by V. Vaughn
The vehicle slows as Jean Luc turns onto a dirt road, and metal is cold in my hand as I grab on to keep myself from sliding to the other side of the truck bed. Clam shells rattle in the wire bucket that is secured by a bungie cord as we bounce along the uneven surface. I sure hope I get to eat them tonight. I’m starving, and my stomach growls in reply to my thoughts.
We slow down, and I turn to find we’ve arrived at a cedar-shingled home. It’s modest in size, but the view is not. Set on a hill, it overlooks a rocky cove, and I imagine this must be where Henri lives. The truck door slams, confirming it, and he slaps the metal by my side as he walks by. Without a word he gazes at me and nods his head before walking toward the door of his home.
I take the gesture to mean I should go ride in the cab with Jean Luc, so I hop out. The impact of my jump radiates through my legs when I land, and I yank on the passenger door to get in. Jean Luc glances over at me before stepping on the gas to swing us around and back onto the road. “I’m not too far from here. I imagine you’d like a bath.”
I notice two paper cups in the cup holder, and the aroma of coffee is faint. “Yes.” I gaze down at the dirt under my chipped nails and become aware of the stench of sweat, adrenaline, and death on my body. I wonder who created the twist of fate that sent the two men clamming in the early morning so that they’d discover Helga and save me. One who doesn’t know what’s good for this world, that’s for sure.
“Do you like chowder?” he asks.
He says the word as if it ends in “ah,” and the accent reminds me of my homeland. My stomach grumbles loudly as I imagine the creamy broth. Jean Luc glances at me with a smile as I ask, “Answer your question?”
Damn, he’s sexy. His lips are red, and the lower one is plump in the way I’m sure is tasty. As we ride in silence I steal another glance at Jean Luc and take in his strong facial features. He’s probably a black bear, but he’s taller than most, and his high cheekbones make me wonder if he might have polar bear in his blood.
The windows are open, and when we hit the pavement again, Jean Luc speeds up. My hair is a matted mess, and it tickles my face when the breeze blows it. I tug a dirty strand out of my mouth. I can only imagine what I must look like. Why the hell do I care? It’s not like it matters if Jean Luc finds me attractive. Although sex one more time before I die might be nice. I force myself to gaze out the window before I make it apparent I find Jean Luc hot. That’s the last thing I need him to know. It’s amazing how quickly men lust after you if they realize you want them sexually. Besides, my time is better spent figuring out how I can die.
When we turn off the main road we end up on more asphalt. The street appears to be well maintained, and as we round the corner, a large house appears. The aged-cedar shingles are gray in color, and the trim is painted dark blue. Columns frame the doorway, with a small stoop of granite making it regal looking. It doesn’t seem to fit a man who drives a conservative pickup truck. Because of that, I don’t offer the usual compliments social graces require and keep my mouth shut.
We park in a garage that is part of the structure, and when we get out Jean Luc grabs the clams and equipment out of the back. The rake clatters against the wall as he hangs it on a hook. The space is well organized, and I wonder if it is his doing or if he has help. My question is answered when we walk through the door to the main part of the house. An older woman is in the kitchen, and she clucks her tongue as she looks up from her newspaper. “Where have you been?”
“Grace, this is Isabelle.”
She places her hand on her heart when she notices me. “Mon dieu!” she says. Her pale version of Jean Luc’s hair is up in a bun, and her eyes are just as vibrant as his. I guess she’s his mother.
“Could you set her up for a bath?” asks Jean Luc.
Grace’s stool scrapes over tile as she gets up from the counter and says, “Yes.” She gazes at me with an intensity that makes me think she’s trying to sort out who I am. “Right this way, dear.” She’s taller than I expected, and it explains why Jean Luc seems so large for a black bear.
The house is colonial style, and we climb a wooden staircase to the second floor. Sunlight shines on the floor, and particles of dust dance in the rays as we walk through them. We enter a spacious bathroom, and I want to moan with joy at the enormous claw-foot tub. Grace shows me the various amenities, and I say, “Thank you. I can’t wait to get clean.”
