by Lisa Ladew
She peeked at it. She was helpless not to.
He was embarrassed by the way he had said it and scared because he knew she could not feel the same way about him that he did about her, but he could not keep his thoughts to himself just the same.
He did think that he loved her and overlaid over her image in his mind was one huge word that twirled and danced and shifted to say first exquisite, then beautiful. That was how he thought of her. Being in his thought-form was intense and all-consuming, and she’d never quite encountered a thought so single-minded and strong before.
She flushed, flattered and overwhelmed. His presence was just as strong as Soren’s had been, but there was no confliction in it. He was all strong, soft, polite, and gentle at the same time, and all his thoughts and feelings headed the same way, with no detours, no circling, just a solid beam of thought that went on and on in the same direction forever. She liked it. His mind was a warm and soothing place to visit, like when she peeked at it, she was really sinking down in front of her own fireplace on a cold winter’s night, with hot cocoa in a mug, a book in her hand, and Annie Lennox on the radio. She’d never experienced thoughts like his.
She let go of the thought-form and pulled back, putting up her block again, not wanting to intrude on him anymore.
She couldn’t think of one thing to say. She stayed in herself, trying not to take anything from Bruin, but still she could feel his presence in a way that warmed her to her toes. His energy was bigger than his body, whirling slowly in patient eddies that softened everything they touched, including her.
Too soon, they were back at the Honey Depot. “Right there,” she stammered, indicating the driveway that led behind the restaurant. “My house is up there.” Even with Bruin’s energy working to calm her, she was thrown. She thought she should want answers, but she didn’t think she could handle them. Not in her current state. Had she been hoping for excitement? She’d been a fool, then. She didn’t know why those people had chased Soren, but she was pretty sure the guy with the hard face and the crew cut had been a cop and those dogs with him had been wolves and Bruin had been with them, too, and why had the car exploded, and who exactly was this savior who had followed her from her restaurant to a place where she’d very definitely needed saving. It didn’t seem right to demand answers from Bruin, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them anyway. Not right now.
Bruin turned in the driveway quickly and parked near the house. He slammed the truck in park and turned off the engine, jumping out and running around to open her door before she realized what was happening. He put his hands around her waist to help her down, then watched her expectantly, waiting for her to say… something.
She nodded towards the house, overwhelm settling in fast. “I should…”
He nodded. “Right.” He stepped out of her way so she could head to her door. He fell into step next to her and followed her up the stairs, still hovering, still waiting for her to trip or something. His silence was not awkward but rather comfortable and comforting, like his thoughts and self had been. She sensed not so much a lack of animosity and an inappropriate interest toward her, like she’d felt with Soren, but rather a complete auspice of protection. Like he would die to protect her without a second thought.
Again, she liked it. “Are you a cop?” she asked.
He shook his head and his face fell, like he rather wished that he was. “No, a fi-” He stopped. “I guess I’m between jobs at the moment.”
She had so many things she wanted to ask. How did he know Rogue? Why had she and the man and the dogs (they couldn’t be wolves – now that things were quiet and she was at her home, she realized that) chased Soren over the hill? Did he know Soren? What was going on? Instead of asking any of them, she stepped in front of her door and turned to him, waiting for him to tell her something. Anything.
He looked down at her, a small smile on his face, complete contentment in his expression. Like as long as she let him stand there, he would be the happiest person on earth. He didn’t need anything else.
Exhaustion settled on her heavily. She just needed some time. “Bruin, can I get your phone number?”
He nodded eagerly, whipping something out of a side pocket of his pants and holding it out to her. A business card. She took it and read the one word on it.
Bruin
Then a phone number.
She didn’t know what else to do so she stuck out her right hand to shake his, but he took her small hand gently in both of his big ones and pulled it to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to it.
