Clementine kept her gaze locked with his, but mischief twinkled in her eyes. She quickly glanced down then back up to his face.
“Not so little, actually…”
Still smirking, he straightened his shoulders. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
With that, Clayton summoned his inner animal. The bear charged at the opportunity to meet their mate.
Black fur sprouted from beneath Clayton’s skin. Familiar—but strangely comforting—pain seared through him as his bones cracked and realigned. His blunt human nails transformed into claws. His back muscles tightened and extended to form the telltale hump of a grizzly.
Rearing up onto his back legs, Clayton’s dark bear—all ten feet, 800-pounds of him—threw back his head, opened his jaws, and roared at the night sky.
Clementine had turned into a statue. The rapid bah-bum, bah-bum, bah-bum of her heart was unmistakable.
She wasn’t afraid, not exactly. Her scent hadn’t taken on the acrid aroma of fear. But she’d tightened her fingers around Clayton’s t-shirt, clutching at the cotton with a death grip.
“Hell’s bells.” Her breath hung on the air like smoke from a cigarette.
Clayton dropped to all fours and rumbled in greeting. Clementine continued to gape. Awe softened her features as she swept her eyes across him, from the hump between his shoulders to the long claws on his back feet.
“You’re spectacular,” she gasped.
Longing colored her scent, mingling with the sage and verbena. She placed her right hand over her heart as if this would help still its wild thumping.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said with so much sincerity, Clayton might have actually looked away if he’d been in his human skin. But the bear was in control now, and a grizzly never wavered.
He stepped forward, moving slowly so as not to startle his mate. His darling, Clementine. Snow crunched beneath his paws, but he hardly noticed the chill.
She sucked in a breath, but his brave witch did not recede. He closed the distance between them. With a shake of his head, he tried to convey a desire. Clementine seemed to understand. Lowering her hand from her chest, she hesitated for only a split second before she raked her fingers through the fur at the back of his neck.
Clayton rumbled in appreciation. Little shocks and sparks of Clementine prickled at the skin buried beneath his glossy coat. The fire was back in her eyes, turning them gold just as they had been out on the road. There was no window to separate them, now. No barrier of snow or ice to keep them apart.
She laughed, her voice lilting like a song.
Clayton Afters fell in love.
Chapter 5
Clayton’s golden eyes carried so much emotion, Clementine startled. She’d seen the bear in his human eyes, but she hadn’t been prepared for the man in the bear’s. He was right there, gazing out at her from the other side of an apex predator.
He was huge. He was magnificent. And he was hers.
Clementine didn’t believe in love at first sight. Even beloveds required bonding.
But as she stood beside a man-turned-beast with more magic in his bones than there were flakes of snow around them, she felt humbled.
There was magic between them. It wasn’t simply the tendrils of her energy creeping out to lick and lash at his aura. The magic wasn’t simply hers and his respectively; it was theirs. It was deep. It was old. And it had been waiting for her in Harpers Ferry all this time.
She dared another stroke down his back, letting her hand drift to his prominent hump. The firm muscle beneath her fingertips spoke of his power and strength in this form. His dark, dense fur was coarser than she’d have imagined, but it suddenly made sense why he could walk around in a t-shirt—or, indeed, nothing at all—and not worry about the cold. His bear radiated heat.
Clementine dared a step closer, drawn toward him just as she’d drawn close to the hearth. He canted his head to the side and nuzzled his snout against the slant of her waist.
She pulled away, laughing. “Hey, that tickles!”
Clayton promptly snorted. He repeated the action, bumping his nose against her. She laughed again and withdrew further.
“I’m warning you…” she said, mischief in her voice.
The bear stalked forward, unfazed.
Clementine bent, grabbed a heap of snow, and clumped it together. She raised her hastily formed snowball in defiance.
Amusement danced across Clayton’s ursine features. He opened his mouth, showing his teeth, and coughed. The sound was so loud, Clementine quirked her head.
“Are you laughing??”
He coughed again, even louder than before, and she gawked. Without another word, she heaved the snowball at his head.
Splat. The bear shook the snow from his muzzle. He growled and dragged his right front paw through the snow, indicating he was preparing to charge.
Clementine shrieked and took off running. She didn’t even have to check to know he was following. The frozen ground seemed to quake under his every step.
Completely certain that she was in no actual danger, Clementine paused long enough to gather up another fistful of snow and resumed her escape. She fled across the sprawling yard toward a grove of trees, disturbing the perfect blanket of white.
Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she threw the second snowball. The grizzly darted out of the way before impact.
She reached one of the trees. He was right behind her, and when she spun to face him he released a roar. Chilled, she held up both hands to show they were empty, but she couldn’t stop laughing.
“Mercy,” she said, panting. Her breath came out in clouds. She glanced at the tree behind her, pretending to seek out an escape. She couldn’t let him think he’d caught her that easily, after all.
The apple tree’s gnarled branches hung low, weighed down by snow.
She heard a snap and glanced back to the bear. Clayton stood in its stead. He wore a predatory grin—and nothing else—as he strode toward her.
