by V. Vaughn
“No complaints here. This way I can watch football with my dad while you and Peggy organize it all.”
“Would you like to just put on a tux and show up?” I ask.
“Can I?”
I squint my eyes at him, and he says, “I’m joking. I’ll do whatever you and my mother deem necessary from the groom.”
I slide my hands up his chest toward his shoulders, and his muscles flex beneath my palms as I ask, “Anything?”
Keith leans down to kiss me, and I speak in his head. “You should probably take me upstairs so we can practice our wedding night.”
His firm hands cup my breasts over my shirt as he asks, “Any reason I can’t show you right here?”
I begin to walk backward toward the couch and think about how easy this sort of thing is for us since we’re the only two living here. I make a mental note to find ways to keep us spontaneous in our new home as I say, “None at all.”
As we tumble on the couch one of us hits the remote, and the television snaps on. A voice says, “Once they know, things will never be the same.” Keith pulls my shirt off over my head, and a chill runs down my spine. Something about the actor’s words tug at me, but the moment Keith’s mouth lands on my bare breast I push it away. Right now I have something else on my mind, and I plan to focus on the man who’s causing the distraction.
Chapter 10
Isabelle
One of Jean Luc’s great loves is sailboats. As a custom-boat builder, he’s garnered a fine reputation for superior craftsmanship and is sought out by wealthy humans from all around the world. I take in his handiwork as I board the Seduction, Jean Luc’s personal boat. The teak shines with layers of varnish in the sun, and the wood is smooth under my palm as I slide my hand along it.
The November temperatures are considered cold for the natives here, but I find them pleasant and tilt my head up to the breeze that blows the hair back from my face. Jean Luc arrived earlier to get us ready to sail. He loves to take care of me, and I let him. Although, I am forcing him to teach me how to do things in case I ever need to know.
He kisses me, and I meld my body against his as I bask in our connection. When he pulls back I say, “Hi.”
My mate smiles at me. “Grace made us a picnic, and she packed champagne.”
“Are we celebrating?”
He winks at me as he moves away. “I hope so.”
I bite my lip to contain my squeal of joy and flutter my fingers by my side instead. I think Jean Luc is going to ask me to marry him today. While we both know it’s going to happen, the ceremony of him proposing is still special for me.
The sails ripple in the wind as he hoists them up for us to go. Water laps at the hull as we begin to move, and I gaze out at the vast expanse of ocean before us. For a brief moment I wish we could keep on sailing and leave the world behind. I turn to my mate and watch as he scurries around the boat to pull lines and move things in a dance that he could probably do in his sleep.
When he’s done, I move to stand by his side as he steers the boat. The sun reflects off the choppy water like glitter. I lean against his strong chest as he places an arm around my waist. I say, “I love watching you do this.”
“I love having you here. I never thought I’d enjoy sharing my world this much.”
“I know what you mean. You’ve made my life worth living, Jean Luc.”
He kisses me tenderly. “Ma chérie, I feel the same way.”
We sail for a while before he turns us around and heads toward a cove. I say, “I’ll go get the picnic while you drop anchor.”
I find a small cooler in the galley, and I take a peek inside to discover sandwiches, fruit, cheese, and two cupcakes along with expensive champagne. The lid snaps shut before I hoist the container up and climb the ladder. Jean Luc has already set up the custom table that comes out of a seat compartment, and he takes the cooler from me.
When he opens it, I take out the glass flutes wrapped in cloth napkins, and a cork pops as Jean Luc prepares the champagne. I hold out the crystal for him as he pours. When my mate is done, he takes both glasses from me and sets them down. He smiles as he reaches in his pocket. “Isabelle De Rozier, I’ve waited my whole life to find you.”
His grip is gentle when he takes my hand, and cool metal slides on my finger as he says, “Ma chérie, please marry me.”
Tears form in my eyes. “Oui, mon cher. Oui,” I say. Our mouths meet in a kiss that makes me want to hold on forever. And I would, except a motorboat engine whines as it approaches, so I step back from Jean Luc to collect myself before we offer sightseers a view they’d never forget. I glance down at my hand to see a large diamond on my finger as two men’s voices speak loudly in conversation.
