by Cara Wylde
I shook the last ten minutes out of my memory and looked at them. Yes, those bullets needed to come out.
“Okay, tell me what to do.”
I would be strong for them, even if I didn’t have the slightest idea about how one removed bullets. I wasn’t a doctor. The most I had ever removed had been splinters.
“Do you have any alcohol in here?” Brooks asked.
“I know Jack’s a drinker. He must have packed something, let me see,” I replied and rummaged through every drawer and cabinet, until I remembered his duffel bag. Sure enough, there it was, a bottle of his favorite cheap whiskey. “Will this do?”
“Just fine, Rosalie,” Brooks said, and just hearing my name pour from his lips made me melt. “Ro, focus!”
“Ah, yes, sorry! What else now?”
“Bathroom, fresh towels, lighters and anything sharp. You have to dig it out of him.”
Dig it out of him? With what? I looked at the knives that were still in the duffel.
“Will these do?” I raised a few in the air and let them dangle from my fingers. I had never used knives like these before. Kitchen knives, to cut bread or peel potatoes – those I was used to. These looked so wrong, like butcher’s knives, and I was sure cutting Colt and Lincoln, or digging anything out with them, was going to hurt like a motherfucker. The blade was thick and wide.
“Yes, now the rest? Hurry, please,” he barked harshly.
I knew he didn’t mean to do that, but yes, I needed to hurry. I grabbed the whiskey, the knives and the lighter, taking a moment to appreciate the irony that I was now thankful for Jack’s vices and violence. What used to make me cower in fear, his drunken rages and his scary weapons, would now serve to save my beloved bears.
I followed them all into the bathroom.
“Now what?”
“Lincoln first,” Colt said. “I’m okay. I can wait a while longer.”
Brooks lay Lincoln down onto the cold floor. The big man with his long, bushy beard and kind eyes looked up at me. I shuddered. I remembered what we’d done together, how he’d tied me up and suspended me from that three in the woods, and then how they’d all given me pleasure way beyond what my poor body could stand.
“Don’t be afraid,” he croaked. Jack and his guys had really done a number on him. At least Colt could walk on his own, but Lincoln… From what I could tell, he could barely breathe. “Just get them out, and I’ll be fine. I’ll heal on my own.”
My palms were sweaty. Now that I was here, in the bathroom, ready to do something I’d never done before, I wasn’t so sure about it. I’d only seen it done in movies, and I knew those weren’t real. What if I messed up? Brooks snapped me out of my trance.
“Out with the bullet,” he grunted. “Pour some of that whiskey onto the blade, cut him open, dig it out, and then heat the blade to cauterize the blood vessels, to help him recover faster.”
I didn’t mean to stand there, mouth open, and stare. But he wanted me to shove a knife in Lincoln’s side and dig in there for a bullet?
“Rosalie,” Lincoln himself prompted, and the command set me into motion.
I knelt beside him to have a proper look at the wound. It didn’t seem like the bullet was lodged too deeply, but it wasn’t close enough to the surface for me to get it out. I took a deep breath and opened the whiskey bottle, took a big gulp, poured some onto the blade, and with shaking hands barely steadied by my liquid courage, I pressed against his firm flesh. Lincoln grunted. He might have been a bear, but he wasn’t invincible, nor immune to pain. More blood poured out of his wound, spreading down the length of my hand, down my arm, to my elbow, dripping onto the white tile of the bathroom floor. I felt something with the tip of the knife. I made the cut as small as I could, allowing for two of my fingers to probe the insides, and when they found purchase, I took them back out, along with the metal culprit.
“Fuck, that already feels better,” he whispered, voice drained of energy.
I inhaled again, but found my hands were much steadier this time around. I let the flames lick the blade until even the handle burned a little and pressed it to Lincoln’s skin. The flesh sizzled, and I flinched, but he barely moved, taking all that pain like no man could. Once I was done, I realized I’d have to do it again and again. Some of the bullets that had caught him in the arms or legs had exit wounds, but not all. The one in his side had just been the worst. I had to take all of them out, and then I had to take care of Colt, too. I washed my hands first, then pulled my hair away from my face and pinned it at the back. I could do this. Even if it took hours, I was going to pull out every single bullet so my men could heal.