“You call that a chase?”
“I call that letting you win,” she shot back.
He brushed a lock of her hair from her face. She was still breathing hard, but it wasn’t just because of the run. He lingered, sweeping the snowfall from her hair. She’d lost her focus on the shelter she’d placed over them.
She leaned back against the tree trunk, considering his towering form. “May I have your hand, please?”
“Why?” he asked, still seeming to worry he might hurt her.
“Because it’s the solstice. And I want to give my beloved a gift.”
The bear might have been gone, but she knew it was still behind the molasses-brown of Clayton’s eyes. Clayton took her hand. The shock of his curse was lesser now that she knew she could force it down.
Clementine laced their fingers together. She placed her other hand on the apple tree’s trunk. It might have been dormant for the season, but it still hummed a rhythm all its own. She found the tree’s slow-but-steady pulse. She slowed her own, letting her magic synch with the tree’s natural energy.
“What are you—”
“Shh.” Clementine remained focused. Centuries of magic vibrated her bones. The blood of her ancestors—for better or worse—pumped through her veins, forging a power meant for her and her alone. Despite the frigid night air, Clementine’s body thrummed with ethereal heat. Light flared around them, radiating from her points of contact with the weather-battered tree and the man with the big, black grizzly hidden away beneath his skin.
The living wood beneath her fingertips creaked and groaned like an old man waking from a long nap. Sap surged through its grain. Snow melted from the branches. Its long limbs stretched heavenwards, and green sprouted from every branch. Pale buds speckled the new growth. Pink-tinged petals unfurled and wilted, dropping off. The king blooms expanded, swelling into full, rosy apples that gleamed under the moonlight.
“You said nothing much grows during your months,” she whi
spered. “Now it does.”
From the first sprung leaf to the final fruit, Clayton watched in silence as the old tree flourished. An array of complex emotions washed over his handsome features. Clementine struggled to identify his reactions. There was disbelief at first, then wonder. Sadness mingled with something that looked like relief before morphing into awe.
“I’ve linked it to you.” She squeezed his hand. “It will always grow for you. Regardless of the season.”
“Magic apples,” he said finally, whispering the words as if they were the counter-spell to a hex. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily in his throat.
For a flutter of a second, Clementine could have sworn his eyes were wet. Before she could wonder if she’d done the wrong thing, if she’d offered him pain instead of joy, he released her hand. She didn’t have time to panic or mourn the loss. Clayton closed the small gap between them and brought his hands to her face instead.
Cupping her cheeks in his warm, rough palms, he cradled her face as if it were precious. He opened his mouth to speak, but the connection between them was finally too much to bear.
He bent forward and caught her lips in a kiss that could melt snow.
Clementine rose onto her tiptoes. The dark energy that had singed her aura upon their first touch had all but disappeared. She released a sigh of satisfaction and hooked her arms around his neck.
Clayton tugged her tight against his broad chest. A victorious growl rumbled from deep within him. She felt it just as surely as she heard it.
He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her higher. With her feet dangling a foot off the ground, Clementine soared.
Bright, beautiful light swirled around them. For just that moment, Clementine forgot every dark memory, every haunted dream. Clayton held her without waver, pressing her back to the trunk of the apple tree. His apple tree.
She didn’t care that she’d only known him for a handful of hours. As he kissed her with all the strength of his ferocious bear, Clementine knew she was his, too.
* * *
Clayton wasn’t even sure how they’d ended up back inside the house. Whether it was by witchcraft or shifter speed, he found himself by the fireplace with his mate in his arms.
Clementine had her legs wrapped around Clayton’s middle and her arms looped around his neck. He dropped to his knees, hugging her close to her chest.
“You taste like cinnamon,” he growled into her lips.
She let out the prettiest damn whimper Clayton would ever hear in his life. She dropped one hand to his chest and squeezed at his pecs.
“Don’t stop.” Her hushed, urgent tone made Clayton’s rock-hard cock twitch.
The grizzly inside him roared, urging Clayton to take, to claim, to break free of the curse that would keep them from their mate once spring arrived.
She’d lost his coat at some point during their desperate trek back to the house. Clayton smoothed his hands up and down the sharp slant of her waist. The lacy black fabric of her top rode up her sides, exposing a flash of her pale skin.
He couldn’t help himself. He slid both hands under her top and sighed to feel the heat of her beneath his palms. She arched her lower back, pushing herself against him.
Their kisses were now a tangle of teeth and tongues. Every exhale of her sweet, apple pie breath felt like living. Every hibernation had been worth it if she was his reward.
She broke the kiss long enough to lean back and pull her shirt up and off her torso. Clayton’s balls ached. As he swept his eyes down the long, lean column of her neck to the spread of her collarbone, every atom in his body ignited.
Bite, mate, claim, roared the bear.
Clementine draped an arm around his neck and resumed their kiss, but at a slower pace. The tease of her tongue against his was enough to send him spinning out of control. But he clutched his inner reins, reinforcing his hold on his animal. If it took over, she’d be spread out with his cock buried inside her warmth and his teeth sunk into her neck.
