Beloved by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 3)

by Isadora Montrose

  “Mom and Dad expect me to drive Justine home. We live together.” Justine usually worked the lunch shift, but obviously Dad had wanted her present because of Anton.

  “I know. You told me before. What about a walk down to the pier?”

  “It’s covered in ice.”

  “So it is. Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait until Miss Justine is ready to go home. Think they’ll lynch me if I kiss you goodnight?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t all this attention bother you?” She indicated the full dining room. People had finished their dinners, but no one wanted to leave until the entertainment was over.

  “Yup. But your kinsfolks are right to be worried about you being claimed by a perfect stranger. Especially after Bock. Your daddy must be feeling really foolish right about now, trusting a bad guy with his daughter. To say nothing about their issues with rogue shifters.”

  “Bock and I never dated.”

  “Way I hear it, that wasn’t because he wasn’t on your daddy’s list of approved suitors.”

  “True.”

  He gave her a level look. “Your father and your uncles are right. I don’t know you as well as I need to. And you don’t know me from Adam.”

  “I bet they used more colorful language.”

  His lips curved. “Maybe so. But fact is we only met Saturday. I hope to change their minds about me. Though, truth to tell, I can’t quite see how yet.”

  “I think you’re missing my point, Anton. I’m a grown woman being hedged around by rules as if I was fifteen.” It was embarrassing and beyond infuriating. “Dad is a control freak.”

  His hand covered hers and squeezed. “Keep your voice down, sweetheart. Has he always been this way, or is it me?”

  “Well, he is the king. But he got worse after he banished Carlyle,” she admitted.

  Anton’s broad face set in disapproving lines. “Pretty harsh way to treat your only son.”

  “Yeah. Welcome to my world.”

  *Desired by the Dragon

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Anton~

  The sun hadn’t even gone down yet and his evening with Serena was done and dusted. This was one piss-poor way to court your mate. He had worked hard all day, and as he had expected the unaccustomed work had left him sore in muscles he had forgotten he possessed. Followed by the strain of looking at but not touching Serena. He was stiff and beyond frustrated. A swim might cool him off and settle his mind.

  Anton made his way down the rocks to the ocean in bear. The sun was turning the sky a lush pink even though it had some time to go before it dipped beneath the horizon. The water lapped higher than it had for his dawn swim, but he dived in anyway.

  As soon as the water closed over his head he knew this had been the correct decision. The natural beauty of sea and sky was restoring his spirits and the icy water was soothing his muscles and calming down his unruly dick.

  It was not as good as some passionate necking on Serena’s front porch – always assuming she had one – but better than turning in for the night when his mind was abuzz and his body restless. He just had to watch for the undertow. Tides took some getting used to. He had learned to swim in bear and boy in rivers and lakes, none of which had tides.

  Being openly in bear felt good. Constant concealment was the downside of living in a big city. He liked Denver. He loved his job. But although there was lots of wild country in Colorado, none of it was in Denver. Parks abso-dang-lutely did not count. They might give you that peaceful feeling of being close to nature, but there was always some innocent citizen wandering nearby ready to die of fright if they came face to face with a real live bear.

  This wild ocean appealed to his bear. You had to nurture your wild side. Not give it free rein, as those Haverstocks had, but accept and fulfill that part of your nature. No point in pretending that bears weren’t a little less civilized than the average human male.

  But from first-shift he had been taught to develop self-control. To use his paranormal power for good. He might have the hots for Serena, but allowing their relationship to build before he claimed her in the most primitive way possible was only sensible and decent.

  He didn’t have a problem with her family’s wish to slow down their relationship. But it had been something of a shock to realize that she wasn’t entirely sure she was safe with him. Sure he was dangerous. Show him a former serviceman who wasn’t. Marines were trained killing machines. Special Forces had honed his lethality to an even sharper edge. But he would never turn that knowledge against innocent civilians, much less his own mate.