Brooks helped Lincoln turn onto his stomach, and I was greeted with a nice view of his ass. Even in these dire circumstances, I couldn’t help but stare.
“I know his ass is mesmerizing,” Colt said, “but you need to hurry. I’m kind of in need of your assistance, too. Nurse Ro.”
“Shut up.” I might’ve blushed slightly.
When had I found my voice to talk back to these bears? When had I stopped being afraid of them? And began fearing for them? When had everything changed, then changed back, yet nowhere near to how things had been? My former life seemed so distant now. It was as if years had passed. No, even more. A lifetime. Another Rosalie had been Jack’s wife. Another Rosalie had suffered those beatings in fear and submission.
The new me could’ve challenged her ex-husband to hit her, to abuse her, as long as her bears lived. I hadn’t because he’d fucking gagged me. Maybe he’d been afraid of what I would’ve said to his face. The new me wasn’t as afraid of Jack as she was afraid of a life alone, without her men. My men. Mine. They had to be. All of them. I was theirs, and they were mine, and we all belonged in a world together.
“Yes, yes, we know. You hate us,” Lincoln said, and something about his tone unnerved me. Did he really think I hated them? Sure, I wasn’t a fan of many things they’d done to me, but the sex was good, their cocks were great, and in the last few days, I’d had more orgasms than I could count.
“I don’t,” I whispered as I started working on the rest of the bullets. One by one, I took them out.
As I worked, we were all silent. Well, except for Lincoln, who cried out once in a while, gritted his teeth, and banged his fists on the floor. Every time I cut him and dug in to retrieve a bullet, I wanted to say that I was sorry. I was sorry for having brought Jack’s wrath upon them.
“What happened to the men who came after you?” I asked after a while. Not only to make conversation, but also to make sure that Jack was no more. I could feel it deep down… that I was free.
“They won’t be bothering you, nor us anymore,” Brooks said. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, wiping his bloody hands off a towel. He’d helped me with Lincoln, and now I was almost done. I only had to seal the wounds. “We took care of each and every one of them.”
“G-good. A tall man with dark hair and brown eyes. Was he one of them?” Of course he was. But I had to know for sure. I had to hear it from them.
“He thought he could take me,” Brooks huffed. “It wasn’t easy to overpower him, so I’ll give him that?”
I gulped. “He was my husband. I mean, my ex-husband.”
“Was. Right use of the tense there. Don’t worry about him. He’s gone for good. He can’t hurt you anymore. I hope you didn’t… want to say goodbye?”
“No! God, no!” I let out a breath of relief. “I just wanted to know. He was my husband for five years, but he doesn’t mean anything to me. I hadn’t felt anything for him in a long time. I should’ve run away sooner.”
I was done with Lincoln, and it was Colt’s turn. He leaned against the counter, his back on it, but the lighting was off. I could barely see what I was doing.
“I think I am going to need you to lie down,” I whispered.
Grunting and cursing, he obeyed, and I straddled his waist, knowing that the spot I was going to mess with would hurt way more than my insignificant weight
on him.
“Try not to buckle,” I said in a hushed tone. I needed him to be very serious and stay very still.
“First time I have a woman on me and she’s not riding my cock,” he joked, then hissed when the wet blade touched his wound. I made a bigger cut, my eyes on the red mark, while my ass could feel the pressing hardness.
“How can you still be thinking about sex?” I joked. “You’re half dead and in pain.”
“The important half is still working,” he laughed.
Yes it was, and I had every intention to feel it inside me again. I needed Colt to live for that to happen. I felt Lincoln sit on the floor next to me. He helped me hold Colt down, as he was struggling too much.
“You’re doing great,” he said.
“Thank you.”
