Shifters in the Snow

by Jacqueline Sweet

  “Find out.”

  Well, shit. Apparently that was all it took to make a big, scary grizzly cry like a cub. Clayton raked his fingers through her hair, smoothing the wild strands back from her face.

  “If we do this without protection, it starts a mating.”

  “What finalizes it?”

  “I claim you with a bite, and you claim me in return.”

  She rested her forehead against his. Her breath hitched. “No biting. Not yet.”

  He nodded, understanding. The bear whined, but he forced it to hush. This was her decision.

  Clementine’s eyes glimmered like the fire behind her. She carded her fingers through his hair. Clayton’s restless hands traveled the perfect curves of her waist, greedily drinking in the heat of her skin. He reached behind her and unfastened the hooks of her bra. She allowed the thin straps to slip down her shoulders then dropped the garment to the side.

  “Damn,” he breathed out, pushing her long locks over her shoulders. The full shape of her breasts made his throat tightened. “You are gorgeous.”

  She smiled, and he appreciated that she seemed to be as comfortable in her bare skin as he was in his. Humans were always so shy about nudity. Not that Clayton had vast amounts of experience with human women. His few encounters had always left him cold.

  Sex with strangers had never really scratched his itch. His animal had always gone still on the few occasions when Clayton felt lonely enough to indulge.

  A quiet beast is a dangerous beast.

  But here, now, the bear wouldn’t shut the hell up. Clementine, at least, seemed to enjoy the rattle of his inner monster.

  Tugging her by her hips, he adjusted their position, ensuring his aim would be true. With Clementine poised over his lap with her weight on her knees, he reached between their bodies and aligned the head of his cock.

  “Let me see you,” she whispered. Her fire was back, overwhelming the green in her irises.

  Clayton blinked, bringing the bear to the surface. His heart thudded in his chest. That she wanted both parts of him meant everything.

  “My bear.”

  “My witch.”

  Clayton tensed as he joined their bodies. The heat of her was magnificent. He wanted to burrow all the way inside her and stay there for the rest of the winter. She was tighter than he’d imagined, though. And when she sucked in a startled breath, he knew he had to go slow.

  “Okay?”

  “Just dandy,” she gasped, bracing her hands on his shoulders. Her thighs trembled around his. “You’re big.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered, offering a half-smile.

  “I’m not.” She dug her nails into his skin. “More.”

  He cupped her ass in his hands and urged her lower. Inch-by-inch, he filled her. He wouldn’t give her his mark, not tonight, but this was an act of claiming in and of itself.

  Once Clementine sat flush against him, she exhaled a sweet breath. She rolled her hips, and the bear clawed at his insides. Mate, mate mate, it roared, desperate to thrust. To take. To fuck.

  He growled at it, at her, at the overwhelmingly tight heat that now clamped down around his aching length.

  She seized his face and tore a kiss from his lips, pausing only to bite at the bottom one.

  “Let me see you,” she repeated, suddenly snapping her hips against his.

  And then she was on her back. Clayton moved with all the preternatural strength and speed of a shifter. Delight rippled through her voice as she cried out and spread her legs in welcome.

  He reared back, withdrawing almost completely, then re-claimed his mate’s body with a long, smooth thrust.

  Clementine’s back arched up from the floor, pushing her soft breasts against his stony chest. The contrast of their bodies was delicious, but her loud moan was intoxicating.

  “Mine,” he gritted, repeating the action. He slid in and out, building a swift pace that soon set her sliding up the old rug. Her full breasts heaved under the force of every push and pull of his body. Through it all, she kept her eyes fixed on his. Gold met gold, and Clayton knew her fire would soon consume him.

  Seizing her hips, he held her lower half up and off the floor. With calculated power, he surged into her repeatedly, seeking the other spot that would make her scream his name this time.

  One thrust, and she moaned. Two thrusts, and she tensed. Three thrusts, and she clenched around his cock.

  “Hell!” She tossed her head to the side. Her hips began to jitter, a telltale sign that her next orgasm drew near. The rosy flush resumed its place on her cheeks and neck.

  Clayton reached forward and closed his hand around her left breast, kneading the flesh against his palm while he tweaked the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. With his cock just there against the secret place he hoped no one else had ever discovered on his mate, Clayton began a series of shallow but powerful thrusts.

  Clementine scrabbled at the floor as if she were trying to find something to hold onto, something to keep her tethered to this plane.

  He growled his desire. “Come for me, my darling,” he urged. “Come for me, Clementine. Let me see you.”

  She parted her lips, but no sound emerged. Instead, she gaped and gawked at him, twitching and trembling as he pushed her back toward the edge.

  The dwindling fire erupted. Flames lashed out from the hearth just as Clementine threw back her head and screamed.

  She called his name. She swore. She called his name again. Golden light swirled around her like a halo. Clayton blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the light grew brighter.

  It would swallow him whole, and he would happily let it. Clementine was his answer to the cold and dark of winter.

  His own orgasm was wrenched from his body. As he emptied his release into her, Clementine became his.

