Werebear's Nanny_A Paranormal Romance

by T. S. Ryder

  He stepped back to admire his work.

  "And how did you justify this to Father?" She gestured at the nailed door.

  "I told him that you're afraid the Bear will come back for you."

  Mary winced. She didn't ask what Peter had told their father about her time with Andre, and neither of them had offered any explanation. But perhaps it was best that she didn't know. "I won't try to run away," she assured him. "There's nothing out there for me anymore."

  Peter studied her for a moment and then nodded. "I'll be watching nonetheless, Mary."

  "To make sure I don't leave this hell."

  "To make sure you don't do anything rash. And that you are being treated properly. If you feel overwhelmed, if you feel like you're being treated unfairly, just come to me and Amy. I'll take care of you."

  Mary forced herself to smile and thank him. He smiled back and slipped from the room. After closing the door to ensure she had some privacy, Mary moved to the windows and gazed at the familiar sight of the forest. She began planning on how she would escape.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Spring seeped into the world so gradually that when Mary looked out the window and saw the lilacs beginning to bloom, she was shocked at how much time had gone by. She tried to concentrate and think about how long it had been since she last saw Andre, but her days were a blur of cooking, cleaning, mediating squabbles, and helping with schoolwork.

  Julia's leg had healed nicely, and the weeks of bedrest had helped to fill out her face. She wouldn't tell Mary what had happened to make her so thin, blaming it on the amount of work she had to do around the house, saying she never had a moment to eat a proper meal.

  She was helping Mary peel potatoes for their supper, hands moving rapidly. "I never knew how much you actually do around her," she mentioned. "All this work! I don't know how you've always managed to keep everything in order.

  Mary's heart warmed at her comments.

  "Thank Luna I'm going to marry before you," Julia continued. "I don't think I could take Mother's demands for another day.

  Mary dropped her knife onto the stove beside the pot she was filling with water and went into the pantry.

  It was like she never left. She was working just as much as she had when she left, only now she couldn't escape to town for groceries. There wasn't even any sign her parents had missed her. The first thing her mother had said to her on seeing her again was pointing out that she had gained weight.

  It wasn't true. Her dresses were all looser on her now than they had been before, but their utter shapelessness obscured the fact that she had a defined waist. So she had let the laundry pile up and the dishes go unwashed for a day while she made herself a pair of trousers on the family's ancient sewing machine. She'd then cut off her dresses at mid-thigh and used the extra fabric to make herself belts to cinch at the waist.

  Nobody had commented on her change of style. She had only ever worn those old dresses because she didn't have the time to make herself nice clothes, or the money to buy anything from the stores. She was certain that her father was going to be angry when he found out she had used the fabric meant for his new trousers for hers, but she didn't care.

  Unfortunately, every time she tried to slip away from the farm, Peter was there. She never tried to ask him to let her go. She rarely talked to him at all.

  Mary sighed as she leaned against the cool wall, inhaling the scent of the bread she had baked earlier that day.

  Andre threatened to enter her thoughts, and she concentrated instead on everything she had left to do that day. She couldn't allow herself to cry for Andre–not in front of her family. She only allowed her tears to come at night when she was safe from prying eyes and dangerous questions.

  If he hadn't injured Julia, I could have left with him and I wouldn't be stuck here.

  No, she couldn't think like that. Mary made herself straighten. Such thoughts made despair fill her heart and leak from her eyes.

  The potatoes needed to be put on the stove if they were going to be done for supper. She grabbed a bunch of dried basil to put in the water and returned to her work. Julia was gone. In her place was Peter, clumsily peeling the potatoes.

  "I used to be much better at this, but Amy won't let me in the kitchen." He offered her a half-smile. "She says it's her domain and if I am going to start doing housework, she was going to start milking the cows."

  "You should have taken her up on that offer," Mary replied, returning to the pile of already-peeled potatoes and dicing them swiftly. "She's awfully pale. She needs to get outside more."

  Peter made a noise in his throat. "Mary, I've had a phone call from your Bear."

  The knife slipped, narrowly missing her fingers. Mary's heart jumped to her throat and she whirled, eyes bright. She was desperate to hear more, even as she told herself that she couldn't be this excited just to hear her brother mention him. "When?"

  Peter stared at the peels in the scrap bucket. "We've been talking for several weeks now."

  "You have? Why?"

  "Because he wanted to know if you were all right, and I wanted to know if he really cared."

  Mary's throat was dry. "And?"

  Her brother finally looked at her. "You're miserable here. I can see that, and it breaks my heart. You haven't smiled once since you've been back. And if the Bear really is your soulmate… I can't stand in the way of your happiness. I can't imagine how it would be if I couldn't have Amy with me every day."

  "He could have killed Julia." Mary slumped into the chair next to Peter's. "How can I forgive him for that?"

  "We have spoken about that, and he seems truly remorseful for it. I can understand his anger at Father for destroying his farm. Although," here Peter shook his head and sliced a little too deep into the potato he was peeling, "he also seems to despise me for it. I suppose he must blame me, but Father already knew he was there. I didn't tell him."

