Unfortunately, I had years to witness what pure bliss entails, and I can do without the emotional need that such a union requires.
Yeah, no.
“But she’s not your Fated, Bear. You know she’s Logan’s,” Mom begins, making me growl and slam a fist down onto the table beside me, the blow cracking it in half with the force of my anger.
“She is mine! We love—”
“You cannot possibly love that, that grasping little tramp! Be reasonable, Bear.”
“I am, Mom,” I snarl softly, attempting to rein myself in when Dad growls threateningly.
I may be his kid, but no one uses anything less than a civil tone with Nick Silverton’s mate, not even his own offspring.
“Look, I just…the whole Fated thing is not for me. I respect the bond you guys share, and I get it, okay. It works for you, but I don’t want that for myself. Hannah and I are good together.”
“So good she refuses to accept banishment to officially mate you,” Jules snorts in a snide tone that has my hackles rising.
“Shut up, Julia.”
“Why should I? You’re so blinded by that bitch you don’t even realize what you’re doing anymore. You think being loved and mated to your Fated is going to fuck you up, Bear, but the truth is that you already are because you are so stubbornly determined to prove to everyone that you don’t want that life that you don’t care about anyone else!” she accuses, making me wince guiltily.
“Jules—”
“And you know what’s worse? It’s not just that you’re apathetic to other’s and their needs, Bear, which in and of itself is bad enough. Oh no, the problem that you have now, big brother, is that you’re willing to hurt others to get what you want.”
Her disgust and the anger she’s carrying are more than evident, so much so that I blink to dispel the pain I feel when she sneers at me, patently despising me in this moment.
“I have never hurt another person in my life, Jules, and I do my best not to. I may be an enforcer for the pack, but I do things as peacefully as I can if the situation allows and—”
“And I don’t give a fuck about what you do as an enforcer, even though you’re not being truthful are you, Bear? You got cited twice last week for unnecessary force on a call out.”
“That young hit his mother!”
“Because she was beating him. The kid is nine years old, Bear, and he has a right to defend himself against some whore bitch who decides to take a belt to him the way Marla does.”
I can’t argue that, not at all, except to say that the kid is almost six feet tall already, and while he hasn’t transitioned, he’s strong. Much stronger than his mother, who is five one and thin as a rail.
“I apologized to him after learning what she did, Jules.”
“Yeah, after you picked him up by the scruff of the neck and threatened to send him to White Water! But that is neither here nor there. The issue here is not your temper or the way you handle the pack, it’s about what you did to Mika, and before you try to deny, I fucking saw her! She’s sick from your mind wipe.”
“What? Oh Jesus Christ, what did you do, Bear?” Dad barks harshly, making me wince.
“So two weeks ago, we all went out for coffee and numb-nuts over here meets his Fated, a little waitress who works down at Hot Buns. He was so fucking rude to that poor woman, even Logan and Banner were hard pressed not to feel shame. Which in and of itself is normal because we all know what a dick Bear has turned into since this last year he’s been with Hannah—”
“Jules leave her out—”
“So there we were, all super-fucking uncomfortable because of this shithead’s attitude, but you know what, I was just like, yeah, okay, so maybe she isn’t his Fated because he’s acting like an asshole instead of an instinctively bonded male,” she continues, glaring at me when I go to speak.
“Bear.”
“But I think we all knew, all of us, especially when her eyes changed because genius over here decided to touch her.”
That was a fucking mistake! I didn’t mean to lay a finger on her, I think.
Trust me, since I know that if a male touches his Fated, it sets off the beginning of the bond. Hell, the way that dumpy little waitress was sniffing me so obviously was enough of a start for me as it was.
“Dammit, that was an accident. It was her fault.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. All she was doing was walking away so as to avoid your continued rudeness. Her fault my ass. Mr. Big and Fucked Up here grabbed her on the retreat.”
“She’d already scented me, Julia.”
“Because you were putting off enough scent to put half the store in heat!” she accuses heatedly, baring her teeth when I blush.
“Okay, uh, so she scented him, and he touched her. That’s uh, that’s not so bad. We can—”
“She went into heat, Dad. Even Banner scented it, and you know he still hasn’t fully recovered from that blast injury he took last month.”
Yeah, which was why I almost lost my mind halfway through coffee when that little shit at the table she’d been serving as well tried to grab her ass again.
Humans can’t scent a female in heat, which was what finally got me back under control enough to not rip his throat out. That reaction right there convinced me more than anything else that this Fated stuff is never going to be for me.
To almost lose control over myself because some asshole was flirting with the waitress was too much, too close to the nerve for me.
I can’t go there. I don’t want to go there with a female.
I have Hannah. I love Hannah. Mika Blithe is not for me. She’s short, too curvy, and has hair the color of honey and caramel. Not my type.
God, she scented strongly though.
“Is this true, Bear? Your Fated was displaying signs of the heat?” Dad asks, making me clench my jaw in denial.
“She wasn’t—”
“Don’t lie!” Jules yells, her insult cutting me to the quick.
