Fated for the Bear: Beauty Bear Clan 1

by Mina Carter

  Chapter 3

  As a rule, Kacie Leroy never remembered her dreams.

  So when she woke up, brain fuzzy with images of lying all warm and cozy in Dean Sterling’s arms, she clung to the thoughts with everything she had, trying to grasp them before they disappeared under the brutal focus of full consciousness.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she turned away from the light shining through her eyelids and willed herself to slide back into the wonderful dream. Well, she didn’t really know whether it was a wonderful dream or not, but it had Dean in it, so it was already a hundred percent better than all the others. Of course, because this was Kacie and she’d always been a little aside from the norm, the dream also contained scary men with claws and, for some reason, her friend Lilly roaring like a bear and attacking people.

  Wait…what? Delicate, I’ll-cry-if-I-break-a-nail Lilly attacking people? She practically passed out if she got so much as a paper cut.

  A snort of amusement brought Kacie the rest of the way out of sleep and the dream fragments scattered. She pouted, her eyes still closed. Well, wasn’t that a total bunch of crapola? Best dream in a while and logic had to intrude to point out all the mistakes.

  Like the fact that Dean Sterling would ever even look at her, never mind let her get all cozy and comfortable in his big, muscly arms. Oh well, a girl could dream, couldn’t she? And she obviously had been.

  Opening her eyes, she was preparing herself to haul up and out of bed when she stopped dead, eyes glued to the ceiling above.

  The white plaster and beam ceiling most definitely wasn’t hers.

  Oh shit. Whose ceiling was that? Where the hell was she?

  She snapped her eyes shut and squeezed them tight to pray. Please don’t say I had a one night stand and called him Dean…

  “Oh, you’re awake. Good,” a deep male voice broke through her confusion, coming from somewhere behind her. With a start of surprise, she made to sit up and turn around but a hand landed on her shoulder. “No, don’t move please. I want to make sure you’re fully healed. And I need to give you something for the pain before you do.”

  “Healed? Pain?”

  Kacie looked up in confusion as a tall man with sandy brown hair that flopped over blue eyes leaned over her. He looked familiar but she couldn’t make her foggy brain figure out where she knew him from. It was only when he reached for her stomach that the spell broke.

  “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He paused, rocking back on his heels for a second to study her with an intent gaze. “You’ve been injured. You’ll let me look at the site of the wound now.”

  She raised an eyebrow. With his firm, almost mesmerizing look and the deep, compelling tones of his voice, she could almost believe he was trying to brainwash her.

  “Yeah, right. Next you’ll be telling me these aren’t the droids I’m looking for. Who the hell are you anyway?”

  “What?” The look of surprise that washed over his features almost made her snort with amusement. “No one’s ever said no before. What do you mean, who am I? I’m Morgan Jones, I’m a he…” He paused, his expression altering just slightly. “I’m a doctor. I’m afraid you were involved in an accident, Miss Leroy. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Oh crap, an accident. That could explain a few things…

  “Is that why my head is all fuzzy and I—”

  She stopped talking, aware she’d been about to admit to having what amounted to wet dreams about Dean, and suddenly remembered where she knew him and his name from.

  “Morgan Jones? Dean Sterling’s army buddy?”

  He favored her with a quick smile as he shone a small pen light in her eyes, one after the other. “That’s right. We served in the same unit for a few years.”

  Kacie relaxed. Now she remembered seeing him with Dean in the Beast Bar a few times, his tall, broad-shouldered physique and handsome face setting all the local single ladies atwitter. Not her though. Morgan was handsome and everything, but she’d always had a thing for hot ex-jock soldiers like Dean.

  “Okay.” She nodded to give him permission, watching the ceiling as he peeled away the covers over her stomach. “Was it a bad accident?”

  “Uh-huh, really quite nasty. Fortunately, we got to you in time.” He made a pleased sound and pressed the dressing back down over her stomach. “It’s all looking good. It might pull a little at first but then it should ease up.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be careful. Am I okay to shower or get it wet?”