  Chapter 6

  Long, decadent moments had passed since Clementine had felt the surge of his release. She ingested enough of the right herbs on a daily basis to know she needn’t worry about a furry little surprise nine months down the road, but there was something so satisfying about the wet heat of his seed.

  “You’d have been one helluva catalyst, Clayton Afters,” she said, draping her left leg over his. “Holy hell.”

  A low laugh rumbled from his chest. He cradled her in the crook of his right arm and trailed his left hand down her bare back. “What’s a catalyst?”

  “It’s like a trigger for witches. It’s how we first access magic. Catalysts occur in moments of great passion.”

  Clayton growled. She wasn’t sure if it came from him or the bear, but she rolled her eyes with affection.

  “It’s not always sex. It can be anything. Danger. Heartbreak. Any time when emotions run high.”

  “What was yours?”

  Clementine laid her cheek against his chest. She gazed off at the fire. “It wasn’t the nice kind of passion.”

  He stilled his roaming fingertips over the small of her back. Rather than press for more, he brushed his lips to her forehead.

  “We can fix this, you know,” she said after a moment. She propped her chin atop his sternum. “Your curse. We can break it. And then we can help your brothers do the same.”

  “No shit?”

  “Not a bit.” She peppered short kisses over his heart. He stretched beneath her, releasing a sound of pure contentment. She smiled, distracted by the flex of his muscles. “I’ll have to figure out what we’re dealing with, exactly. Starting with the name of the witch who cursed you. And why they cursed you. And—”

  “My darling Clementine,” he said, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Shh.”

  Clementine laughed and burrowed against him again. “Apparently I’m terrible at pillow—er, floor talk. I just want you to keep that look in your eyes.”

  “What look?”

  “The hopeful one. It’s quite fetching on you.”

  He hummed and held her close. “You make me feel like we just might find our way out of this. But I’ve given th
at damn curse every spring, summer, and fall of my adult life. Right now, I just wanna talk about my mate.”

  “Me?” Clementine batted her eyelashes.

  “You. Starting with what you want for dinner.”

  “More pie,” she said, laughing. “And you.”

  Clayton grinned, all broad and toothy with dimpled cheeks. He seized her hips and rolled them so that he was back on top of her, covering her like a blanket. “You can have as much of both as you want. But let me cook for you, please. Let me take care of you.”

  “Can you cook?” she asked, surprised.

  “Damn straight.”

  She pretended to consider the option. “I mean, if you insist, I won’t stop you.”

  Once they’d managed to pry themselves apart, Clayton helped her clean up and then eased her back into her clothes. He fetched fresh jeans from upstairs and apparently decided to forgo a shirt entirely. Clementine didn’t complain. Not a bit.

  “Let’s play a game,” he said, lifting her by her hips. He winked and set her on the island countertop at the center of the kitchen.

  “What kind of game?”

  “Twenty questions.”

  “Oooh. We can ask anything?”

  “Anything at all, my darling.”

  She raked her fingers through his hair, brushing a lock of it away from his eyes. “You go first, big guy.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “We’ll start easy. Birthday?”

  Clementine pretended to snore. “Boring! But if you must know, February twenty-ninth.”

  “A leap year baby,” he said, surprised. He gathered an armful of root vegetables from the pantry and began to slice them on a cutting board. “Finally, someone else knows what it’s like to miss birthdays.”

  “When’s yours?” she asked, frowning.

  “Fourth of July. Brax gets to celebrate it, at least.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “You share a birthday?”

  He laughed. “I should have mentioned we’re quadruplets.”

  “No shit?”

  “Not a bit.” He winked again.

  Clementine whistled. “Star-spangled bear brothers. Wait, so the three guys sleeping upstairs look just like you?”

  “More or less.” Clayton offered a wry smirk. “I’m the handsome one, though. Everyone says so.”

  “Have you always been this modest?” She crinkled her nose at him.

  “I do believe it’s my turn for the question.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, saluting him. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Do you have any siblings?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have any family?” he pressed, his tone careful.

  “Sure. I’ve got my granny back in Roanoke.”

  “The missing colony one?”

  “No, no. The Virginia one. I’ll tell you a secret if you swear on your bear to never tell another soul.”

  “I bear swear,” he said, intrigued.

  “The Roanoke colony was made up of witches. They didn’t disappear. They relocated. To Virginia. My turn! Let’s see… why Ever Afters?”

  Clayton’s faint chuckle warmed Clementine to her core. “My mama liked fairy tales. She used to write books based on all the stories she told us when we were cubs. She’d illustrate ‘em, too. She was mighty talented.”

  “I’m sure. She sounds lovely.”

  Clayton sobered. “It’s just a play on our name, I guess. She liked it. Of course, that was back when she believed in happily ever afters.”

  The faraway look in his eyes made Clementine ache. She hopped off the counter. He set aside the knife, and she hugged his left side. He turned and wrapped both of his arms around her, encasing her with his strength. Moments passed, but neither of them made a move to pull away. He traced lazy patterns across her back, and she nuzzled the tip of her nose against his arm.

  “It’s your turn,” she whispered.

  He hummed. The sound vibrated from his chest to hers. He released a short, abrupt laugh.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s just occurred to me that I know how to make you shake and quake and scream my name, but I don’t even know your last name, darling Clementine.”