I lift my ring to watch it shimmer in the sunlight, and a comment that sensitive bear ears can hear makes my blood run cold. An excited man says, “That’s the polar bear king’s sister.”
Before I have a chance to look at the guy, Jean Luc reacts by stepping between me and the other boat as he pushes me toward the galley. The other man replies, “I’m on it.”
We tumble down the ladder, and pain shoots through my hip as I land sprawled out on the floor. “Ouch! What are you doing?” I ask.
Jean Luc is already standing as I move to get up, and a cabinet slams open as he yanks at it. I stare in shock as a huge shotgun is removed, and the click of him loading a cartridge is loud. My mate communicates with me. “The men want to kill you. Stay down here.”
He begins to move toward the ladder, but I stand quickly and grab his arm. “No! They’ll kill you too.”
The boat jerks hard, and we both stumble to our knees. My elbow cracks against wood as a loud crash sounds. I ask, “What the hell? Did they just hit us?”
A clunk is followed by footsteps thumping overhead, and I guess one of the men boarded our boat. Jean Luc crouches with the gun aimed at the opening. I don’t wait to find out who’s going to win and throw out my hands to release my magic. “Jean Luc, whatever you do, don’t shoot!”
The purple haze of my shield appears and shimmers before us just as a shot sounds. A loud thud makes me think the bullet ricocheted back to hit the shooter. Jean Luc cries out in my head. “Mon dieu! How long can you hold that?”
“As long as we need me to. But I’m going to remove it quickly for you to shoot and keep the other man from boarding.”
As soon as I drop the shield, the motorboat roars, and the fading sound makes me think it’s speeding away. The continuing explosions from Jean Luc’s gun hurt my ears as he shoots while he climbs up the ladder. I follow behind him to discover a human man lying in a pool of blood. His chest is maroon with the liquid, and I think he was shot right in the heart. My voice sounds muffled as I say, “Oh god.”
Jean Luc is still shooting at the motorboat but stops when he realizes he can’t hit him. My ears ring as I stare down at the dead man. So much blood. I flash to the scene of the gas station clerk my mother killed as I sink down to my knees and say, “Oh my god. I killed him.” I haven’t changed. “Oh, god. How could I do this?”
My mate’s hands grip my arms firmly as he says, “Isabelle, no. You had to.” He holds my face in his hands, and something flashes in Jean Luc’s eyes as he says, “You saved us. You saved me.”
Warm moisture rolls down my face as I stare up at my mate. I recall the man calling me the polar bear king’s sister. How did he know who I was? “Why do they want to kill me?”
“Because they know what we are, and they fear what they do not understand.”
Human hunters. Back in the Arctic we dealt with them from time to time, but our climate kept us safe, because those that came never left alive. Their deaths were attributed to the extreme elements and dangers of polar bears. I had no idea they’d moved on to Canada. Another thought occurs to me. Tristan. I ask, “Are there more? Is my brother is in danger?”
Jean Luc nods. “We didn’t think they knew about any other werebear besides us. This is what I’ve been keepin
g from you, because I knew you would want to go to Tristan. And if you did, you’d lead them to more than the De Rozier clan.”
My mate, the Ouellette alpha, was keeping the Northeast Kingdom safe, only it didn’t work. I say, “I have to go to my brother.”
“I know. But you aren’t going alone.”
The urge to shift and race back to Maine is strong, but when I gaze into my mate’s teal-blue eyes, I listen. I was prepared for today because he had me train with Talullah. This man is my partner in every way, and I want him by my side. I place my hand on his firm chest and say, “We’ll go together.”
Chapter 11
Annie
Thanksgiving is in two days, and I’m baking pies in preparation. My rolling pin rattles as I flatten out dough for the crust. It’s going to be a busy day with two dinners to attend. First we’re going to Brady’s house for my family’s meal, and then we’re returning home to do a more casual version with the De Roziers. The children of the clan learned about the tradition at school, and this will be their first experience with the holiday.
