The Winter Bear's Bride

by Mina Carter

  “Quiet, girl,” the big alpha snarled, shoving her to the side. “I’ll deal with this.”

  She staggered, and Scar moved without thinking, his hand snaking out to grab her elbow before she could fall to the floor. Behind him, his men surged forward, claws at the ready in case Magnus attacked.

  Scar straightened, a growl in his throat for the Asmundr clan leader. His claws burned where they were buried beneath his fingernails, and his gums ached where his fangs wanted to drop down into his mouth.

  “Careful, Magnus. We wouldn’t want you to have an…accident, now, would we? Not at a celebration like this.”

  The message was clear. Take one more step forward and Scar and his men would lay waste to the entire hall. Only the trembles he could feel rolling through Analise’s body where he held her arm stopped him. Spoilt brat and chattel of her father she might be, but he wasn’t into terrifying women, despite what the stories said about him.

  “A celebration you have brought blood to.” She yanked her arm from his grasp and turned to face him, glaring up at his face. “Please leave. Now.”

  He bit back a smile. She was so tiny that she had to tilt her head right back to look him in the eye, but she didn’t back down. Despite the fear scent he smelt rising from her, her eyes flashed with anger. It was foolhardy to think she could stand up to him. One swipe of his claws and she’d be done for. But she did, and it was adorable.

  “Now, now, darling, let’s not be so hasty. We haven’t been introduced properly.”

  Reaching out, he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. For a moment, she struggled, trying to recover her hand, but his grip was too firm, and she gave in, pressing her lips into a thin line. He touched the back of her hand and, for a moment, he was caught by her scent. It was as delicate and feminine as the tiny woman in front of him and utterly compelling.

  “Lady Asmundr, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he murmured formally, lifting his head to catch her watching him. For a moment, her mask slipped and the haunted expression in her eyes hit him in the gut. But, as he watched, the mask came up again, and she gave him a haughty look.

  “I’m sure I can’t say the same, Mr…?”

  Brat. He smiled. She knew who he was. There wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t.

  “Scar.” He humored her with a small smile. “Alpha of the Einar.”

  He hadn’t let go of her hand, and found he didn’t want to. The fact she’d stood up to him amused and intrigued him, and despite his best intentions where she and her father were concerned, drew grudging respect from him.

  This had been intended to be a lesson for Magnus. A lesson that the Einar were powerful, and there wasn’t anywhere Scar couldn’t reach. Not even here, in the heart of the clans. Of course, he knew a quick attack to gain entry was very different from capturing and keeping the Asmundr stronghold, but for a moment, he wished he had so he could keep Analise by his side.

  She nodded, a graceful incline of her head, which only made him want to kiss the soft skin along the side of her tender throat. Her full lips pursed, making him wonder what they tasted like.

  “I’m afraid, Lord Scar, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Lifting her hand as though to kiss it again, he pulled her forward quickly. Off balance, she caught herself against him, the fingers of her free hand spread across his broad chest. She froze, and he bent his head, lips a mere whisper from hers.

  “I will, because you asked me to.” His voice was soft, but not so soft her father couldn’t hear and know the only reason more blood hadn’t been spilled was because of his daughter’s courage. “But make no mistake, we will meet again, Lady Asmundr.”

  Chapter 2

  He was going to marry Analise Asmundr.

  Scar’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked down on the Asmundr stronghold from the rise he and his men had paused on. Nestled in the whiteness of the snow, the twinkling lights made it shimmer like a jewel in the darkness.

  They’d left the stronghold without incident. No surprise there…bears as full of pride as the Asmundr didn’t fancy a whipping twice in one day, although Scar had no doubts they were already downplaying what had happened and reassuring themselves of their fighting abilities and superiority. They were true-blood polars after all, and the Einar were rogues: outcasts and bitten bears. In the eyes of the clans, they were nothing. Less than nothing. They were the scum of the earth, and the clans wanted nothing to do with them.

