Boarlander Cursed Bear

by T. S. Joyce

  “Carl is a vagina who should shut the hell up about other peoples’ personal business.”

  “He said you had a mate named Shalene Dunleavy, who died, and another mate, who also died. So imagine my surprise when a girl with the same last name as your first mate shows up, and your bear is already so deep in devotion to her, that you, the biggest, single pain in my ass, grows manners overnight. Who. The fuck. Is she?”

  Clinton tossed a glance through the woods to the soft glow of the fire some distance away. “She’s my first mate. My only maybe, I don’t know.”

  “So she didn’t die?”

  “No, and I didn’t tell Carl she died. I told him I lost her, which I did. And she might as well have died because she has no memory of her old life or of me. Happy?”

  “You should tell her who you are.”

  “Fuck off, Harrison.” He made to leave, but Harrison gripped his arm and prevented it.

  Clinton growled a warning. “Careful, alpha. This story is much deeper than you can guess.”

  “Then enlighten me. You lying to her? She’ll find out, and when she does, you’ll lose her.”

  “And if I tell her, I’ll lose her.”

  The fire left Harrison’s eyes, and uncertainty flashed across his face.

  He released Clinton like a good bear, so he tossed him a bone. “Shae was taken from me and from her family when she was sixteen. For two years, she was in a testing facility because they thought she was me. They thought she was a bear shifter. They probably found out real quick she couldn’t Change, but they needed humans for their program, too. It was two fuckin’ years before I could find her and negotiate her release.”

  “With what?”

  “With myself. And part of the deal was that her memories were wiped. That’s the only way they were gonna let her live after what she’d seen, and I was okay with that.”

  “Shhhhit.” Harrison linked his hands behind his head and took two steps back. Smart man because Clinton’s bear was ripping at his insides to bleed that mother fucker.

  “If you were me, and Audrey had been taken, and if God-knows-what had been done to her in that two years, would you force her to relive that? Or would you let her move on and just go hard trying to make her happy for the rest of her life?”

  Harrison’s eyes were on the fire in the distance for a long time before he murmured, “I don’t know, man.”

  Clinton lowered his voice to an angry whisper. “I just got her back. I just got a second chance. I’m trying not to fuck it up, so please keep this shit to yourself and let me keep her.”

  Harrison looked sick, but he nodded and murmured, “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

  Clinton cracked his knuckles. With a pissed-off sigh that tapered into a growl, he strode off. And because he was working on himself for Shae’s sake, he remembered his manners and muttered, “Thank you,” over his shoulder.

  There was no right or wrong answer. Telling her what had happened would get her scratching at memories that needed to stay buried. What would it help if she remembered what had happened to her? She would be as dark as him. Two years had ruined him. Poisoned him. Killed the good parts of him, and he wanted better for Shae.

  He wanted her to be happy.

  Clinton was willing to lie to her until her dying breath to keep her safe from the awful memories she’d made between those white walls. Screw what that said about him. The truth was for do-gooders, but he didn’t give a shit about anything other than Shae’s smiles.

  He wasn’t lying to her.

  He was protecting her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alyssa startled awake, every muscle tensed. It was dark and smelled of earth and pine sap.

  Where was she?

  A strange, familiar sensation washed through her, and she bolted upright.

  Something heavy fell from her waist to her lap. “What’s wrong?” Clinton asked, his arm tightening around her hips.

  Right. She was in a tent, not somewhere scary. She was camping with Clinton, and he would never, ever let anything bad happen to her. He was big, protective, and even if he hadn’t said it, even if he never would, he loved her.

  When her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she became better anchored in the here and now.

  “Did you have a dream?” Clinton asked low.

  Jerkily, she nodded her head and drew her knees up to her chest. “Yes. Just a dream.” The air outside of their blankets was cold, and she was only wearing one of Clinton’s oversize thermal sweaters.

  “The dream?” he asked.

  “No. This was something different.”

