Alpha Bears And Brides (Red Lodge Bears) The Complete Collection

by Vivian Wood

  The intensity and sincerity on his face made Lucy shiver.

  “I— Okay,” was her only response, her shoulders slumping.

  Wyatt watched her for another long moment before changing the subject.

  “I’m going to send someone out tomorrow to change all your locks. Can you be here for that?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Of course,” she said, waving a hand.

  “Okay. Go on inside. There will be someone here keeping watch, just in case. You have nothing to worry about, Lucy.”

  Lucy paused, wanting to thank him somehow, but then she just nodded. He put his helmet on, obscuring his face, and turned his motorcycle around in a slow circle, starting the engine. He looked back, waiting.

  Lucy stepped back inside and locked the front door, sealing herself in. Still, she didn’t move until the sound of his bike died away, until he was really gone. Biting her lip, Lucy sank to the floor, her back to the door. She laid there, unmoving, until the first light of dawn started to show through her windows, until she finally felt safe enough to drift off to sleep.

  106

  Four

  Wyatt’s heart thrummed heavily in his chest as Lucy gave him a shaky thumbs up before closing her front door. He stood in her driveway for several minutes, staring at her house, trying to understand the enormity of what he’d just done. He had to drag himself away and force himself onto his motorcycle, knowing that he had things to do. Knowing that a high-speed, late night ride would let him process some small part of the thoughts whirling and racing in his mind, threatening to steal his very breath.

  Gunning the engine, he pulled on his helmet and let the bike fly, cursing when he realized that his helmet still smelled of her. He forced himself to ignore her intriguing scent and focus on the situation at hand, work through exactly where he stood now.

  He’d really fucked things up this time, completely and totally. He’d been unable to control himself, to mind his own business. Therefore he’d unintentionally started a long chain reaction, the cycle of events that led to the most horrific of his visions.

  With his brothers and their mates, Wyatt’s choices were easy and obvious. Step in, poke around in their lives, stir things up. Antagonize them, even, if it came down to it.

  Nora and Finn were a great example; if Wyatt hadn’t stepped in and made Finn jealous, Nora would have eventually left Finn. Wyatt’s visions had revealed that in her search for independence, Nora was going to take a trip to Paris. Only she’d never arrive; her plane was doomed to fall from the sky, flaming out over the ocean and killing all the passengers on impact.

  And Finn… his outcome was worse, somehow. He didn’t die, not right away. But the loss of his destined mate filled him with deep, unshakable grief and a loneliness that never faded away. In Wyatt’s vision, Finn took off in his bear form, moving North into Canada, and just never came back. Wyatt wasn’t certain, but he guessed that his brother lived out his days in complete solitude, blaming himself for Nora’s death, never returning to his human form.

  So Wyatt had stuck his nose in. Same with Gavin and Faith, same with Luke and Aubrey… All his brothers had gotten a little of his meddling, in some small way or another. He just stoked the flames a little, poked the beehive with a long stick, and slunk back into the shadows to let his brothers correct the course.

  But this… this was very, very different. Because he dreamed about her every night, Wyatt knew that Lucy worked at Mount Mercy Hospital. And because he knew where she worked, he had trouble resisting the need to just sort of drop by. Not that he wanted to interact or anything. Hell, he’d never even gone inside the building.

  But the moment he’d set foot in the staff parking lot, Wyatt knew. He knew that this was the place where he made a terrible choice, the moment where he lost the only woman he could ever come to love. He could either let her die at the hands of a would-be rapist, right there on on the hard asphalt, in the shadow of her beat-up car.

  Or he could save her in the parking lot, and delay the choice. And there would be a choice, a moment of reckoning. He’d seen it a hundred times, knew the whole scene better than the lines of fate etched into his own calloused palms. He’d turn left, or right. Choose his own life, or Lucy’s life.

  Now things were even worse, because Wyatt had finally laid eyes on her. She was even more beautiful in person, and she’d surprised him with her quick thinking and compassion, even in the face of a violent attack. He’d looked at her, touched her, looked down into those wide, frightened, dove-gray eyes. Felt her body against his as she’d held him tightly on the back of his bike, their bodies close as lovers sharing a bed.