My knife slices into an apple, and I peel the skin. I smile as I recall how much Tristan loves to eat them, but he’s working and will miss out. The strain on our relationship has faded to a point where we’re enjoying each other as friends. It’s been a couple months since I learned about the real reason Tristan and Isabelle came to Maine, and while we’re still sleeping in separate bedrooms, I’ve recently begun to allow myself the luxury of physical attraction for my mate. Not that I’ve done anything about it, but I think I’m ready to be intimate with him again. Perhaps I’ll make a move tonight.
I glance at the triplets’ soccer team photo on the fridge. Tristan towers over the children, and I smile as I recall how well he coached the little girls. He exhibited amazing patience with them as he taught them the sport. Tristan even managed to be amused by the girl who insisted on turning cartwheels on the field instead of playing.
My mate has continued to surprise me at every turn now that I know what his original plan was. He’s been a firm but compassionate guide for the relationship issues that come up with the dorm occupants, and the cold-blooded killer he claimed to be is well disguised.
I often wonder why Tristan told me about his original plan. He had to have known how upset I’d be and that it would threaten our relationship, and I can’t imagine how I would have ever found out. I suspect he needed to give me full disclosure before he’d marry me. Over time I’ve come to realize how much it means that he was willing to risk everything we had by revealing his deception instead of keeping it from me.
The back door squeaks open on its hinges, and I make a note to oil them before it occurs to me to wonder who’s entering. It’s someone who recently shifted, because the rustle of clothing on the hooks makes me think they’re borrowing something to wear.
I gaze at the mudroom entrance, and my jaw drops when I see who enters. I stare at the ghost before me. “Isabelle?”
“Annie.” She steps through the doorway wearing a loose button-down shirt of mine, and a man follows behind her dressed in an old pair of Tristan’s jeans. The guy’s hair is bright red, and his eyes are a vivid shade of teal blue. Isabelle says, “This is Jean Luc Ouellette.”
I’m not sure if what I’m seeing is true, so I step forward and reach out to touch Isabelle’s arm. The cotton under my fingers is warm, and I whisper, “You’re alive.”
Isabelle smiles and takes my hands. “Yes.” She places her hand on Jean Luc’s arm and smiles up at him. “Thanks to my true mate.” She turns her gaze back to me to say, “Before I say anything else I need you know how much I appreciate all you did for Tristan and me. I’m sure I never told you before.”
Fear makes adrenaline spike in me. This woman planned to kill me. I communicate with Tristan, and I know my panic comes out in my words. “Isabelle’s here. Please hurry.”
I pick up the knife again, and my grip tightens even though I’m sure I’d never survive a fight with Isabelle, even without the man by her side. Tristan replies, “I’m on my way, love. Stay safe.”
I think my best bet is to keep Isabelle talking to stall for time, and I say, “Thank you.” I shake my head. “Let me make us some coffee”—I glance at Jean Luc—“or tea. And you can explain why we thought you were dead.”
Isabelle smiles again as if she’s actually happy. “I told Jean Luc how welcoming you are. Here I’ve given you the shock of your life, and you’re still offering us coffee.” A chuckle comes out of her, and it sounds like the real thing.
I blink in confusion as Jean Luc says, “Coffee would be great, thank you.” His French accent is thick, and I realize I’m going to have to put my knife down. It clatters loudly on the counter, and I reach for the cupboard to grab a bag of ground French roast.
Isabelle reaches for the refrigerator door as I fumble with the coffeemaker. She says, “Oh, wonderful. You have the fancy cream I’ve been missing.” The door snicks shut, and she says to Jean Luc, “I keep forgetting to ask Grace if we have these back home.”
Water rushes in the pot as Tristan speaks to me telepathically. “Almost there. Are you okay, love?”
“Yes. I promise to scream if I’m not.” I add a nervous laugh to my communication. The pot clashes against the plastic machine as my hand shakes when I put it under the filter.
Isabelle is beside me, and mugs thump on the counter as she asks, “How’s Tristan?”
