“A kiss?” Her voice sounded as though it belonged to another woman. She didn’t recognize it.
He chuckled against her, leaning closer. “That was way more than a kiss, you little imp. That was a claiming.”
A claiming? Hmmm. Maybe he had a point. Perhaps she wanted him to know definitively how she felt so there would be no confusion. Or maybe she had hit her head so hard in a fall in the woods that she was currently in a coma, dreaming up this delicious mountain man holding her in his arms.
His mouth still on her ear, he whispered, “I’m going to close my eyes now, release you, and walk out of this room before I lose all control and take things too far. You’re going to get into that tub that’s probably overflowing and soak in the warm water.”
“Okay,” she managed to reply.
In an instant he released her. Two seconds later, he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him.
She couldn’t move. Was it possible the kiss had never happened? She lifted her shaky fingers to her lips and touched the swollen flesh. Nope. It was real.
She lifted her good foot and pulled off her shoe. Easing her trembling body off the counter, she balanced on her good leg, pulled her shirt over her head, and unbuttoned her pants. She let them fall to the floor and stepped out, hopping on the one leg while gripping the edge of the counter.
A glance at the tub indicated it was full, and she lurched forward and turned off the faucet.
Tempting steam rose off the surface, calling to her. She quickly shed her sports bra and panties, and then tugged off her socks.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the task instead of the kiss, she eased into the perfect water and sighed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, not the least bit interested in reaching for soap or shampoo yet.
For long moments she lay there, unable to resist a mental replay of what had happened between them. They had chemistry. There was no doubt. Was it a damsel-in-distress syndrome? Who the hell cared?
It was undeniably hot. She was a warm-blooded human who had needs that hadn’t been met in far too long. She was about to spend two days relaxing in his home. Why not make the most of it?
Because you aren’t this kind of woman, Heather.
You don’t hook up with strangers and fuck on the first date.
This wasn’t even a date. She didn’t know what it was.
Her sex gripped. She couldn’t remember ever being this aroused. To torture herself further, she smoothed her hand up her thigh and between her legs. The second she drew a finger between her folds, she moaned.
Her eyes flew open at the intrusive sound. She jerked her fingers away from her pussy. Jesus, Heather, get a grip. You can’t masturbate in the man’s bathroom.
A soft knock on the door startled her. Had he heard her moaning?
“Heather? You okay? Need anything?”
“I’m good.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m okay. Just relaxing.”
“I’m gonna make you something to eat. You’re probably starving.”
“Okay.” Her stomach growled as if on cue.
As he walked away, she reached for the soap. First she tackled her arm. The soap burned on the angry red lines, but she would live. After washing the rest of her body, avoiding her pussy altogether, she grabbed the shampoo. There was a bottle of conditioner too. She didn’t care what brand they were or how manly they might smell, she needed conditioner or it would take two hours to comb through her tangled hair.
She pulled the band from her ponytail and dropped it next to the tub. Her arms were shaking. From low blood sugar or lust or the adrenaline spike, or was it the scratch on her arm?
She still felt uneasy about Isaiah’s entire family’s reaction to the claw marks. If he wasn’t going to tell her what the possible indications were, she needed to Google them and find out for herself. He had to have a computer in the house somewhere, but did he have Internet out here? As far as she could tell, they were in the middle of nowhere. Probably the closest neighbor was his parents.
The idea of being totally isolated and alone with Isaiah Arthur made her shiver in both arousal and concern.
She wasn’t worried about her safety. Instinct told her he was a good man. She’d met the majority of his immediate family, for heaven’s sake, and they knew where she was. Unless both his parents and his brother were in the habit of aiding in the quest to lure stranded hikers into their fancy mountain cabins to rape and murder them, she was safe.
The park warden even knew where she was.
And her mother.
No. Isaiah was one of the good guys. As she dipped her head back to rinse the conditioner off her hair, she gave a silent prayer that he wasn’t too good of a guy because she was totally not in the mood for good.
By the time she managed to let the water out of the tub, wrap the enormous towel around her much smaller body, and drag a comb she found through her long hair, she was exhausted.
She was also stuck. Hopping out of the room on one foot would be foolish. She would fall and break her neck. She needed help. “Isaiah?” Hearing nothing for several seconds, she tried again, louder. “Isaiah?”
Footsteps. Moments later, he was at the door, easing it open. “Can I come in?”
“Yep.”
He opened the door all the way, let his gaze run up and down her frame where she perched on the edge of the tub, and swallowed.
“I didn’t want to hop on my bare foot through the house. I’d probably break my neck.”
He rushed forward as though needing the prompt. She seriously wouldn’t mind keeping the sprained ankle if it meant having this giant sweep her off her feet dozens of times a day to carry her from room to room.
Without a word, he tucked her against his chest and effortlessly stepped into the bedroom. She thought he would take her to the living room or kitchen, but instead he lowered her onto his bed. “Changed the sheets while you were in there.”
She glanced around his space, learning that he liked dark wood and dark colors. He didn’t have many items that weren’t necessities, like pictures or knickknacks, but he did have one rather large abstract painting on the wall across from the bed. The colors matched the room. Black and navy and gray.
