Summer Shifter Days

by V. Vaughn

  In a move born of expertise, he slid out, and in one smooth motion, flipped her onto her side. He held onto her thigh and placed it on his shoulder then scooted flush in flush so that his penis and her vagina lay flush. His slick cock once more slid into her, and this time she cried out from the deep penetration. Her toes curled with each thrust of his hips.

  Sometimes, Bronwyn couldn’t believe this was really happening. Even after nights spent making love with Chance, it didn’t seem possible that she had everything she’d never known she’d wanted.

  A gorgeous male adored her. A child—their child—grew in her belly, and she had the freedom to choose which life to live.

  “Don’t ever leave me, bird,” he whispered, as though he’d read her thoughts… and maybe he had.

  They were connected on such a spiritual plane now, two hearts beating as one.

  She smiled tremulously as her body began that tight, hard, spiraling climb back to the pinnacle of pleasure.

  It was hard to keep her eyes open, but she wanted to watch him as he came, and she wanted him to see her when she came too.

  Their eyes held fast as they slipped into that little death together.

  “Never, Chance. I’ll never leave you,” she whispered right before sinking into the oblivion of release.

  Bronwyn was a boneless heap when he’d finished with her, but she wasn’t the only one breathing heavy. She’d given as good as she’d gotten.

  Chance roared with laughter as he wrapped his arm tightly around her, hugging her to his body. “Gods, you’re amazing, little bird.”

  “So you’re saying you’ll keep me?”

  Pulling back and resting his weight on one elbow, he gave her the type of look that made her heart stutter. “You’re mine, always, Bronwyn Crow.” His fingers trailed down the corner of her jaw, his thumb rubbing along her bottom lip in a feathery touch. His touch wasn’t one of sexual prowess, but something far deeper and richer.

  Lowering his head, he moved his lips against hers as he whispered, “And I’m yours, little bird. Every part of me, every inch of me, all yours. I’m so lost in you, it’s not even funny.”

  Tears pricked her eyes as she gave him a soft smile, framing his beloved face with her hands. “I knew the day I saw you, you’d be mine, Chance. Even when you threw that damn twig at me.”

  He snorted with laughter. “You ever plan to let me forget that?”

  “Nope.” She smirked, popping his lips with a hard, possessive kiss of her own. “Not ever.”

  8

  Chance

  “Breathe.” He rubbed her arms as she pressed against him, screaming from the back of her throat as she pushed.

  Bronwyn had gone into labor early the next morning.

  He’d tried to go for help, but she’d held him in an astonishingly strong grip as she gritted out, “No. You are all I’ll need to get through this.”

  Three hours later, Chance knew their child was about to make its way into the world.

  For days, they’d made his small cabin their home, just the two of them, hidden away from any and all prying eyes. Now they were minutes away from welcoming their child, a new life, into their home.

  Chance still hadn’t heard from his brothers, and though he sometimes wondered what had come of Phoenix, he didn’t worry. His brothers were no doubt knee-deep in their own relationship dramas.

  Bronwyn’s nails dug into his palm as she screeched, her knees trembling on the mattress as she bore down through another powerful contraction.

  “Chance!” she screamed. “The child comes.”

  He’d thought himself ready for his child’s arrival. For days, they had talked of nothing but the baby. He was no doctor. But Breed were sturdy folks, and Bronwyn was a healthy female. Everything should have gone smoothly.

  But she was gasping so hard, and tears of blood were leaking from the corners of her eyes as she grunted. Her neck was extended, and veins bulged against her lily-white flesh.

  “Bron?” he asked as she clutched tightly to his hand, bearing down with a mighty push as her stomach contracted almost violently.

  A few seconds later, she released a scream so primeval and elemental that it caused all the hairs on his head to stand on edge.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  The next second, the door was tossed open, letting in a blast of cool air.

  “No!” she screamed, panting between grunts. “Close the door. Keep it hot in here. Keep it hot, Chance.”

