Werebear's Nanny_A Paranormal Romance

by T. S. Ryder

  And yet the thought of taking her to the city, watching her get on an airplane and never seeing her again… it hurt. So he held on, even though every logical, rational thought screamed at him to let go.

  Mary stirred, and Andre grew still, not wanting to disturb her. Her eyes fluttered open, and her rosebud mouth, so deliciously kissable, curled into the happy, sleepy smile that it always went to she woke up in the morning. It never failed to elicit a smile in response. She rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on his chest.

  "How did you sleep?" she asked.

  Andre shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I had a dream."

  "I love your dreams." Her eyes brightened. "What was it this time?"

  His fingers ran down her spine under the blankets. It was a warmer morning than it had been, but still chilly. One of the things he loved most about waking up next to Mary was that she always pressed so tightly against him. She got cold easily, but would rather snuggle closer to him than get out of bed and dress. A curl of her hair was stuck to her cheek. He smoothed it back and kissed her forehead.

  You asked for a day and a night, he thought, I have given you three months. Now you have to leave before it’s too late for both of us.

  "Well? What did you dream?"

  "I dreamt that I set the cabin on fire, and you were still in it," he said. If she would fear him, even a little bit, it would be easier to strip himself away from her.

  Her brow puckered. "That's horrible. I'm sorry."

  "Of course you would apologize for me having a dream where I killed you." Andre couldn't help but laugh. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She welcomed him eagerly, hands roaming his torso. A light moan escaped her throat, and she broke the kiss, moving her mouth to his chest. Each kiss felt like a burst of sunshine, and Andre stroked her raven hair as she made her way up to the hollow of his throat, moving her hand lower.

  "I have to go take care of the animals," he said reluctantly.

  She moaned again, in disappointment this time, and moved onto her back. Her lower lip pushed out into a delicious pout, and he had to take it between his teeth and suck gently as he rolled over her. Her green eyes glinted mischievously as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

  "Now you can't get away," she said. "You're my prisoner. You must do as I say."

  "Yes, mistress." Andre tasted the sweet skin on her neck. "Except I have to go take care of the animals."

  He reluctantly pulled himself from her embrace. As he lifted the blankets, she shivered violently and yanked them back around her, wrapping herself in the blankets until only her nose poked out. The pile shook like a shorn lamb.

  "I'll keep the bed warm for you," she said, her voice muffled by the blankets.

  Andre laughed, heart lightening. Perhaps she should stay for a few more weeks until he was certain the snow would be over. He didn't want her to be stranded in an airport for hours on end or have it canceled altogether, after all. That would hardly be fair.

  The longer she stays, the more it will hurt when she leaves, he told himself, for you and her both.

  But then, maybe she didn't have to leave.

  The goat was already standing by the milking post when he entered. Its udder bulged beneath it, and it turned a baleful, reproaching look on him. The sheep all rushed to the edge of their pen, looking for their feed. The little lamb that had been born three months ago had grown quickly and was a fine, strong young ram. Andre had put him and his mother with the others again just the day previous.

  After he had carried out his chores, he checked his surveillance. The instant he saw the screens, his heart froze. The cameras closest to his cabin had been tripped. Wolves. Their black coats distinctive against the white snow, they slithered over the land like shadows. One, a big one with green eyes and a skiff of white on his muzzle, looked directly at the camera.

  The feed cut out. Blood roared in Andre's ears. Locke. He'd found out about the Bear. Now the Wolves were on their way.

  And if they found Mary in his bed? Or wearing his clothes? Panic stabbed into his heart. No. He wouldn't let it happen! They already treated her terribly, what might they do if they learned that she had been sleeping with a Bear?

  His clothes tore along the seams, shredding off his body as he let his Bear come forth. Without sparing a second thought, he charged out of the barn and into the forest.

  She goes away today, a desperate voice said in his head. As soon as these Wolves are gone, she goes away.