  Now he’d never be able to choose himself. Not after seeing how amazing she truly was.

  Gritting his teeth, Wyatt shifted his thoughts as he navigated downtown, pulling his bike up into the wide curved drive of Hotel Andra, his home away from home in Seattle. He needed to focus on the moment, not on thoughts of impending doom.

  Tossing the keys to the valet, he requested that his rented Escalade be brought around instead. He went up to his room, setting his helmet on a table. After checking his messages on his cell phone, ignoring calls from his brothers and several ex flings, he grabbed his Chrome messenger bag and stuffed it with necessities: a few changes of clothing, some snacks, binoculars, his laptop and iPod, and the notebook where he recorded his visions.

  He stood for a moment, looking down at the assortment of items. He wanted nothing more than to jump and his car right damned now and return to stake out Lucy’s house, but practicality demanded that he slow things down a bit. A shower first, because if he was going to be tailing Lucy for the next few days as he planned, he could at least start the whole thing smelling decent.

  Wyatt stripped off his leather jacket, jeans, and t-shirt, heading into the hotel bathroom and starting the shower. He went ahead and shaved and brushed his teeth while the shower heated up, then got under the spray with an appreciative groan.

  He washed up quickly, but instead of jumping out and moving on, he leaned against the tiled wall for a few minutes, letting the hot water soothe the tense muscles in his shoulders. Rolling his neck, he took in deep breaths, appreciating the thick, steam that filled the air.

  Snapshots flitted through his mind, brief glimpses of the many visions he’d had about Lucy. None of the good ones, of course. His stressed, overtaxed brain has nothing pleasant to share just now.

  One snapshot had Wyatt kneeling on the ground, Lucy in his arms, a declaration of love on her lips as she struggled for her last breath, the sticky warmth of her life’s blood covering Wyatt’s hands and lap.

  Another had Wyatt on his knees again, staring at a wide-eyed Lucy. She was running toward him, reaching out for him, her mouth open in a scream. There was a flash of pain, and Wyatt looked down to find blood pouring over his chest. Moments later, darkness.

  Growling, Wyatt slammed his fist against the wall and turned the water off. He stormed out of the bathroom, grabbing a towel and drying off in brusque motions. In less than five minutes he was fully dressed and shouldering his messenger bag. After a moment’s pause, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the bed, figuring he might as well make whatever moments of sleep he could catch in the car a little more comfortable.

  He took the elevator down and strode out to find his SUV waiting. Tipping the valet handsomely, Wyatt sped back toward Lucy’s little house, situated about fifteen minutes from downtown. He made it there in ten, ignoring countless traffic laws in his desire to get there, to make sure that Lucy was safe and sound.

  “Met her once, and you’re already fucking whipped,” Wyatt mumbled under his breath.

  He pulled the Escalade up across the street from her house, close enough to watch but far enough to keep his presence discreet. He leaned his seat back a little, thinking that even though his windows were tinted, he’d rather not be seen through the windshield. There was no point to staking out her house if he made himself obvious; any bad guys would simply wait for h
im to leave, and Lucy would get hurt while Wyatt was out getting food or something.

  As soon as he reclined, he realized how exhausted he really was. He’d already had a long day, dragging himself through several long business meetings with various investors and his long-suffering personal assistant Bess, making sure his business was still booming despite his lengthy departure from Chicago.

  Then he’d managed less than an hour of sleep before a vision drove him from his bed, bringing him to the parking lot to find his vision unfolding in real life. Now that his adrenaline had abated, Wyatt felt the weight of sleeplessness, pulling him down into a near doze in mere minutes.

  As he relaxed in his seat, he replayed a very different set of visions in his mind. They weren’t all doom and gloom, though even the good ones led there eventually. But instead of focusing on that, he tried to think of the ones that he relished most.