  He nodded. “Sure. You can actually remove the dressing if you want the next time you do. Just be careful, these army ones… they like to hang on to some skin when you take them off. Get it wet and peel slowly. Don’t pull, okay?”

  “Got it, Doc. Thanks.”

  “You can sit up now. Slowly,” he warned, watching her carefully as she levered herself up into a sitting position.

  Her head swam a little but quickly eased up. However, the rest of her felt somewhat odd. She felt energized. Almost like she’d stuck her finger in a wall socket to charge but without the unfortunate side effects of frizzy hair or dying.

  She took a look around the room. She’d expected comfortable hospital surroundings but it appeared to be some kind of lounge…

  “Why am I on the table?”

  “It was the quickest place to bring you for treatment.” Morgan shrugged as she swung her legs over the edge of the table. As he’d warned, her stomach pulled like she’d done a thousand sit-ups and she tensed. But the feeling faded and she carried on the rest of the way.

  “Really?” Alarm bells began to ring in Kacie’s head. From the way he’d been talking, she’d been moments away from death, so they brought her to… she took a better look at the room around her… some kind of hunting lodge?

  Sliding off the table, she backed up a couple of steps and fixed the doctor, if he even was one, with a firm look. “Okay, mister, you’d better tell me exactly what the hell is going on here.”

  “I think that’s where I need to tap out.” Morgan looked over her shoulder as the door opened behind her. “You can explain this shit-storm to her, not me.”

  “What shit-storm?” She whirled around to find Dean framed in the doorway. The sight of him took her breath away, but she was used to it, concealing her intake of breath with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

  “Maybe because I live here?” He nodded to Morgan as the tall doctor left the room, shutting the door behind him. She got a brief glimpse of another room but couldn’t make out any details before her view was cut off.

  “If I was in an accident, why was I brought here rather than taken to a hospital?” Folding her arms defensively over her chest, she waited for his answer.

  The pause before he answered gave other questions time to crowd through her brain. Like had he seen her when she was asleep? Oh my god, had she drooled? Please tell me I didn’t drool. Not in front of Dean Sterling. That was so not sexy. Looking down at herself, she frowned.

  She wore her going out jeans, the ones so tight they were practically sprayed on, paired with a large white t-shirt that wasn’t hers. Easy to tell because it buried her and she preferred her t-shirts fitted and lower cut. Girl had a figure, she had to show it off, that was the law… but if she had her going out stuff on…

  “Oh shit.” Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. The next second she hurried around the table, searching under it and around the chairs for her purse. “What time is it? And where’s my cell? Kait and Lilly will be so worried!”

  “Hey, hey… calm down.” Somehow Dean had crossed the room without her realizing, taking her into his arms as her head swam with her sudden movement. She clung to him, wrapping her hands around the big, muscular upper arms she’d been dying to touch for years. “You were badly injured. You need to take it easy.”

  His touch and the very real experience of being in Dean Sterling’s, the guy she’d had a crush on since she was in pigtails, arms was enough to short-circuit her
brain for a second. Her response was to look up into his handsome face with a dumbfounded, “Huh?”

  She closed her eyes for a second. Smooth, Kacie, real smooth. He probably thinks you’re a sandwich short of a freaking picnic now.

  “Kacie? Sweetheart, open your eyes.”

  Shaking her head, she kept them shut.

  “No. Won’t.”

  This was so not happening. Dean was not holding her close and cozy-like, and he had no way just called her sweetheart. That last bit sealed the deal. She was still dreaming. That’s why nothing made sense. That’s why she was in Dean’s arms and he’d just called her sweetheart in that soft, sexy voice she’d imagined so many times in her dreams.

  His chuckle was deep and masculine, sending a shiver down her spine. “Why not?”