  Clinton’s massive form relaxed back onto the pallet he’d made late last night. He’d set up their tent ridiculously far away from the others, but he said that his bear needed distance, especially with his protective instincts kicked up right now. “I had four brothers,” Clinton murmured. His eyes were silver and glowing strangely as he looked at her and stroked her hair. “We all slept in the same room, and my youngest brother, Tim, had night terrors somethin’ fierce. And my mom, she never got irritated at being woke up in the middle of the night. Not like me and my other brothers. She would sit on the edge of his bed—he was on the bottom bunk under me—and she would say, ‘Tim, always tell someone your bad dreams, and it’ll take the power from them. They won’t ever come true if you share them with someone.’”

  Slowly, Alyssa settled under the blankets and against Clinton’s side. She rested her cheek against his chest as he tightened his strong arm around her.

  “You won’t like it.”

  Clinton made a single ticking sound behind his teeth and cut off a soft snarl in his throat. “I fucked up with that. I should’ve listened to your dream and not made you keep it. I won’t do that anymore.” He swallowed audibly in the dark. “Tell me.”

  “I wasn’t me,” she whispered. “I was some other girl. Shae. And the boy was there. And he was so…”

  “Say it.”

  “He was so handsome, smiling all the time as we walked through these woods. Evergreens and blackberry bushes. It smelled like here. The sun was so bright, and it would blind me sometimes. I was seeing flashes. The boy looking behind him as we walked this dirt road. Our hands linked as he led me, always talking. Always smiling. And his eyes…he cared for me. For Shae.” A tear streaked down the corner of her eye and pooled on his chest. “I was happy. I mean…that no-problems-in-the-whole-world kind of happy. I was barefoot, and I stepped on something sharp. When the boy bent down to check it out, my toenails were painted red, and it matched the bleeding cut right on the side of my big toe. The boy told me it would be okay, it wasn’t deep, and he would carry me back. When he looked up at me, his eyes were lighter, more white than silver, and the smile had gone from his face. We turned to walk back down that dirt road, but the boy froze. Just…turned into a statue. ‘Let’s go this way,’ he said, and then picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me off the road and into the woods. And I could see it then. It was a black car. A Jeep or Range Rover, I don’t know.”

  Clinton pulled her closer to his side, his heartbeat banging against her cheek fast.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No. Finish it.” His voice sounded too low, too gravelly, but he’d said it would never come true if she told him, so she did.

  “Four men got out, and the boy ran. And ran and ran, and I was so scared because I could hear them behind us. They were loud in the woods, not like the boy. He was quiet. He hid me under a fallen log that had rotted in the middle, told me he would draw them away, and I waited there, frozen, the sound of my heartbeat deafening. It was so loud I thought they would hear it and find me. I was so scared, listening for those awful people. There was shouting far away, and I just knew they’d caught the boy, so I lurched up out of the log and bolted for the sound. I had to save him. He felt like everything. And then someone grabbed me from behind, and I sucked in this deep breath to scream… And then I woke up here.” Alyssa clos
ed her eyes tightly to rid herself of the moisture that rimmed them.

  “Why didn’t you stay put?” Clinton rasped out.

  “I didn’t have control,” she squeaked out. “I wasn’t me.” It was just a dream. She couldn’t be held responsible for actions during a dream!

  Clinton gripped the back of her neck and kissed her hard. He didn’t move his lips or push for more. He just sat there smashed against her, his lips hard and unforgiving. And then with a helpless sound, he thrust his tongue into her mouth. She knew what he was doing. He was taking that dream away from her and reminding her where she was. That awful dream wasn’t real. This was. He was.

  Alyssa slid her arms around his neck and held him close. This time, he didn’t balk or panic at being trapped. He rolled his hips against hers instead, encouraging her. Clinton slept naked, and his erection was impossibly hard against her belly. Her sweater was pissing her off, keeping them apart. She needed to feel his warm skin against hers. Needed to feel the safety he brought. Clinton would never let anything bad happen to her, never ever. She knew it down to her bones that he would take care of her. She could trust him.