I don’t lie, ever. It’s something I take pride in above almost everything else—and they all know it.
“She wasn’t in full heat.”
“Yeah? You can lie to yourself, Bear, but I was there, along with Banner and the others. Even they acknowledged it, only you refused to listen because that golden pussy you’re so convinced you love kept texting you and distracting you.”
“I will not sit here and listen to you insult my female—”
“Your female? Your female, Bear? That female you’re so hung up on was out having dinner with Connor Bayne just the night before you two hooked up again. You think—?”
“Shut up!”
“I will not, and I also won’t sit here and let you lie about what really happened, just to make yourself feel better. That female was going into full heat by the time we left. I tried to shrug it off and tell myself that one measly touch couldn’t do anything because this moron was being such a dick, and frankly, I don’t think he deserves someone as cool as Mika.”
“Julia—”
“I am as much to blame for that as he is, contenting myself with the thought that she’d get aroused but work it out on some human who caught her eye. I told myself, as did the others, that if Bear couldn’t see what was in front of him, then Mika is better off without him.”
“Okay. Then we leave it at that,” Dad says, giving me a glare before shaking his head. “You know we can’t force the mating, Jules.”
“I know! And that’s good. That’s the one part of being a wolf that I actually like, that females and males don’t have to accept the call just because of biology.”
Which is great since not all shifter species are exactly upstanding specimens of morality. In our packs, we’re stricter about moral codes and being good people, but just like in human society, we have bad seeds. To have the law protect both parties is a good thing. Which basically means that a female does not have to mate a male she is afraid of or doesn’t like. Especially if it turns out they’re abusive assholes.<
br />
We also have divorce for the rare instances that a pair wants to split, but that is rare, especially if it’s a Fated match because breaking the bond is dicey.
“Forgive me, Jules, but if you aren’t into Bear mating Mika, then what exactly is the problem?” Dad asks, quieting Mom when she starts protesting.
“The problem is that Mika had her mind scrubbed by this fucking genius, and she is completely scrambled with mind fever. I went to visit Davie’s human mate, Milan, this afternoon—”
“That is good. I am so glad that she has pack support even after he passed away,” Mom says, smiling at Jules with pride.
“Yeah, except that when I was leaving I happened to spot Mika Blithe standing in front of her mom’s room, just staring into space in a total daze. She’s dirty, confused, and completely sick with fever, and what’s worse is that she’s still in heat. Only she doesn’t know it because her body is so numb that she’s not completely aware!” Jules yells.
My heart stops, as the ramifications of my actions hit me. I freeze, turning to look at Dad, who is now on his feet and fighting a shift that would probably mean my death.
In the pack, law rules. Alpha’s law rules, and Dad or not, I am about to be reamed by my dad.
Chapter Four
Mika
The cool breeze coming off the lake is reviving, and I tilt my face up to the sky and let it skate over my skin, clearing the cobwebs from my now perpetually foggy brain.
The sky is dark with clouds the color of—I stop thinking as soon as a jagged shaft of pain streaks into my skull, doubling over and breathing through the pain in short, sharp gasps of breath just like Bess taught me.
I have learned over the last week after waking up in my bed—I still do not know how I got there—with my mind a little less foggy and my thoughts coherent enough to actually think clearly.
Well, as clearly as is possible lately at least. I stayed there, feeling sickened and yet rested for the first time in two weeks. I managed to let my mind wander a little to piece together some of what’s been happening with me.
The first thing I concluded after a good hour of thought is that I am not crazy. I mean, I don’t feel crazy or think I am, so I guess for now that’s my story and I am sticking to it like glue.
With the comfort of that thought, it became clear to me that I needed to get up, clean up, and start doing things in an adult way. No matter how afraid I was.
First up, I needed a shower, a teeth cleaning, and some clothes that did not make me look like a dirty weirdo or homeless Pete. Once that was done, I ate a breakfast of granola, made some chocolate glazed donuts, and then put on my big girl panties to go and talk to Bess.
I had a vague recollection of talking to a woman named Julia the day before, and without much effort, I remembered that I had met her at the coffee shop along with—
That’s where I had to stop thinking because my head hurt so bad I puked all over my clean t-shirt and had to take another shower.
So, I learned really quick not to think too hard while also trying to clear things up. And I talked to Bess. Dear Bess, who is a battle axe, but loves her girls like her own.
An hour spent talking to her and admitting that there is something wrong with me saw me feeling better and also having a doctor run tests on me to check for a tumor or some other shit that could be making me so foggy.
Bess cried with me when the doctor cleared me and assured me I didn’t have an orange-sized death ball in my brain, and then he gave me sedatives—after running a few more tests and getting me a psyche evaluation, of course—and told me that my insomnia was a possible factor in the episodes I’ve been experiencing.
It’s good to sleep, even if I wake up in pain and so aroused it hurts. I have tried masturbating, cold showers, and swimming in the lake to calm that aspect of this fucked up…whatever this is, and while it’s not working, it does distract me enough to actually function.