  She bit her lip as he touched her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was such a cliché move, she knew that, but her knees didn’t care and weakened instantly. Damn traitors.

  “Because this is such a nice dream, and if I do, it’ll all be over and I won’t remember it.” Oh great, now her mouth was operating without the intervention of her brain. Because she hadn’t, like, wanted to keep any of her dignity. Pffft, who needed the stuff anyway?

  “Okay.”

  He didn’t argue with her about it just being a dream. Figured. Even her imaginary Dean knew this would so not be happening in real life. No matter how she felt about the handsome ex-jock turned soldier, no matter how many convert glances she’d stolen in Beasts, he had never once looked at her in that way.

  “Okay?” she frowned, eyes still shut. Apparently a girl did have some pride after all…

  “Because with your eyes closed, you can’t stop me doing this.”

  Her eyes flew open as the words were whispered against her lips, only to flutter closed again with a soft moan as his mouth claimed hers. His lips were warm and firm, brushing against hers lightly. Softly, like he didn’t want to scare her off.

  She almost laughed at the thought. He should think himself lucky she didn’t hook her leg behind his, throw him to the floor and pin him down to ravish him. Yeah, right… like she would ever do that. She was more likely to freak out and run. Only the fact that this was fantasy rather than reality kept her where she was. Because it was a dream, she could enjoy it and not worry about what people thought.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged when he lifted his head. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, a strange look in his eyes. “I like it when you kiss me.”

  “Moon’s balls, Kacie,” he groaned, one hand coming up to slide into her hair and hold her still. “You’ll be the death of me. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

  She couldn’t answer, didn’t get time anyway as his lips crashed down over hers. This time he wasn’t soft or gentle. His mouth claimed hers in a hard, passionate kiss that shattered what defenses she had left against him to smithereens.

  He explored her lips, learning their shape and texture, and then parted them with a hard sweep of his tongue. She opened for him with a soft murmur, hands bunched in the fabric of his shirt, and he pushed inside. He explored the soft recesses of her mouth with devastating finesse. His tongue found hers and coiled around it, stroking and sliding.

  She gasped, the sound lost under his lips, and kissed him back. She’d never been a pliant or passive woman, not generally and definitely not when it came to the bedroom. She knew what she liked, what she wanted, and she wasn’t shy about getting it.

  Easing closer, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She matched each of his strokes and slides with one of her own, forcing the tension and awareness between them higher rapidly.

  Her fingers found the short hairs at the back of his head, stroking through them. Being kissed by Dean was like nothing she’d ever imagined—and she’d thought about it a lot. He was hard and forceful, but not rough or harsh. She could spend an eternity in his arms and consider herself a happy woman.

  She pouted when he pulled back, gentling her with softer kisses until he broke away to look down at her. His breathing was ragged and his eyes dark with heat. A heat so dark and dangerous that her body clenched in response.

  “Slow,” he muttered, as though to himself. “I promised I’d go slow. Be careful.”

  “Promised who?” She reached up to trace her finger over the full curve of his lower lip. “There’s only the two of us here and I didn’t make any promise to behave…”

  The growl was lower this time and whispered over her skin. It was such a deep and primal sound that she paused, looking around the room to make sure no dangerous animal had gotten in with them. But it hadn’t. Her eyes widened. No, the sound had definitely come from Dean.

  “Fucking hell, Kacie… you have no idea what you’re saying, what you’re doing to me…” Expression tortured, he leaned down to press his forehead against hers.

  “Just kiss me again,” she whispered, not understanding the problem. It figured even her dream version of Dean would be reluctant. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “This,” he snarled, grabbing her hand and shoving it down to his groin. She gasped as his cock pressed into her palm, as thick and rigid as a steel pole. “And because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, swaying on her feet as he put her from him suddenly.

  His hazel gaze searched her face. “There’s lots you need to know, but not now. You’re tired, and you’ve been injured. Sleep, heal… and then we’ll talk.”

