Eventide of the Bear

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Calum will know,” Vicki said. “And when you return, we’ll discuss what you’re going to wear. We’re talking sexy, sexy, sexy.”

  Clothes? Emma stared for a second, thinking about the conservative clothing she’d worn to her first Gathering. Obviously, there was more to learn than she’d thought. “Be right back.”

  She made it halfway across the room when a massive male stepped in front of her.

  “Li’l bear, you smell like Gathering night already,” Ben rumbled. He bent, sniffed her hair, and pulled her into his arms. “Fuck, you’re testing my restraint.”

  Oh, by the Mother, he felt good. As her breasts flattened against his solid chest, she gripped his muscular biceps. They were harder than the boulders that scattered the mountainsides.

  When she tipped her head back to tease him, he took her lips.

  Startled, she tensed, then as his scent reached deep into her soul, her mouth softened.

  His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back as his tongue took possession. He held her firmly…and took and took and took.

  Everything inside her melted like a snowpack under a hot sun.

  He lifted his head and chuckled, low and deep. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Really?”

  Ben grinned.

  “Really, little bear. You’re gorgeous.” Ryder’s voice was a resonant baritone under the noise in the bar. When he moved closer, Ben turned her and steered her right into his littermate’s arms.

  Ryder, shorter than Ben, still towered over her. His muscles were lean—ripped was the term—and he was far stronger than she was. When he gathered her to him, molding her against him, she felt wonderfully trapped. Powerless. Fragile.

  Female.

  He nibbled her lips, and when she opened her mouth under the silent pressure, he slid his tongue in. Like his voice, his kiss was smoother than Ben’s, darker, and he encouraged her to kiss him back, giving a hum of satisfaction as her tongue fenced with his.

  When he released her, the brothers had her penned between them, each with a hand on her upper arm. And the scent of their desire—for her—was headier than the first fragrance of spring.

  They wanted her.

  The corners of Ben’s eyes creased with his smile, and he ran his finger down her cheek. “You’ve got us all het up, darlin’. Were you doing something now, or shall we take you home and to bed?”

  Bed? Doing something?

  She stared at him blankly. He was looking at the empties in her hands. Alcohol for her friends. “I…I have friends here.” The hum of desire almost drowned out the music from the jukebox. Friends. Right.

  “All right.” Ben let her go.

  She took a step forward.

  Ryder laughed, and with a steady hand, he steered her around the chair in her path before letting her go—with a pat on her butt.

  “By the God, I love her ass,” he muttered to Ben.

  “Mmmhmm,” was Ben’s gravely agreement.

  Okay, maybe all their desire was merely anticipation of the full moon, but oh, she loved being wanted. She managed not to turn, not to hug them for making her feel absolutely sexy and beautiful, but she couldn’t help walking to the bar with a wide smile on her face.

  And her ass swaying.

  *

  NOT MUCH LATER, Ryder was deep in a discussion with Owen and Ben about the best way to secure isolated cabins against hellhounds when he noticed the time. “We’ll need to continue later. I have a cub to pick up.” Angie’s second daughter was in town and her children were Min’s age.

  When Ryder had left, the cubs had been tumbling over each other like kittens in a basket.

  “Nah, you stay put. I’ll get the cub.” Ben rose.

  Ryder frowned. “You usually stay longer.”

  When Owen asked, “Are you all right? You look like hell,” Ryder realized the lethal-looking cahir did have a heart.

  “Just tired.” Ben grimaced. “Donal said my energy will be used for healing for another week. I fucking hate it when he’s right.”

  “No shit,” Owen muttered in sympathy, despite his grin.

  “I’ll put the cub to bed.” Ben hesitated and glanced over where Emma was laughing with the Cosantir’s female and Breanne.

  Reading his littermate’s concern, Ryder said, “Don’t worry about the little bear. I’ll walk her home.”

  “Females,” Owen muttered in disgust.

  Ignoring the cahir, Ben smiled at Ryder. “Might be a fun Gathering this month.”