  Thinking maybe it had just been the wind banging the door open, he started to stand up but stilled the moment he caught sight of the middle-aged, but very well-preserved crow shifter standing in the doorway.

  Her hair was thick and full and black with silvery veins of white throughout. Her eyes were the deepest black of twilight and studded with the same silvery dots as Bronwyn’s.

  Dressed in a sheath of ink-colored silk, she stepped inside his cabin with the grace and manners of nobility.

  The woman, who could only be Bronwyn’s mother Annalida, shut the door behind her, sealing in the heat.

  Like a flash, several thoughts rolled through Chance’s head at once. The crow had broken faith by standing on grizzly territory. She may have still wanted to steal his Bron from him. And last, but definitely not least, he was beyond relieved to see her. They needed help. Something was wrong with Bron, and if anyone could fix it, he prayed her mother could.

  “What have you done to my daughter?” she asked with a thread of violence shading her words.

  Bronwyn, who’d just suffered through another powerful contraction, tossed out her arm. “Mom, Mother, please. Help me. Something’s wrong with the cub.”

  The woman swallowed hard, and Chance couldn’t help but band his arms tightly around Bron’s shoulder. He knew this could only go two ways. Annalida would either leave her daughter to suffer in silence or set aside her anger and help. As though she wasn’t sure which path to take yet, she took a hesitant step forward.

  Bronwyn, who was coated in a fine sheet of sweat and blood, suddenly curled in on herself, screaming as her legs dropped wide onto the bed. “Chance!” She clawed at his hand.

  That’s when her mother finally found her wings. She raced for the bed, gripped Chance by his collar, and jerked him away from Bronwyn.

  He started to protest, ready to change into his bear and defy her to take his woman from him, but she shook her head hard. “If you wish for Bronwyn to survive this, then you must listen to me well,” she snapped, releasing him instantly and rolling her sleeves up. “She’s chosen to birth a cub, meaning the child will be far bigger than what our bodies typically can handle. She’ll need to ingest the root of the alderberry plant to strengthen her body for what’s to come.”

  He looked down at Bronwyn, his heart and brain moving in different directions. His heart said this was a trick. It had to be. After all this time, Bron’s mother suddenly found them. Until the child was born a cub, she could by right take his woman away.

  His brain however roared that Bron was not well at all. Her skin was even more pale, a ghastly bluish-gray hue. More blood than sweat covered her body. Clenching his molars, he was torn between duty and desire.

  “Go!” Annalida snapped at him. “Go now, Chance, before it’s too late.”

  Bron arched her spine, clutching onto the blanket with her claws as she kicked out in desperation.

  “Bron, relax, my heart,” Annalida crooned, rubbing her daughter’s forehead with the back of her hand.

  And that was what finally convinced him to go. No matter what they’d done, no matter that Bron had chosen to leave her nest for his den, Annalida clearly still loved her daughter.

  “Gods help you if you’re lying to me, crow,” he bit out, then turned on his heel, ran for the door, and set out to the stretch of forest that he knew held several alderberry plants.

  Chance made quick work of digging up the plant. As a bear, it was nothing to tear the thick roots up from the ground. Clutching h
is prize tightly in his mouth, he ran for home, praying to the Gods that his woman was all right.

  In mere minutes, he returned to her side. Annalida had gotten a pot of water to boil and was now wiping her daughter’s brows down.

  “You’ve the root?” she asked quickly.

  “Yes.” He stretched out his arm, handing it to her.

  No thank you’s were exchanged. Annalida snatched it out of his hand, broke the thick, woodsy wedge into four pieces, and dropped it—dirt and all—into the pot of heated water.

  Immediately, it turned a murky, brownish-green color. After ladeling the tea into a small bowl, she turned and held the rim of it to her daughter’s mouth. “Drink, my love. This will help ease the cub’s journey and give you rest.”

  Bronwyn was weak as she cupped her mother’s hand with her own and tipped the bowl up to her mouth.

