by V. Vaughn
“Oh, Mom.” While this is hardly a surprise to me, sadness fills my heart for my parents. “I know how hard you’ve tried to make your marriage work. I’m sorry.” I get up from the table to put my empty tea mug in the sink. I gaze out at the snow-covered field and notice the tracks Lance and I made in it yesterday.
“I did try, Dawn. But you know your father. He’s too damn stubborn to meet me halfway with anything, and I just can’t do it anymore.”
“I get it. Are you okay?”
“Yes. This has been a long time coming.”
“I know. You two have been unhappy for a while. So what’s going to happen to the Crab Shack?” I wander over to where I keep my potion supplies, and items rattle in a drawer when I pull it open to look inside.
“Your dad will still run it, and he’s going to hire a manager to take my place.”
I figured that would be the plan since it was originally my dad’s dream and he would fight tooth and nail to keep it. But my mother has worked there since they opened too, and I wonder what she’ll do. “Okay, so what happens to you? Where are you going to live? What are you going to do for work?”
“I’m staying with Rita for now, and as for work, I haven’t decided yet.”
Rita is Mom’s best friend, and I know she’s in good hands. “You’ve got time. I’m sure Rita won’t kick you out.” I chuckle because Rita and Mom are like sisters. “Ever.”
“True. After talking to you the other day and hearing about how much you like using your magic, I’ve toyed with the idea of using mine again too.”
I smile as I think about how great it feels to be using my powers and making them stronger. “I think that’s a great idea, Mom. You need something that makes you happy right now.”
“I do. I haven’t quite figured out how to use my magic to make money, though. I know your job at The Sorcerer wasn’t very satisfying.”
“Not at all.” I recall the tourists who would walk around the shop and make fun of us. Some were even rude enough to request a reading and then spend the whole session trying to trip me up as if I were lying. “You need to use your powers for people who appreciate them.”
“Like a werebear clan.”
My heart stops for a moment, as I hope she wants to come and take my place so I can return to Florida. “Say the Veilleux clan?”
“Maybe. What would you think about me coming for a visit?”
I let out a squeal. “I’d love it, Mom! Oh my gosh, I have the coolest hearth and a really great apothecary that Tokala left behind.” I tug on a drawer in the chest that contains an unknown item, and a foul odor wafts up. “There are some things in there I have no idea how to use, but we could figure it out together. And—” I stop rambling when I realize my mother is laughing at me. “I’m a little excited. Sorry.”
“Don’t be, Dawn. I’m glad you want me to come. And who knows? If my visit goes well, I might be willing to take over as the clan witch and let you return to the beach. Would you like that?”
“Yes! Anything to get out of this frozen tundra they call a state.” As soon as I finish speaking, though, I think about Lance. “Well. Maybe. Let’s see how things go.”
“Maybe? Are you getting used to your new life?”
“I met this guy, and—”
“Oh, honey.” She lets out a heavy sigh, and I kick myself for saying anything about Lance as I wait for the lecture I’ve heard a million times. I can practically mouth the words she says next, “Don’t make the mistake I did by believing there’s only one man for you. I don’t regret being with your dad because I had you, but there are definitely days when I wish I hadn’t moved to Florida for some guy.”
“I know, Mom.” I recall the way I’ve been shoveling my driveway when, as Lance said, I could have asked someone to do it for me. I do tend to err on the side of doing things for myself to prove I’m self-sufficient. To whom, I’m not exactly sure, though. I say, “You’ve done a good job raising me to believe that a man is not necessary and does not complete me. Trust me, Mom, that’s not the only reason I might consider staying. There is my magic too.”
“Okay. Good. I’m sorry. I know you have a good head on your shoulders, honey. But it’s my job to worry about you.”
I chuckle. “I get it. So when are you coming?”
“I need to help your dad hire my replacement and then train them, so my guess is in two weeks.”
“Awesome. I look forward to it.” I grab an empty potion bottle and roll it around in my hand, and I catch myself scowling. “I’m sorry to hear about you and Dad, and if you need to talk, I’m always here.”