His eyes were glued to my face. I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye, but I was too busy and stressed about what I was doing to give him the attention he probably wanted.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Maybe, but… I don’t know if I’ll still have the courage later. I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve never been so honest in my life. With anyone.”
“Okay…”
“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry that I tied you up to that tree and left you there. That was wrong in so many ways. I… I’m a horrible person sometimes. I know that. You just… You’re the only woman I’ve met who was willing to explore those things with me. I have these fantasies, these fetishes… I never dared to confess them to any of the females I dated before. They were all bears, anyway. They wouldn’t have agreed. And you came along, and… you were so vulnerable, so dependent on us… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I will never do anything like that again. Not unless… you ask me to.”
He looked at me with hope in his eyes, and I could tell that if I suggested he tied me up and suspended me from a tree after all this was over, he’d gladly do it.
“I understand,” I said.
“You do?” He let out a huge breath of relief. He ran his hands through his hair, then pulled at his beard, wincing when he realized it needed a wash and a trim. “Rosalie, I…”
Finally, I caught the slippery bastard of a bullet and rushed to pour some whiskey on the wound. Colt hissed in pain. He’d been silent while Lincoln had opened his soul to me, which meant that the whole thing had helped distract him.
“Rosalie, I… I love you,” Lincoln said.
I turned to him, and he cupped my cheek with his big hand. He leaned in, I closed my eyes, and our lips met. It was a deep, passionate kiss. I almost cursed Colt when he interrupted us, but then I realized that I still needed to pull a few more bullets out of him. Lincoln moved away, and I wiped the sweat off my brow. During the next few minutes, I worked on Colt, and Lincoln gave me space. I could tell he felt much better. Since that night in the woods, he’d carried this burden on his chest. It was good that it was out of the way now.
Once I was done, I slid off Colt, and Lincoln and Brooks helped him up. Lincoln’s wounds were already turning into fading scars.
“Wow, you do heal fast,” I exhaled.
Both Lincoln and Colt plopped onto the only bed in the motel room. They were exhausted. Brooks made sure that they were fine, then he came back into the bathroom. I was just washing my hands for the dozenth time. He closed the door behind him. The space instantly felt smaller, crowded, even though it was just us. I clutched the bottle of whiskey and took a long sip, then another. I couldn’t even look at the bear. From what I could tell, he only had one bullet wound. Besides that, all I needed to do was clean him and maybe patch him up a little. But first, I needed to make him understand a few things.
“I have something to tell you,” I began, looking at the floor and counting the dirty tiles. “I didn’t mean to run away. I know how it must have looked to see me gone. I was just… My head was clouded. But I adore Milo. He’s like my own son, and I want you to know that I took good care of him. I still will, I mean, if you still want me to, that is. Fuck, I’m rambling,” I growled in frustration.
I brought the bottle to my lips, but Brooks snatched it away.
“I need you sober, Rosalie,” he said, and I watched him gulp down half of the contents. Hypocrite. “I also need you.”
The words stunned me, but then I realized what he must’ve meant.
“Yes, the bullet, of course. Shoulder, right?”
He nodded and knelt beside me. I started to work on him the same way I did with the others, but my hands were shaking under the weight of his gaze.
“I do mean it,” I continued, “I really wasn’t going to run. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t have a family. I don’t have… I wouldn’t have gone back to Jack.”
“I wouldn’t have let you. I would’ve come after you, anyway, killed him, and gotten you back. This way… It was better. The way it happened, the bastard got what he deserved.”
I nodded. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”
“Remove the bullet,” he laughed.
With renewed purpose, I cut into his flesh, clean and straight, and removed the nuisance. He kept entirely silent, as if unaffected by practicalities. He was still so different from the others. Much stronger. Much broodier. So stealthily silent.
I cauterized his cut and let him rejoin the others. He called out to me from the doorway. “Clean this up, please. It can’t look like a crime scene.”
