by Ava Walsh
And as abruptly as he had pulled away the previous night, Andre did it again. Mary leaned against a chair, panting, as the Bear backed away, shaking his head.
"It's not real, Mary," he said in a low voice. "What you are feeling. It's nothing more than physical desire. You do not know what it is like between a man and a woman, and you were raised to believe that men desired women, but women had no desires of their own."
"That's not true." She shook her head in protest. "I was taught about physical desire."
"But have you experienced it?"
"Yes. Many times. I courted a young man when I was sixteen, and I imagined what it would be like—"
Andre shook his head. "Imaginings is not like the real thing. I'm sorry, Mary. You have been lied to your whole life. I am not your soulmate. Soulmates do not exist."
***
Her look of devastation was like a knife to his heart. He wanted to gather her into his arms and wipe away the tears that glimmered in her eyes. But she had to know. It was kinder this way, to tell her everything she was raised to aspire to was worthless in the real world, that she could not hope for one single being to complete her.
"Mary," he started, but she looked away, and he couldn't continue.
His limbs were heavy as he gathered up the ewe and lamb. As he left the cabin, he heard a repressed sob.
It's a ridiculous notion, he told himself.
Unbidden a voice whispered in his mind. Then why do you want to tell her everything about Isadore and Eve, even though she is a werewolf?
He shook his head, trying to deny it, but it was true. He hardly knew her, and yet he wanted to share his greatest pain with her. The thought of her leaving physically hurt. Listening to her speak about her life made anger simmer in his gut. But more than that, whenever he looked into her eyes, he wanted to give himself to her. Not just his body, as delightful as he knew that would be. He wanted to share his life, his future… his past.
In the barn, he turned up the electric heater and put the ewe and little lamb in their own paddock, away from the other animals. The gentle chill stroked his arms, allowing him to think clearly. And for the first time, he admitted it to himself.
He wanted to tell Mary about his wife and daughter. He wanted to give her his pain, his anger, his hate. But if he did that, she would turn away. She wouldn't look at him with those trusting, beautiful eyes. She would want to leave.
Then tell her, a small part of him said. Tell her and make her go. You're no good for her! She deserves a chance to find her soulmate.
An anguished groan fell from his lips. It was the right thing to do – the only thing to do! He had to let her go. The roads were clear, he could take her to the city, put her on the plane and never see her again. He could focus on the reason he came back here, his only reason for living.
Moving sluggishly, Andre went behind the pile of hay bales stacked beside the sheep pen. His muscles stretched and bulged as he tore down the wall, revealing half a dozen TV screens nestled into a hollow in the bales. Each one was connected to a network of motion-activated cameras he had spread throughout the woods, and right in the middle was the one he dedicated to spying on the Wolf community–the Locke farm particularly.
Yes–he had to take her to the city, remove her from this situation before he made his move. Before he killed her father.
***
If her heart wasn't breaking, Mary might have been humiliated by how utterly Andre rejected her. But it hurt too much, and even as she cleaned up the house, tears poured down her face. She knew that her soul belonged to him, but if he didn't even believe in soulmates… it had never occurred to her that she might not be her soulmate's soulmate. Was she destined never to be happy?
She would ask to leave again at the earliest opportunity. She couldn't stay here any longer. It would just be too painful. It was time for her to leave, to figure out her next move. What was her next move?
Her Wolf howled as she washed the dishes, as if telling her to dry her eyes and go to him. The urge to run into his arms was almost too much to take, but she would not put him in a position where he would have to reject her again. And maybe she was wrong, and he was right. Maybe it was just physical, and their souls were not meant to be knit.
After she made the bed, her tears dried and she resigned herself to leaving Andre forever. Staying in the cabin seemed too constricting, and so she went to the barn. Andre was there, milking the goat. His eyes were distant, and when he saw her, his tanned cheeks darkened in color. The clef-shaped scar stood out even more.
"I think it's time that I leave." The words were harder to get out than she expected. She couldn't continue.
Andre froze a moment, then shook his head. "You can't. Not yet. Your car is a piece of junk. You wouldn't get to the highway. And my truck… it won't start. I think it's the alternator."
Was it just her imagination, or was he speaking too quickly? Was there desperation to his movements as he finished milking the goat?
"Then point me in the right direction and I'll walk. I can't stay. Not when…" Not when I love you, but you don't love me.
He untied the goat and put the bucket of milk on the other side of the fence, then easily swung himself over. He was close to Mary now, so close that she could smell the soap she had used to clean his shirt. He sucked in a deep breath.
"Mary, it's just not safe."
"I don't care. I have to go!"
He cut her off, kissing her hard. She reacted instantly, wrapping her arms around him, pressing onto her toes to bring her mouth closer to his. Her Wolf sang, and she thought somewhere in her brain she heard an echo of it. But no. It couldn't be. She turned her head, breaking the kiss.
"Why must you torture me like this?" she whimpered.
"I don't want to torture you." Tears glimmered on his cheeks. "Mary, I don't want to hurt you. But I can't give you what you need. I can't give you my life."
"Then don't." She pressed herself against him, holding him tighter. "Just give me today. Give me tonight."
He groaned, as if fighting himself, and lowered his mouth to hers again.
Chapter Six
Andre woke with the familiar warmth of Mary against him. Today I take her to the city, he told himself, stroking her silky hair, as he had every morning for the past three months.
Three months. He knew it was wrong for her to stay. She wanted a soulmate, someone who would stay by her side for the rest of time. And she deserved such a man. A man who put her first in everything, the way she would put him first in everything. Andre couldn't give her the love she deserved. There was too much anger in his heart.
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 worry 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."