“It’s fine. I get it.”
“Someone get the girl a beer,” another voice said, stepping forward. The man who spoke was just as hot and rugged as his brothers, but his shirtsleeves were rolled up to show a riot of tattoos. His face had the beginnings of a beard and he had a devil-may-care look in his eye. He thrust a beer into Ginger’s hand.
“And that is my brother, Keaton,” Brock said.
“I’m the backbone of this family,” Keaton said.
“I thought that was me, considering I helped built all your houses,” a blond, blue eyed man with the Montgomery features said. He was introduced as Zane, a cousin.
“Montgomerys have been ranching these lands for a hundred years. That’s the foundation of our entire way of life,” Keaton said.
“Construction employs half the clan,” Zane said.
“Guys, can we give it a rest in front of my guest?”
“It’s not like greenhouses and gardens don’t provide for the family,” Tate said.
Brock scooped his arm around her waist and led her away from his bickering brothers and cousin.
“Sorry about them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ginger sipped her beer. She was beginning to feel more relaxed. The Montgomery brothers were intense but they seemed kind of charming.
“Do you think you could deal with these guys all the time?” he asked her.
“Maybe,” she said coyly.
Brock brought her to the buffet already set out, and they heaped home cooked food on their plates. BBQ rips, baked potatoes, chili, salads, fruits, and mac and cheese. Ginger took some of everything and sat down at the table beside Brock.
The family began to gather around the long Sitka spruce table in front of a flickering fire in the stone hearth. Everyone chattered. The children of extended family played in the corner. A baby burbled nearby. Aunts, uncles, and cousins gossiped around them about this and that going on in the clan.
Ginger felt a sense of warmth and togetherness from the animated crowd of Montgomerys that filled her heart with gladness. A smile stretched over her mouth and she couldn’t stop. Brock’s mother leaned forward across the table and asked Ginger about her father.
“He was a good man. He taught me to play violin.”
“Brock said you were a musician. How wonderful. You’ll have to play for us some time.”
“I don’t have an instrument,” she said, dismissing the subject.
“I’m sure we could find one.”
“Mom,” Brock said, interrupting her. He shook his head “no.”
“What?” Nora asked, making an exaggerated expression of irritation, her green eyes blazing.
“It’s okay. I hurt my hand while taking care of my dad. I can’t play like I used to. It didn’t heal well.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s terrible. You know what? I bet there is something that can be done about that,” Nora said.
“Mother, let’s save that for another time?”
Ginger looked from his mother to Brock and back again, and decided not to ask what they were talking about. Nora had said something could be done about her hand. What could possibly be done at this point? The crushing injury had torn her ligaments. She didn’t have the same control she once did, and she doubted she ever would again.
Brock changed the subject to a conversation with Keaton about providing more beef for the lodge during the upcoming season. Ginger listened as the men talked about the running of the Montgomery family businesses. She was impressed by their mastery of so many things.
Each Montgomery had their own niche that helped contribute the clan and the community as a whole. The conversation moved to talk of shifter disputes and the Shifter Council’s decisions about topics Ginger didn’t understand. It seemed like a lot of different shifters lived in and around Juneau and it made her wonder who else in town was a shifter and what type they were.
When everyone finished eating, they all helped clean the table and bring the dishes into the kitchen. The whole clan cleaned up and then opened more bottles of wine and rum. They drank over slices of baked Alaska with strawberry ice cream.
All the food and company was so welcoming, even when Nora had asked about her playing. Ginger felt right at home with them. Some of the men started a game of darts in the corner near the fireplace. Ginger watched as Brock beat his cousins and uncle. She cheered for him, holding her nearly empty glass of red wine.
With a smile so wide her face hurt, she turned to Brock’s younger brother Tate. He held a wine bottle. He filled her glass half way and set the bottle aside, holding his own glass.
“I heard what my mom was talking to you about earlier,” Tate said, swirling the wine in his glass.
“About my hand?” Ginger asked him.
“Yes. That can be healed. No problem. We all know how.”
“Even Brock?”
“Yes.”
“How? Tell me.”
“If someone changes you, you get a bear inside you, like the rest of us. It will heal you. Fix any problems you’ve got, right up.”
“That can’t be possible.”
“You saw Brock heal a bullet wound in twenty four hours. Just imagine what that healing power could do for your hand.”
“I never thought about it. I never imagined.”
“But Brock would have to change you. Make you a shifter.”
“Like him.”
“Like all of us. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice. Sometimes I think I’d rather be human.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it would be easier that way. Humans are less...attached to each other than shifters are. I speak from experience.”
“Oh. I can see your point.” She bit her lip, thinking of Brock and how attached he was to her already. She couldn’t decide if this was right or not.
“If Brock changed me, then I could play violin again.”
“The thing is, he’s not going to do that unless he claims you, too. Makes you his mate forever. It’s like marriage but deeper. For shifters, it’s what binds mates together for life.”