  He hadn’t joined the military in order to use his training to break every rule in the book – neither the USMC Handbook nor his clan’s rules. He had vowed to protect his country. An honorable discharge did not release you from that pledge. Not as far as he was concerned. Of course, she wasn’t afraid of a veteran. She was afraid of his bear.

  Back in French Town he had never heard of any bear shifter going so far off the rails as to steal women, let alone rape and murder them. Sure they had the odd thief or petty crook, but usually they were youngsters who could be sorted out by their elders*. Cannibalism? It was flat out unheard of. Even the rogues the shifter police dealt with didn’t eat other shifters. Those Haverstocks had been bad to the bone.

  He drifted with the current, musing on this and that. Suddenly two things hauled him out of his daydreams. A ring of mermen carrying spears surrounded him, and the riptide sucked him under. He was being swept out into the Gulf of San Juan to mingle with the ships and the killer whales. Shift on a danged forked stick.

  “Halt,” roared one of the mermen.

  Their torsos were broad and well-muscled. Their tails as thick and strong as dolphins’. Their waving hair the rich color of the sea. Without apparent difficulty, they maintained their perfect circle around him, even as the current carried him helplessly toward the Gulf.

  Suddenly and without warning, Anton was seized by powerful arms and held in place against the pressure of the vicious current. Underneath the ice-cold water. He fought his captivity in order to rise and draw a breath, but they held him below the surface. His lungs seized.

  “Relax,” someone said in his ear.

  “He needs to breathe,” another voice drawled.

  How were they talking underwater?

  “Already?”

  “No gills.”

  “All together now, breach.”

  He was propelled to the surface at speed. He gulped in air. He could no longer see the Tidewater Inn or the cliff he had descended. Where the heck was he? How far had he drifted?

  “We’re going down.” Hard hands yanked him below the water before he had a full breath. The mermen dragged him along.

  Anton had a good sense of direction, but he had lost his bearings underwater. Were these guys rescuing him or towing him out to open water? He didn’t have any choice but to allow himself to be swept along. Gradually he registered that they were heading straight into the riptide. Even the powerfully built mermen were having difficulty tugging him along against this force.

  They were slowed even more by having to constantly breach in order to permit him to breathe. There was some grumbling because they couldn’t dive deeply enough to avoid the riptide altogether. Anton went as limp as possible and let them take him where they would. Something told him this was no rendezvous with his beloved. But if he was in danger, he had no idea how to defend himself.

  The six mermen towed him a long time. Or at least it felt far longer than he had spent going in the opposite direction. The sun turned the sea to gold. The sky blazed orange and violet. Kind of like the hair on Serena’s kid sister. His mind was wandering from lack of oxygen. Sill the mermen kept moving against the current. His world narrowed to gulping air and permitting himself to be a passive burden.

  He hit a wall. A literal rock wall.

  “Out,” ordered one of the mermen.

  Hands thrust him out of the water again. He was pushed hard against
the sloping cliff face beneath his cottage, until he grasped rock with all three paws and hauled himself wearily out of the ocean.

  “Climb, Bear.”

  He climbed. When he got to the top he turned. His rescuers were watching him from the water, handsome faces gilded by the sun. They waved their long, triple-tipped spears at him in threat or farewell. He limped to the cottage on three legs, chilled to the bone and too jacked by his narrow escape to sleep.

  A hot shower helped. So did the shot of applejack he had brought with him from Denver. Now that the French Town distillery was legit**, traveling with Jacked Bear Brandy didn’t break any laws. The flavor hadn’t changed with the loss of Uncle Pierre’s old still. He sipped, enjoying the heat and the taste of home.

  He flipped on a light to examine his saved oyster shell. His mate’s essence was infused into it, blended with his. But he couldn’t yet tell what it yearned to be. He had carved and whittled every hardwood that grew in the Northwest. Tried his knives on sandstone and soapstone, but this shell was harder than those.

  He ran his thumb over the rippled inner surface. It gleamed iridescent pink and mauve and creamy white shot with violet. The outer surface was mottled gray and brown and as rough as any rock. From long experience he knew that trying to reason out what he should sculpt from it would fail.