  “Yeah.” Anticipation curled in Ryder’s gut, and he hardened. He’d never kissed any female as sweet as the little bear. Even better, he’d get to share her with his brother. Nothing felt as right as pleasuring a female with his brother beside him. “It might at that.”

  Ben lifted his chin to Owen and left.

  Leaning back in his chair, Ryder studied the brusque cahir for a second. “Been wondering. Do you have an aversion to Emma or bards, or…”

  “Bards are all right.” Owen took a drink as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “I don’t like females.”

  Ryder nodded. “I had the same opinion. My experience with one shrewish cat was so bad I figured all females were untrustworthy.”

  “My friend,” Owen said, “They are. Don’t get taken in.”

  Ryder almost grinned. And he’d thought he had problems. “You need to get to know the bard. She—”

  “Ryder. I found you.” The female’s voice was one he knew too well. All silky seduction. The razor’s edge that’d leave a male scarred was well hidden…for the moment.

  Gut knotting, Ryder turned. As always, her scent was masked by the expensive human perfume she wore. “Genevieve.”

  “My darling, we need to talk.” Her gaze swept over Owen, obviously noting the cahir mark over his cheekbone. She gave him a predictably flirtatious sweep of her artificially lengthened eyelashes. “I’m sorry, cahir, but I have to talk with my male.

  Not gracing her comment with an answer, Owen turned to Ryder. “Want me to stay, or want me to dump her ass outside?”

  The cahir really hated females, didn’t he? As tempting as it would be to sic Owen on her, Genevieve was Minette’s mother. Unfortunately. He’d try talking first.

  “How dare you speak about me with such disrespect.” Her voice had sharpened.

  Owen ignored her.

  A glance at her heightening color and flashing eyes suggested their talk had better happen outside the tavern. Ryder tossed some bills on the table and rose. “Thank you, but I think it’s best if she and I go for a walk. Sorry to cut our talk short.”

  “No problem. I’m due at my sister’s house soon anyway,” Owen said.

  Ryder motioned to Genevieve. “We’ll take this outside.” Not waiting for her answer, he walked across the tavern and into the chill night air.

  Left without a target, she followed. She wasn’t yelling at him yet, which meant she wanted something.

  He doubted that something was her child.

  “Ryder, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I can’t believe I finally found you.” She put her hand on his arm, turning at an angle to showcase her curves. “I’m so happy you finally spent time with the cub we created together. Isn’t she wonderful?”

  What the fuck did she want? As if he didn’t know. How had he ever been so lust-struck as to fall for her act? Disgust with himself made his gut twist. “Get to the point, Genevieve.”

  “Oh, Ryder, how can you be so cruel?” Her hazel eyes filled with tears, desolation in her expression.

  Damn, she was good. And he wasn’t even tempted. “We’re done here.” He tried to shake her hand off his arm.

  Her grip tightened. “You don’t understand. We share a child—a beautiful little cub—who needs her mother. I know that you and Ben are rattling around in his big house like two acorns in a squirrel hollow. You need a mate.”

  Disquiet ran an icy hand up Ryder’s spine. Genevieve had seen Ben’s house.
“You stay away from Minette. Far, far away.”

  She recoiled as if he’d slapped her, and her tears spilled over. “I miss you, my darling. I want to be with you—and my child. We can be together.” A faint smile tilted her lips. “I know you remember how very good together we were.”

  “Oh, you’re a fairly good fuck. Considering you’ve probably practiced with every male in the Pacific Northwest, you should be.” He peeled her hand off his arm. “I don’t like you. Don’t want to be anywhere near you. And you’re not going to get anywhere near Minette after the way you abused her. So crawl back into whatever slimy hole you emerged from.”

  Anger narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re going to mate with that enormous, ugly female? You think she’s prettier than me?

  Enormous female? Did she mean Emma? His laugh burst out. “If you mean the beautiful blonde, yeah, mating with her is exactly what I intend.” Soft and sweet, inside and outside. Generous and real. Oh, yeah, he definitely intended.