“I bet.” She squints at me for a moment, and I guess she’s waiting to see if I’ll explain who I am and why I’m in such a state. But when I don’t, she says, “You’re welcome. I’ll find you some clean clothes and set them outside the door.”
I smile at her before she turns away. Water thunders into the tub when I turn it on, and I venture toward the mirror to see about the state of my hair. One look makes me regret it. No wonder Grace has questions. Even though I’m dressed in black, which hides the shade of my numerous stains, there’s no denying I’ve been through hell. I flake off a bit of dried blood on my cheek and sigh before I work a comb through my locks.
The water of my bath is scorching hot when I sink into it, and my muscles revel in the warmth as the aches and pains subside. I grab a hand towel to wad up for a pillow, and I lean back on it and close my eyes as I soak. The vision of Jean Luc’s face hovering over me like god appears, and I wish I were grateful he saved me. It’s not his fault I need to die. I flirt with the idea of drowning myself in the tub. But now Grace’s concerned face takes the place of Jean Luc’s, and I decide she doesn’t deserve the ordeal of disposing of my dead body.
I sink further into the water and watch as my hair swirls forward. It reminds me of Helga’s bowed head when she was unconscious, and I go back to the convenience store. The blood. The strangled breaths of the clerk. Water splashes as I bolt upright, and I inhale as much air as my lungs will hold before I blow it out. I grab the bottle of shampoo, and it squirts white gel into my hand before I go about the business of washing away the pain.
Once I’m clean, I pull the plug on the bathtub and step out to dry off. Grace set out lotion for me, and I take the time to slather it all over my body. The faint scent of lavender reminds me of Annie, and my throat gets tight as I wonder if she cried for me. Tristan. Tears burn in my eyes as I blink them back. The last remnants of the water in the tub gurgle and suck down, and I glance at the drain to watch the bits of dirt and debris go with it. If only I could wash the memories away too.
Chapter 4
Lucy
I’ve got two true mates? I suppose this would be some girls’ dream, but not mine, especially since they’re identical twin brothers. This isn’t going to end well. I’m sure of it. I shake my head as I step back from Serge as I say, “No.”
I bump against the laundry basket and lose my balance. Serge’s grip is firm as he grabs my arm to keep me from falling. He does more than set me back on my feet, though. I gasp when he yanks me against his chest. A searing-hot, firm chest that makes my nipples harden to tender nubs that throb. Serge’s fingers thread through my hair to hold my head, and his lips land on mine. This is no tender kiss. His tongue plunges into my mouth, and I don’t want to like it. But oh my god. My brain is telling me to resist him, while my body can’t help itself. I moan in desire and frustration. I give a half-hearted attempt at stopping Serge’s assault by pulling back, but I can’t seem to break our connection. I don’t want to.
A loud growl helps me. I’m set free when Serge releases me to deal with Sven’s growl that just became a roar. The laundry room is barely big enough to contain the two men as humans, so when their bodies crack as they shift into polar bear, I flatten my back against the wall. It’s cold against my overheated body, and I wonder if I should jump up on a dryer to stay safe. Fabric tears as it rips into strips and falls to the floor. Sven strikes first. I grimace at the plunging sound of claws slicing into flesh, and blood stains Serge’s chest as he swipes back.
Donna appears out of nowhere and yells, “No shifting in the house!”
Her face is red, and her eyes are wild as she inserts herself in between the two bear. They’ve got a good two feet over her, and I fear for the woman’s life as she pokes Sven in the chest. “Take this outside.” He begins to shift back, and she turns to Serge. “And you.” She pokes him in the chest too. Is she insane? I stare in amazement, because it’s impressive the way these guys listen to her as if they’re kids. She says to Serge, “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? You’re a guest in my daughter’s home, and you will respect that.”
I want to laugh as the men stand naked with their heads hanging in shame. Donna’s gaze is on me, and she asks, “Are you all right, dear?”
I nod. She stares at all of us for a minute and then says to the guys, “Find some clothes and meet me in Annie’s kitchen.” Donna grabs my hand, and her grip is surprisingly strong as she says, “You’re coming with me.”