  “Talk now,” she demanded mulishly, folding her arms. But as though mention of the word had summoned it, a wide yawn washed over her and exhaustion rose up to rob her of strength. Could she be tired in a dream? That seemed odd but she let the thought go in favor of meeting his gaze with a firm one of her own. “Okay, tomorrow, but you need to tell me everything. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he nodded, watching her strangely as she yawned again. “Now let’s get you settled in the spare room.”

  Kacie Leroy would be the death of him. Either with her kisses, or when she found out that he’d lied to her for years.

  Was still lying to her…

  But how was he going to tell her the truth?

  Hey, Kacie. You know those films about monsters and werewolves? Yeah, well… I’m a werebear. Which is like a werewolf… but a bear. And I live outta town in a den with lots of others who get furry a couple of times a month.

  Yeah, like that was going to go down well. He could imagine the response. She’d think he was a complete and utter lunatic and drive him straight to the nearest mental health unit.

  Unless he changed in front of her…

  Which, if she took it badly, meant he could be driving her to the mental health unit.

  Dean sighed as he sat in the Prime’s large, carved chair in its place of honor next to the clan’s pit. Easily thirty feet across, it was exactly what the name suggested—a large hole in the ground, the earth around it shored up with wooden planks. They were scarred with claw marks from years of challenges.

  It wasn’t empty. Two bears stood facing each other on the packed earth, anger written on their faces as the edges of the pit filled with clan bears eager to see the outcome of the match.

  He flicked a glance around the assembled faces. All the clan were here, apart from those too young to know what was going on, and Elisa Watson, who’d just had a baby. Unlike some Primes (his own father for one), Dean had never been a hardass about clan members being present at all challenges.

  His expression tightened a fraction as he noted a small knot of people about a third of the way around the pit wall from him. His bear growled as he recognized Anderson and his cronies.

  “Sure you want to do this, skin?” Harrison taunted Creed as the two men circled each other. Creed was the larger of the two, but despite the fact he was one of Dean’s enforcers, most of the clan looked down on him because he didn’t shift. Ever.

  The guy was a s
hifter, that was for sure. His scent reeked of bear, but even Dean had only ever seen him shift a couple of times, and certainly not with the ease the rest of them could. He’d asked Creed about it, but all the big man would say was that it was like being skinned alive with knives of fire. As an alpha, Dean could force him to shift if he needed to, but knowing it caused his friend pain had always stayed his hand.

  Besides, Creed was a mean son of a bitch at the best of times and could fight just as easily, and lethally, in human form. Not many bears developed that skill. They didn’t need to with their shift ability. So a shifter who could fight human? They bore watching.

  After dancing around for a while, Harrison finally got his act together and threw a punch. Creed just looked bored, watching the jab as it sailed through the air and then sliding to the side just before it hit.

  The crowd gathered around the edges of the pit oohing and awwwing at the display of speed. Anticipation and eagerness thickened in the air as they jostled each other for a better view.

  “Come on, skin…” Harrison taunted as he kept up the jabs, obviously not intelligent enough to realize that his opponent avoiding or blocking his blows was not his opponent going on the offensive.

  Creed circled him around the pit, throwing the occasional punch that Harrison easily shrugged off. Creed was testing the younger man’s reactions and defenses but again, Harrison didn’t appear to realize that and crowed with triumph every time he blocked his opponent’s blows.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he sneered. “Scared to fight me?”

  Creed didn’t answer, his guard up as he rolled his shoulders like a boxer. Dean merely sat back in his chair, his comfortable lounge belying his interest. He’d seen Creed fight before. When he clicked his shoulder, shit was about to get real.

  Harrison laughed as he dropped his guard, obviously buying into all the rumors that had been floating around the clan for years about Creed. That he was a half-skin, a human with a little bit of bear blood but not a real bear. Not a real threat. The laugh turned into a roar as he changed, his bear unfolding from his human form almost lazily.