  Mary struggled to listen, the words truly remorseful ringing in her ears. If it was true, if Andre really did regret his actions, could she go back to him? Could she forgive him, hold him in her arms again?

  "Regret doesn't erase what he did."

  Peter put a hand, wet and starchy from potato juice, over hers. "But if he truly is your soulmate, he deserves a second chance, doesn't he? I've arranged for you two to meet in the city on the Full Moon Run. I'm going to leave my truck out on the road a few miles from here. You'll be able to take it to the city."

  Mary's heart felt as light as a feather. She didn't think she could be so happy again, and a smile burst over her face. The Full Moon Run happened every month on the night of the full moon. For the five hours starting just before midnight when the moon was in the sky, it was a time when the Wolf could not be repressed and had to run free. Mary had rarely gone on the runs that were so important to the community, having to stay home and help the little ones make it through the involuntary transformations.

  "I've told Father that you are running with Amy and me," Peter continued. "I told him that it will help you feel a bigger part of the family."

  Mary embraced her brother. "Thank you."

  Tears pricked her eyes. She knew how difficult this must be for him. He was willing to not only help her get away but also return to Andre. This was more than she could find words for. Andre. Her soul sung his name, though she tried to quell the rising desire to see him again. I don't know if I can forgive him yet, she told herself.

  But in her heart, she knew that was not true. If he regretted his actions so much that Peter thought he was telling the truth, then it meant he would never do such a thing again.

  So of course she forgave him.

  ***

  Andre waited. The night of the full moon was almost done, and a tinge of gray on the eastern horizon promised a bright day. He paced from one end of the motel parking lot to the next, waiting and watching anxiously. Peter Locke had promised Mary would come. Even though Andre feared it was a trap, he had to trust in the love the Wolf would have for h
is sister. He had to.

  When Zoe had brought him Peter's number, he wasn't sure if he would be able to call it. To talk with the monster that had helped kill his wife and daughter… it felt like spitting on their graves. But Mary was worth more than revenge. She was worth more than anger, and so he had called.

  A pale green Ford pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. Mary sat in the front seat. The sight of her swelled in his heart, and he rushed to be near her before she had even stopped the vehicle. When the door opened he hesitated, reminding himself to be patient and hold back, because she might not forgive him.

  Mary flew into his arms.

  Their lips met, hands grasping at each other, bodies pressed together as tightly as they could. She tasted exactly as he remembered, like cinnamon and honey. He teased her mouth open, desperate for more. Something deep inside him pulled him towards her, and his Bear rose, not demanding release, just happy and content to be near her. He thought he heard her Wolf echo.

  Mary pulled back, breaking the kiss. She cupped his face in her hands. The smile on her face was all he ever hoped for.

  "People might see," she said huskily. "We need someplace more private."

  Andre nodded, dazed, hardly believing that it was true and she was with him again. Hand in hand they walked away from the truck, towards his motel room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Andre's hands trembled as they grasped at the coarse fabric of Mary's shirt. They were locked together in the motel room, unaware of their surroundings.

  He wanted her so badly that it was clouding his mind. As she brought her mouth to his once more, he almost forgot to breathe. Not in his wildest dreams did he imagine that she would rush into his arms. He had braced himself for her anger, for her tears and accusations, but once again she had surprised him.

  It was torture to break from her, but he did, shaking his head. He couldn't do this if she wasn't going to be with him in the morning. "Mary, I'm so sorry."

  Mary seemed to understand his need. She took a step back, her fingers running from his shoulder down his arm to rest on his wrist. Her hand felt so warm. Normally she was cool and he wanted to wrap himself around her to warm her up, but now it was the opposite. He was winter and she was the sun, bringing spring back into his soul.

  "I'm sorry too. For telling you to go away."

  Andre almost laughed. "Of course you are." He passed a hand over his face, the rigid scar on his cheek seeming like it stood out further than normal. "As if you have anything to be sorry for! The way I acted–it was inexcusable. I nearly…" The word got stuck in his throat. "I almost killed your sister for no reason other than she was your father's daughter."

  He tried to pull away from her, but Mary held fast. "I know. But you didn't, and you're sorry. I love you, and I forgive you for this."

  His jaw dropped. "But… how? Why? I don't deserve it!"

  "Yes, you do." She stepped closer and ran her warm fingers over his face. "You were grieving and angry. And you were right. My father did burn down your cabin and slaughter your livestock. I understand why you were so angry."

  Andre felt bitter rage well in his chest. That's not all he did. But he forced it down. He knew he had to tell Mary. And he would, but not now.

  "You had no right to attack my sister," Mary continued, her voice soft. "But I can see the regret in your eyes as you're looking at me, and that's enough."

  Andre clung to her, letting his head drop to her shoulder. "If you hadn't been there… Oh, God! Mary, I would have killed her. I would have killed an innocent girl. What sort of monster does that make me?"

  "You don't know for certain you would have. You are not a monster." Her fingers combed through his hair. "But never again."

  "I won't. Never. I am never going anywhere near your family again. You are more important than any revenge I desire. I will leave the Americas if I have to." His voice was firm, his resolve absolute.