Not that that was a bad thing, of course. But damn it all, he wanted her to writhe for him. And when it came time for the claim, she had to ask for it. She had to want it. She had to consent to it with a vow more serious than any set of “I dos” shared between most ‘normal’ humans.
They had time for that. For once in his life, Clayton had time. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now, he wanted—no, needed—to hear his name on her lips.
Placing a hand behind her head, he leaned forward and carefully laid her out across the worn rug. The untended fire had waned, but it continued to crackle a few feet to his left.
The sweet, earthly scent of her desire overpowered the smoke and smoldering logs. He reached down and unbuttoned her jeans. His knuckles brushed the soft skin near her navel. She shivered so prettily, Clayton could have wept.
Clementine lifted her lower half from the floor, helping him to ease her jeans down the stretch of her legs. Her black panties hugged her hips.
Clayton’s heart thundered. Overcome, he bent and kissed over her navel. He dragged his lips lower, peppering every inch of her sweet skin with adoring kisses. Before the night was over, she’d carry his scent. He’d make damn sure of that.
Clementine’s thighs trembled when he reached the little bow that adorned the crest of her panties. He inhaled her scent, drowning himself in her pheromones.
He hooked his fingers into the waist of her panties. Slowly, reverently, he pulled them down her thighs.
Clayton’s cock throbbed. He warred with his animal half.
Mate, mate, mate, it sang.
Soon, soon, soon, he soothed.
He slid his thumb along her seam and met her fiery gaze. Unblinking, he went down. The first taste of her was sweet and spicy like the curious range of herbs he’d detected on her fingertips.
Clementine sucked in a breath. Her knees shook, so he stroked a palm down her right leg to soothe her.
“You ever let anyone do this before?” he asked, watching her closely.
She hesitated, then whispered, “Yes.”
Mine. The growl came from both man and beast. “They make you come?”
She shook her head, earnest. Clayton puffed his chest and squared his shoulders.
“From now on, you come every time.” Without waiting for her to nod in understanding—he wasn’t sure a non-shifter, even a clever witch like his Clementine, understood how important it was for a bear to please its mate—he dove forward. Gripping the fleshy parts of her thighs, he spread her legs and moaned against her slick skin. He licked and lapped until he found the little bud that made her hips buck skyward.
Clementine gasped and tossed her head to the side. Her breathing turned ragged, but Clayton offered no reprieve. Now that he knew what sent her wriggling beneath him, he couldn’t stop.
He wouldn’t stop.
He teased her again and again, varying the pressure of his tongue until her body stiffened. He stole a glance of her face and was delighted by the rosy pink that had built on her cheeks. The flush crept down her neck and ended just short of her breasts, which were still hidden beneath the thin, lacy material of her bra.
With a series of calculated, forceful flicks of his tongue, Clayton brought his mate to the edge. And when the taut stretch of her soft, curvy body told him she was ready, he sucked.
“Clayton!” She called his name like a prayer, and Clayton fell to pieces between her spread thighs. He continued, unwavering in the face of her pleasure. She bucked and writhed, arching her lower back and pushing her ass down against the floor. Beneath the lace of her bra, he could make out the pale pink of her stiff nipples. He could hardly contain his next growl.
She’d called his name. From here onward, she would always call his name.
Delirious satisfaction seeped from the bear as Clementine’s stomach muscles continued to clench and flex throughout the ebb and flow of her climax.
“Clay—Clayton,” she cried again, stumbling over his name.
A hazy glimmer of gold flashed in her eyes, and she seized his shoulders. Her hands shook as she sat upright. He leaned back until she was seated atop his lap with his hard cock trapped beneath the curve of her ass.
Goddamn, her ass. He’d admired the perfect, perky swell of it since the moment she’d stepped out of her Camaro. A part of him—a big, bear-sized part—wanted to flip her onto her stomach and spend the rest of the night groping and kneading at her ass until he felt he’d shown every curve the adoration she deserved.
But before he could truly entertain the option, she reached between their bodies and seized the thickest part of his shaft.
“Again, not little at all.” She sighed with appreciation.
Clayton hid his face against the slope of her neck. Her pulse thrummed beneath his lips. His teeth itched like when they lengthened before a full shift. He clamped down on his instincts.
Clementine’s slender fingers encircled him. She began a slow but purposeful series of strokes. Every hair on his body stood upright, and he choked back a growl.
“Sing for me, beloved,” she urged, whispering the words into his right ear. Longing laced her sultry tone. She squeezed around the sensitive underside near the tip of his length. “I want to hear my bear.”
Clayton, apex predator that he was, did just as his mate asked. He gave up on stifling this one part of his animal, allowing the bear to voice its desire. Clementine promptly shivered at the sound of his growl.
“Hell’s bells, that’s hot.” Her pupils had dilated. She slid her free hand down his right arm, following the swell of his biceps with her fingertips. “You’re so strong. I wonder what it’d take to make a big, scary grizzly whimper?”
“I wonder if you’re as tight as you are sweet.”
Shifters in the Snow Page 46