His face tightened while he did so, and his eyes fluttered wildly, like he was caught in a waking dream. The amber thought-form she’d been trying to ignore pulsed and widened, streaming out from him even stronger. In it, was a line of lumberjack-sized men, one behind the other, waiting for their turn at something. They didn’t jostle or talk, they only stood, their faces straight ahead, their expressions broken, like they were waiting to enter Hell, or leave it.
Willow frowned, because there was no emotion attached to the scene she was seeing. Which made no sense. She’d never seen a memory without emotion attached to it in anyone, ever.
“Right. Ok,” she said, unsettled. She pulled gently at her hand. Bruin let her go and she slipped inside her door, closing it, then stepping to the side and leaning against the wall, breathing hard for several moments, hoping her mother was out with the bees or maybe at the restaurant. She needed some time by herself, needed to work on her blocks and sort through everything that had happened, figure out what belonged to her, what belonged to Bruin, what belonged to Soren, and what belonged to the crowd back there. What thoughts could she leave behind, lighten up on, let go of, so that she felt normal again.
Twenty minutes later, when she was well enough to walk, she gathered herself, pushed away from the wall, and peeked out her front door. Bruin’s truck was still in her driveway. She could just make him out behind the wheel, staring at her house, his entire aura one of protection.
Bruin was watching over her.
Chapter 14
Ever aware, Bruin stared up at the old farmhouse from behind the steering wheel of the police truck he’d ‘borrowed,’ as the first birds began to gossip, then the new rays of morning seeped slowly over the horizon. He didn’t feel tired even though he hadn’t slept all night.
The drapes twitched at the far right window on the second floor, making his heart trip. That was where Willow had slept, he was almost certain. She’d peeked out of that window the night before, waved hesitantly, little more than an unclenching and slight raising of her fist, really, then closed the drapes and turned out the lights.
She hadn’t come out to see why he wasn’t leaving. But she hadn’t called the cops on him, either. Which he hoped meant he was leaning farther into protector territory than stalker territory.
He smiled as the memory of the way she had smelled flooded him. Her scent was that of exquisite sunflower honey from fat summer bees who never had to travel far to find nectar. Sometimes, her scent shifted from sunflower honey to honeydew melon honey, and when that happened, her mouth would purse slightly, and her eyes would look through whatever was in front of her. He wasn’t entirely sure, because he hadn’t been able to watch her for long enough, but he thought it happened when she was concentrating. He would sell his renqua to find out, if he had one left to sell.
Bru, you there?
Bruin sat up straighter and grasped the steering wheel, hard. Mac was calling him in ruhi, but the words were garbled, like they might sound underwater. Mac wasn’t good at projecting his ruhi, yet.
I’m here, Bruin sent back.
You sleep at all?
No, you?
Yeah, a few hours. Me and Rogue both. You still at Willow’s?
Yeah.
Why?
I don’t know. I just can’t leave.
Nothing came back from Mac for a few moments, then, We’re on our way to you.
Twenty minutes later, a big
police truck pulled up next to him in Willow’s driveway, a mirror of the one he was in, except the one Mac was driving was black. Trent sat in the backseat behind Mac, his head high, his bearing regal as always. Troy pulled his lolling tongue back in his mouth and flopped onto the seat so Bruin couldn’t see him anymore.
Mac parked the truck, then slid over next to Rogue, nodding at Bruin out her window.
“You want to hear why that car blew up?” he said, his voice sharp.
“Someone took a shot at me,” Bruin said simply.
Mac scowled at him. “Time to come clean. You need to tell me what’s going on. You don’t have a choice anymore.”
Bruin shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. That’s the fourth time in the last year where something happened that I could’ve interpreted as someone trying to kill me.”
Mac very deliberately looked over his shoulder at Trent and then Troy, and that’s when Bruin realized they knew something he didn’t. Mac looked back at him. “You ever heard of Bane and Zane?”
“The half-breed bearen mercenaries? The last time I heard, they were working with Grey.”
“Yeah, they were, and yeah, we’ve got a video from the restaurant security camera’s showing them driving by in a truck and Zane shooting at you as you walked past that car that exploded.”