  “No one takes what’s mine.” Her face twisted—and there was the real Genevieve. “You are mine—and so is Minette. I’ll be damned if I let you get away with this.”

  He shook his head, disgusted with her, with her selfishness, her self-centeredness, her petty tantrums. “Right. Go away, Genevieve.”

  The tavern door creaked as few of the wolf pack emerged. He recognized the snippy one named Candice.

  “You’ll be sorry you screwed with me,” Genevieve gritted out and burst into loud weeping.

  The shifters stopped to look.

  “I want my baby back.” Genevieve clutched his arm, pulling at him.

  “Stop it.” He shook her off. “You know you—”

  “How could you steal my cub from me?” Her voice cracked as she backed away from him. “You’re evil. A monster.” Sobbing as if her heart was breaking, she staggered to her car and got in.

  “You’re the monster,” he gritted out. Should have yelled the words, he thought, as he saw the way the stunned group of shifters watched her drive away.

  Oh. Shit. This felt far too familiar.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‡

  Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory – Beltane’s full moon

  AS RYDER DROVE the SUV down the road to the Wild Hunt Tavern on Saturday, he glanced over at Emma. A fiasco with a construction job had kept him on-site for most of the hours since he’d seen Genevieve. He’d welcomed the work. Welcomed not having to deal with anything emotional.

  But, he’d stalled enough. Friday morning, he’d told Ben about Genevieve’s presence in town, and his littermate had guarded Minette.

  Emma also needed to know.

  As it had every time he thought of Minette’s mother, his anger rose again. She wasn’t in town because of any motherly concern. No, Genevieve was hoping for a free ride. From the looks of her house, she hadn’t been doing well. Perhaps, since she’d already fucked just about every single male in Deschutes Territory, she was having trouble finding a male to support her.

  A shame she’d been able to find him. But cahirs were fairly well known. Tracking Ben’s location wouldn’t have been difficult. Undoubtedly, she’d now discovered that the cahir was doing well. With her impervious ego, she’d never realized how much Ben had despised her five years ago. She’d figure if she made a play for him, he’d let her do anything she wanted. Even worse, Genevieve might cut a male loose, but in her mind, he was still hers. He didn’t get to move on to a new female.

  On Thursday, she’d seen Ryder and Ben kiss Emma.

  Not good. Not good at all, because Genevieve could be vicious. Her jealous tantrums had been so unpleasant that Ryder had stopped mating with other females at Gatherings because any female he’d mated at full moon suffered her virulent spite. She’d reduced several to tears.

  When he’d told her he was leaving her—and hadn’t been broken-hearted about it—she’d destroyed his reputation in Farway. Made it look as if he was a violent, abusive liar.

  No one had come to his defense. His own fault—he hadn’t tried to become part of the town. On first arriving, he’d joined a construction crew and quit after a week, too heart-sore about leaving Ben to continue. Instead, he’d made a business of his own handcrafts, planning to let the local stores sell them. Only, as his obsession with Genevieve died, he’d decided to sell at craft fairs. So when the people in town believed Genevieve and acted as if he was almost feral, he’d simply moved to a different territory.

  Their opinion of him hadn’t mattered.

  But he cared about Cold Creek, dammit. He wanted the town for his cub. Wanted the town for himself.

  After a second, he realized Emma was studying him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Amazing. He’d always prided himself on being inscrutable. “You read me well, little bard.”

  “It’s not difficult when you look like a boggart stepping in a pile of blessed salt.”

  A boggart? “Ouch.” The disgusting little goblins were not only vicious, but ugly, as well. He tried to rearrange his face into more pleasant lines.

  “You’re still glowering,” she pointed out mildly. “Has something happened?”

  “Aye. Something you need to know.” He pulled into a parking space, turned the vehicle off, and faced her. “Minette’s mother was in the tavern Thursday.”

  “Oh.” Emma tilted her head. “She sounds rather nasty, and I suppose it’s not comfortable having a former lover here, but wouldn’t Minette like to see her?”