  The snow swirled and footsteps stomped toward him. Scar felt the anger of his second-in-command, Arick, as soon as the man reached his side, an impression borne out the instant he opened his mouth.

  “What the snow was all that about in there?” Arick snarled, his deep voice heavy with his bear. “I thought it was supposed to be a quick in and out job, not fucking waltzes and flirting.”

  Scar slid him a sideways glance. Arick was huge, even for a bear, with a face like carved granite and shortly cropped, dirty blond hair that made him stand out amongst the other bears, if they’d managed to miss the sheer size of him.

  “I didn’t dance,” he pointed out, looking back down at the stronghold again. Getting in this time had been easy, but the next time wouldn’t be. Even now Magnus would be looking to shore up his defenses and strengthen the fortifications. That’s what Scar would have done, and while Magnus might have been an asshole, he wasn’t an idiot, not by a long shot.

  “No, but you were flirting with Magnus’ daughter.” Arick folded his arms over a massive chest and looked out over the snowy landscape. Both men wore leather jerkins, their arms bare as the icy winds swept around them. Neither so much as flinched. Werepolars were built to take the cold.

  But his little Analise wasn’t a werepolar; she was a bearmate. She’d need furs and blankets to keep her warm. When he wasn’t keeping her warm with his body, that was…

  Scar locked down the thought, the fantasy weaving itself in his head of a happily-ever-after with the Asmundr alpha’s daughter, and gave Arick his full attention. “So what if I was?”

  Arick lifted an eyebrow. “These men will follow you to their deaths. You want that to be over a piece of ass?”

  Anyone else Scar would have knocked on their asses for a comment like that, especially about her, but Arick wasn’t just anyone. He’d found Scar when he was little more than a boy, injured and half-dead from exposure, and nursed him back to health. Still, a snarl managed to escape his throat at the big man’s words.

  “Not just a piece of ass. A piece of ass that will make me leader of all the clans eventually. Or had you missed the fact she’s the Asmundr heir?”

  “You could be leader of all the clans anyway. We have the numbers. We can take them anytime we want,” Arick grumbled.

  Scar shrugged. “Why take when we can get them to give us the keys to the lot?”

  Arick watched him, gaze steady. It was obvious he wanted to say something. He didn’t often offer an opinion, so when he spoke, Scar listened.

  “She’s the type of entitled bitch you’ve always hated. In fact, the entitled bitch you always rant on about.”

  Scar sighed. It was true, he couldn’t get away from that. His rants about the purist beliefs rife in the clans all centered on Magnus and the Asmundr. Analise, seen by everyone as her father’s pawn, didn’t escape unscathed from those rants. For years he’d assumed she was just like them, that she looked down on everyone she considered lower in rank than she was. Just like she had all those years ago… He cut the thought off. No, he wasn’t going there.

  Looking at Arick again, he nodded. “She is. But if I have to fuck that to get what our people need, then I will. Happily.”

  The bigger bear snorted. “Yeah? Really taking one for the team there, aren’t you? I suppose it escaped your notice that she’s tiny and all…” He waved his hands in a curvy shape in the air.

  Scar’s inner bear growled. He’d noticed—of course, he’d noticed—but the beast didn’t like th
e fact that Arick, or any other man, had noticed. She was his, end of story, and if he could, he’d carry her off to his lair and make sure no man ever laid eyes on her again.

  “Heads up. We’ve got incoming.”

  Arick paused to scent the air, then smiled as a figure emerged out of the falling snow in front of them. Swaddled in a thick cloak, the shape was undoubtedly feminine, the face familiar when the woman dropped her hood. An older woman, with white hair, she still retained hints of the beauty she had been in her youth.

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” Arick said with a bow, turning and disappearing into the snowy night.

  Scar turned and smiled. “Hello, Mother.”

  Her father wanted to see her.

