice of a wolf or coyote, but they could be gentle when they wanted to be.
And he wanted so, so much.
But he couldn’t risk hurting her. He wrapped his big hand over her clenched ones. “Gin, this is a bad time.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m going to fail my ordination. I’ll have to start over from the beginning, and the circle is definitely going to be leery of shadow magic after what just happened. I don’t even have a real job, although Rita would probably let me work in the shop. Or maybe Sunday Landscaping is hiring. I’m not the best with plants, but I could learn. If you’d be willing to show me.”
He tightened his grip. “I meant I’m in a bad place, not you. The clan was just earning the shifters’ trust again, and now Thor is rogue.” He let out a harsh breath. “Gin, if he gave me the king bite, I might…I’d have to leave you, take over the clan. And I’d never…I could never leave you like that.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said simply. “I know you. You’d make it work. And so would I. I thought love was like…a potion in a small flask, finite, with only so many rations to go around. And there never seemed to be enough for me.” She twisted her hands to grip him back. “But I get it now. Love isn’t the potion—it’s the power itself.”
He stared at her. “What you said to Thor…”
“I meant it. Every word. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” She glanced down at their hands. “Except that’s not entirely true. I did lie to him once. When he gave me the snowberry, he made me promise to leave you. And I said I would.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “No.” His bear echoed him from deep in his chest.
“I promised him I wanted nothing to do with a big bro bachelor bear.” She took a breath. “The circle teaches us that we must keep our promises—especially the magical ones.”
“Tell me you are a wicked witch,” he urged.
She was holding him so tight even his bear was impressed. “Luckily the shadow knows every promise has a flaw. I wouldn’t claim a big bro bachelor bear. But you’re not that. Well, you are big, but the rest… You’re a baker and a master arborist. You’re the best cousin to my little nephew. When you smile at me, you’re everything I never knew I wanted. And you wouldn’t be a bachelor, not if you’ll have me…”
She disentangled their fingers and reached for something on the side table by the couch.
The perfume reached him before she set the shallow dish in his hands.
“It’s the rose you gave me.” She touched the petals. In the shadows, the red edges looked black, but the fragrance was still peppery sweet, undeterred by the dark. “I put it in a phial with a purified elixir to keep it forever.”
His heart ravaged him from the inside, beating too hard. “But you dumped it out.”
She lifted her dark shining gaze to him. “You told me that blooming in the wild, it would have the chance to really grow. That in a season or two, there’d be more, enough to share with everyone.”
He cupped her cheek, feathering his thumb over the single crystal trembling at the corner of her lashes. Salty, warm, silky, with a simple magic that broke through the wary chill in his heart. “So…kinda like love?”
Her laugh was husky. “Kinda, yeah.”
Slowly, he smiled, and she reached toward him to match his gesture, her thumb resting in his dimple.
“I can’t leave Angels Rest,” he told her. “Whether I’m king bitten or not.”
“Why would we leave? Everything we love is here. Our families—even Thor, somewhere—are here, and your diablo rose, and the nights really are beautiful.”
“You are beautiful,” he murmured. “And everything I want is here, right here.”
He tilted forward, only a little hindered by the bandage around his ribs, and the important part of him covered only by the sheet popped toward her too.
She angled her head so sweetly he wanted to roar in triumph. But he’d save that for another day. She’d have him roaring for many reasons, no doubt, not all of them easy for a bachelor bear. But he knew they’d always come back to this perfect moment, not because of a fated mating or magic, but because they loved each other.
He brushed his lips over hers once, twice, and the third time he was too hungry to do anything more than kiss her like the ravening beast he w
as. She matched him in fierceness, her fingers sliding to his nape to lock in his hair. The eager little gusts of her breath across his lips was like a storm moving across a long-thirsty desert, and when he took her down to the couch, covering her with his big body, she hung on tight, as if she’d never let him go.
“My bear,” she whispered. “So mote it Ben.”
“Spellbound bear,” he agreed. He’d told her once that shifters didn’t have magic, they were magic, so he’d have to show her all the power he had in his fingers and tongue and nethery bits, to prove he was more than enough to please his most prickly, impatient, precious witch.
He whispered his promises and she moaned her delight, and afterward, they lay in a sweaty tangle, hoping no one else was awake.
“I know up north there are places where it’s always night,” she mused, tracing obscure runes on his chest. “Maybe you’ll take me there someday. I could meet your family, hear these stories of when you were a bit of a rogue yourself.”
“We’ll make love until the sun comes up,” he said dreamily, “months later.”
“I’ll dress better for the snow next time.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “I like you just the way you are.”
“And I love you all the ways you are.” She kissed him, so thoroughly he hoped she left another bruise to mark him as hers. Oh, bruises faded, sure, but then she’d just have to kiss him again. And again.
Forever was what they’d make of it.
And whatever came, they’d make it with love.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elsa Jade, author of sexy shapeshifting romances, also writes paranormal romance, urban fantasy romance, and science fiction romance as Jessa Slade and sexy contemporary romance as Jenna Dales. In all her incarnations, she believes in the transformational power of love and is thrilled to share her stories with like-minded readers.
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