Bruin took a deep breath and waited to hear the rest of it. He thought he knew why he was being targeted, but this who didn’t make any sense.
Mac had more to say. “Patrol picked them up this morning, and now they’re being questioned. Anything specific we should be asking them?”
Bruin shrugged. Not from him. “What about Soren? Was he caught?”
Mac checked in with Rogue before he said a word. She spoke. “Nope. He shifted and lost Trent and Troy in a river. Foxen are fast. But we found this in his clothes.”
She handed Bru a note out the window. He grabbed it with a look up at Willow’s farmhouse, then he unfolded and read it. The handwriting was small and neat.
Marked, but not under his control, yet. As long as I don’t shift, I’m safe from his control. Tell Rogue.
Bruin read it over again. “Why does he care if Rogue knows about this?”
Mac began to growl. Rogue curled an arm around his neck. “Hell yeah, big daddy. That bad criminal wants your little, defenseless, damsel in distress Rogue. What are you gonna do about it?”
Bruin looked away as first Mac’s growl grew louder, then Trent and Troy groaned in his head as the growl was cut off with a passionate kiss. Rogue moaned, the sound muffled.
Bruin put his hands over his ears. Damsel in distress? Who was she kidding? “Ah guys, we’re right here.”
A grunt sounded, and Bruin looked back. Trent had leapt out the window and taken off into the meadow next to Willow’s house. Troy had made his way over to Trent’s window and looked like he wanted to follow, but also looked like he wanted to watch Rogue and Mac, too, his gaze switching from them to his brother, then back again.
Bruin knew how to stop this. “Whoever heard of a bear working with Khain?” he said idly.
Mac sat up and pulled Rogue with him, all business again. “Right. We’ve got to figure this out. It could be a big deal.”
Mac lifted his nose and sniffed. “Hey, what’s that?”
Bruin stuck his own nose in the air and took a long smell. “Pie. Strawberry pie with whipped cream 44 meters away, if you allow for a 25-degree headwind and a 12% rate of cooling, 2.5 degrees, give or take, for wind shift differential.”
Rogue snorted. “We got a pie savant over here.” Her eyes shot to a spot up near Willow’s house, then widened. Mac’s head raised, they looked at each other, then ducked down into their seat, giggling. After a second and some muffled arguing, Troy dropped to a prone position in the back seat, so he also couldn’t be seen.
Bruin looked that way. Willow was coming out from the house carrying two brown bags. She wore a white V-neck sundress with colorful flowers lining the hems and the gathers, cowboy boots on her feet and a woven sunhat on her head.
Bruin groaned. She looked so lovely and fresh and beautiful. If he could just hold her hand once, he would die a happy bear. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she picked her way down the walk toward him. She gave him a shy almost-smile and raised a hand in greeting, a few moments before she reached the truck. He jumped out and wished he had a hat to wring in his hands but he had nothing, so he let his hands hang at his sides. They felt impossibly big and stupid-looking to him. His chest rumbled once, twice, then the purring started. He coughed hard and slammed himself against the side of the truck, stopping it, before turning to face her.
Willow stopped three feet from him and squared off to face him, her face tight. “Have you been in my driveway all night?”
He could tell her no more lies. Ever. But that didn’t mean he had anything suave or smooth to say. “Yes.”
“Why?”
That was an easy one for him to answer. “Because I want to make sure you’re safe.”
Her face softened, making him leak love out of every pore. “Safe from what, exactly?”
He didn’t think, just spoke. “Safe from life, from heartache, from irritation, from frustration, from anything that might put a frown on your face.”
She stared at him for a long time and then finally whispered, “That would be hard to do from the driveway.”
Bruin laughed. She was exquisite.
She held up one of the bags and gave it to him, “This is for you.” She held up the other bag and gave it to him, also. “And this is for your friends.” She nodded at the truck where everybody was hiding but Trent.