We walk back to the kitchen, and she glances at her friend as she says, “Peggy.”
They must have been besties for a while, because Peggy doesn’t need words to fall in step with us. Our feet pound as Donna marches me out of the dormitory and across the yard. When we get through the screen door of Annie and Tristan’s house, it slams as it shuts behind us. We walk through the mudroom, and Donna asks me, “What happened?”
Oh nothing. I just kissed my mate’s twin thinking it was him. Oh god, this is so embarrassing. I decide to cut to the chase and say, “Apparently both Sven and Serge are my true mate.”
One would think you couldn’t surprise a woman like Donna, but her eyes widen, and she glances over at Peggy. Her friend shrugs as if this stumps her too. Donna returns her gaze to me. “Well, goodness, that poses quite the problem, doesn’t it?”
I nod, and Peggy comes over to put her arm around my shoulders. “Two sexy men want you.” She offers a sly grin. “Maybe a little ménage before you decide?”
I snort at her inappropriate comment, and my hand flies to my mouth. My lips are tender under my fingers as I touch them. I have no doubt sex with Serge would be just as hot as it is with Sven. Heat rises to my cheeks when Donna smiles as if she thinks a threesome is a good idea too. She says, “You’re not helping, Peggy.”
The thought doesn’t appeal to me, because I’d never hurt my mate that way. I say, “Look. The solution is simple.” The screen door squeaks open, and the two brothers enter the kitchen. I gaze into Sven’s eyes. I’m so in love with him I can’t imagine I entertained the thought of being with his brother, even if it was only for a moment. The doubt in my mate’s face makes my heart feel as if someone is squeezing it, and I say, “I already mated with Sven, so it’s settled.”
“Like hell it is,” growls Serge he steps forward, but he stops before he touches me and says, “You’re mine.”
“No. I belong to Sven.” As if I need to prove it, I step toward Sven and wrap my arm around his waist. He tugs me close, and I inhale the scent that’s right.
Donna says, “You said mated. Are you bonded?”
My stomach sinks. If we were bonded by a bite, I probably wouldn’t have been attracted to Serge. I whisper, “No.”
“Well, that explains it,” says Donna. “And it makes things easier. Both men are now on equal ground for your attention.”
Serge winks at me. “Once you’ve been with me, baby, the decision will be easy.”
Sven steps in front of me as my core twinges in response to the memory of kissing Serge. And that means everyone in this room can smell my desire. I rake my hands through my hair and step back from Sven. This can’t be happening. “Why do I have to choose? Why can’t Sven and I just bite each other and be done with it?”
Peggy says, “Because one of them is more right than the other.” She says to Donna, “Remember Theresa?”
Donna scowls as if she’s recalling something awful. “I do.”
Peggy reaches for my hand and pulls me away from Sven to stand between Donna and her. “Right now she belongs to no one until we sort this out.”
I gaze at Sven as I plead with the women. “I don’t want to sort this out. I want to be with the man I love.” I know I’m acting like a whiny child, but I can’t help it. I can’t lose Sven.
Peggy says, “Lucy, a greater force beyond free will is at play here. It’s never a good idea to mess with destiny.”
Tears of frustration burn in my eyes. Donna says, “She’s right, Lucy. I suggest you take some time to get to know both men before you decide.”
Serge has a cocky smile on his face, while Sven’s tense shoulders and clenched jaw make me think he’s fighting a shift. I want to stamp my foot at the idiocy of this situation and yell ‘It’s not fair.’ I have a sinking feeling this mess isn’t going to be as easy to figure out as I hoped.
Donna says, “Now don’t you go sleeping with either of them.”
Annie steps into the kitchen to join us. “What’s going on?”
Donna sighs. “Sven and Serge are both true mates for Lucy. She’s now faced with figuring out which one is her destiny.”
“Oh, dear.” Annie offers me a sympathetic look. “I’ll speak to Tristan about this.”
I sigh. “I need to go finish what I was doing.” Serge grins, and I scowl at him. “I’m talking about the towels.” I glance at Sven. “Come with me?”