“You’re going to swim in Joselyn’s clothes. The things my mom grabbed are nearly useless. She’s too tall for you.”
Heather lifted both brows, not bothering to answer that. “But your brother’s getting my stuff from the motel anyway.”
“Yes. And he’s going to pay your bill and close it out also. No sense paying for a room you aren’t in.”
True. She could always get another one.
“I made you some soup. It’s from a can, but you shouldn’t overdo it right now.”
“And why is that? You still haven’t told me why you’re so worried about a few scratches on my arm.”
Isaiah blew out a breath and lowered onto the side of the bed. He reached across her, grabbed a few more pillows, and then wrapped a huge hand behind her neck to lift her forward and tuck the soft clouds behind her so she was more propped up. “There are a lot of things I haven’t told you. And I’ll get to all of them. One at a time. Trust me?” He reached for her hand, held it tightly in his, and sat back to meet her gaze.
“So far. But now would be a good time to start talking.”
He nodded. “Agreed. Let me grab the soup and bring it in here, and then I’ll talk while you eat.”
“Perfect.”
When he let go of her hand to leave the room, she irrationally missed the contact. The same feeling had consumed her when he’d left the bathroom.
In less than a minute, he was back, a steaming bowl of soup in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. He set the water on the bedside table and handed her the soup carefully. “It’s hot.”
“I see that.”
When he eased himself back onto the bed, avoiding jostling her any more than necessary, he set his hand on her shin. “How’s your foot?”
“Hurts. I’m ignoring it. Start talking.” She brought a spoonful of the chicken noodle soup to her lips and blew on it, eyeing him so he would know she didn’t want him to stall any longer.
This arrangement was way beyond weird. She was currently sitting on the bed of a man she met a few hours ago, wrapped in nothing but a towel and eating a bowl of soup, as if they did this sort of thing every day.
He rubbed her leg possessively. Absentmindedly. Also as if he did so every day. She sorely wished that were true.
A knock sounded at the front door, and Heather lowered her spoon. “That can’t be Wyatt already. He hasn’t had time to get down the mountain and back yet.”
“It’s not. I’ll be right back.” Isaiah pushed off the bed and disappeared before she could ask him how the hell he knew who was or wasn’t at the door.
She listened as closely as she could, but all she heard were low murmured voices. Sometimes it seemed like no one spoke at all. She remembered him carrying her down a hall to get to his bedroom, but how long was it?
She heard the front door shut, but Isaiah didn’t return, which meant he probably went outside. She finished her soup, set the bowl on the bedside table, and grabbed the water. She felt better. Surprisingly, her ankle was no longer throbbing. The scratch on her arm burned more than its appearance would indicate, but it wasn’t bleeding. Seriously. It was a scratch. Sure, it came from a bear claw, but even if there was a risk of infection, it wouldn’t happen for more than a week. There was no reason to wig out over it.
She relaxed into the pillows and closed her eyes while she waited for Isaiah to return. So tired…
Should she allow herself to rest while he was gone? Where was he anyway?
After a few deep breaths, she calmed, and sleep dragged her under whether she wanted it to or not.
∙•∙
After Isaiah closed the door behind him, he followed the four members of the Arcadian Council down the steps to his front yard. For a moment, he took in the serenity that was his property—or had been until today. He hadn’t wanted to disturb the local foliage, so few of the trees had been removed to build his home.
He owned two acres, but he’d carefully selected this spot in a natural clearing at the highest point where he had an unbelievable view of the mountains and valleys surrounding him. With the exception of several saplings and about six full-grown pine trees, his home was surrounded by about twenty-five yards of grass on all sides. At this point in the season, everything was still a lush green that had yet to make a turn toward winter.
The four men in front of him stood with their feet planted wide, their arms crossed, and their brows furrowed. They were each in their sixties, but time had been kind to them.
The alpha of the group, Lawrence, broke the silence. “We understand a human has been compromised and she’s in your care.”
Isaiah fought the urge to chuckle at Lawrence’s word choice. Compromised? That wasn’t the first word that came to his mind when he recollected the moment Jack Tarben attacked her, forever altering her universe.
In addition, it was ludicrous for these four council members to pretend they didn’t know exactly who was inside the house and what her status was. They would have scented her from a great distance and were indisputably clear on her current state.
Nevertheless, Isaiah played their game. “Indeed.” He, too, planted his feet wide and crossed his arms. He straightened his back so that he stood at his full height. Every man in front of him was as tall and built as he was, however. The standoff was all bluster.
The reality was these were members of the Arcadian Council. Whatever they declared would be law. Isaiah had no leg to stand on, and he was perfectly aware of every nuance of this meeting.
Isaiah also knew he needed to make his intentions clear before the council members decreed something authoritative that went against Isaiah’s desires. With that in mind, he spoke his next words in a preemptive attempt to buy time. The more information he was willing to share, the better his chances were of gaining much-needed time.
“Her name is Heather Simmons. She moved to Silvertip two days ago. She knows no one. She’s no threat to a single living being. She was scratched against her will, and she’s currently in the early stages of transformation. It would be in her best interest to rest here while her body makes the changes she didn’t ask for.”