  She laughed as well. “Weatherspoon.”

  Clementine felt the change even before she’d registered that his fingertips had stilled.

  “Weatherspoon,” he repeated, his tone hollow.

  Clayton pulled away and put a foot of distance between them.

  “What is this?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Just... don’t. Why are you here?”

  “What’s wrong??” Fear shook her voice, but she couldn’t contain it. Not when her beloved was suddenly looking at her as if she were a snake he needed to squash under his boot heel.

  “I have this winter and the next! You don’t get to collect early.”

  “Clayton, please.”

  “Don’t call me by my name. Don’t use it like you care. Oh, damn it all. I should have let you leave.”

  He might as well have retrieved the knife and slashed open her insides. She recoiled. Realization loomed as tall and as terrible as Clayton’s massive grizzly.

  “Who cursed you?” She already knew the answer.

  Clayton narrowed his eyes. The warm molasses-brown was gone, but the grizzly’s gold glinted with something dark and dangerous.

  “Who cursed you??” she demanded. “What was the witch’s name??”

  “Weatherspoon.” The bear might as well have been standing there in Clayton’s place. His snarling delivery tore into her heart.

  A knot formed in the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t budge. “A man?”

  Clayton said nothing.

  “Deacon?” she pressed.

  Her beloved kept silent, but his jaw muscles tightened beneath his skin.

  “My father,” she whispered, numb.

  “Get out.”

  “This is a misunderstanding. This is a huge misunderstanding.”

  “No, this was a mistake.”

  Clementine held a hand over her chest. As if that would do any good. As if that would keep her heart from breaking.

  “Your father stole my life. My brothers’ lives. My sister doesn’t even have a life of her own. My whole family, my sleuth, was torn apart. And you’re his daughter??”

  “Clay—”

  “He killed my dad!” Clayton’s voice boomed through the kitchen. His grief was terrifying.

  Clementine had experienced loss and devastation, but she knew that the end of this conversation would leave her more broken than ever before.

  “Did he send you to finish us?” Clayton asked, no, snarled.

  Clementine threw her gaze to the floor, knowing better than to engage in a stare-off with an angry animal. “No!”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “He’s dead,” she replied, stronger now.

  “Boarshit.”

  “It’s the truth!” She dared a fleeting glance, willing him to see the truth in her eyes.

  Clayton’s lips twitched as if he intended to snarl again. “How do you know? Did you see his body? Did you bury it? Did it kill all the crops in a ten-mile radius? How do you know he’s really dead, huh? And why the hell should I believe a damn thing you have to say?”

  Clementine snapped in half. “Because I killed him!”

  Horror twisted Clayton’s chiseled features. She crumpled.

  “I killed him. I killed my father, and I’d do it again if I had to. He killed my mother. That was it, that was my catalyst. My moment of great passion. I thought I could save her.”

  She steeled her jaw, refusing to let it tremble. Tears burned her eyes, but she would not let them fall.

  “You think you’re the only one he ruined?” She stared down her beloved, suddenly unafraid of the wild thing lurking beneath the surface of his skin. “You’re not. You weren’t the first. And you weren’t the last, either.�
�

  Bewildered, Clayton shook his head. He said nothing at first. Whatever his thoughts, they seemed violent. He gritted his teeth so hard, she worried he might break one clean out of his skull.

  “I’m just supposed to believe you’re here by chance? That you showed up, not knowing who I am, who we are, or what daddy dearest did to us?”

  “Clayton, I swear—”

  “Your swears mean nothing.” To his credit, Clayton looked genuinely pained. Some small part of her took comfort in his struggle. He wanted to believe her. She could see that.

  “You showed up out of the goddamn ether. You came into our home. You asked all the questions.”

  He continued to shake his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for whatever trap he assumed she’d set.

  Clementine bowed her head and covered her face with her hands.

  “Leave,” Clayton said, his voice quiet. It wasn’t that he was calmer. His hushed tone conveyed something darker.

  He was warning her.

  “You’re my beloved.” She stared at him, too thunderstruck to move despite the dangerous drop in his voice.

  “You can’t possibly be mine.” Fury flashed in his eyes. “I can’t mate the blood that broke my family. Sometime next year, my brothers will go to sleep, and they may never wake up again. My father was murdered. My mother spent the last decade of her life in despair. I wasn’t even here when she passed. I was the last one to find out, almost a full fucking year after it happened. You aren’t my mate. You can’t be. Because right now, my bear could eat you alive.”

  As he spoke his final words, Clementine’s heart dropped to her feet. The hair on the back of her neck straightened.

  Suddenly, she wished he’d let her leave before, too.

  Dazed, Clementine edged her way around the island, keeping it between them. He followed her out of the room, his back rigid and his shoulders taut. As she neared the stairs in the foyer, Clayton growled so loud, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. The bear was so present, it sounded like he was already starting to shift.

  He didn’t trust her. He actually believed she’d come here to harm him and his brothers.

  She opened the front door and then closed it behind her. She walked out into the snow, careless of the fact that she’d forgotten her jacket inside.