  Shit. Her father only ever wanted to see her to lecture her about some misdemeanor, or to lecture her on his twin ideals of duty and sacrifice again, so her steps were less than hasty as she made her way to the main hall. She also made care not to be too slow either and carried a load of linen in need of mending down from the upper chambers with her.

  The reason for the large stack was two-fold. It needed to come down anyway and if she’d left it up there, she’d only have to trudge up all the narrow stairs again to fetch it, and secondly, it was a viable, visual reason for her tardiness in answering her father’s summons.

  As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, though, she realized her father’s order was far more than simply to lecture her again. Huge warriors filled the entrance hall, their hulking forms making the large space seem small. Catching her breath, she hovered on the bottom step for a moment. They weren’t warriors she knew, and she knew most warriors from the clans, which meant they could only be…

  One turned around, and the black-on-black sigil worked into his leather jerkin confirmed her suspicion. Einar warriors. Here. Again. Dropping the linen on a chest near the stairs, she scooted around the edge of the crowd, trying to avoid getting squashed between a huge body and the wall. Warriors as big as these weren’t always careful. With a sigh of relief, she made it to the other side, avoiding making eye contact, and slipped into the main hall.

  “Ahh, my daughter graces us with her presence.” Her father’s sarcasm slid off her skin like water from a seal’s fur, but it was the man standing in front of him who upset her composure. Scar turned as she entered the room, his warm gaze sliding over her like a physical caress.

  Her steps faltered for a moment before she managed to pull her composure around herself again and walked forward. “My apologies, I was sorting laundry and organizing repairs in the north tower.”

  “Very dutiful.”

  Scar watched her every step of the way as she crossed the hall to stand next to her father. Curiously, she tilted her head, hoping Magnus would get the message and tell her what was going on. He didn’t, instead puffing out his chest and rumbling deep in his throat.

  “Duty and sacrifice, the Asmundr watchwords,” he said flatly. “Now my daughter is present, what did you wish to discuss with us?”

  Her eyes widened a little, but she was quick to hide her surprise. The note of displeasure in her father’s voice was obvious and didn’t bode well for the rest of the day. As a rule, he didn’t react well to the slightest hint of being told what to do, and if Scar…the Einar alpha…had insisted on her presence before they could talk, then he would take that as being told what to do.

  Rapidly, she wracked her brains, wondering if she could get away with chores in the outer holdings away from the stronghold this afternoon and avoid the lecture that always followed when he was pissed off.

  “She is, indeed. A pleasure to see you again, Lady Asmundr.” Scar favored her with a smile. “May I say how beautiful you look this morning?”

  “Errr…thank you,” she managed, breathing a sigh of relief as he transferred his attention from her to her father.

  Unlike last night, with her ball-gown securely covering her, today she was dressed for working in a simple wide-necked gown that highlighted her lack of the curves bear men found so appealing. It was easier when he wasn’t looking at her and she could study him instead, now she had the chance. Everything had happened so fast last night she hadn’t really had time to. It hadn’t stopped him dominating her dreams, chasing her and capturing her… She’d woken several times bathed in sweat, her sheets twisted around her legs and her body aching.

  Even with the scar, he was handsome. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wasn’t the hulking brute many bears were. He was leaner, but no less muscled. His arms and the sliver of chest defined with muscle she could see through his jerkin did strange things to her stomach.

  “I would like to extend an offer for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  The words dropped into the sudden silence of the hall. She froze between one breath and the next, her gaze sliding sideways to her father, who looked as stunned as she felt. She thought she’d anticipated everything he might say, from demands that the Asmundr yield lands in the south, right through to proposing an alliance between the Einar and the Asmundr.

  Not once had she thought he was here for her.

  A chill crept up her spine. The Einar had many warriors, so an alliance through marriage would bolster her father’s forces in case any of the others decided to mount a claim for the Elder title. For that alone, Magnus would sacrifice half his men. But would he hand her over?