“I had a feeling it was something like that.”
Tate looked straight at her, his green eyes blazing. “If you don’t want to be his mate, tell him now. Don’t string him along. Just tell him and leave. Clean break.”
“I don’t want to hurt him. Believe me.”
“I know you don’t,” Tate said, patting her back and walking away just as Brock returned to her.
“What was Tate talking to you about?” Brock asked.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t want my emo brother scaring you off with his melodrama.”
“It’s nothing like that. He was just giving me some useful information about shifters. Things like healing and mating. Stuff he thought I should be aware of.”
“Like what?”
“I’d rather talk about this in private, Brock. We have to figure out what is the best thing for both of us.”
Chapter 17
Brock drove Ginger back to his house so they could talk about what Tate had told her. She had to make up her mind. She had to figure out what she really wanted, and she needed Brock’s help to do it. They went into Brock’s comfortable house and snuggled on the couch by the fire.
After spending the evening with Brock family and meeting on all of his brothers and cousins, Ginger had a much better understanding of who Brock really was. She wished that he could have met her father so that Brock could have the same understanding of her. As it was, knowing Brock’s family meant a lot to her. She could see where he got some of his personality traits and his looks.
Brock fixed them both cups of herbal tea, and they watched the flames flicker in the stone fireplace in front of them.
”So what was Tate talking to you about back at the party?” Brock asked her before taking a sip of tea.
His muscular warm arm curved around her shoulders, making her feel protected and secure. She wasn’t sure how to tell him abo
ut what Tate had said because she was still confused about what she really wanted. If Brock could shift her and heal her hand, then she could have her career back in New York playing classical music for an orchestra.
But being changed by Brock carried a lot of baggage with it. If she were to be changed she would become a bear herself, and her bear would need the wilderness. If Brock were to change her, he would want to claim her. Tate had said as much. And she knew it would be unfair to expect anything else from him.
“Tate told me that if you changed me into a bear it would heal my hand.”
“He told you that?” Brock said, shaking his head. He sat down his tea and had an irritated expression on his face that Ginger new was meant for his brother Tate.
“I think he was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need Tate’s version of help.”
“I think he was trying to help both of us. He warned me about breaking your heart.”
“He did that, did he?”
“Well, is it true?” she pressed.
“It is true, but that doesn’t mean Tate should be going around telling you that changing you is a solution to all of our problems.”
“What problems?” Ginger asked. She knew they had problems--namely that he was a shifter and she was a human. That meant that he knew they were meant to be together and she did not. She just wanted to hear him say it.
“Ginger, you know I want to be with you more than anything. But I’m not going to pressure you or manipulate you into choosing me. And I thought telling you about the healing properties of being changed would be a kind of manipulation. I don’t want you to choose me for any other reason than to be with me.”
“I understand. I feel exactly the same way, and that’s why this is so hard for me. I don’t want you to want me just because of some instinct. I want you to want me because of who I am.”
“That’s the thing Ginger. I do want you for who you are, and because of my instinct. They’re one and the same.”
“Tate said that if he changed me, you would want to claim me.”
“Usually, for couples it happens at the same time--on their wedding night or when they decide to marry.”
“And you want to do it?” she asked him, feeling her heart trembling in her chest.
This was new ground for them--they had never discussed either claiming or changing her. Brock had been giving her as much space as she needed, and their romantic relationship had become friendly, if not detached. Part of her wanted that same intensity that they’d felt up on the mountain, but she knew Brock’s easy-going attitude toward her was what was best for the situation. He didn’t want to pressure her into making any decisions, and she appreciated that more than anything.
“Of course I do,” he said. “There’s nothing I want more. Having you, claiming you, giving you your bear--those things would bring me so much fulfillment. To know that your body is healthy and strong, seeing you carry our cubs inside your belly, spending the rest of my life with you. I can’t imagine anything better.”
“I wish I had your confidence. I guess I’m not used to being so attached to people. It was just me and my dad for so long, and now he’s gone. It’s hard for me to connect to other people after all that.”
“I hope my family didn’t scare you off,” he said.
“No. Your family is great. I really like them. They made me feel much more welcome than I had expected.”
“So it’s me you’re not sure about?”
Ginger sucked a deep breath into her lungs and slowly let it out as she turned to face the window. She watched fall leaves fly outside, their orange and yellow colors caught in the glow of the porch light. Emotions swirled in her belly that she couldn’t fully understand.
She wanted to put Brock’s mind at ease, and calm her own anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to lose him. But she just didn’t know if she could accept all he had to offer.
“It isn’t that I’m not sure about you. I’m not really sure of anything. I’ve never had anyone offer me anything close to what you are offering now. I never even really had a boyfriend before you. My whole life has been a struggle, and now you’re offering me an end to that struggle. I just don’t know if I can trust it. Not because I don’t trust you. I guess I just don’t trust myself.”