I gathered a few of the towels, feeling sorry for ruining good items like this, but I needed to wipe down every surface. Brooks was right. I couldn’t leave evidence of our presence here. Men had died tonight. I bleached and hand-wiped the floor, scrubbing as well as I could. I finished by throwing the bloodied rags into a plastic bag, along with the bullets.
Finally, I washed my red hands, up to my elbows, where the blood had dried and caked on my skin. It felt odd… seeing the pink-tinted water swirl down the drain, in that pure white sink.
My hands.
Stained with blood.
But this was life-giving blood.
I hadn’t committed any crime.
And it wasn’t my own blood either, after a particularly brutal beating, the way it used to be, when Jack had one of his fixed ideas, paranoid about me having cheated.
It was bear blood, and it was on me because I had helped three male bears I had grown to feel something for live another day. I could… I should be proud of this blood. It united us. They trusted me to help them get better. It signified our new beginning. Blood was shed to rid me of Jack and every one of his evil friends.
A knock on the door startled me. “You okay in there, Ro?” Colt asked.
“Yeah. I lost myself in thought for a minute.”
“Hurry up. Once we get home, you can lose yourself in sucking my cock all you want,” he joked.
“Look who’s feeling better,” I laughed.
I opened the door. Colt turned around, and his wounds were barely visible. “Bear strength. Give me an hour, and you’ll be begging for me to stop.”
“No, never stop. I will only come with you if I get guaranteed orgasms.”
“Always.”
I grabbed the bag of evidence, handed it to Brooks, who was holding one too, likely filled with things Jack had left behind, and I followed the three naked bears, in an identical display like when all this had first begun, except this time I was following them willingly, no more fear in my heart, no more demons chasing me.
I was going home.
With them.
Our home.
I was going to make sure we baptized every surface, not just the tables and beds. I would let them have me everywhere and in any way. I was sure they still had tricks up their sleeves. Tree sex might’ve been just the beginning.
Eighteen
Brooks
I hung my head and let the hot water run down my back. The wound on my shoulder had already healed, and the only tes
timony to what had happened in the woods the night before were the scars and bruises that were slowly healing, too. I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. As I finally stepped out and dried myself, I heard Rosalie and Milo in the open, living room space. I’d brought her with me even though both Lincoln and Colt had insisted to have her. Milo was more important, though. He needed her. I took my time to shave my beard, thinking… why not? I hadn’t shaved it in a while, and even though it wasn’t as long and wild as Lincoln’s, it had become bothersome. It was time for a change. Once I was done, I splashed aftershave on my cheeks and neck, combed my clean, wet hair, and looked at myself in the small bathroom mirror.
I wasn’t the handsomest, but I was tall, big, and burly, and Rosalie liked me. She wanted me. Colt was the pretty boy, with his stupid dreadlocks and sleeve tattoos. He was the carefree one, the one who didn’t think about the future and acted on impulse only to regret it later. I couldn’t be like him, though I envied him sometimes. He was good at avoiding responsibilities, and the truth was that both Lincoln and I had made his life easy. Lincoln had saved his job once more. We all had the weekend off, but next Monday, it was back to work.
Lincoln… He was a weird guy. Oh, and hairy. He was the hairiest of us. Rosalie seemed to like that, because I’d caught her staring at his chest when he was naked and running her hands through his dark chest hair every time she had the chance. She did the same with me, in fact. Lincoln had never had a good woman before. He’d always been the unluckiest of us. I’d had Krista, and Colt had had all the bitches he found God knew where. Now we all had Rosalie, and we were fine with sharing her. We could only hope that she was strong enough to build a real life with us. It wasn’t going to be easy. And I knew the guys wanted cubs, too. Who knew? Maybe Milo would soon get a brother or a sister.
I put on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt and stepped into the kitchen. Milo had settled down. He was asleep in the human female’s arms. She looked up at me and smiled. I sat down next to her, and that startled the cub. He must’ve been asleep for a few minutes only, because he jumped in surprise and shifted on instinct.