  Her heart pounded, her throat tight as she studied Scar from under her lashes. He scared and fascinated her at the same time. His reputation was the most ferocious in recent memory, certainly since the wars that had ravaged the south lands, forcing the bear clans to the safety of their arctic home. Would he be a kind husband? Or would he treat her with the contempt Brok and his like had already shown?

  “No.” Magnus’s growl echoed around the room, growing in volume and anger. He snarled, his lip curled back, “I would never give over even a weakling daughter like this one to scum like you.”

  Analise took a small step to the side, away from him, as her whole body tensed at the threat of violence. Used to him, she made the move as casual as she could. But there was nothing casual about the anger in Scar’s eyes as he marched forward, almost nose to nose with her father.

  “Believe me, my Lord.” He drawled the word like an insult. “One day you’ll be kneeling in front of ‘scum’ like me. Remember this day when you are. Remember I offered this alliance.”

  Turning, he caught sight of her watching him and paused. He gave a short, sharp nod. “Lady Analise. Your servant.” And with that, he swept from the room.

  “The fucking arrogance of the man!” The words exploded from her father’s lips, his skin purple as he swung around to fix her with a hard glare. “This is all your doing.”

  She tensed as he lashed out, backhanding her. Pain exploded across her face, blood filling her mouth as she fell. She caught herself on her hands, knees crashing against the floor, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to protect them.

  He stood over her, roaring. “Can’t attract a decent mate, but you flutter your eyelashes at scum like that! No way would a man like that marry you. He’d bed you and put you aside. I should let him have you…let you be his whore!”

  She shivered, hating the fact she kept her head down. The fact she had to cower before him ate at her like acid, but there was no other way. Not unless she wanted the beating she knew he itched to dole out. Her lack of response drew an irritated growl.

  “Like any real man would ever want you,” Magnus snarled and, thankfully, stomped away.

  As soon as her father’s footsteps had faded away, Analise picked herself up from the floor. Standing, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and walked from the hall with her head held high. Once out of it, she turned sharp left and slipped down into the smaller corridors that ran through the stronghold like burrows in a rabbit warren. Her goal was the small, enclosed garden to the side of the south wing. With high walls, it was sheltered from the worst of the weather the circle could throw and on a day l
ike today, with the sun high in the sky, it could even reach pleasantly warm.

  “Lady Analise! My lady, wait!”

  The female voice calling out behind her made Analise pause in the doorway, the spare cape she kept for just this reason already in her hand. Gathering her strength when all she wanted to do was escape to hide in her sanctuary long enough for the trembles that racked her body to ease. But she couldn’t, not if she was needed. Her father might be alpha, but she was the one who ran the hold, the one the servants all looked at to make the decisions. Like Rika, one of the servant women, hurrying down the hall to catch up with her.

  “Yes, Rika, what is it?” she asked, keeping her back turned so the woman didn’t see her face.

  Her lip was split for sure, and from the feel of it, the bruising was spreading across her jaw. At least he hadn’t broken anything this time, but still, she didn’t really want Rika, or anyone, to see her when she was so vulnerable. She needed time to rebuild her defenses.

  “I’ve done with most of the chambers now, and I’ve made up the fire in your room. Did you want me to clean the grate in the main hall before heading on down to help cook with the evening meal?”

  Analise bowed her head a little, a soft sigh escaping her. Unlike the rest of the servants, Rika’s white hair marked her years, but she was as spry on her feet as any woman half her age. A widow, she’d come to the hold after her husband had been killed on the hunt, looking for work in exchange for food and a roof over her head and that of her son, Aevar. Pain and guilt lanced through Analise again, a dull ache that never went away.

  She’d never understood why Rika stayed after her father had cast Aevar out. At first, she’d held out hope it was because Rika knew Aevar had been spirited away to safety in one of the villages…but no matter how many times she asked, the woman always gave the same answer. Her son was dead, gone…taken by the snow. Eventually, Analise had stopped asking. Now they never spoke of that incident.