  He needed to let his mind drift. Eventually the shell would speak to him. He sipped and cradled the shell that Serena had eaten from. The joy of having found his mate began to wipe away his brush with death.

  The sound of a truck broke into his reverie. Doors slammed. Feet crunched on the gravel path. At least six people. He went to the window as the feet thumped on the porch steps. Seven men milled awkwardly on the tiny veranda.

  The mermen were less impressive in clothes. The pale muscular sleekness of their limbs was concealed by heavy plaid jackets and faded jeans. Their slick hair had become springing masses of dark curls gleaming with blue and green light. Lynch party two had arrived.

  *Bearly Begun & Bearly Enough

  **Bear Fate

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Anton~

  Anton yanked the front door open. “What can I do for you fellows?”

  “We need to talk,” the leader said. He didn’t look dangerous and he had left his spear at home. They all had.

  Anton held the door wide. “Come in. I need to thank you guys. If you hadn’t hauled my sorry ass back to shore, I would be orca bait by now.”

  “Yeah,” said the youngest one. He was a little shorter and a good deal gawkier than the others. In the water he had possessed a powerful grace that eluded him in his human form. Anton had trained a lot of new recruits in his day. This boy was a few years short of military eligibility. Maybe seventeen. Probably younger.

  “Well, I’m grateful.” Anton waited.

  The leader cleared his throat. “I’m Will Merryman, and these are some of my brothers and cousins.”

  Anton tested the water with an outstretched hand. Will shook. He waved a hand at two of the mermen. “My brothers Cyrus and Alex.”

  “Glad to know you.”

  “And these are my cousins, Scott, Eldon, Ian, and Peter.”

  Everyone shook hands just like Anton was a real person. Made a pleasant change. At least the younger generation didn’t want to string him up.

  “Find a seat,” Anton said. “I was having a drink. You guys want a shot of apple brandy?”

  “Thank you,” said Will. “Five glasses. Scotty is only sixteen.”

  “Scott.” The gangly youth’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Aw, Will.”

  “You can have a beer, little bro,” Peter said good-naturedly.

  “Sure.” It didn’t take Anton long. When he returned from the kitchenette, Will, Eldon and Peter were sprawled on the couch. The others were sitting cross-legged on the floor. They had left him the armchair.

  “So you want to tell me what’s going on?” Anton said. “I already gave my life history to your fathers.”

  “We know,” said Eldon heavily. He was perhaps thirty. His face was tanned and weathered as it had not been in his mer form. “My father is Cliff. Dad told me and my brothers how that meeting went down.”

  “Did you really lose your foot in combat?” interrupted Scott wide-eyed.

  “Yup.”

  “And did you really get a medal?” the boy continued.

  “Yeah.” Ostensibly for hauling Holden’s ass to safety. In truth, it was for completing that perilous top-secret mission.

  “Awesome.” Scott sucked at his beer.

  His respectful gaze mended some of Anton’s bruised self-esteem. “Your daddies didn’t think so,” he pointed out truthfully.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Will said slowly. “Not precisely. You see the trouble is that Uncle Roger is the king. We all have to do what he says. And he’s dead set against any of the mer-people marrying out of our order. Dad and Uncle Cliff have to go along with Uncle Roger.”

  “I did grasp that,” Anton said dryly.

  “It’s a problem,” cut in Cyrus. “See we guys would all prefer to marry local girls. We like it here on West Haven. Can’t be a prettier spot in the whole world. Plus we all have jobs right on the water, and we don’t have to pretend we’re not mermen here.”

  He waved a hand at his streaky hair, which under the lamplight looked dyed. “Besides, West Haven is just home. But every mermaid we know is our close kin. Really close kin.”

  “We have the same problem back home,” Anton said. “Every she-bear I know in French Town is related to me a dozen different ways.” He loved his cousins like sisters, which was pretty much what they were genetically.