Lawrence narrowed his gaze. “How kind of you to provide her shelter during this difficult time.” His voice was filled with sarcasm. Not shocking. All four of the men in front of Isaiah would easily be able to discern Isaiah’s intentions.
“It goes without saying that I have a vested interest in Heather’s transition. You don’t need me to tell you that.” Full disclosure. No secrets. Not the slightest hint of mystery.
“Indeed. And I’m sure you’re also aware of the penalties among our people for infringing on the free will of any being, human or shifter,” Lawrence pointed out.
“Of course. And I resent the implication that I would ever do anything as underhanded as influence the will of the woman under my care. I’ll remind you that I’m not the criminal here. I’m not the one who attacked Heather and changed her course. I’m the Good Samaritan who has every intention of ensuring the next phase of her life is as seamless as possible.”
Another member of the council, Charles, spoke next. “There’s no need to get defensive, Isaiah. Our intentions are the same as yours. We’re on the same team.”
Isaiah nodded sharply and redirected the conversation. “What’s being done to apprehend Jack Tarben?”
“Everything in our power,” Charles continued. “Besides the members of your family and the Tarbens, we have others helping in the search. He will be apprehended, and justice will be served.”
Lawrence took over. “Our more pressing concern is with the human.”
“And as I’ve stated, you have my word she won’t be pressured by me or anyone else to make decisions against her will.” When Isaiah said anyone else, he intentionally left the vague inference that he referred to the rest of his family or perhaps the council themselves.
Lawrence’s face hardened again. “Be careful, son. We intend to work with you on this issue, but remember we are watching closely, and your words are not misunderstood. Any decisions made with regard to the welfare of Ms. Simmons will be handed down by the council.
“Your generous offer to aid her in this difficult time is appreciated, and it is agreed she would fare better in your home under the care of your family than taking the risk of her transitioning during the journey to the North in the presence of total strangers.”
Isaiah nodded. “Then I’m sure you’ll agree I need to get back inside to see to Heather’s care.”
“And you’ll agree that you need to be mindful of the importance of ensuring this matter doesn’t leak to another human being.”
“Of course. I’ve already considered the issues surrounding the problem. Heather called her parents this morning and let them know she was safe and recuperating in a location without cell service.”
“Excellent,” Lawrence continued. “If it’s all the same to you, the four of us will remain here to ensure her safety.”
Isaiah fought the urge to chuckle sardonically at Lawrence’s choice of words. He also fought to block that impulse so as not to offend the council members in the precarious dance. These men had no particular interest in the safety of Heather Simmons. Their main goal was to protect the species. That went without saying.
Charles spoke again. “Be aware, Isaiah, that our time is valuable. Further decisions have not been made at this time, but we’re giving you this respite as a courtesy. We’ll remain discreetly on your property for now. Not indefinitely. When further instructions are relayed, we’ll act without delay.”
Discreetly? Isaiah wanted to point out that there was nothing discreet about these four burly council members and their formidable presence. But he bit his tongue. He needed to take the olive branch and
hope he could accomplish everything necessary before they decided to remove Heather from his home. For her safety.
Chapter Five
By the time Isaiah calmed down enough to return to the bedroom, he found Heather fast asleep. The vision immediately lowered his blood pressure, and he stood next to her watching her for a long time.
She was so relaxed in slumber. Her face was devoid of worry. Her mouth was slightly parted. Her head was tipped to one side on the pillow.
His mouth grew dry as he took in the rest of her. The towel had slipped enough to give him a glimpse of her inner thighs. Not enough to see her breasts or her pussy, but damn, his imagination ran rampant.
While he stood there, she sighed in her sleep and turned onto her side, facing him. She tucked her hands under her cheek and drew her knees up toward her belly.
Time stopped as he got a glimpse of the swell of her bottom where it peeked out from beneath the towel. Her frame was so small, he wondered how the hell he would avoid hurting her when they fucked.
There was no longer a doubt in the world they were going to fuck. Soon, in fact. Partially because he wanted her more than his next breath, and partially because if things outside got any more tense, he would need to bind himself to her to keep her safe.
Forcing himself to close his eyes and turn away from her delectable body, he padded from the room. He didn’t bother shutting the door. He wouldn’t make a single sound that would disturb her, and he wanted to know when she awoke.
He also didn’t cover her. Her body temperature was already rising. She would be sweltering under the covers. Bears only ran about two degrees warmer than humans, but he suspected her temperature would rise well above that while her body fought to get through the change.
As he paced the room, he reached out to Wyatt. “Where are you?”
“Almost at your place. I have Heather’s stuff.”
“Great. Did Dad tell you I’m under house arrest?” Isaiah headed for the main picture window in the living room and stared out between the slats.
“What do you mean?”
“The Arcadian Council decided they think Heather is too big of a risk to our species, and they don’t want her to leave my property or to have any communication with the outside world. The only reason they’re letting her stay in my care is because I insisted they let me help her through the transition before they swarm my home.”
Grizzly Mountain (Arcadian Bears Book 1) Page 5