  ***

  Mary drifted back to sleep after Andre left. He wasn't in the house, but there was some fresh snow on the trees outside, so she thought he must have gone to plow the road. Humming, she quickly tidied the house.

  Every night she watched him fall asleep. When he was sleeping, he looked so peaceful. The tenseness in his face faded away, and his brown hair spread around him like a halo. She loved looking at him. If she didn't have to sleep herself, she would watch him all night, memorizing every feature; his strong jaw, heavy brows, straight nose. She wanted to remember everything about him.

  Never before had she been so happy, but a cloud hung over her. A fear that this would be the day when he told her it was time to leave. No more frolicking together in the snow, Wolf and Bear in harmony, chasing one another, running together. He had even taken her hunting on the full moon, though they hadn't caught anything.

  When he came back, she was going to do it. Her nerves trembled just thinking about it, but she was going to tell him that she loved him.

  Some hours later, she saw him coming out of the forest, his Bear glossy and beautiful in the white snow. What had he been doing? He would often disappear like this, and he never really answered her when she asked.

  He headed for the barn first, so Mary put on some bacon for lunch and set the table.

  A bruise stretched from his jaw to ear when he came in. Mary stifled a gasp, then screamed. Blood ran down his chest from three deep gouges just below his collarbone. His shirt was ripped to shreds, his jeans in a condition just as bad.

  Andre stumbled to the table and collapsed into a chair. Mary stood frozen, hands pressed to her mouth, heart slamming against her ribs. She couldn't move. How could Andre, the Bear, the strong, powerful man she had come to know, end up in such a state?

  "Water," he mumbled.

  "Water," she repeated, breaking from the spell.

  Her hands shook, but she rushed to get a glass and filled it at the tap pausing only to take the bacon off the burner. Andre gulped the water down, wincing when she peeled his shirt back from his skin. There were more gouges on his shoulders, long claw marks down his back, and blood dripped onto the floor.

  The wounds had to be cleaned and dressed. She knew that much from patching up her brothers when they got into brawls. "Where do you keep bandages?"

  "Cupboard in the bathroom."

  Mary put a pot of water on to boil and fetched the bandages. "Andre?"

  He slumped against the table and shook his head. Mary rushed to his side, putting a hand on his forehead. He didn't feel overly warm, but his temperature was elevated. Probably the adrenaline was wearing off.

  "Andre, you need to take off your shirt and lay on the floor."

  He straightened. "I'm okay. It's not that bad."

  "Not that bad?" Mary shook her head. "You're bleeding all over the floor. You are not okay. Now do as I say. What happened?"

  Andre grunted as he slid from the chair. Mary ran for a pillow and plumped it under his head before unbuttoning his shirt, checking for bruises on his torso that would indicate internal bruising. Fortunately, it didn't seem like that was the case. He still hadn't answered her by the time the water boiled.

  "What happened?" she repeated, wetting a cloth and dabbing at the wound bleeding most heavily, one on his shoulder.

  "It was a bear," he said. "Not a shifter. Just a regular old bear. Damn grizzly thought I was encroaching on its territory. But I'm fine. I'm fine. There is nothing to worry about. There is nothing to worr
y about at all."

  Chapter Seven

  He lied to her. As Mary cleaned the bite wounds on the back of his neck, her stomach dropped. Bile rose in her throat. Her hands shook, but she kept cleaning the wound. She recognized the bite as coming from a Wolf. She had seen enough of them, from when her brothers' roughhousing got too heated, or when they got into fights with other young Wolves.

  He was attacked by Wolves from my community. Why wouldn't he tell her? Had he come across them as they were looking for her? Or had they come to him, knowing she was here? Had they scented him in the forest and attacked, trying to kill him for the sole reason he was a Bear?

  "Was it my father?" The words escaped unbidden.

  Andre startled, jerking away from her hands. "What?"