“Thanks. I’m fine, but you should call your father. Even though we fought all the time, this was still a shock for him.”
I know she’s right. My father is a wonderful man, but he doesn’t like change. I’m sure even though he knew my mom was unhappy and likely to leave him, he chose not to believe it. I say, “I will. Can’t wait to see you, Mom.”
“Me too. I love you, Dawn.”
“I love you too,” I say before we hang up.
I put the potion bottle back on its shelf with a thud. Hearing that my parents are going to get a divorce unsettled me more than I would have thought. When I was a kid, my parents were very much in love, and I don’t think my mother ever had second thoughts, but when I was old enough to go to the local university, their marriage began to unravel. Their fights got louder and more frequent, and before I moved here, they were even arguing in front of employees at the restaurant. It is a good thing Mom and Dad are going to separate, but it still hurts my heart.
I think about my mother coming to visit in two weeks, and that makes me smile. It’s probably because of our Native American blood. She spent a lot of time telling the stories of our history and instilled an understanding of our ways. We’ve always had a close bond that many mothers and daughters don’t get. It will be fun to have her here where we can play in my kitchen.
I walk back over to the window where I can see the tracks Lance and I made yesterday. In the beginning, I followed his footsteps until I was comfortable, and then we walked side by side. It makes me think about how my mother followed my father to Florida, but once she got there, they opened a restaurant, had a child, and lived a life in which they were equal partners. But somewhere along the line, their paths began to stray apart.
That sort of thing can’t happen for werebear. The true-mate bond makes it so the paths can’t ever be too far apart, and it makes me wish my mother and father could have had the same kind of unconditional love for each other. I glance down at the phone, which I’m still holding, and sigh. I do need to call my father and make sure he’s okay, and I wish I weren’t so far away. I’m sure he could use a hug. He’s going to miss my mother, and I know he probably misses me too. Maybe I should let my mother take my place in the clan so I can move back to be with him. I look away from the window to the multiple items I have hanging by my door. All the things I need to put on just to go outside. I really miss the easy life on my Florida beach. Because one day of enjoying the outdoors in cold weather with a cute guy still isn’t enough to make me love winter. At least not yet.
Chapter 6
Screams and laughter carry across the open space to us as Lance and I walk across the high school parking lot toward a sledding hill. I’m bundled up to stay warm in single-digit weather, but I’m not so sure I can since my cheeks are already stinging from the cold. What’s keeping me going is the idea that I’ll be sitting between Lance’s legs on a sled. I have a feeling that might be worth braving the elements.
There are two hills here to choose from. One is short and not very steep, and that’s where I see parents with children. It’s also not where we’re going. We end up at the top of a hill that looks like serious business. I gaze down it, and my stomach flips as I wonder if it’s a racecourse for the skier Lyndsey Vonn. “We’re going to go down this thing on a sled without brakes?” I ask.
“Yup.”
I scan his body with my gaze and det
ermine he’s over two hundred pounds. Add in my weight, and we’re talking about over three hundred pounds flying down a hill, gathering speed every second. That thought makes me queasy. “I took physics, Lance. This is insane.” The screams coming from two girls as they crash confirm it. I point at them. “See?”
He chuckles. “We won’t get hurt. It’s actually part of the fun.” The sled thuds on the ground when he drops it, and he gets on it. “If you want, I can slow us down with my feet. Okay?” He moves the sled forward and digs in his heels to show me how he’s keeping it from sliding forward.
I squint at him, and he laughs.
“Somebody’s got trust issues,” he says.
“Do not.”
I plop down in front of him, and Lance wraps his arm around my waist to pull me in tighter. He nuzzles my neck. “This isn’t so bad, now, is it?”
I lean back against him. “Okay. I admit I do like this—” The sled takes off, and I let out a yelp as I grip Lance’s thighs so tight he might have bruises afterward. As we speed up, I begin to scream. But even though I’m a little afraid, the ride is thrilling. And it ends too soon. As we slow to a stop, I glance over my shoulder at Lance with a big grin. “Let’s do it again!”