  Eldon looked at Will and something passed between the two cousins. “Me and Alex got lucky. We met our wives when we were on the East Coast selling a boat. Miranda and Stacy are from a completely different mer-clan. But it’s hard for them both being such a long way from their kinsfolk. Especially now that we’ve got kids. We manage, but it’s difficult.”

  “Uh huh.” Where were they going with this? Anton sipped his applejack.

  Scott snickered. “Will is in love with Rinelle Babcock.”

  Peter rumpled Scott’s curls. “Just you wait, fingerling. Will wants to marry Rinelle. I want to marry a psychic. But Uncle Roger won’t consent. He says his daughter Justine’s marriage is proof that interbreeding doesn’t work. He wants me to find a mermaid. But it’s too late. Marilyn is the one for me.”

  “Back up a bit,” Anton pleaded. “I thought Justine was divorced and childless. What’s her marriage got to do with interbreeding?”

  “That’s correct. She’s separated. No kids,” confirmed Peter. “Problem with Justine’s ex isn’t that he’s a psychic. It’s that he’s a mean, lazy son of a sea cook.”

  The other mermen nodded. Jaws clamped.

  Anton added his bit. “Serena hinted that this Chris knocked her sister around some.”

  “Only once,” said Will flatly. His chest swelled.

  “Eldon and Will and Cy took him to the ferry and told him not to come back,” Scott said breathlessly.

  “And has he?” Anton asked.

  “Of course not,” Will said. “But that hasn’t altered Uncle Roger’s mind. His majesty is holding out for mermaids.”

  “Is that why he was so keen on a match between Dyson Bock and Serena?” Anton asked.

  “It looked good at first,” murmured Ian who had not yet spoken. “We got a little put off by Brooks-Bock when we went swimming.” He looked at the others. “You explain, Will.”

  “What Ian means by swimming is taking merman. Maybe you noticed that we can communicate underwater.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Didn’t you find that just a tad odd?” Will asked.

  “Not at the time.” He had been too preoccupied with not drowning. “But looking back, it was weird.”

  “Telepathy.” Will gave him a sharp look.

  “You shared my thoughts?” demanded Anton.

&n
bsp; “No. No. That’s not how it works. You have no telepathic powers. We could transmit to you, but not receive your thoughts,” Will explained.

  “But Bock being a merman, you could read his mind?” Anton asked.

  “Damn straight,” said Cyrus. “And we sure as shooting didn’t like what we read.”

  “Smarmy,” muttered Ian.

  “Creepy,” added Scott.

  “Woman hater.”

  Will held up a hand. “We took our concerns to King Roger, but he wouldn’t listen to us.”

  “Why not?” Anton asked.

  “It’s like he’s under a curse,” muttered Peter.

  He and his cousins exchanged glances. Mouths opened and shut. Anton recognized a clue when he met one. He held up the applejack bottle. “More?”

  Everyone but Cyrus, who was driving, nodded.

  Anton refilled glasses, noting approvingly that young Scott still had more than half his beer left. “What do you mean a curse?” he asked when the mermen had relaxed again.

  “Ever since he banished Carlyle, the king has been flat out unreasonable.” Eldon rolled his glass back and forth over his knees. “He used to be affable and good-natured. But not any more.”

  “He all the time acts like he just sat on a tack.”

  “Cranky, spoiling for a fight – a geyser ready to blow!”

  “Avoids the water like he’s afraid of drowning!”

  “Suspicious.”

  “Paranoid.”

  “Fricking impossible to please.”

  “Cantankerous.”

  Despite the litany of complaints, Anton did not detect dislike in the mermen’s voices. Exasperation for sure, but also respect and grief. This bunch was not ready to mutiny. Not by a sea mile.

  “Maybe he just misses his son,” Anton suggested.

  “Well, duh.”

  “So, what do you expect me to do about his majesty?”

  They told him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Serena~

  “All I said was that Anton is hot.” Justine’s face was alight with mischief. She fanned her face with her hand. “Nothing to get your panties in a twist over. Well, not unless he’s around.”