  "The Wolf that made these marks, was it my father?" Why did tears have to come into her eyes now? She blinked rapidly, pouring a little hydrogen peroxide into the bite. White foam instantly bubbled and Andre flinched. Because of the stinging or her words? "Please just tell me."

  "Yes. Him and your brothers."

  "They attacked you because of me."

  Andre shook his head, his long hair falling out of his bun. "Not because of you, Mary. If they knew you were here, some would have come to get to you while the rest drew me away."

  Would they have? Mary bit her lip. Yes, they would have. Peter, only a year younger than she was, had always been very protective of her. Before he got married, he often took some time during his day to help her with things that needed to be done in the house such as changing light bulbs, checking the fire alarms. He was also the one who convinced her father to let her start driving. If he knew she was here, he'd come with a shotgun to get her back. And her father would, too, if he thought she was being held prisoner by a Bear.

  "So you're going to have to leave, then," she said, taping some gauze over the bite. "You can't stay here if my community knows you're here. They'll kill you."

  Andre did not respond, and Mary shuddered at the implications his silence held. She knelt at his feet, grasping his hands. His black eyes stared at the wall behind her.

  "Andre, you are going to leave, aren't you? You're not going to stay here. My father hates Bears. He'll try to kill you!"

  His eyes finally flickered to hers, but his face was expressionless. "If he tries, I'll kill him first."

  His words punched her in the gut and left her gasping for air. She hadn't considered this–that if her father came, if he faced Andre, that one would kill the other. That Andre would kill her father. In an instant every happy memory with her father flashed through her mind: the way she used to sit on his knee when she was a child, him reading to her, teaching her how to feed the chickens and gather the eggs, being gathered around the fire and listening to his stories.

  How could she stay and watch one or the other die?

  "But you could leave," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You could run away and not be put in that situation."

  "I can't."

  "Why?" Her voice rose until she was shouting. "Why not? What is so important that it's worth dying over?"

  One of his massive hands stroked her hair from her face. She leaned into his warmth despite herself. "Eve."

  She jerked.

  "Isadore."

  Mary pulled away from him. She knew an Eve in the community, but Isadore? It was a woman's name, but not one she recognized. Her stomach flip-flopped. He had other women? Were they tucked away in cabins around here, too? Is that where he disappeared to? "Who are they?"

  "Isadore was my wife. Eve was my daughter."

  Was? Mary pressed her hand to her mouth.

  "They were both Bears like me. We had this farm. It had belonged to Isadore's father. He was a human. But we were happy here, together, Isadore, Eve and I. And then one day, I lost everything."

  He dropped his gaze again for a moment, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, and Mary knew every word he spoke pained him to the core. She pulled a chair to his side and held his hand silently. What was she supposed to say?

  "Isadore and Eve were up in the mountains when… when some hunters found them. They were with their Bears, and… I suppose they didn't have time to change. I found them. Bullets ripped into their hearts, their throats cut." Andre shuddered. "They were just left there, like garbage. Left to be scavenged, to rot."

  Tears ran down Mary's face. She leaned against Andre, her heart breaking for him. His face was bleak, eyes haunted. He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then wrapped his arms around her. He shook against her, breathing hitched, but no tears came from his eyes. Mary buried her face in his shoulder, wishing she could take away all his pain.

  "I buried them here. And then I left. I ran as far as I could. I couldn't stand to be here, with their memories all around me. I had been with Isadore since I was eighteen. Eve was only six years old. I didn't know how to cope. I didn't know what I had to live for." His head came up, and his body went rigid.

  Mary pulled back, glancing around, sure that his sudden tension came from some danger in the room. But Andre stared straight ahead again, hands clenched as he glared at the wall.

  "And then I vowed I would kill the hunters that had killed my wife and daughter. I strengthened my body, I hunted them. And—" He glanced at her and seemed to freeze a moment. The tension drained from his body. "I found them. I killed them. And I came back here, to where Isadore and Eve were. I got the sheep and goat, and now this place is all I live for. I can't leave."