  He would never leave her like the boy had left Shae.

  She struggled to push the sweater up her stomach while mashed against his rock-hard torso, but Clinton had other ideas and just ripped the dang thing. Just…tore it down the middle like the thick sweater material was rice paper. Delicious chills trembled up her spine at his raw power. He kept it hidden, she knew, but little by little, he was letting her in. He was letting her see him.

  He smelled of fur now, and she was so friggin’ revved up she couldn’t control her body. He pushed the sweater off her arms and held her so close her breasts ached. Too hard. Clinton was kissing too hard, which would’ve been great if he didn’t have that damned beard. Alyssa bit his lip, then dipped her throbbing lips to his neck and trailed kisses to his chest. She nibbled gently on his pierced nipple until he arched against her and grunted a sexy, needy sound. God, she loved him like this. Every time she dared a look, his eyes were glowing and hungry, his teeth gritted, his face feral. Hers. This wild man was hers.

  Clinton rolled her on top of him, but this was a lot and fast. Too fast? “Clinton, are you sure?”

  “Amber ain’t here. It’s just you and me.” He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “Take me back.”

  Take him back how? Straddling him, she settled over his dick and rolled her hips. Clinton gripped her thighs hard, and she loved he was desperate for her right now. She slid over his shaft slowly. Clinton bowed his neck back, flexing his thick muscles as he rolled his eyes closed. In a blur, he sat up and kissed her, held her in place over his lap and rocked his hips to the rhythm she set. He felt so good here, chest against hers, holding her tight, touching her clit just right with every thrust. She wouldn’t last long like this, not with the fire burning so bright in her middle. Not when every stroke filled her with glorious, tingling pressure. Not when his hard body felt this good against hers.

  I love you. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but Clinton didn’t like that word—love—so she wouldn’t use it on him now. He wasn’t there, and maybe he never would be, but instinct told her she could tell him in another way.

  Oh, she knew the laws. Knew it was illegal for humans and shifters to mark each other, but she gave zero fucks as he pushed into her again, so deep. Clinton was hers, and for some strange reason, he felt like maybe he always had been. They’d been on colliding paths, two broken souls who belonged together.

  So close. He felt so right buried so far inside of her, and now his arms were shaking, tensed. He was straining with every time he bucked into her, and she lowered her lips to his shoulder, the one without the tattoos because, if he allowed this, she wanted everyone to see her mark on him. She wanted Amber to see it from the fires of hell.

  Testing, she opened her mouth and bit down on the hardened muscle there. Clinton’s response was instant. His hand was on the back of her head in a moment, and the snarl that ripped through his chest was nothing short of beastly. He pressed her closer, encouraging her as he smoothed out his pace inside of her.

  “Do it,” he gritted out in a voice she didn’t recognize.

  My monster.

  The first explosive pulse of orgasm tensed her body. So good. So right. Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, Alyssa bit into his skin as hard as she could. Until her jaw ached, until she tasted iron, until the air smelled of pennies and her mouth was filled with warmth. If it hurt him, Clinton didn’t show it. He pulled her closer and went rigid as his dick throbbed hard inside of her. She released his torn skin and gasped, throwing her head back as he rocked inside of her, filling her with jet after hot jet of wetness.

  His pace slowed as he dragged out every aftershock. His body twitched, and he hugged her tight and buried his face against her neck. He nipped her there, but nothing more, and she got it. Giving her a claiming mark would mean he would put a bear inside of her, and after killing Amber with one, something deep inside Alyssa said he wouldn’t make the same offer to her, even if she wanted to be a shifter like him.

  This would be enough. He had laid a claiming mark on her heart. And maybe others wouldn’t see it, but she and Clinton would always share this beautiful secret. They would always know it was there.

  As she held him close in the dark, as she smelled his skin and absorbed the warm safety he emanated, she knew the mark she’d just given wasn’t just some moment of passion.

  Clinton had never been Amber’s mate.

  The Fates had decided long ago that he was always meant for Alyssa.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well, I’m really gonna miss you around here,” Angie murmured, “but I’m really, really happy for you.”