“That wasn’t too fast?” he asks as we stand up.
I shake my head. “Next time, let’s go faster.”
Lance chuckles as we begin to hike up the hill. I find that I’m out of breath when we get to the top, and I’m warm from the exertion.
I say, “I’m beginning to see a pattern here.”
“What’s that?”
“Exercise is the key to enjoying winter.”
Lance gives me a quick kiss. “It sure is,” he says in a suggestive voice before he plops the sled down for another run.
I lose count of how many times we slide down the hill, but when my fingers and toes get cold enough they begin to hurt, Lance suggests we go back to his house for hot chocolate.
When we get to the truck, he blasts the heat and says, “Let me see those hands.” He holds them in his warm ones. “Your fingers are like ice.”
“Yeah. They kind of hurt.”
“How about your feet?”
“My toes are really cold too.”
“Take off your boots, and I’ll warm you right up.”
After he brings circulation back to my hands and feet, we drive to his house, and I discover he lives even farther from civilization than I imagined as we wind our way up a one-lane road that makes me think we’re climbing a mountain. I hold my hands over the heat vent as I gaze at the snow-covered pine trees on either side.
“My gosh, this is so pretty.”
“Wait until you see the view from my living room.”
We pull up to a cedar-shingled house, and when Lance brings me inside, I gaze up at the open beams on the ceiling and the whitewashed walls. As we remove our boots and outerwear by the door, I look around. The main floor is open concept, and it’s surprisingly bright in his house. Even his kitchen is white. Stainless-steel appliances shimmer, and the creamy granite countertop gleams. There are splashes of blue and green that make it feel as if I’m in a beach house.
“Let me start a fire for us, and then I’ll make hot chocolate,” Lance says. My stocking feet thud softly on the wood floor as I walk across the open space and stand in the middle to feel the energy. I can tell a lot about a person by the atmosphere in their home. Lance’s space is dreamy, without defined lines and boxes. I already know he’s a watercolorist before I open my eyes again.
I go over to the window to gaze out at his view instead of sitting on the couch by the fireplace. Lance’s house is on the steep slope of a hill that overlooks a valley, and the view extends for miles. “Oh wow.”
“Exactly. It’s great for inspiration.”
“I bet.” Kindling crackles as I make my way to the kitchen. I ask, “What can I do to get started?”
Lance walks over to me. “Get out of my kitchen, woman.” He grabs me by the hips and kisses me. “I’ve got this.”
“Okay.” I chuckle and go sit on the sofa before the fire. “Have you lived here long?” I ask.
“A few years.” A pan clatters on the stove. “My parents gave me the piece of land when I graduated from college, and once I had enough saved, I had this place built.”
“It’s amazing.” I notice the watercolor over the mantel. It’s a winter landscape, and I know it’s by Lance. “Oh my god,” I say when I discover I’m right. The orange glow on the snow is exactly the same shade of sunrise on my field before a storm comes. I turn to look at him behind his kitchen island. “You are amazing. This painting is really good.”
“Thanks,” he says, and I think he blushes a little. “Too bad it doesn’t pay the bills.”
“I bet it could.”
He shrugs as he pours hot liquid into mugs. “Maybe, but it’s not reliable work, and I learned a long time ago I want more stability than hopes and dreams offer.”
He comes toward me, and steam rises up from my drink as I take it.
“Thanks,” I say as I hold the warm mug in both of my hands and sit back down on the sofa. I think about my jobs in Florida. Tending bar and selling trinkets to tourists was a way to pay the bills for me too. “I get it.” I glance around at his beautiful home. “Clearly, stability has its perks.”
Lance takes my drink from me and sets it down on a side table along with his. “I’m glad you like my house.” He takes my hands and massages them. “Are you warm enough?”
“If I say yes, are you going to stop?”
He shakes his head. “I like touching you.”