“Why don’t you trust yourself?” He asked.
“Because I don’t know how to let myself be taken care of by other people. I don’t know how to relax in relationships. I’m always on edge, thinking I’m going to be left at any moment. Like when my mom left me when I was little kid.”
“I’ll never leave you,” he said, leaning in closer to her. He cupped her cheek in his hand and slowly drew her toward him, placing a soft kiss on her waiting lips. “You are everything to me.”
“Oh Brock, I want to believe you. I want to believe all of this is real.”
“Don’t you feel it?” he whispered.
“I do.”
“Then just let it in,” he said.
“How do I do that?”
“Let me claim you. Change you. Make you mine. There won’t be any questions left after that.”
“You have no idea how much I want to let you do that.”
“Stop fighting it,” he said, kissing her neck. His hand slowly crept up her side and cupped her breast. She sucked a breath into her lungs and let out a little moan.
“Okay, Brock. I want you to do it. I want you to change me. Claim me. Do it now.”
He drew back and looked at her, his green eyes sparkling with questions. “Are you sure? I want you to be one hundred per cent sure.”
“I’m ninety-nine-point-nine per cent sure. But that’s good enough for me if it’s good enough for you.”
“Don’t tell me if you don’t mean it. The bear inside my head is too loud to hear anything else. He wants me to do it no matter what you say. I’m trying to control myself here. I need to know what you really want.”
“I really want you, Brock. I really do.”
With a growl, he scooped her up off the couch in one quick motion and carried her unceremoniously up the stairs to his bedroom. The look in his eyes told her she was about to get exactly what she asked for. It wasn’t that he was distant or disconnected; it was that she could see the animal shining through the surface and around the edges of the civilized man. She had given him permission to let the animal come out, and he was going to do just that.
Chapter 18
“I’m going to try to be gentle,” he said. “But I’m not making any promises.” He said it with such a bright grin and friendly expression on his face that it didn’t scare her as much as the words probably should have.
She giggled and then let out a playful scream when he began to tear her clothes off. In a matter of moments, she was completely naked and breathless, laid out across as bed. He was equally bare, his muscled chest glistening in the lamplight. She bit her lip and crawled backwards on the bed, until she rested her head in a fluffy pillow.
She could see the bear inside him. It was as if the beast was superimposed over the human man. He crawled onto the bed slowly, stalking her, until he came to rest over her on all fours. His erection was stiff and ready. His eyes blazed with passion meant only for her.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked in a low growl.
“No. But I want you to do it anyway.” Her heart was racing a million miles a minute, and her breaths were coming in labored pants.
He didn’t speak; he only growled again and lowered himself over her. Pressing his hardness against her softness, his mouth consumed hers, kissing her with deepening intensity. He rocked his hips over hers, pressing himself against her desire in quickening waves pleasure.
She became languid and open as he kissed down her body, over her breasts, flicking her nipples with his tongue. He traveled lower, running his tongue over her navel, until he stopped between her legs and pushed them further apart.
He pinned them down on the bed and put his mouth to her pus
sy. She groaned loudly and threw her head back, her legs shaking with fear and anticipation. His tongue lapped over her clit and down over her opening. Flicking up and down along her slit to her swollen mound, his tongue awakened her need and brought it into sharp focus. She ran her fingers through his hair, gripping the sides of his head as he pleasured her with his mouth.
She called out his name repeatedly as he brought her closer to climax. A gushing wave of erotic tension built inside her. It broke free and washed over her naked body. She cried out, arching her back and gripping the sheets behind her head.
As her body clenched and throbbed, Brock rose over her, wiping his face with the back of his hand. The animal shined in his eyes. He didn’t speak. He ran his tongue over her earlobe and then pressed it inside her mouth. The hard tip of his erection pressed against her opening while he held her leg up against his side.
Her eyes shot wide, and her mouth dropped open and he began to enter her. Inch by inch of his slick, wide length slid deeper into her core. She let out a strangled moan, and he pushed himself into her depths, resting his pelvis against hers. She ran her hands over his thick shoulders and muscled back, her mind racing in a daze.
After a brief pause, Brock pulled back and began to pump his need into Ginger’s body. With each thrust of his hips, Ginger drew closer to the coming explosion. She called out to God, feeling as if she was experiencing heaven on earth. It was the first time they’d made love since after coming down from the mountain. And she realized in that moment how unbelievably good it was to be with him in this way. She never wanted to stop.
Just as her own climax hit her like a freight train of pleasure, Brock leaned down and placed his sharp teeth around the sensitive flesh on her neck. Her mind so hazy with pleasure, she barely felt the pain as his extended canines pressed harder against her skin. She whimpered when the tips broke through. She felt his tongue lapped over the blood seeping from her neck.
The relentless thrust of Brock’s hips did not lessen as he bit deep into her neck. Ginger could barely breathe and clung to him for dear life. She knew it was coming. She could feel it--the change.
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