  “I’m not!” Bryce called from the background. “I have to do everything around here now.”

  Alyssa laughed and shook her head. “I miss you guys, too, but I’ll be back in a few weeks to pick up my things, and we’ll go out and have some fun. And we’ll talk on the phone all the time.” Alyssa pulled into an open space in the giant field outside the park where the Lumberjack Wars had been set up. Her phone beeped, and quick as a blink, she checked the text message that flashed over her screen. It was Beck. Where are you?!

  “Oh, Angie, I have to get going. I’m working an event today, and it’s a big one to get more votes.”

  “Two weeks out. Are you nervous?”

  “Oh, my gosh, so nervous! I never thought a vote would affect me so much, but Clinton and I can’t move forward at all if the shifters don’t get their rights back. Not legally. We’ll be stuck where we are for always.”

  “Well, Bryce and I are rallying here, girl. If you need anything, you just let us know.”

  “I will. And Angie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. I mean it. For everything. For encouraging me to come after Clinton, for doing that fundraiser for me to take a vacation here, for setting up this trip, for giving me a job all those years and being such an awesome boss. I owe you so much.”

  “No need for thanks. I’m happy to be a part of your story, Alyssa. It’s an incredible one. I’m glad Clinton turned out to be the perfect match for you.”

  Butterflies flapped around Alyssa’s middle, and she beamed. “Me, too. I’m happy here.” Her phone beeped again. “Oh, Angie, I really have to go. I’ll call you tonight. Tell Bryce hi and I miss him!”

  Bryce called in the background, “Miss you, too! Don’t forget to shave your legs!”

  Angie laughed and said her goodbye.

  Alyssa hung up and kicked open the door to her Sunfire, then bolted for the trunk. She had four boxes of calendars for the autograph booth, but there was no way her scrawny arms would carry them all at once. She would have to make a couple of trips.

  “Let me help,” a giant of a man said from right beside her.

  She startled hard and clutched her chest, and Creed, the dark-haired grizzly shifter alpha of t
he Gray Backs apologized through a lopsided grin. “Beck asked me to wait out front to help you bring this stuff in. Thanks for going back for the extra boxes, by the way. The boys are blowing through the stock Beck brought.”

  Over the past few days, she’d met most of the shifters in Damon’s mountains, but she hadn’t ever talked to Creed in person. She arched her neck way back to look him in the eyes when she thanked him. Wow, he was intimidating.

  He stacked three boxes in his arms and pointed his chin at her yellow Team Clinton T-shirt. “Nice. I think you’re the only one he gave one to, but be warned, Beck is selling stacks of them right now for the charity. Clinton’s pissed. Says he only wants you wearing one. God, he’s a beast today. Beck will be glad you’re here to help manage him.”

  Alyssa grabbed the last box and shut the trunk, then asked, “Why? What’s he doing?”

  “Well, it’s the Boarlanders’ shift to sign calendars between their events, and Clinton signed the first twenty or so don’t masturbate to me right across his picture. He ruined lots of Januarys before Beck ripped into him, and now he’s just drawing pictures of huge penises on his photograph. I mean, long, flopped out on the ground, smiley-faced dicks everywhere.”

  Alyssa cracked up and shook her head. She should be horrified, but that was just Clinton, and likely, his attitude wasn’t going anywhere.

  She’d had to park in the back so she maneuvered through a tight place between cars. Probably eight more rows, and they would reach the entrance.

  “So,” Creed drawled, looking a little sheepish. “I kind of lied. Beck didn’t send me so much as I volunteered so I could get a minute with you before the chaos of today.”

  “Why? What do you need?”

  “No, no. Well…first off, I really appreciate all the help you’ve been giving Beck lately with our public relations. With her being newly pregnant and everything, it was a big strain being the publicist for all of us, and I know it’s made a big difference her bein’ able to depend on you. We all really appreciate it. But I also wanted to thank you for whatever you’re doing for Clinton.”