But I don’t need to answer, because the thudding of his polar bear feet approaching sounds before the back door squeaks again. I notice Isabelle tense, and I say, “You’re about to see for yourself.”
Tristan bursts into the kitchen and lets out a low growl before he says, “Isabelle.”
She rushes to him to grab him in an embrace. “Tristan.”
He reluctantly hugs her back. “What the hell is this?” he asks. His jaw clenches, and I think he’s speaking to her in his head.
She pulls away and steps back. “I’m alive, brother dear.” She tilts her head at him and stares for a moment at the angry alpha. ”I thought you’d be happy about that.”
Tristan scowls at her and stomps back to the mudroom. She glances over at me, and I shrug as Jean Luc does a good impression of being invisible. Tristan returns in a pair of shorts and glares at his sister as he says, “We had a memorial service for you. You made me think you were dead. And Helga?”
“She’s dead. I really did kill her.”
A rumble comes from deep within Tristan, and I suspect he’s talking telepathically to Isabelle. She turns to Jean Luc and says, “Tristan, meet my true mate, Jean Luc Ouellette.”
Jean Luc stands and offers his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tristan.”
Tristan grips his fingers but doesn’t return the greeting. He says to Isabelle, “Your true mate is the Ouellette alpha.”
“Yes. He’s the one who saved my life.” She links her arm in Jean Luc’s, and he smiles at her the way true mates do as she says, “I’m finally happy, Tristan. He’s made my life worth living.” Isabelle gazes up at him with a sappy look that glows, and I believe Jean Luc really is her true mate.
I say, “Coffee’s ready. Let’s sit.”
Isabelle steps forward to help, and Tristan moves quickly to get between us as he growls at her. She stops moving as her eyes widen. “I’m not going to hurt Annie.”
Tristan’s alpha voice comes out as he says, “No. You’re not.”
Isabelle backs away as she says, “The things I wanted before are no longer important. I’m happy with what I have now.”
Pain cloaks Isabelle’s eyes, and Tristan’s muscles are rock hard with tension when I place my hand on his back. I speak telepathically to him. “I believe her.”
He says, “Sit.”
A chair scrapes over the tile as Isabelle does as Tristan commands. I hand my mate two mugs of coffee and follow him with two more as we seat ourselves at the table. Nobody speaks as spoons clink against the mugs. When we’v
e all taken a sip of our drink Tristan says, “Talk, Isabelle. Tell me why you let me think you were dead.”
“I meant to die, Tristan. I chained Helga and me to a pier and contacted you when I knew for sure she was dead.” She glances at Jean Luc and adds, “After that I inhaled water and would have drowned if Jean Luc hadn’t resuscitated me.”
She places a hand on his cheek and whispers, “Mon cher. Tu es ma vie. You are my life.”
Tristan says, “Now that I know about your love life, Izzy, can we please get back to the part where you let us think you were dead?”
Jean Luc clears his throat and says, “That would be my fault. I wouldn’t let Isabelle tell you she was alive.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because it would have put you in danger. But now we have information that tells us otherwise.” He stares at Tristan. “Human hunters are after you, and Isabelle would have led them here for more than you.”
I instinctively reach out to grab my mate’s arm. Tristan glances down at my hand, but I don’t remove it. My need to hate him is superseded by my fear for his life. Isabelle says, “But now we know for a fact they are aware of who Tristan and I are. Since we don’t know how long they’ve been watching us, it’s safe to say all of the Northeast Kingdom is under threat.”
Isabelle then proceeds to tell us about how men tried to kill her when she and Jean Luc were out on his boat. But I have trouble concentrating on her words, because I’m too busy thinking about how comfortable we’ve become here in Maine. If anything, we tend to walk around the human population as if they should be afraid of us. While it’s forbidden to tell humans what we are, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn a few know. The fact is, we’ve been careless.
When Isabelle’s done talking Tristan says, “I believe we need one of those famous breakfast meetings with the Le Roux.”
I say, “I believe we do, but lets make it dinner.” I speak to Brady. “We need an emergency meeting. Isabelle is alive, and we’ve got trouble in the form of human hunters.”