  Some were sweet, dreamlike images of them lying in bed together, of Wyatt holding Lucy in his arms, kissing her full lips. Some were dirty; Lucy moaning, lifting her curtain of chestnut curls and arching her back as she straddled his hips, Lucy dropping to her knees and licking her lips with a sultry expression of intent.

  His body hardened at the mere idea of Lucy sucking his cock. Wyatt tensed, cursing aloud at his own foolishness. He shouldn’t be thinking of that, period. As a matter of fact, he shouldn’t even consider the thought of ever laying a single finger on Lucy.

  He shouldn’t be thinking of her lying next to him, wearing nothing but his t-shirt. About finding her scent on his pillow, or running his fingers through her long hair. He definitely shouldn’t be thinking of the way she sounded when she was underneath him, pinned to the bed, taking everything he gave and begging for more…

  Though Wyatt felt he knew her intimately, perhaps better than anyone else in his life, Lucy was a virtual stranger. And if he had a brain, she’d remain that way. If they got to know each other, there was a chance that they would bond. Or worse, fall in love. Then, inevitably, one of them would die, and the other would be ruined forever.

  Wyatt knew what it meant to lose a potential mate, had felt it himself once. He didn’t intend to let her die, but neither did he want her to feel that kind of pain, the sensation of losing the most important person in your whole world.

  So despite the fact that he and Lucy were going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks, or as long as Wyatt had left to live, they were definitely, certainly, absolutely not going to get any closer.

  Probably.

  Groaning, Wyatt grabbed his pillow and climbed into the SUV’s back seat. He needed sleep, and badly. Sleep would help keep his lust controlled, help him rein in his ever-growing curiosity about a certain gorgeous brunette.

  Or so he hoped.

  107

  Five

  Lucy woke early, her body protesting her decision to sleep on the hardwood floor of her foyer. Her brief period of sleep had been fraught with tense, heart-pounding dreams, and not the good kind. Masked assailants, knives against her throat, seeing her life flash before her eyes.

  Lucy groaned as she climbed to her feet, realizing that she was still wearing her lab coat. She’d kicked her shoes off last night, but nothing more than that. After a quick check of the house, making sure that everything was still and silent, Lucy undressed and took a quick shower.

  Clean and at least a little refreshed, she checked her schedule for the day. She remembered two things at once. One, that she had two whole days off in a row. Two, that her car was still at the hospital, and she’d need to retrieve it before she could get on with her much-needed errands, like getting groceries and picking up her dry cleaning.

  Groaning, she pulled on her last clean pair of jeans and an old, soft t-shirt. It clung a little too tightly, but she loved it and refused to part with it. Plus, she liked to think that the shirt’s particular shade of royal blue flattered her freckled complexion.

  Heading to the kitchen, she found the fridge empty. Unsurprising, really, considering how many hours she’d worked in the last month. She was only two weeks away from letting her clinic job go, had already scheduled her last day and everything. After that, she would work less… assuming that she picked a fellowship somewhere in a timely manner.

  Scarfing down a few handfuls of fruity kid’s cereal right out of the box, she eyed the stack of mail sitting on her kitchen counter. Some letters, some packets, all from fellowship programs across the country. Acceptances and rejections.

  So far, she’d only opened the packet from Mount Mercy, unsurprised to find a job offer inside. Lucy was lacking in many areas, but she was a great, caring doctor. She worked hard and smiled often, and her patients weren’t the only ones to notice.

  The only downside was that she’d been working her ass off at two jobs for years, letting her lifestyle and social life suffer. She’d only had a few dates in the last year, all with the creep her mom had chosen blind. Not to mention the fact that she’d definitely packed on some pounds eating takeout five nights a week. Her yoga mat was gathering dust in the hall closet, languishing sadly. And her sex life was definitely lacking, big time.

  Shrugging, she threw away the empty cereal box and readied herself for errands. As she picked up her purse, she heard a knock on the front door.

  For a second, Lucy froze. The thought entered her mind that it might somehow be her attacker from the night before. Although…

  On second thought, he’d looked pretty bad after Wyatt had finished with him. Slipping on a pair of flats, Lucy went to the door and looked through the peep hole.