  Chance nodded at her when her eyes found his. Her gaze was weak with fatigue, and his heart clenched. He wondered if they’d done wrong after all. What would it matter, any of this, if he lost her in the end?

  How could he take care of a child on his own? The answer was, he would never want to. He’d done all of this for Bronwyn alone, not some mysterious-faced infant that meant nothing at all to him, at least not in the way its mother did.

  Once Bronwyn finished drinking all of the tea, she released a heavy sigh. The effects of the root were immediate. Her shoulders relaxed, and she almost fell back onto the bed unconscious.

  He jumped for her, grabbing hold of her shoulders and settling her gently back down onto the pillows. “What have you done?” he snapped, fearing the worst.

  But Annalida hissed, “You stole my daughter from me so you think me capable of such cruelty. But Bronwyn is the very

  beat of my heart. I would never harm her or the child. This tea does exactly as I claimed it would.”

  Ashamed of his reaction, but still needing the reassurance that Bron would survive, Chance wiggled himself back in behind her body, gripping her tightly. She was dead weight in his arms, but her breathing was even, and the bloody sweat appeared to be slowing down.

  The sense of pending doom slowly gave way to a heightened anticipation of what was still to come. He brushed his fingers through her hair. The silence of the room was deafening as he glanced over at Annalida, who was looking right back at him.

  “She must truly love you to have chosen as she has,” she finally said with grim acceptance in her words. As she spoke, she gently massaged Bron’s belly as though manipulating the child’s position from the outside. “Treat her well, grizzly, or I shall descend upon you with a murder of crows so deadly, they’ll make the devil himself look benevolent by comparison.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was saying, but he dared not hope too strongly. “You won’t try to take her from me?”

  Annalida shrugged and shook her head. “Were it still in my power, I would certainly try. But this child is not one of our own. I could take Bronwyn back, but we could never accept her offspring within our nest.”

  He hugged his woman tightly, shaking his head. “She would never leave our child.”

  She nodded. “Aye. This, I know. No, her choice has been made. And all I can do now is accept their fate.”

  “Then why come at all?” he asked. “If you knew where we were, why not come sooner?”

  He suspected the timing of her arrival hadn’t been coincidental at all. The queen had known all along where to find them, so why wait until there was no hope of altering Bron’s choice?

  She sighed, staring at her daughter lovingly. “Because once, long ago, if I had the option, I’d have done the same. I’m no monster, grizzly. I’m a queen, and as such, I have duties to fulfill as do my princesses, but Bron was in a position I never was. She has a sister, a sister who does not mind the mantleship of nobility the way Bronwyn always has. I only wish her well. And the child.”

  There was suddenly a loud cry, and every cell in Chance’s body froze as he looked down at the wee child that had suddenly appeared.

  Annalida’s smile was effervescent with joy. “It’s a girl, bear. You’ve given me a granddaughter.”

  Her eyes closed, and in that moment, Chance felt something odd yet magical click inside of him. Much as it had when the mating ritual had shown him who his true woman was, the second he looked into the dark eyes of his little girl, he felt the love blossom and grow into an unstoppable tide that consumed him completely.

  He would do anything for her. Be anything for her. She would never want for anything.

  “My little girl. My precious little girl,” he crooned as he reached for the squawking, little bundle of chubby legs and arms.

  Annalida’s smile was soft but tight as she handed the now-swaddled babe to him.

  Black, black eyes stared up at him, and though he knew she was probably as blind as any newborn cub, it was easy to pretend that her bright, clear gaze saw him and loved him right back.

  “I’m a father,” he whispered in awe.

  The queen stood, and dipping her head at them, she nodded. “Aye, that you are.”

  He frowned when he realized she looked as though she was ready to leave. “Going so soon?”

  Smoothing her hands down the front of her blood-stained gown, she nodded. “This is not a time for court politics or long, drawn-out conversations. My daughter needs to heal and rest, and your family needs time to bond. But in six weeks’ time, I shall return.”