  Leave for me. Live for me. She wanted to beg him to come with her, but after that harrowing story, how was she supposed to tell him that she loved him? Would he believe her? Would he even want her love, or would he turn her away because he couldn't accept it?

  "I'm so sorry," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him again. What was she supposed to do? All she could do was hold him, try to ease his heartache for a little while longer.

  But he pulled away from her, shaking his head. "Mary, I can't."

  "You can't… what?"

  "I told you once before that I can't give you my life. It was selfish of me to draw this out, to keep you here this long. I am going to start the truck. You need to go. It's not safe for you anymore."

  Her heart stopped. No! The word got caught in her throat, choking her. No, she couldn't leave! Not now! How could she just walk away when the man she loved was going to kill and be killed by her family? She jumped to her feet, but Andre was already out of the cabin.

  She took a step towards the door but stopped. Running after him and begging him to let her stay wasn't going to do any good. No. She needed to have another plan.

  ***

  What had he been thinking? Of all the lies he had prepared for this moment, he had to tell the truth! Andre's hand shook as he turned on his truck. He had told the truth and almost too much of it. For a brief, wild moment he had wanted to tell her everything. Everything! He could have laughed at himself.

  Mary, your father and two of your brothers, Peter and Philip, were the ones who killed Isadore and Eve. I didn't have to hunt them down, I saw them cut my daughter's throat, I heard them laughing. I was there. I barely escaped with my life. And I am here because I am hunting them. I am going to kill them. As soon as the time is right, I am going to go to your community and kill every werewolf I can before they kill me.

  An angry, bitter laugh bubbled up his throat. He hated to imagine her expression of horror, the fear that would be in her eyes. She would think everything he did was because he wanted revenge. She would distrust every tender touch, every kiss, everything that was between them. He could never hurt her like that!

  Every time she was in his arms, the rage of hate in his chest cooled a little. Her smile, her laugh, made him think that maybe he could be happy again. If she asked him to go with her, what would he do? Was revenge worth losing her?

  I can't burden her with my life.

  Mary emerged from the cabin, her face downcast, carrying the blanket and Ziploc bag of mo
ney that she had come with. She wore her dress, and it looked wrong on her. It was shapeless, like a potato sack, and showed none of her curves. But even worse were the tears on her face.

  She slid into the passenger side of the truck. He shifted gears, but a small hand laid on his forearm. Andre couldn't look at her. Seeing her long green eyes, with her beautiful black hair haloing her pale face would be too much.

  "Before I go, can I see their graves?"

  The question startled him, and he looked up involuntarily. She looked just as he knew she would, and the tenderness in her face was too much for him to deny. A lump rose in his throat, and he nodded silently. Mary tucked her hands back into her own lap as he drove down the dirt road. His heart beat uncomfortably.

  Is revenge worth losing her? He asked himself again, and he didn't have an answer.

  Chapter Eight

  Journeying to the graves of Andre's wife and daughter was a silent affair. They were buried high on a nearby mountain. While Andre easily climbed up the path on two legs, Mary had had to embrace her Wolf in order to get up the steep, slippery slope. She padded alongside Andre while he carried her dress, always close enough that her shoulder brushed his thigh.

  It was a nice location. They could see the spread of land below, the blanket of snow smooth and glistening in the sunlight, broken down in the valley by the pine trees that grew along the twisting road. Mary could picture the waving grasses of summer would look just as striking, and when she closed her eyes and rose her face to the sun, she could imagine what fun a child would have here, playing with her mother, knocking rocks down the mountainside.

  Her eyes were red and itchy with tears when Andre quietly told her they had to leave. He hadn't touched her the whole time they were there. He just stared at the headstones laid into the ground.

  Returning to the truck was even quieter than their way up. She desperately wished she knew what to say, but what words could possibly ease his pain?

  "It'll be dark before we get to the city," Mary murmured. "Perhaps it would be best if I stayed one more night."