Lance moves his hands up to rub my forearms, and I let out a sigh. “I really like you touching me.”
“Good.” He grips my upper arms and kisses me. We forget all about the hot chocolate, and it isn’t long before we’re prone on the couch, making out like a couple of teenagers. Fortunately, we’re not going to get caught by our parents, so when hands start sliding under clothing, Lance breaks away and stands up. He grasps my fingers, and I let him lead me to his bedroom.
This room is darker in shades of chocolate brown and gold. I notice more watercolors I’d like to study. Some other time, though, because I’m focused on the way Lance is peeling off my layers of clothing. I help him. “This would be much faster in Florida. We’d only have bathing suits to remove,” I say when I’m standing in my underwear.
He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and tosses it to the floor. He pats the thick comforter on his bed. “But there, you don’t get to cuddle under one of these.” Lance is in just his boxer briefs, and he wraps his arms around my waist to tug me close. “Let me show you another reason to like winter.”
We climb into the bed, and he pulls the covers over us before he kisses me again. This time, he moves from my mouth down my neck, and he slides my bra strap off my shoulder before he nibbles there too. His thigh is between my legs, and I grind against him with my need as he removes my bra. He nips my taut nipple with his teeth, and I let out a small cry.
Lance savors me as he suckles my breast, and he doesn’t stop until I begin to whimper, wanting more. He moves his hand between my legs and slides two fingers into me. Now I moan and pump my hips as he strokes me.
“Dawn,” he murmurs as he moves down my body. He lowers his mouth to my sensitive slit when a rumble I’ve never heard during sex comes from him, and I flinch when I realize it must be his bear.
He stops and lifts up. “I’m sorry. Is this not something you like?”
“No. I mean yes. I—” I let out a sigh. “I don’t want you to stop. I was just surprised to hear your bear.” I frown. “He’s under control. Right?”
Lance smiles at me. “If you’re afraid I might shift when I lose control, you can relax. I stay very much human during sex. I promise.”
“Oh. That’s not—um. Okay. Good.”
Lance rolls over to lie beside me, and he places his hand on my cheek. “Dawn. I’m making you nervous, and we�
�re probably moving too quickly. So let’s slow things down.”
“I’m fine. Really. I want this, Lance.” I take his hand and put it between my legs again. “I really want this.”
“Your body does, but your mind isn’t so sure.” He rubs his thumb over my clit, and my belly quivers from his touch. “Talk to me about the bear thing. What frightens you?”
As much as I want to ignore the subject and focus on how good he’s making me feel, I know that I’m likely to freak out again at the slightest hint of his bear showing, so I lift his hand off of me. “You’re right. I’m not completely comfortable with your animal side. I don’t know enough to understand how everything works. I’ve only heard bits and pieces.”
“Hold on,” Lance says, and he climbs out of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
I sit up to lean against the headboard as he walks away. I pull the covers up over my chest for warmth as I wonder what’s wrong with me. I’m in a super-hot guy’s bed, and I want sex with him. Badly. But the moment he let out a sexy little rumble, I balked. It’s not like I don’t know he’s a werebear. Although that might be the problem. Maybe while I’m falling for the human Lance, I’m forgetting that it’s only part of who he really is. And maybe I’m not okay with that at all.
Chapter 7
When I hear the microwave beep, I realize Lance is heating up our hot chocolate. He returns to me with two mugs in his hands.
“Let’s talk about what being a werebear means,” he says. “Tell me what you know.”
“You can shift whenever you want to, but some werebear can’t control it as easily as others, and extreme emotions can trigger your bear. I know about true-mate love too.”
I take a sip of my drink and let the sweet flavor fill my mouth.
“Okay,” says Lance. “Let’s talk about shifting. Almost all adults have complete control.”
“Oh.” A flush rises in me. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. How were you supposed to know?” He lifts his mug to his mouth for a drink. “However, we do let out a growl from time to time when something angers us, we want to enforce a statement, or”—he waggles his eyebrows—“when we’re turned on.”