  “To see your granddaughter?”

  Annalida said nothing as she gently, almost reverently, feathered her fingers along the babe’s chubby cheek.

  The child, who’d gone quiet, turned her face into her grandmother’s touch, making smacking noises with her lips.

  Smiling, Annalida murmured, “The wee one needs to feed.” Then stepping back, she dipped her head at him. Her every movement was regal and kept with her station.

  As she turned, the light of transformation surrounded her, and in seconds, she was a crow of such hypnotic beauty that Chance could hardly rip his eyes off her. Her feathers gleamed as though lit from the inside out by candlelight, but instead of being a rich black, they held a tint of amethyst and jade to them. With a cry of farewell, she flew unscathed through the flames in the chimney and up the stack to the freedom beyond.

  Little grunting, piglet noises snagged his attention, and for the first time, Chance felt fear. He was almost overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. He was a father.

  “Holy shit,” he mumbled, finally understanding just what that meant. He was solely responsible for a life. A little person, a child, would look to him for the rest of her long life for guidance.

  Bronwyn’s tender touch pulled him back from the panic threatening to swallow him. He leapt, startled by her touch.

  But she just laughed. The sound was a little weak and a little tired, but it sparkled the same as it always had.

  “You’re awake.”

  Her smile was soft. “Aye. I woke up some minutes ago. I heard what Mother said. I’m free, Chance. We’re free.” Her words were strained, and there were still purple circles under her eyes. But to him, she’d never looked more beautiful.

  She was his now. And he was hers. They were bound to each other in every conceivable way.

  “Bron.” His voice broke. “We did it.”

  She nodded. “Yes, we did.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, but the cries of a grunting, angry piglet intruded on their peaceful interlude.

  Leaning up on her elbow, Bronwyn opened her arms, silently asking for him to give her the baby. He reverently placed the little one into her mother’s loving arms. His heart almost burst at the joy that suffused every pore of his woman’s face as she smiled down at their child. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of saying that. Their child.

  When the piglet latched onto Bron’s nipple and began suckling, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “She is aware that she’ll be sharing those with me,” he mock grumped as he traced the soft, fine lines o
f his daughter’s chubby cheeks.

  “Not to worry, daddy. She’ll learn soon enough.” Grabbing hold of their daughter’s finger with her own, Bron looked up at him. “In six weeks’ time, Mother will perform the naming ceremony. It is custom among our kind to not name the child for the first six weeks, to give us time to learn the child so that we can then learn the name. But I understand if you’d rather—”

  He kissed her words away then shook his head. “Six weeks is fine. Just rest, my precious. You worked hard today. Just rest and sleep and know that I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

  “I love you, you crazy grizzly,” she whispered before planting a tender kiss against the corner of his mouth.

  His heart trembled as a feeling of fullness swept through his body. If anyone had told him a month ago that his life would have been domesticated so soon after finding his mate, he would never have gone through the ritual. But now he couldn’t imagine his life without his mate and child.

  It was as if he’d merely existed before them.

  “And I you, my little bird.”

  Epilogue

  Six weeks had passed, and Bronwyn was crazy excited and nervous. She held onto her daughter with her one hand and Chance’s hand with her other as they walked through the demarcation between territories.

  For the first time ever, a grizzly—two in fact—were given access to crow territory.

  The eyes of her sisters and brothers stared penetratingly at the three of them as they walked through.

  Chance, dressed in scuffed jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt with his shaggy brown hair and piercing eyes, was a sight to behold. And she was proud to be on his arm.

  She’d come dressed as was the custom of a visiting crow. No longer part of the Murder, she’d officially adopted the grizzlies as her family. She wore a long, feathered cape that trailed along the forest floor, and she was nude beneath to show that she meant them no harm.

  Annalida sat on her throne of bones at the head of the long processional. She too was nude with only a black feather tied into her long hair, denoting her queenly status.