And here I am, at Bess’s little cabin on the lake, resting, because Bess says that I need to get some rest, stop thinking about everything, and just concentrate on getting better.
I sleep. I’m aided by pills and something for the almost debilitating migraines that have started plaguing me daily, and I try to pretend that I am not scared shitless.
That part, more than anything is what is kicking my ass. I haven’t been scared since the day Mom pulled that gun on me, and yet, here I am, terrified because nothing, no tests, no shrink, not even my trusty inner voice can explain why I wake panting and calling out for a bear, or why I feel so sad all the time.
But it is getting better, I think. A little. Everything aside, I feel as if I have a chance to get over this hurdle now that I am not alone and trying to deal with it all while hiding the panic inside me.
Holly and Jo are taking turns going to visit Mom, not that it makes a difference seeing as the last report Bess gave me was that she’d started getting bedsores from hours spent in a chair with no movement.
Bess is taking care of my rent, and she’s hired a little Swedish tourist who’s on a working visa vacation—her description—and won’t need full-time employment. Good for me since I fully intend to go back to work, if I make it without eating my own skin or talking to people that don’t exist. I could still be nuts. Just because I don’t think I am or want to be doesn’t mean I may not be.
So, everything is taken care of, and yet, I still feel somewhat as if I’m forgetting someone, someone important. Which is bull because the only people I know are my patchwork quilt family.
And Julia, I guess. I didn’t know we’d swapped numbers until I got a text the day after, while in the doctor’s office waiting for results, and I had to ignore her because she kept asking where I was.
Stalker much?
That lasted for like two days until I felt guilty and finally texted back, telling her I was away and taking a medically enforced break. She got a little weird after that, but I put her off, asking if we could meet up when I was back and maybe get the story on why she was at the home.
I could always use another friend, and from what little I remember about talking to Julia, she was a great help at a time when I was on the verge of breakdown.
Here I am, on vacation for the first time since I graduated and Mom lost her shit, and while it is all good, I am so not all good. I feel weaker by the day, as if everything in me is shutting down somehow.
Ridiculous. I had a thorough exam that ruled out anything terminal or even just hinting at sickness. I am healthy, at least that is what they say, so this feeling that I’m dying is a problem.
It’s unsettling to be sunbathing and completely relaxed, only to have some inner voice scream at me that I don’t have much time left.
Weird. Totally weird.
But also totally relevant because while I may not be a zombie, I am now a basket case.
My cell rings just as the first drops of rain plop onto my upturned face, and I answer with a curse, jogging for the cabin when thunder rumbles ominously.
“Bess, there’s a storm coming in. Reception isn’t that great!” I yell, shrieking when the drops turn into a deluge so fast that by the time I reach the porch I am soaked through to the skin.
“It’s not Bess. It’s me…Jules.” I hear, just as I slam the door, battling against a wind that I am sure was not there a second ago.
The sound of her voice is startling, and that sadness I have been driving back hits me again in full force, to the point I forget to struggle with my soaked clothes and instead drop to my knees in the living room.
The cabin, usually bright and airy is dark now, and without a fire or the lights, all I can see is the faint outline of the couch and the fireplace directly in front of me.
“Julia?”
Why the image of her face is so painful, I don’t know, but I gasp when her face pops into my head and her eyes hit me.
Grey. They’re grey and…and…
And I can’t think about this!
For some
reason, just hearing her voice is making my head ache unbearably and the arousal I’ve been keeping to a low simmer intensifies to the point of pain.
Oh God! No. Nope. I am not into girls.
“Mika, honey—”
“What? What? I am not, you are not, why do you keep calling me honey?” I yell, leaning over to rest my forehead on the floor, as I breathe through my nose to stem the nausea that comes on fast.
God, I feel sick.
I’m so damn sick all of a sudden that I gag and flop onto the floor, the little strength I have left deserting me.
Dying. A little voice inside my head whispers the word, and I break out in a cold sweat that is not natural considering I am soaked and freezing.
The pain in my head intensifies, and I ignore Julia’s voice as my body loses mobility and pain bombards me. It’s not a good feeling, but as bad as it feels, what really has me gasping is the need that zips through me.
I have watched porn with my friends, been to a ladies’ night with male strippers, and read enough raunchy romance to know what lust feels like. This is worse, a hundred times more intense and so consuming that if I had the strength I’d touch myself just to get some relief.
In my mind, I know it won’t work. It hasn’t before. Doing so has actually only made the arousal stronger, but my clit is so swollen and engorged, my sex so hot, that it’s not just lust or arousal anymore…it’s agony.
Dying. The voice whispers again, weaker, nothing more than a desperate breath inside me that I recognize as not my own voice, and I wheeze, the phone falling from my hand to land beside my cheek as black dots wink in and out of my vision.
Can’t breathe. I can’t breathe through the pain. My entire being is lit up with every sensation I can name. I hurt. I need. I ail. I am…dying, I think. The thought taking root in the back of my mind the longer I gasp and cry for breath.
Greyriver Shifters Page 4