  “Speak of the devil and he appears,” Lucy mumbled, brow furrowing.

  Her mysterious, dark-haired savior stood on her doorstep, his head turned to watch the street. She’d only met him once, but she identified him in an instant; Wyatt wasn’t the type of man that you could simply forget.

  He turned back to the door as she stood gawping, raising his fist to knock again, his expression growing concerned. Lucy jumped and turned the deadbolt, yanking the door open.

  For several long seconds, they both just stared at each other. Lucy couldn’t miss the fact that Wyatt’s gaze traveled from her face down her body. She flushed, unsure how to interpret his frank perusal.

  “The locksmith is here,” Wyatt said at last, breaking the growing tension.

  Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it, licking her lips. She noticed a dark van pulling into the driveway, the side emblazoned with a lock and key.

  “Uh,” she managed, turning even redder. By now, she must be about the precise shade of a ripe tomato. Verrrrrry flattering.

  “You okay?” Wyatt asked, his jaw tensing. He looked over her shoulder into the house, as if scanning for danger.

  “Er. Yeah. Are you sure this is necessary?” Lucy asked, frowning. “I don’t mean to offend you, but last night was a random thing, probably. And you and I don’t really…”

  When she trailed off, Wyatt caught her train of thought perfectly.

  “Know each other,” he said slowly, giving her a speculative glance. He considered her words, cocking his head. “What if I just asked you to trust me? The guy who attacked you last night was just a hired gun, I think. Whoever paid him is still out there, and still wants to hurt you.”

  Lucy shook her head.

  “You can’t possibly know that,” she pointed out.

  He hesitated, but didn’t disagree. She had the distinct sense that he was holding something back, but she wasn’t about to press him for details.

  “Okay,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I think you should go.”

  She started to close the door, but Wyatt’s hand shot out and stopped her.

  “The locks. Just let the guy do that part. That’s all I’m asking right now. I’ll pay for it,” Wyatt insisted. He looked so troubled, it made Lucy soften.

  She bit her lip, then nodded.

  “Okay. Okay. But I’ll come out to you guys,” she said.

  Swinging the door wide, s
he put her purse on the hall table and then stepped outside. Approval plain on his face, Wyatt backed up and gave her space, introducing her to the locksmith, a fortyish man in a grey jumpsuit with his company logo emblazoned on the front pocket.

  While the man set to work changing her locks, she leaned against the porch wall and watched Wyatt closely, trying to figure him out. They were complete strangers, their only meeting a complete accident. What was he getting out of this situation? Was it just that he’d saved her once, and felt responsible for her somehow?

  Lucy examined him as she mulled it over. He was massively tall, probably close to 6’4”. Solid as a tank, with broad shoulders and rippling muscle aplenty. Dark, neatly cut hair, piercing light blue eyes, and a clean-shaven jaw whose angles looked sharp enough to cut stone.

  Lucy squinted at him, thinking that he’d recently shaved, because she felt certain he’d sported heavy stubble the night before. A soft, feminine part of her brain was currently trying to decide which look was sexier.

  Taking a deep breath, she checked out his clothes, trying to determine… well, anything about him. He wore dark, fashionable jeans, the cuffs turned up to reveal heavy black motorcycle boots. He wore a fitted white t-shirt under his heavy black leather jacket, though it was nearly too warm outside for the coat.

  Pursing her lips, Lucy realized that she was seriously lacking in detective skills. All she’d figured out was that his clothes looked pretty expensive, so he probably wasn’t homeless. Great.

  For the most part, Wyatt let her be, watching the locksmith’s every move. When the poor smith made to step inside Lucy’s house, Wyatt stopped him with a hand to the man’s chest, a low grumble tearing from Wyatt’s throat.

  “You ask permission to go inside,” Wyatt ordered, fixing the man with a glare.

  Lucy stiffened at the possessive demand in his tone. The locksmith blanched and turned to Lucy, his expression apologetic. Lucy jumped in before the man could even ask.