A distinct slapping of hands made Bruin think Mac and Rogue were high-fiving each other.
“I’ve got chores to do. I’ll see you later, if you’re still around.” She turned around and headed back to the house.
“Thank you,” Bruin called, then leaned against Mac’s truck as Willow disappeared back into the house.
Mac and Rogue shot up. Mac stuck his head out the window and slapped his hand against the side of the truck. “Let’s see what she brought us, Bruin. Gimme, gimme!”
Bruin threw one bag in his truck and handed the other one over to Mac. Mac opened it and pulled out a bear claw. He licked his lips and grinned. “For you,” he said, giving it to Rogue. He dug deeper in the bag. “Hell yeah.” He pulled out what could only be a thick slab of medium-well steak from the bottom of the bag.
Quick as a cat, Troy stole it from Mac’s hand, and out the window he went.
“Shit,” Mac said, staring after him, his face looking like he was wondering if it was worth a chase or not. He shook his head and dove back into the bag, pulling out another bear claw and shoving half of it into his mouth.
Rogue had the bag. “Ooh, cookies!”
She pulled one out and bit into it, then opened her mouth. “Blehh,” she said, spitting it into her hand, then whipping it out the door. “Don’t tell me this is that cricket flour shit.” She smelled what was left in her hand, then handed it to Bruin. “Try the cookies before you decide if you really want her or not.”
Bruin took the cookie from her and put it in his mouth, chewing delicately. Hearty, thick, filling. What’s not to like? “Delicious,” he said, grabbing his own bag, hoping there were more.
Behind the house, Willow emerged and headed up the side of the bluff on foot.
Rogue leaned her head back in the early morning sunshine and followed her route, then looked ahead of it, to small colored boxes up the side of the hill. “Hey, look. Those are beehives up there. Bruin, she’s your beekeeper!”
Bruin stiffened and looked, then stuffed his food back in the bag and threw it in his truck and said, “I’ve gotta go help her.”
Mid-stride, he stopped, then he slumped against the side of the truck and he said, “Blast it all. I’m useless. She’s not going to want my company.”
Rogue snorted in derision. “What are you talking about? You’re not usele
ss. You’re handsome, you’re kind, you’re diplomatic. You’re tall. You smell good.”
Mac growled and bared his teeth. Rogue punched him lightly on the chest. “Oh, come off it, Fluffy. This is Bruin we’re talking about.” She turned to Bruin.
Bruin banged his head against the side of the truck. “You don’t understand. She’s… the one. I’ve never felt like this before about a woman, so I’ve never tried very hard to win them before. In fact, I’ve tried to reject them. I tell them five lies right off the bat. But with her, I want to write her poetry, spell her name in the stars, but all that comes out is the lies or nothing. It’s all I’ve practiced for.”
Mac snapped his fingers and pointed at Bru. “That’s why you’re always so cool with the ladies. You’re hoping you’ll get rejected.”
Bruin shook his head slowly. “And yet I never do.”
Rogue got out of the truck and put her hand on his arm. “Right, that’s what you’ve got to remember. The ladies love you.” She pointed up the hill. “Go get her, Bru-Bru.”
Chapter 15
Harlan Mundelein, the oldest member of the KSRT, scowled at Wade Lombard, his boss, then stared up the street one more time. “Where is he?” They were in the driveway of Rogue’s house, waiting on Sebastian Breese. If Harlan could be identified as the oldest member of the KSRT, Sebastian could easily be identified as the most dangerous. Ruined, some called him. Sebastian had been in the KSRT for a decade, but Harlan could only remember him being used on missions recently. Wade must think he was getting better.
Wade crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. Harlan looked behind them at the house where Boe was waiting for them. “I think we should go in without him. We don’t have all day to wait on his unreliable ass.”
Wade shook his head. “I think we need him.” He glanced at Harlan. “But I know we need to assess his mental state before he goes inside.”