He nods, and I take his hand to lead him out of the house. Our perfect little world has been shattered. When we get outside the rumble of a car makes me look down the driveway to see Tristan’s Hummer approach. I think about Isabelle’s death, and suddenly my troubles feel small in comparison. My life may be tumultuous right now, but it’s nothing compared to Tristan’s. Or Luke’s.
I stop in the yard and turn to face Sven. “I’m so sorry. Maybe Tristan can help us.”
He leans his head down to put his forehead on mine in a gesture I adore. “Little Bear, if we’re meant to be, it will happen. It will all work out. You’ll see.”
Now the tears that I’d been fighting finally escape, and I whisper around the lump in my throat, “You’re right. I know it’s you, Sven.” But my crying gives me away. The truth is I can’t deny the attraction I felt for Serge was as strong as the one I feel for Sven. I don’t know, and I’m afraid to find out.
Chapter 5
Isabelle
Grace lent me a pair of soft, cotton, pajama-style pants and a large T-shirt I suspect is Jean Luc’s. I’m beyond hungry, and I make my way downstairs with wet hair. The tile of the kitchen floor is cool under my feet, and I discover Grace reading her paper. Jean Luc is at the stove, and his wooden spoon taps on the edge of a large pot before he turns to me. “Soup’s on. It’ll be about a half hour.”
“You cook?” I ask. I wander over to the large window that overlooks a cove. We are in the center of it, and there aren’t any visible houses on either side.
He smiles. “When my mother lets me.”
She snorts as paper rustles when she turns a page of her reading. “He cooks for pretty girls.” I turn to her, and she glances up at me to ask, “Polar bear?”
I nod.
She snaps out a page of her newspaper and begins to fold it. Concentrating on her task, she doesn’t look at me when she speaks. “That explains a lot. My father was a polar bear.” She smooths out her paper so that the crossword puzzle is the only thing showing before she looks at me. “It was quite the scandal at the time.” She grins now and says, “I tell Jean Luc that’s why we’re good at arguments. Polar bear always win.”
A small smile comes in spite of myself, and I direct my gaze to Jean Luc as I say, “We like to give orders too.”
He smiles back. “We do.” The oven door creaks open, and he pulls out a loaf of bread. The pan clatters on the stovetop. He says, “Come taste this. I know you’re starving.”
I walk over as I watch him dump the loaf onto a cutting board and slice gently. Steam rises up as he hands me a piping-hot piece. Butter is already on the counter. It melts instantly when I smear it on for a bite, and when starchy goodness fills my m
outh I let out a small noise of happiness. After I swallow I say, “You are a good cook. This is delicious.”
Grace sets down her pencil, and Jean Luc hands her a piece too. I watch the writing utensil roll slowly toward the edge of the table as Jean Luc walks away, and in my mind I will it to stop. When the pencil makes it to the edge of the surface it falls off and hovers in the air. Whoa. Did I just——? I don’t break my stare and focus on returning it to the table. The pencil lifts up higher before it falls with a clatter.
I move my gaze to Grace’s wide eyes. I ask, “Did I just do that?”
She nods. “I guess that’s the first time?”
“Yes.”
Jean Luc asks, “What just happened?”
“You found her,” says Grace.
I dart my eyes between mother and son to discover Grace is smiling, while Jean Luc’s expression is unreadable. I ask, “Found who?”
Grace says, “The one Jean Luc needs. I think you’re his destiny.”
Damn it. These people are trying to reel me in. I have a death to complete. I spent most of my life unwanted, and in less than twelve hours I’ve become someone’s destiny.
“Oh no,” I say. “Hang on there. Just because my near-death experience gave me a touch of magic, don’t think I’m part of some prophecy. Trust me, I’m not someone you want or need.”
Jean Luc pulls bowls down from a cabinet, and they rattle as he says, “Maybe not.” He winks at me. “But humor my mother. She’s been waiting a long time for this.”
“What? You haven’t?” asks Grace. “It’s creepy that you live with your mother, Jean Luc. We need to spice up your life.”