  What had he told her? Ah. He’d said Genevieve was manipulative and a liar, and how she’d found Minette to be inconvenient. He hadn’t given the little bear enough information. “She wasn’t a good mother. It’s why Minette is afraid of people.”

  Emma’s eyes darkened. “She hit the cubling?”

  “Aye.”

  “And you let her?”

  “I didn’t know Minette even existed until right before I got to Cold Creek.” Ryder half smiled. “And when I saw the bruises, I took my cub and left. Genevieve was…angry.”

  “Oh.” Emma bit her lip. “That’s not good.”

  Quite the understatement. Sires usually only raised cubs alone if their lifemate died. Gather-bred children rarely even knew who’d fathered them. If Minette didn’t look just like Ryder, he wouldn’t know he was her sire. “No, not good. So, if Genevieve shows up, please keep her away from Minette.”

  “Got it.” Her jaw lifted with determination. “She won’t get anywhere near Minette.”

  He could trust her to guard his cub. The knowledge was heartening—and humbling. “Thank you.”

  Her smile was warm as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door.

  “Hold on, bard.” He leaned forward and curved his fingers over her nape. Her silky hair slid through his fingers.

  Her eyes widened as he touched his lips to hers, and lured in by her scent, he deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened under his, and he gently teased her into responding, feeling the resistance melt out of her.

  But when he tried to move closer, the seat belt stopped him. Restored to his senses—more’s the pity—he chuckled and lifted his head to look into meltingly sweet brown eyes.

  She stared at him, obviously bemused, and he kissed her lightly. Damn, she was cute. The way she responded to him made him exert more control than he’d needed for many a year. “I’d blame the impending Gathering for sparking my hormones, but, little bear, even if it was dark of the moon, I’d still have kissed you.”

  Her response was a small huff. “Oh.” She shook her head, as if to settle her senses and looked at him cautiously. He might have been worried, but the open door wafted him her scent.

  Interested.

  Good enough. “Tonight at the Gathering, Ben and I will find you.” Will have you. At the assurance in his voice, she flushed the prettiest peach color.

  “Um…right.” She bit her lower lip. As worry and fear tinged her scent, his heart almost broke.

  “Emma.” He ran a finger o
ver her dented lower lip. “We’ll be careful with you. If there’s anything you don’t like, just say no. Even if you decide you don’t want us.”

  “JUST SAY NO.” Emma stared at Ryder in surprise. “I can refuse something? At a Gathering?”

  His puzzled look was…reassuring. “Of course. Or any other time. Mating is supposed to be fun for all parties—or what’s the point?” His brows drew together. “How many Gatherings have you attended?”

  Unable to deal with further questions, she pretended not to hear the question, shut the door, and hurried to the tavern.

  Rather than pressing her, he started the SUV and drove away, lifting his hand in a quick wave.

  All right then. He wasn’t angry.

  She didn’t want him angry—because everything in her tingled at the thought of being with him and Ben.

  Tonight. The Gathering would start when the moon rose and would stop when it set.

  In the tavern, Calum’s teenaged daughter was picking out songs on the jukebox. After greeting her, Emma walked down the back hall and through the portal room with its well-hidden door to the caves below.

  The cave was cool and dark. Small cubbyholes were filled with clothing from the shifters who’d changed to their animal forms and were roaming the forests.

  But she needed to stay human. Outside the cave, she paused to listen, then followed a trail toward the sound of people.

  “Hey, Emma.” Bree stood on the south side of the sunny clearing where a table had been formed from split logs lashed together and set on stumps. Over her head, a tree fairy swayed on a branch as it suspiciously monitored the activity.

  “How can I help?” Emma asked. A half dozen people were bustling about, all looking as if they knew what they were doing. “The territory I came from didn’t have official Beltane celebrations. Did you say families and children will attend this Gathering? Not just single males and females?”

  “You got it. Those wanting to mate will move farther into the forest, and the families will remain here. Actually, most of those with children leave before it gets too late. And everyone comes to the breakfast feast in the morning.”