  Mary's hands cupped his face and tilted his head back so she could look at him. Her mesmerizing green eyes glowed with joy. "And I will go with you."

  "I love you."

  Andre lowered his mouth to hers. His lips tingled and that deep call for her awakened again. She forgave him. He could hardly believe it, and yet as he walked her backward to the bed, he believed everything. Everything was right once more. She was in his arms again.

  ***

  She felt her soul grasping for his, the rush of emotion, the need for him, the need for his love. But she did not expect how powerful it would be. Every time they made love, she felt her soul reaching for his. Now she felt his reaching back. Fireworks went off under her skin wherever it touched his.

  Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt and she touched each one of them before her hands returned to his face, pulling him closer. Her legs bumped the bed and she gladly pulled him over her as he laid her down. Loving the weight of him, the solidness of him, she wrapped her arms and legs around him. His mouth went to her neck causing explosions of heat wherever it went. Mary gasped, closing her eyes as she tangled her fingers into his hair.

  "I am yours," she moaned, pressing herself tighter against him. "No matter what happens. Andre! I am yours."

  He pulled back, and Mary blinked, confused for a moment from the sudden coldness that rushed her skin where he had been a moment ago.

  "You mean that, don't you?" His black eyes were wide, wondering, as his fingertips pressed against her lips. She kissed them, loving the rough callouses that proved just how hard he worked. "You really are… mine. And I am your soulmate."

  Mary caught his hand and pressed her lips to his palm and wrist. "My one and only."

  Andre panted a moment and slowly, deliberately, sat back and rolled off her. Mary pushed herself to her elbows, shivering, brows making a V. She wanted to ask what was wrong but sensed that she needed to let him work through whatever it was he was thinking. The silence stretched, heavy with tension and longing.

  Eventually, he looked back at her. "I'm afraid that's the only reason you forgave me."

  Mary shook her head. "I considered that as well. But I don't think it is. I think I would even forgive my father for all those years of everything I'm angry at him for if only he was truly sorry. I have never even heard him apologize. I know I could never forgive you if you didn’t regret your actions. But you do."

  To her surprise, tears filled his eyes. Her hand pressed to his cheek, against the scar that curved like a bass clef. "Mary… you've saved me."

  She smiled, a little confused, but when he leaned forward again, she didn't press. She didn’t want any more talk. She wanted to show him just how much she loved him, just how much she cared. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up so they were knee-to-knee on the bed. It always amazed her how strong he was, how she felt so light and weightless when his massive arms were so tight, yet so gentle around her.

  "Be still," she whispered, and he obediently let her move her hands to his lap.

  Mary met his gaze reaching for the first button on his shirt. She held his gaze for as long as she could as she slowly pressed a kiss to the smooth, tanned skin there, and then where the second button released.

  ***

  "Let me touch you," he moaned.

  "Touch me then," she whispered back.

  His hands, cool at first but warming quickly, found her hips and ran up the length of her spine. First over her shirt, then under. Mary's Wolf sang with triumph, howling praises to the moon as jolts of electricity ran from his fingertips into her core. Skin tightened where his touch passed. His smooth skin under her lips tasted of pine and wood smoke. She leaned against his chest, raising her face to his again.

  Moans intermingled as a cool rush of air was followed by his soft, warm touch as he removed her shirt. His gaze on her body was as erotic as a physical touch. Pupils dilated with desire. Bodies shifted, pressed together. Clothing was shed and suddenly her knee was bent over his hip. He was laying her down, mouth on her neck, moving lower.

 
; The gasp of his hot breath on her breasts filled her with a deep ache as her nails dug into his shoulders. She wanted to be closer, ever closer until she didn't know where she stopped and he began.

  Blood surged as his fingers ran down her stomach, breasts undulating in unison. Fire flared deep inside Mary as those fingers found their mark and a surge of pleasure coursed through her body, puddling in her belly and shooting up her legs.

  "Never let me go," she gasped.

  He hummed, his chest vibrating as though he was purring and she realized–it was his Bear. Her Wolf met the Bear and melded together as bodies became one, twining together, heart to heart, palms pressed together. Power coursed between them, their rhythms matched. As one, they tumbled off the edge into a writhing, seething ocean of passion and love.

  Mary would have happily drowned forever, but all things end, and so too did this. But the feeling of completeness, of souls bound together, did not cease with the rest of it.

  She rested her head on his chest, listening to the strong, steady thumping of his heart, and smiled. For just this moment, all was right in the world.

  "Never let me go," Andre murmured, stroking her hair. "Please."

  "Never," she promised, pressing herself closer to him. "You are mine, Andre Mitchel and I am yours. Forever."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Andre smiled happily as Mary's hand slipped into his as they waited for Zoe.

  They had been nervous that Paul Locke might find out where Mary went. So the two of them took his truck and headed north, finding a little campground well off the main road to spend their nights hidden from the world while they waited for Zoe to arrange things for their escape from the United States. They slept every night in the back of the truck under the sky. Andre had missed the stars while he was in that cramped motel room.

  "She'll really be able to get us to the UK?" Mary asked, leaning into his side. "Even though I don't have a passport? I don't even know if I have a birth certificate."